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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

concessions

part 2 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francesco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.4k

warnings: none (yet)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU - trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you run into the guys outside of the stadium and they promptly decide you’re going to be friends with them.

Your friend was twelve minutes late. Not overly long but you could already tell what was going to happen.

It had been a long shot, anyway, an old classmate with little lasting connection. You had been trying to push yourself outside of your comfort zone anyway, why not? When she had originally reached out you’d been full of hope, enough to foolishly order your favorite appetizer as a ice breaker but the effort was in vain.

Fingernails gently clicking against the table, you caved and allowed yourself to look at your phone. It brought instant comfort, to escape the exposure of sitting alone in a restaurant, but you couldn’t stay. The air was cold as you sucked it through your teeth, weighing your options. The confidence it took to eat alone after being stood up was facing a strong competitor: your general policy not to waste good food and good money.

Shifting, you tried to settle, tried to pose yourself like you were in control, looking around the room as nonchalantly as you could. It was silly, your urge to keep moving, your feet on the ground, your hands on the table, your eyes on the other patrons, but you couldn’t help it. It was a nice place, nothing fancy, just a hole in the wall restaurant, filled only with a few locals.

Until your appetizer came around the corner, followed by a much more handsome man than you were prepared for.

His already smiling eyes met yours, and you looked away, startled, maybe blushing a little. He was familiar, too familiar. You tried to focus on the young lady waiting on you, and the steam coming from the plate in her hands.

Just focus on the food, you scolded yourself silently, thanking her and not ordering anything else. He was not your friend, he didn’t even know you, really. There was no need to make him feel uncomfortable.

Except, he wasn’t really worried about that, because he was sliding into the seat across from you.

“Hi,” he was grinning, confident and friendly, and your instincts raised no alarms other than confusion.

“Hello,” you replied, wondering honestly if you were dreaming. This was one of the men you’d met before, in that chaotic, over decorated room in the baseball stadium. He had been in front of you maybe fifteen total seconds, talking to James, before melting back into the sea of uniforms and caps. There was no reason he should remember you much less… be doing whatever was happening now.

The man mistook your expression for panicked forgetfulness and reintroduced himself.

“I’m Ben, Ben Miller? We met a a week or two ago,” he was searching your face for recognition, which of course was not the problem at all. It was sweet, how bashful he was when he pointed to the picture of the team’s logo on the poster by your table, and mouthed “the shortstop?”.

It seemed like he wasn’t trying to draw extra attention to himself, which was almost comical. Even with his casual tshirt and jeans he was easily the most noticeable person in the room – that’s how good he looked, and a testament to the visible confidence of men like him. He was all limber muscles and strong jaw and kind eyes and it wasn’t easy to just tuck that away.

“I – yeah,” this was awkward. “I’m sorry for staring at you, I just don’t normally see … non-locals here.” You smiled, weakly.

There was something in his voice and a glint in his eyes as his blue eyes glanced behind you.

“Would you believe it if I said we were locals?”

All of a sudden his looks were commonplace, because there was another man next to him who was a little broader and a little rougher around the edges- but surprisingly similar in casual masculinity. The “we" clicked into place.

“What’s this?” the first-baseman said, his expression more or less mirroring your own.

A handful of other men followed him and you wanted to melt into the chair. It was too much, too weird. They were all peering at you, dark eyebrows and cool toned cloth stretched over broad chests and it was the most bizarre thing. You weren’t really shy, per se, but stuff like this didn’t happen to you. Fidgeting you stared back at them, feeling helpless.

Ben came to your rescue again, guilty, but far too friendly to stop, like runaway dog at a park.

“I was just telling her that Will and I are from town! And we love it here,” he grinned, winningly, still failing to explain why he was seated with you.

Their hellos were amused and charismatic, for the most part, save the man in the back. It was… Francisco. Or rather, Mr. Morales.

Your heart thumped the same thump that you’d been feeling whenever you thought of him.

His voice was quieter, eyes reaching into yours like he had questions to ask, before he fixed them on the surroundings instead. They were crowding the area, all tall and much to large to fit in between tables. It would have been annoying if this were a busier place.

“You guys go on, I’ll be right there,” the shortstop across from you ushered them away, out of politeness or something else you weren’t sure. It was sad, to see him go again but the absence of attention made you breathe again. You waved, sure you looked ridiculous, and wondering if other women would be dying to be in your stead.

“Sorry, I just wanted to say hi,” Ben seemed earnest again, and you couldn’t help but relax. It was charming, the way his eyebrows dipped and he fidgeted, just a little. “You looked… lonely,” he added, hesitating before standing up with a gentle slap to the table. “Come join us if they don’t show, I’m sure the guys wont mind!”

You nodded, still more or less in shock, and he walked off, strides long and easy, like there was hardly anything weighing on his shoulders.

If they hadn’t been but 20 paces away, you would have shoved the plate aside and replaced its spot on the table with your face, and groaned aloud. You barely registered your food as you ate, wondering at the whole thing in awe as you took out your phone again to text James.

Frankie tried not to watch you. He really did. He loved his friends and they seldom got a chance, just the five of them to eat somewhere so homey and casual, without the whole crew, or fans and cameras, or other things to attend to. They’d been close for a long time, happy they enjoyed one another and trusted one another more than the rest of the team. It was what made them so good in the starting lineup – their communication and comradery off field translated into their game.

For awhile he was doing well. He wasn’t watching as you finished your food, hardly noticed the way your hands ran through your hair, barely registered when you stood up, brushing crumbs off your legs, and walked towards the front to pay.

But he did notice when you slid over to their table and… he couldn’t tear his eyes away as your hand touched Benny's shoulder. The movement was smooth and gentle and there was a sharp feeling in his gut.

“Thanks for before,” your voice was quite, more composed than before, now that your feet were under you properly. It wasn’t meant for him, wasn’t his to hear, but he listened anyway. The group was seated at one of those round corner booths, and really, there was no escaping it – they were on the ends.

Benny was saying no problem and Frankie took a long sip of his drink trying to cool down before he was choking on it as his friend invited you to join.

The idea of you sitting here was… a double edged sword. On one side, the chance to talk to you, be around you even in the low lights of the restaurant neons – was too good to be true. His daydreams of you hadn’t slowed down nearly as much as he had hoped after you were gone. And on the other… of all the men here, he didn’t stand much of a chance. The flicker of warmth your little wave had given him began to fade and he tried too late to get in control of his facial expressions as you considered the offer.

When Redfly reached across Ben, though, shoving the younger man to grab your hand, suppressing the growl in his throat was more important than the glare. Next to him, Pope eyes were sharp, catching everything unsaid. His friend was as tense as he was, feeling the charged energy fill the booth.

Some ridiculous part of Frankie was wanting to pull you away, tuck you under his arm, and keep you all to himself. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t. He didn’t even know your name.

Then Will was pulling Tom back with laughter that didn't reach his eyes and Santi was apologizing, saying smooth words and coaxing you to reintrodunce yourself and pull up a chair and hang out.

Frankie would never know how Pope was so good at these things, how his passion made other people relent and reconsider and made them feel safe, but he was grateful for it. He tucked your name away, sure he wouldn’t forget it again. Especially because you pulled your chair up by him, and his heart swelled with something akin to pride as you leaned towards him, more than even Ben.

It could have been politeness, making room for the waitress, it could have been a coincidence, or that you wanted to be further from Tom, but he could quite bring himself to care. Having you close felt good, so much better than it should’ve, given the circumstances.

Even more than normal athletes, the Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and had ordered enough food for a week. There was plenty of talk and teasing and tossing of rolls, and it took you no time at all to settle in.

You found out you had some mutual acquaintances with Will, which helped, as you launched into comparisons of the town and laughed over shared observations. It made you feel at home, with him and Ben, and you understood how the brothers made everyone feel like family. Apparently there was girl Benny liked, who worked with the team’s athletic trainers. None of the boys had wheeled it out of him, but it took you less than fifteen minutes, your smile brighter as you sorted through his intentions.

Santi had a quick tongue, and you matched it. There was respect in his eyes as you leveled with Redfly, efficiently and effectively putting him back in his place. The older man head leaned back, nonchalantly, with raised eyebrows and low whistle, but Pope knew when Tom was embarrassed. There was an almost indiscernible bite onto the inside of the outfielder’s lower lip, a child’s tell.

He watched everyone, really, especially Frankie. They’d been playing together the longest and saw the best and worst of each other. It was fun, for him to watch his friend watch you. When you puckered your lips to suck a bead of water off your finger, Frankie’s jaw twitched. Like he was thinking of tilting his cheek towards you as you leaned in to kiss it – and Santi grinned, the gears in his mind turning.

For being as confused and awkward as you were before, it was crazy how well you fit.

Frankie liked your laugh, easy and pure, and the glint in your eyes when someone said something clever. He liked how friendly you were, even to Tom, and how you treated them like people. You never once stepped into the role of flirtatiously asking about the sport – or about being professional athletes all, and it was a breath of fresh air. Most outsiders would have their fingers tracing the curves of the muscles on Pope's arm as they asked him about pitching or would be tugging down the necklines of their shirts as they tried to be subtle about salaries. He liked how you talked about the food, asked them what they were up to that day, and actually listened when they answered. It was graceful, more that even Ironhead’s throw, how you managed to give each one of them attention, without controlling the conversation.

What Frankie liked best of all, though, was when yours eyes would meet his. They were narrow with laughter, and it was almost as if he were an hour away from know exactly what you were thinking. You’d lean towards him, just a hair, and under the thrum of conversations you would tell him little things, jokes or confessions like you were the best of friends.

When you murmured, “I actually don’t know anything about baseball,” he choked on his drink again, mind filled with unreachable moments. The boys were laughing at him, but he ignored it because they hadn’t heard you and... he could almost feel it – you against his chest as he showed how to swing a bat, your hand in his as he leaned in close, explaining, and him spinning you around in a victory hug.

All too soon the plates were being cleared and everyone was arguing over who should be paying. It made them smile, how earnestly you were offering, but there was no way in hell.

You thanked them all verbally, but when Santi ended up paying, he got a quick peck on the cheek and that sharp feeling in Frankie’s gut returned with force.

As you left, before they could walk you out, you cherished the experience like a drop of honey on your tongue, confident this was a once in a life time thing, and excited to tell James about it. Of course you had texted him – he was the one who told you if you didn’t sit with them he’d never forgive you.

Then men behind you continued to talk, each silently thinking of their own reasons for being sure they’d see you again soon.

And when you walked past the window by the corner on the way to your car, a pair of deep brown eyes found yours through the glass. You waved, goodbye, and this time, the ache in your heart was aligned with the ache in his.

Thank goodness that old classmate never showed up.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #triple frontier baseball au #baseball au #maybe i don't know people

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

Text

Late Nights

This is 2.5k words of fluff and essentially no plot. Set a week after the events of ICLU. I wrote the first part back in May right after I got the idea for ICLU and have been sitting on this ever since.

*****

When the letters and numbers on the screen finally blurred beyond recognition, Riley closed the program she’d been working on and put the lab computer to sleep. Her eyes burned. She was horribly behind on developing this program; it needed to start beta testing days ago, but the team’s back to back multi-day ops and her impromptu trip with the Coltons on her supposed day off consumed all of her time and energy this week.

Posing as a think tank, the Phoenix did have to do think tank-y things on occasion, after all, and every agent was expected to contribute to the organization’s public projects. Including a certain physically and emotionally exhausted hacker.

Mac sat across from her, fidgeting with spare robot parts. Riley checked the time. 10:58 pm. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. She vaguely recalled Bozer teasing her about not spending the night in his lab again. Pointing at Mac, he’d said, “Good thing he’s just as much of a workaholic as you are.” Riley knew Mac was just there to keep her company—and because they’d carpooled—not because he needed to keep working, but she hadn’t bothered to correct Bozer.

Groaning, Riley let her head fall into her hands. It felt like some invisible force was squeezing her skull, slowly crushing it like a grape. She needed to go to bed. Possibly forever.

“You okay?” She glimpsed Mac’s concerned frown between her fingers.

“Yeah,” she replied, dragging her hands through her hair. “I have a headache, that’s all.” Understatement of the century. “How long until you’re done?”

Mac looked unconvinced; when it came to her, he didn’t miss much. Mercifully, he didn’t push for a more elaborate answer. “Um, I need a few more minutes to finish this, plus maybe fifteen more to clean up. Bozer will kill me if I leave a giant mess in his lab.” Riley managed a small smirk. Indeed he would.

Riley figured it would be at least a half hour before he was ready to leave. Just enough time for a nap. “Take your time, Mac.” She stood, hauling her backpack onto her shoulder. “I’m going to take a nap. Come find me when you’re ready to go.” He nodded.

Sleep beckoning, Riley left the lab in search of a comfy chair.

*****

Thirty minutes later, Mac found her curled up in her favorite chair in the war room. Knees tucked into her chest, head cradled in the crook of her elbow, she looked breathtakingly peaceful.

He regretted waking her the moment he gently shook her shoulder. Riley grumbled something unintelligible that might have been his name.

“Time to go home, Riles.” Mac shouldered her backpack and helped her out of the chair.

Riley could barely open her eyes. She took one staggering step forward and nearly wiped out on the table she definitely didn’t realize was right in front of her. He knew she was exhausted—he was too—but this was alarming. She was burning herself out on the least important part of her job, and Mac didn’t understand why. A problem for tomorrow, he decided.

Mac wrapped an arm around her waist, helping keep her upright. “Thank you,” she mumbled. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

Mac’s truck sat alone in the underground lot. He was immensely grateful he and Riley had carpooled to work that day. Otherwise, if he hadn’t stayed to keep her company while she worked, she definitely would’ve spent the whole night in that war room chair.

They drove home in silence. Riley quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat, head resting on the window.

She was still out cold when he parked his truck in the driveway, and Mac couldn’t bring himself to wake her up twice in one night. He slid his arms around her back and under her knees and carried her inside, and Mac’s heart melted when she snuggled her face into his shoulder. He could hold her like this forever. “Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured.

Mac laid her on the guest bed and rested her backpack against the nightstand. He quickly unlaced her boots and pulled them off, revealing bright yellow and orange striped socks. He chuckled, imagining her muttering at him to stop laughing at her socks.

Grabbing a makeup wipe from the guest bathroom, it took him a few minutes to remove her stubborn eyeliner. No wonder, he’d seen it withstand blazing infernos, days in the woods, blood, sweat, tears, everything.

He tucked her under the covers before retrieving her favorite pajama shirt—an old t-shirt of his—and shorts. Mac left them at the foot of Riley’s bed, so she could change into them whenever she woke up.

Riley curled into a loose ball, snuggling her face deeper into her pillow, and Mac couldn’t help but worry as he closed the door halfway and retreated to his room.

*****

Riley awoke in the middle of the night to her bra’s underwire stabbing her in the chest. She blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. She definitely wasn’t in the war room anymore.

It took longer than Riley cared to admit to realize she was back in Mac’s guest bedroom—her bedroom for the year she’d lived with him. Mac must’ve taken her home from the Phoenix.

Riley rolled onto her back, and her underwire stabbed her again. Fuck this, she thought, yanking off her tank top, then her bra, and sighing in relief as the straps fell down her shoulders. Chucking them both on the floor, she noticed the stack of clothes at the foot of her bed, blending in so well with the dark sheets Riley almost missed them. She smiled, silently thanking the man sleeping across the hall, and changed into her pajamas.

While debating whether to stay or join Mac, Riley stretched her back and hips, joints popping softly. She could be lazy and spend the rest of the night in her old room, or she could go cuddle with her boyfriend, but that would require getting up. But if she got up, she could also brush her teeth.

Had she even had dinner? Riley couldn’t remember. Her brain was still foggy.

Ultimately, her desire to sleep with Mac and brush her teeth won out, and Riley hauled herself out of bed and across the hall, feet barely lifting off the ground with each step.

Mac was a pretty light sleeper, so Riley slipped into bed beside him as quietly as she could. He stirred, but didn’t wake. Sinking into the mattress, Riley knew switching beds was the right choice. Her body relaxed more in Mac’s presence. She’d never realized how lonely exhaustion was, not until she had someone she could freely share with and who could empathize with her. Even so, she’d still lied earlier about how she really felt, mostly for the sake of her dignity. Mac was her best friend, but Riley was loath to outright admit to weakness, even to him.

She wanted to snuggle into his warmth and tuck her face between his shoulder blades, but that would surely wake him up. And waking Mac up would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer just yet. So, Riley stuck to her side of the mattress, tucked her legs into her chest, and went back to sleep.

*****

When Mac’s alarm went off, he wasn’t alone. Riley had snuck into his bed at some point and now curled into a tiny ball, facing away from him.

He wished they didn’t have to go to work today, wished they could sleep in and he could pry some answers from her. But the world wouldn’t save itself.

He texted Matty. Please don’t send us on an op someone else could do. Riley’s burning herself out, and I can’t figure out why.

I’ll keep an eye on her, Matty replied immediately.

Thank you.

Leaning over to kiss his girlfriend’s cheek, Mac got up and went for a run.

He did an easy three miles around the neighborhood, letting the cool dawn air wake him up. Mac smiled every time he passed someone else out for a run or walking their dog before the July sun made leaving the house practically unbearable.

When he returned, Mac found Riley awake and making coffee for them both. Her back was to him, so Mac scanned her body for signs of stress or injury, finding neither. “Good morning,” he said to break the silence.

Riley turned to him, bleary-eyed and still half asleep, and held out a steaming mug of coffee. Mac accepted, kissing her cheek in gratitude. It shocked him how easy it all was. She croaked, “How was your run?”

Mac couldn’t deny the way seeing Riley in his clothes affected him—the same way, he realized guiltily, the sight had always appeased some primal, possessive part of his brain, even when they were just friends—but damn it hit differently when she wore a sleepy, lovesick smile and had just crawled out of his bed. Riley had always been his girl, but now she was his girl.

The whole scene was sweet and domestic and everything he’d ever wanted.

“Good,” he finally answered. “I even stopped to say hi to our favorite dog.” An elderly couple who lived a few streets away had a mini Aussie, who was quite possibly the happiest being in the universe. She would trot alongside her humans without a leash, but when Mac or Riley appeared, she whined and whined until her owners said “Go ahead,” and she’d come barreling full-force into Mac or Riley’s chest and lavish them with endless kisses. Her name was Freya.

Riley’s eyes lit up in excitement. “My dog!” Mac chuckled, sliding onto one of the bar seats tucked below the counter.

Changing the subject, Mac tried to be nonchalant when he asked, “How do you feel this morning?” Worry crept into his voice anyway.

“Better,” Riley said, the mug hiding her face as she sipped her coffee. “Thanks for taking me home.”

Of course he took her home. Even if they weren’t dating, Mac still would’ve taken her home and given her his clothes. There was no universe in which he wouldn’t do that.

“Like I was going to let you spend the night in that chair,” he replied. Riley toyed with the hem of her shirt, her usual lively presence vanishing like a turtle retreating into its shell. Mac probed, “What’s up?” She sighed, still looking down. “Riles?”

When she finally looked up, Riley’s eyes were heavy with guilt. “Do you know how many times I almost got us killed this week?” Mac waited. “Twice. I led us—led you—right into traps I should’ve seen from a mile away. And before that, I gave you a fucking panic attack that sent you driving through the middle of nowhere to come find me!” Her voice crescendoed. “And now? Now I can’t even get that stupid program to work right! I just want to be able to do one thing right. One thing! Is that too much to ask?” Riley let out a loud, frustrated groan, shoulders caving inward.

Mac stayed in his seat, letting Riley have her space. He knew she didn’t like being coddled when she was frustrated. “I almost get us killed constantly,” he reminded her. “It’s part of our job. No one is holding it against you, especially not me. And that panic attack was the best thing to happen to me, because without it we’d still be waiting for one of us to find the courage to confess. This is going to sound hypocritical coming from me, but you can’t beat yourself up about that stuff.”

Riley snorted. “Very hypocritical.”

“You have to take the small wins as they come, okay? We’re not dead! We had sex! The important stuff!”

“I see you have your priorities together.” Her tone was snarky, but Mac caught her smile between sips of coffee.

“If we didn’t have to go to work I’d bend you over the counter and tell you how hot you look in my shirt.”

Mac impressed himself with how casually he managed to say that; he could only imagine Riley’s merciless teasing if his voice had cracked.

Riley blushed, even as she cautiously said, “We could do that anyway.”

The apprehension in her voice hit Mac like a bucket of cold water. He couldn’t just say things like that to his girlfriend of two days. Or maybe she was his best friend and he didn’t care. Mac couldn’t decide. This thing between them was so new, yet it felt like they’d been together forever. The butterflies lasted forty-eight hours, tops, before the calm sense of belonging, of home, washed over them. Mac had never had that happen so quickly in a relationship before. Usually it took weeks or even months, not two days.

“It’s not like they’re going to know,” Riley added.

That made the decision for him. “Are you kidding me? If we walk in late together, they’ll absolutely know why. They’re like professional mind readers! We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Correction,” Riley said. “You’ll never hear the end of it. Desi and Bozer will just high five me and say, ‘Nice.’”

Mac frowned. She was right, unfortunately. He finished the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the bitter last sip. Placing his mug in the sink, Mac said, “Seriously though, I want you to feel safe sharing with me when you feel like this, Riles.” He leaned against the sink. “Let me help you.”

Riley crossed to him, finally closing the gap between them, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Okay,” she agreed, head resting on his shoulder. She sighed. “I really don’t want to go to work today, but if I get any more behind on that damn project I am going to pull my hair out.”

Mac pressed a single kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “Your hair is beautiful. Please don’t pull it out.” Gently, he unwound Riley’s scrunchie, letting her hair tumble down her back so he could play with it.

“Just for you.”

They stood like that as long as they could, before they really did need to get ready for work. “I need to shower,” Mac finally said, ruining the quiet moment. “Care to join me?”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t want to be late.”

A very serious shower,” Mac amended. “No funny business.”

“Right.” Riley kissed him until Mac couldn’t hold back his grin. “No funny business. Now where have I heard that before?”

Laughing, Mac dragged his girlfriend toward the bathroom.

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #three updates in a week?#who am i??#i+can't+lose+you #sort of an epilogue but not really

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kixa · 3 years

Text

— 𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓭𝓸 𝓘 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾?

Pairing: Sero x fem! Reader

Warnings: cursing? Fluff and crack

Synopsis: Sero is nervous to tell his crush he likes her

Word count: 2.4K

A/n: pls I’m so late but here’s my Valentine’s Day gift to y’all 🤧

Tagging: @honeykami

‘Sero stop starin- oh shit she’s looking over here’ Sero thought quickly redirecting his gaze to the front where Aizawa was giving a lesson. His cheeks grew a faint blush, not wanting to meet your eyes again and make things even more awkward, his eyes never left the board upfront. Sero looked down at his hands and fiddled with the little box. He gently smiled remembering what was in the box.

Sero had had a crush on you for a while. You guys were only good friends but he had thought of you as something more. He admired everything about you, your smile, your laugh, the way you looked so cute while studying, the list goes on and on. Your friends had caught on very early on but you brushed it off thinking that it might be just a joke they were playing on you. But you’d be lying if your heart didn’t flutter a little bit when you’d catch him staring at you.

Valentine’s day was coming up and there was already a whole bunch of activities that you could participate in. From candy grams to secret flower gifts (I fr don’t know what these things are called) the list went on and on. But Sero’s biggest dilemma was he wanted to confess on Valentine’s day but he didn’t know what to get you.

“Ok so guys I made her a bracelet and I got her favorite candy. Whatcha think?” Sero asked with bright eyes.

“Dude you can’t get her that, you gotta go all out like flowers, balloons, boxes of chocolates, all that good stuff,” Denki replied. Kirishima lightly punched Denki in the shoulder and moved in front of him.

“Don’t worry she’ll love what you got her. I take her as the girl who’s not into all the extravagant stuff,” Kirishima reassured. Kirishima’s words made Sero lightly smile but it hid the creeping anxiety he felt. Would you not like his gift? Would you think it was tacky and too small? Maybe you do like all that big stuff.

If confessing to you already wasn’t enough this worried him even more.

—-

When lunchtime came he passed the various tables set up for the small gifts you could buy. All of the gifts looked so nice and seemed like the perfect confession present to give someone. The commotion of the crowd was too loud he couldn’t think. What should I get her? Flowers? But I don’t know her favorite flower. Maybe I should just keep the original present?

After fretting about the whole situation and second-guessing himself he felt a little hopeless. Valentine’s day was tomorrow, and he hadn’t found any gifts worthy or unique enough for you. He sighed heavily as he plopped down on his bed. Staring at his ceiling he started to make images and moments of you from his mind. He remembered the many times you were clumsy and proceeded to laugh at yourself. He gently smiled, also thinking of the many times you guys both caught each other’s eyes but quickly looked away. Or how excited you looked when you told him stories. When he thought about it he just couldn’t get you out of his mind. He realized how special you were to him.

He got up and began to write down ideas for how he should confess to you. He actually made a checklist. Making up his mind, he called Denki and Kirishima to let them know the plan. They were totally down although Kiri kept on insisting that Sero just give you his original present. Sero brushed it off replying that he had to show you how much you meant to him and that he needed to make the whole thing big.

----

Valentine’s day comes and Sero is a nervous wreck. He had spent way too long in his room getting ready for class but for him a ‘monumental step in his life’. He tried to do his hair a different way putting it in a small ponytail. He talked himself up in the mirror for maybe 7 minutes.

“Heyy I look good,” he walks past the mirror, “oh hey didn’t see you there the name’s Sero” does some poses “Looking so sexy for what? Who gon check me?” “Stiff where? Stiff where?” as he’s swinging his head back and forth. “Oh, you said I’m hot? Si estoy muy caliente,” he grins.

He snaps his head as he hears hysterical laughter from his doorway. He sees Kirishima rolling on the floor while Denki is running around like a madman cackling. Sero brightly blushes to turn his head away.

He grabs his bag, “Haha very funny now let’s go before we’re late”

“Ok but you lost me at the ‘stiff where’,” Denki cried imitating the hair-waving action.

“Please it was the ‘Si estoy muy caliente’ for me,” Kirishima said wiping a tear. Sero pushed past them, ignoring the mocking. They followed Sero out of his room to be welcomed with decorated halls and mild chatter, seemed everyone was pretty excited about today. Thatś when it hit Sero, the butterflies of nervousness and the confidence that was once present slowly started to fade. He continued walking with his head facing the floor and he didn’t realize until Denki ran up to tackle him from behind.

“Whatcha thinking about scotch tape?” Denki questioned hanging off his shoulder. Sero suddenly snapped out of his zone out.

“Huh? Oh nothing really...just Y/n and today,” He muttered.

“Don’t worry bro we got everything covered for today’s plan,” Kirishima assured.

“Yeah, Bakugou is getting the balloons and teddy bear meanwhile Jiro’s vocal cords are pitched and ready to go. Everything is under control...except I couldn’t find any roses they were all out so we’ll just have to scratch the rose petal walkway,” Denki added. Sero felt a little weight off of his shoulders but was still disappointed how a portion of his plan wasn’t going to work.

As the day went on he couldn’t concentrate in class just thinking about the preparations for everything, it had to go perfect. Then he got the text from Jiro saying she wasn’t feeling too well and she would have to opt-out for today. Panic started to settle in. ‘Damnit ok so the little serenade is out of the picture too...it’s ok it’s ok just remember what else we have...we’ll make it work’. Sero reassured himself. He texted Denki and Kiri about the news and they tried their best to spew positive comments telling him to look at the silver lining. He looked up from his phone to search for you in the classroom. There you were turned around giggling with Mina about nonsense. As if you couldn’t look any cuter.

Throughout the various periods, his nerves stayed the same but settled enough for him to work on school work. His eyes flicked back and forth between Aizawa and the chalkboard behind him taking notes. He abruptly stopped when he noticed Aizawa wasn’t talking anymore, everyone has stopped what they were doing to pay attention to the people coming through the door. There was a girl and a boy carrying roses with little notes attached to them. They separated and started to move towards certain individuals. Sero’s head snapped towards you to see if they were headed your way, but they didn’t. ‘I should’ve got her one’ he thought to himself. He stopped his thoughts when a person blocked his view from you.

“Sero Hanta right?” the guy asked. Sero raised his head and nodded. “For you,” the guy said handing him a beautiful white rose. His eyes widened confused as to what happened. Who could’ve given him this? He whipped his head around the classroom trying to spot anyone who might’ve sent this. He thought about you, could you have given him this? Nah she probably wouldn’t...unless...nah

Following the peculiar incident, the bell rang signaling the end of the school day. Sero scrambled to put his things in his bag and get out of the class in a hurry. He raced out of the classroom to meet up with Kiri and Denki.

“Ok guys we got a couple of minutes before the halls clear out, Mina is with Y/n so she’s going to keep her company,” Sero started.

“I just spoke with Bakugou and I checked with him to see if still got the balloons he told me to piss off but I’m sure he has it covered,” Kiri added.

“So we’re all good right?” Sero questioned. “Yep!” Denki answered.

---

Once they heard the chattering of you and Mina from around the corner they hurried into their places. Sero standing off to the side while Denki, Kirishima stayed hidden and Bakugou should be joining them at any minute. When Mina and you turned the corner you caught Sero’s eye and almost immediately greeted him. This day was pretty hectic as is but seeing Sero made it a little better. Mina slowed down a bit behind Y/n and looked to Sero, she gave him a grin and thumbs up.

“Hey Y/n I’m going to meet up with Momo so I’ll catch you later,” Mina said. You turned back to look at her backing away down the hall, you figured this was because she wanted you and Sero to be alone together. You lightly giggled shaking your head, “Ok see ya tomorrow Mina,”

Sero watched the whole thing nervously fidgeting with his hands until you turned back around to face him.

“So what’s up?” you asked.

“Oh yeah um..yeah I wanted to tell you something,” he said flashing his cute bright smile. He rummaged in his pocket fishing for a piece of paper. Taking the crumpled paper and unfolding it he scanned over it before taking a sigh. Sero’s big eyes flicked between the paper and you, taking a dry gulp. You thought this was all too cute you had a small hunch about what was happening but didn’t want to think too far into it.

Meanwhile, Denki and Kiri were panicking like hell. Sero was about to start his “speech” and Bakugou wasn’t here. The majority of Sero’s plan wasn’t working out the way it should’ve and he was just hoping at least Bakugou would come through. (Not calling Bakugou unreliable...but yeah..I wouldn’t count on him if this were me). The two frantically texted Bakugou multiple times and called. Finally, Kiri got a reply.

You:

Bro where are you? You’re supposed to be here

Hothead:

I told you to piss off what part of that did you not understand Shitty hair

You:

Bro…

“So he’s not coming just great,” Denki exclaimed. “I’ll text Sero,” Kirishima said.

At this point, Sero was halfway through his note when his phone buzzed but he ignored it. It buzzed again, he ignored it. Now the duo was getting desperate because they needed to tell him. They called him and it interrupted him mid-sentence. He fumbled taking his phone out of his pocket nervously laughing, excusing himself to answer his call.

“What? I know you guys can see that I’m busy right now,” Sero whispered.

“Sorry, but we wanted to let you know that Bakugou isn’t here and we have no balloons and teddy bear. We’re sorry dude,” Denki explained.

“Are you serious? Shit, what do I do now?” panicked Sero.

Kirishima was quick to answer, “What about your original present the bracelet, and her favorite candy? You still have them in your bag right?”

“I do...but do you think she’ll like it?” he said anxiously. Kirishima quickly assured him even Denki added on. Sero took a deep breath and thanked his friends then ended the call.

He walked back over to you and was welcomed with a warm smile you gave him. It made his heart melt and he almost forgot what he was doing. He cleared apologized then started to speak again.

“Where was I? Ah ok so after knowing you for as long as I’ve known you I’ve realized that you have a wonderful impact on me and the things I do. I don’t know it’s just like now I see the world a lot more colorful than before and I’m pretty sure it’s because of you. I don’t know what your feelings are towards me but I just wanted to let you know how much you mean to me and not as friends. So without further ado Y/n would you be my Valentine?” he explained. At this point, you were beaming with excitement, nervousness, and fluster. After internally screaming you finally settled down.

“Yes Sero I would be more than happy to be your Valentine, I thought you’d never ask,” you answered composedly. Sero nearly jumped out of his skin in elation.

Sero hurriedly took off his backpack to get out the present, “Oh I almost forgot I have something for you” He pulled how the small box and box of candy. You took them both and audibly gasped, “Sero where do you find these? I thought they were discontinued” He shrugged chuckling a little. You opened the small box and were welcomed with a cute beaded bracelet with your hero name on there. You slipped it on, holding your hand out to admire.

“Whatcha think?” he inquired. “I love it” you grinned.

“Also was that you that gave me the flower?” Sero inquired. You slightly smirked moving past him.

“Maybe… also you did a good job at hiding the whole plan but next time don’t do all the extravagant stuff just be you be cool,” You commented walking away.

“Oh yeah will do...wait...how do you know about the plan?” Sero realized. You continued walking shrugging while giggling. He followed you yelling out to get your response. You just bust out laughing now walking a little faster down the hall. He started laughing finally letting all of the anxiety about the whole situation slip away.

See nothing to worry about :)

---

Epilogue?:

Bakugou tried to move over switching to a more comfortable position while sleeping. But his eyes shot awake when he realized he couldn’t move. He was taped down to his bed and he knew immediately did this.

“DUMBASSES,” he screamed. After singeing the tape to nothingness he made his way to his door. Throwing it open damn near taking the door off. Sero, Kiri, and Denki zoomed down the hallway laughing up a storm. And I promise you Bakugou was not having it, he blasted himself down the hall trying to catch up to him.

And um...how that situation ended up is up to you...🙂

73 notes · View notes

vintagedolan · 3 years

Text

mixtape | track eight

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

“Left or right?”

“Don’t look at me, I never fucking graduated.”

“Right, then you move it to the left,” Lisa offered, attempting to get past Grayson. He was having none of it, sticking out his tongue a bit while he focused on getting Indy’s cap arranged correctly, making sure her tassel was in the right spot.

Indy had passed her finals with flying colors, which came as no surprise to anyone who knew her. Top of the class, which was enough for her to feel a tiny bit proud of herself. The Dolan’s on the other hand, we’re over the moon, ready to celebrate her as if it was the greatest achievement anyone could accomplish. Grayson had picked her up from her last final, coaxing her to take a nap in the truck while he drove them out to Jersey, her head in his lap as she was finally able to relax after so many days of stress. He was glad - he wanted her energy to be high when she got to the house, considering he’d planned out a big family dinner as a surprise. He’d even caved and bought her her favorite non-vegan ice cream. She was so surprised that she cried as soon as she went in and saw Ethan and Lisa in the kitchen with little fake graduation cap headbands on.

Even though surprises weren’t her favorite, he hoped he could sneak in another, considering the real one wasn’t until the next day, and it’s arrival came as a text that buzzed in Grayson’s pocket.

Here!

He cleared his throat quickly, trying to hide his excitement as he stepped back from his girlfriend.

“Hey Indiana, I think there’s something at the door for you,” he said.

She squinted at him in accusation.

“You just called me Indiana.”

“Indeed I did.”

“That’s sus.”

“Just go to the door Dee.”

“Sus.”

“Dee.”

“G.”

“Indiana Jamie Cross, will you please open your door,” he said as formally as he could, knowing it would make her laugh enough to give in.

“If something jumps out and scares me, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Holy shit just go open the door before I do it for you.”

She walked slowly but she listened to him, pulling the door open cautiously.

“I was wondering if you were gonna let me in.”

Indiana’s mouth fell open.

“Charlie?!”

Grayson Dolan had learned in the last week that the Cross women were stubborn beings, especially when it came to money. Which was why it took so long for him to convince the older Cross sister to let him buy her and Devin a plane ticket at Thanksgiving.

“We would love to be there, but I just bought the ticket to get out here, and money is kinda tight for us right now. I don’t know if we can swing it so soon again.” Charlie kept her voice down, pretending to look at some of the picture frames on the bookshelf while Grayson talked to her.

“I’ll buy your tickets, both of you, first class.”

“Grayson, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” she shook her head.

“But you didn’t ask. I offered, there’s a difference. C’mon, you know that she’d love to have you there.”

Charlie hesitated, bit her lip the way Indy always did. The back door opened, signaling that everyone was coming back inside and that their conversation needed to end. She looked up at him quickly, eyes darting across the room.

“I’ll think about it.”

It had taken her four days to finally agree and let Grayson send her the money for the tickets, though she insisted on flying coach, sending him back the rest of what he’d given her to cover first class, down to the cent.

Which was how she ended up getting tackled by a very excited Indiana outside her apartment door, so hard that they almost knocked Devin over in a whirl of blonde hair. Grayson caught her cap as it flew off.

“What?! What are you doing here?! How did you get here! I thought you couldn’t come, what the fuck!”

“Ask him,” Charlie laughed, lifting her chin towards Grayson.

She spun, eyes wide and shocked.

“You did this?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You look exactly like the soft eyes emoji right now, you know that?”

“Shut up,” she smacked his chest before she buried her face in it, sniffling.

“Hey, you don’t have to cry, you’ll mess up your mascara,” he said, pressing a kiss to her hair before she stood up straight again, letting him swipe his thumbs under her eyes.

Ethan was watching the interaction from the couch with a bit of a frown. He pulled his eyes away and picked at some lint on his henley, but he kept his ears towards the kitchen. There was a tenderness, a careful nature in the way he spoke around Indy. It reminded him of the first time that Grayson had gotten a girlfriend. Peyton. They’d met on the first day of 7th grade, in science class, where Grayson didn’t care to pay attention, especially not with Ethan and the prettiest girl in the grade at his table. Ethan had teased his brother relentlessly until he finally got his words handed back to him when she actually agreed to a date - which involved him picking flowers out of his mom’s window box garden (he got in trouble for it later) and hiding them under his jacket when Sean dropped him off at the movie theatre. They’d kissed each other during the end credits, with tongue according to a very excited Grayson who came home and plopped himself on his brother’s bed and spilled every little detail. Ethan was single at the time, so he could only listen, and watch. Watch the way he carried her books for her to class and then sprinted to his own with only a few seconds to spare before the bell. Watched him beg his mom to dye his hair blonde when Peyton said she thought it would look cool. Watched him pass her notes all of class, not caring when Mrs. Patterson took one and read “I love you so much, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” in front of the whole class that included the majority of his wrestling team. And, he watched the pain on his face when they stumbled across Peyton kissing Jacob Bates behind the bus when she thought Grayson was at wrestling practice. He tried to keep it together, but he sniffled his way through Lisa dying his hair brown that night. Ethan had tried to cheer him up with his usual tactics - stupid inside jokes, making fun of Cameron, even making fun of himself. But Grayson didn’t laugh.

That was when he knew his brother loved hard. He was halfway convinced the reason that Grayson was the bigger twin in the womb was because of the size of his heart. That being said, it wasn’t unusual for Ethan to watch his brother be kind, and sweet, and loving to his girlfriend.

But there was something different with Indy. It was the first time that he could look at Grayson with a girl and see Grayson - unfiltered, unaltered. His twin brother, in his full form, not having changed a single aspect of himself to fit another person. And it made him happy. So happy that for a moment he was able to ignore the guilt that started to rush over him as he remembered all the things he’d said, about how their relationship wouldn’t work, and how Grayson needed to address it. It made him feel worse that he knew he was still right, no matter how in love his brother was.

In the kitchen, Charlie was flicking through settings on her camera.

“I know we have to leave soon, but we have to get at least a few pictures before you get all sweaty cause you get sweaty when you’re nervous,” she said, grabbing her sister’s arm and leading her over to the windows, positioning her with the right lighting.

They took a few normal portraits, some with her cap and some without, a few candids where Charlie did her best to make her laugh as Grayson watched on, the proudest smile on his face.

“Alright, I want one, I want one!” Devin chimed in, surprising both the Cross sisters. They turned to him with the same expression that had him laughing so hard he held his chest. It was the loudest sound that any of the Dolan’s had ever heard come out of him, but it was contagious enough to have them all smiling.

“What?! It’s not every day my little sis graduates college!” He teased, going to ruffle her hair but thinking better of it at the last minute, instead choosing to wrap her up in the biggest hug, her face adorably squished in the picture that Charlie captured.

After that, it was a revolving door of poses with everyone. Lisa fixed Indy’s hair for her before their picture, and Ethan stole her cap and wore it himself. He offered to take the camera, thankful for Charlie’s settings that seemed to work magic as he took a few cute one of the duo, even a few with Indy on Charlie’s back. Devin joined in and they recreated the shoot from their engagement party that Indy still had on the top shelf.

By the time it was Grayson’s turn, Indy’s cheeks were sore from smiling. But she couldn’t help but beam at him as he waltzed over to her in his dress pants and button down, all dressed up for her big day. She did her best to ignore the click of the camera as Grayson fixed her cap, moved her honors cords so they were even where they hung. They took the normal formal poses, and Grayson stole Ethan’s idea of borrowing the cap. But Indy gasped when he tossed it to the side and scooped her up bridal style, laughing as he held her tight and kissed her cheek, even dipped her a bit and looked up at Charlie for the photo op. Indy put it on her mental to-do list to get them printed as soon as she could, beyond excited to see them once Charlie sent them over.

“Okay, we gotta go or we’re gonna be late,” Lisa said, making sure everyone had what they needed for the short walk to the university. Everyone layered up, but while Grayson disappeared in search of his dress coat, Indy pulled her sister aside.

“Hey um. Did… did Dad talk to you at all this week?”

Charlie’s face melted into pity. “I’m sorry bubs.”

“No it’s fine, it’s no big deal. Didn’t expect him to, I just wanted to check so I didn’t get blindsided or anything if he showed up.”

Charlie just nodded and gave her a small smile. She didn’t tell her little sister that she’d told Kenneth about her graduation - four times, actually. He’d never responded, though she could see that he’d read them. Charlie was so used to making excuses for him that she had a whole list of them backed up. He had to work. Traffic. He wanted to come, but something came up. But when she looked at Indy, who wasn’t so much her little sister anymore, she bit her tongue, put her arm around her and headed out the door.

The ceremony was in the science building. John Clark University didn’t have anywhere big enough to house the entire graduating class, so they opted to split it up into smaller ceremonies by discipline instead.

“It should be pretty quick actually, there’s not a ton of us,” Indy said when they arrived, looking over her shoulder at all the graduates moving to get checked in and lined up.

“We’ll wave when you come out so you can find us!” To Indy’s surprise, Lisa’s eyes were teary. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Li,” Indy smiled, pulling her in for a last minute hug, trying not to get emotional herself at the fact that a woman who had no obligation to love her cared so much.

“Don’t trip,” Ethan grinned, nudging her shoulder to lighten the mood.

She turned to Grayson, kissing him quickly before she finally headed off, looking back a few times before she disappeared around the corner.

“Okay seats, seats, we gotta get good ones!” Charlie exclaimed, immediately leading the group through the rows - it was a massive lecture hall with the flip down chairs Grayson had only seen in movie theatres and movies. When they finally found five seats together, he found himself wandering what it was like to be in class somewhere so big, with so many other people learning the same thing.

Despite feeling like they were running late, there were plenty more graduates and families that filed into the building, taking their seats and patiently awaiting the procession.

Thirty minutes later they finally began to file through, a straight line of black robes and red and white tassels. Charlie spotted Indiana first, with Grayson a millisecond behind her, both of them standing up to wave until she saw them and waved back. He kept track of her as she went to sit down in her row, kept his eyes on her as best he could while the main speaker began his speech. He didn’t care what he had to say - he only had eyes for his girl, who looked back every so often and offered him a little wave that still had his heart fluttering like they were hiding in the curtains of Emma’s room all over again.

Grayson hadn’t experienced a lot of moments of pride in his lifetime. There were a few he could pinpoint - when Ethan won one of their wrestling tournaments in middle school, when their team won their lacrosse championship. When his mom’s salon won best in the city a few years back, when his sister graduated college. But what he felt in that next moment topped every single one.

The dean of the college of sciences asked everyone to hold their applause, and without any prior consulting, Indy’s entire squad ignored the rule.

“Indiana Jamie Cross. Bachelor’s of Biological Sciences. Summa Cum Laude.”

“WOOOOOO, YEAH DEE!” Grayson yelled it at the top of his lungs, not even noticing the way everyone turned to look at him. He could see Indy’s blush all the way from the stage as they all continued clapping until the next person was called.

For a moment he was afraid she was embarrassed, but when she took her seat again he saw her turn around and blow him a quick kiss. He caught it in the air and threw her a wink, excited to get to her to give her a real one, which was exactly what he did when she finally made it out of the stream of people at the end of the ceremony. Everyone’s hearts melted when he spun her around and planted one on her.

Charlie took a few more pictures of her with her diploma before Grayson spoke back up.

“Alright, coffee’s on me!”

It seemed to have gotten somewhat colder outside as the wind whipped around the buildings, and Indy curled into a much warmer Grayson as the group headed down the sidewalk. He moved his finger to her palm.

P-R-O-U-D-O-F-U

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, her blush almost warm enough to soak through his coat.

But it was nothing compared to the redness that spread over her cheeks when she walked into Jets.

“HAPPY GRADUATION INDIANA!”

The cry was championed by Patrick, who stood in the lobby absolutely beaming at her, below a banner that they’d hung above the espresso bars that read the same. Indy didn’t have to ask - the grin on Grayson’s face gave it away. She wanted to ask him how long he’d planned that surprise, how many more he had in store. She felt woefully undeserving, especially when she realized that Patrick had shut down the store for an hour just for her.

“And I thought you giving me free coffee was bad for business,” she said in his ear when she hugged him.

“I don’t know what lover boy over there does but he covered normal sales for the hour and then some,” he mumbled.

One of the baristas handed Ethan a sign that read “closed for private celebration” to hang on the door, and then it was truly time to celebrate. Indy walked behind the bar like she had a million times before, happy to see that everything was still in the same place. Patrick threw her an apron that she jokingly tied on over her robe before she clapped her hands together.

“Alright, who wants what?”

She made some of her best latte art that day - leaves, a flower for Lisa, a slightly lopsided swan for Devin per his request. It felt nice to be in a familiar place doing something she was good at - it blanketed over the uncertainty that had begun to settle in when she realized that everything was on a trajectory of change. She would never sit in another undergraduate course, never have some of her favorite professors again. And there was always the factor of possibly looking at other schools - they all started their programs in the fall, which meant she had time to truly look, if she really wanted to. From her first tour of campus she’d always thought she would be at JCU for her whole academic career, but her mind began to wander when she heard the buzzing of all the other top schools that her cohort were applying to - Baylor, Harvard, and the one that had piqued her interest the most, UCLA.

She’d googled their admission rates one night when Grayson had fallen asleep during a back scratch, and her chances looked good. Really good. But she’d closed the tab quickly - LA was too far away from New York, from home.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” Grayson’s voice was soft as he clinked his mug against hers to get her attention.

“Just thinking,” she smiled, turning her head and tilting up until he kissed her quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

Indiana hopped off her barstool and headed back behind the bar, following Patrick who had disappeared to the back storage room. It was like walking into a friend’s house you hadn’t been to in a while when she passed through the swinging door. The freezers on the left and the syrups in organized rows on her right, just like before.

“Don’t even think about trying to do any dishes while you’re here,” Patrick said, his back still to her as she moved to the sink. She’d had too much time to think while she sat and waited for her name to be called during the ceremony - too much empty mental space that could be allotted to all the things she should be doing. Which meant she’d managed to hatch up a whole plan to better herself in more ways than one in a mere 20 minutes.

“Do you guys still have the same insurance policy for employees? Like the new health benefits, the mental health ones that you all put in like two months before I left?”

Patrick turned the water off.

“Yeah, insurance is the same, it covers four therapy sessions a month for anyone who qualifies. But that’s just for full time employees. But I could probably pull a few strings and get you some benefits with part time hours… is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything is fine! I was just curious. Thanks.”

Indy turned to leave, jumping a bit when she realized that Charlie was behind her.

“What’re you doing back here?”

“I was looking for Patrick, there’s a delivery guy here with milk,” Charlie explained, but there was a seriousness in her brows that let Indy know that she had not only heard enough of the conversation, but that she was definitely going to have to talk about it later.

Damn.

She pushed the thought aside and put on another smile before they all exited the backroom, laughing at the sight of one of Ethan trying to steam milk. He turned at her entrance and lost his focus, moving the pitcher down too far and spraying almond milk everywhere before the barista who was helping him flipped the wand back up.

“Eden’s on facetime for you over there!” He pointed towards the counter and his phone, which Indy happily picked up to find a beaming Eden, who informed her that she’d sent a card that would probably be there a few days late, but she’d tried. She stayed on FaceTime while they all thanked Patrick again and headed back to the apartment, Lisa unveiling the gift pile and vegan cookie cake she’d managed to sneak in while Grayson had distracted Indiana with questions about his outfit choices. Almost every gift made Indiana cry - just the idea that they’d spent any time thinking about her was enough to have her emotional anyways. But between the blanket that Lisa had embroidered with JCU 20’, Ethan’s gift of a JCU Alumni sweatshirt and Indy’s dream record player that Charlie and Devin had got her, she was teary-eyed. Her mouth fell open when Grayson came out with a giant box from the spare room - she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how he’d managed to sneak it in past her - but she didn’t care when she unwrapped it and realized it was a Mastrena.

“You bought me an espresso machine? Grayson! These things cost a fortune!”

“Yeah, but you graduated college! And now you can make lattes all the time.”

“Gray-”

“And you can make me lattes,” he teased, knowing it would take her a while to fully accept it. She just shook her head when he kissed her cheek, overwhelmed.

By the time the night was coming to a close, everyone was piled onto the couch, with Charlie and Indy on their boyfriend’s laps to make room for everyone as they watched Collateral Beauty at Indy’s request. Grayson frowned when she sniffled and held her when she cried, eyes more focused on her than the screen. And he couldn’t say he was too sad to see Lisa and Ethan say goodbye, or for Devin and Charlie to say their goodnights before they disappeared into the spare room.

The duo brushed their teeth in the sink side by side, and Grayson snapped a picture of them in the mirror with a foamy smile before they stripped down to underwear and scurried under the covers.

Indy was just as glad to have him to herself for the first time all day, and she soaked in his warmth, sighing when he pulled her closer.

“I love you. Thank you for today.”

Y-O-U-R-E-W-E-L-C-O-M-E he traced on her shoulder blade, lips on her forehead.

T-I-R-E-D?

“Why?” Grayson smirked, laughing quietly when she smacked his chest.

“It’s been a long day, that’s why.”

“For you,” he corrected.

“You had to sit around and watch me all day though.”

“You say that as if it’s something I wouldn’t enjoy. I could celebrate you everyday baby.”

She blushed at his words, burying her face in his neck.

“For someone as accomplished as you, you really suck at letting people acknowledge your accomplishments,” he teased, running his fingertips over her skin lightly. She did the same over his chest, tracing a hexagon.

“I’m… I’m not used to people being proud of me I guess.”

Grayson frowned and pulled back and looked at her, really looked in her eyes. They were still the color of the jellyfish, just a bit duller in the low light of her bedroom.

“I’m proud of you Indiana.” He paused, offering her a small smile. “But you know what? I’m not the most proud.”

Indy waited.

“Your mom. She’s gotta be the most proud of you. She’s seen every single minute you put in to get where you are right now.”

She crumpled into his chest, and the tears that had threatened her all day finally fell, hot and salty as they traveled onto his skin. It was quiet in the room for a while, and Grayson waited patiently - quietly, until she spoke again.

“I felt her today. She was there.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t see her or anything. But I had a dream about her the other night though, and it felt like she was really there with me. And it felt like that today too. Does that ever happen to you? With your dad?”

“Oh all the time. He’s always with me. Sometimes it’s stronger than other times - like when I’m about to do stupid shit, or make a mistake, I can hear him clear as day in my head. But it’s comforting, you know? Knowing they’re there, watching over us.”

“Yeah.” Indy’s throat was tight all over again. She wished she could have met Sean for a moment, and then she realized that in some ways, in knowing Grayson, she had.

“You know, one of the things that really stuck with me, towards the end, was something his nurse said. Her name was Charlotte, and she must have been working fucking overtime because she was always there. But one day I was in the hallway, cause I just needed a break, and she came and sat down next to me on the floor. And at that point, I mean we knew. We didn’t know when, but we knew. And she looked at me and she said ‘sweetheart, this is a gift for him. He gets so much more time with you, because he can always be with you instead of only sometimes.’ And I remember, I was so fucking mad at her, because who the fuck says that shit to someone whose about to lose their parent? But she was right. She was so fucking right.

“And while the doctors were in and out, giving us all these numbers and all these timelines and all that, Charlotte was the only one who really told me anything that mattered. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but my dad didn’t want to know anything about his… his cancer. He didn’t want to know his counts, or how much time he had left. He never asked, and she was the only one who stood by him in that, made sure that he didn’t know anything he didn’t want to. And it meant so much to him, in the end, that he had that choice. That was one of the only things he asked us to do, before he went. He told us not to cry, and he told us to take care of Ma, and Cam, but he told us to look out for Charlotte too. When we could think, we went back to the unit, asked the other nurses if there was anything she needed, and it turns out she’d been driving a 1995 Honda for a decade, and she didn’t think it would make it through the rest of the winter. We bought her an SUV, and I still don’t think she knows it was us, but I swear my dad told me which one to get for her. And he was so fucking proud.”

Indiana hung on his every word, watching him as he watched the ceiling, like he always did when he talked about his father.

“He has so much to be proud of Grayson. He helped raise a wonderful, wonderful man. The best, actually.”

Her voice snapped him out of his own head, and he turned to her quickly, worried.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Hey, don’t ever apologize for that. I like hearing about your dad, and it’s good to get it out sometimes. You can tell me anything that’s on your mind, you know that.”

He looked at her, there in his arms, eyes a bit puffy from tears passed, that soft smile on her lips that was somehow more endearing than her full one, and he felt tears of his own start to prickle. He knew she meant it, knew she would be understanding, and that somehow made it worse.

What was he supposed to say? I love you so much, and I think you’re the love of my life, but our lives are completely different, and I promised I wouldn’t ask you to go to LA, and I’m terrified of losing you and I don’t want to hurt you.

His lips parted, and then he closed them again. She yawned so hard that her nose scrunched, and when she was done she curled back up against his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

“M’tired,” she mumbled, which meant she was already half asleep.

He pulled the covers over her shoulders and kissed her hair.

“I love you,” she whispered, tracing the same letters she spoke.

“I love you more.” His voice was tight as his finger moved against the back of her arm, and he turned the lamp off before any of his tears fell.

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

When Indiana woke up, Grayson’s arms were like a cage around her. Usually, they were still somewhat intertwined when they woke, but she’d never had to maneuver her way out of his arms with so much force before.

She finally managed it, and replaced herself with a pillow that he gladly pulled to his chest. Indy couldn’t help but to lean over and brush some of his floppy hair out of his eyes, staring for a moment before she pulled herself away and headed into the kitchen.

The reason for her early wake up was standing in front of the fridge, with a head of blonde hair that resembled a birds nest.

When she turned around, she looked guilty as ever.

“Shit, did I wake you up?”

“Nah,” Indy reassured her sister with a smile, moving over to the coffee machine. “It’s 10 anyways, I’m surprised I slept that long.”

Grayson had gotten her a newer version that was actually fairly quiet, but she made sure both the bedroom doors were shut before she ground the espresso for her latte, and Charlie’s flat white.

Charlie was nice enough to wait until she had her mug to bring it up.

“So.”

Indy sighed. “So.”

“You asked Patrick about insurance stuff.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re going to work there again?”

“I have to pay rent somehow, don’t I?”

“Dad pays your rent.”

“I don’t want dad to pay my rent, that’s the whole issue.”

“Okay, but you didn’t ask Patrick about salary, you asked him about insurance. For mental health specifically.”

“You know, it’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“Are you okay? Because you know that you can always talk to me about stuff, whatever it is. And I know I’m not the best about talking about mom, but I can try, I’ve been doing better with it and-”

“Char. Stop. It’s not about mom.”

“Oh.” It was obvious by her long pause that she hadn’t considered an alternative, but Indy waited anyways.

“Then… what’s going on?”

Indy toyed with the foam on her latte with her finger, ignoring how hot it was.

“I was thinking about trying to get a handle on the plane thing.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want it to be such a big deal for me to just, fucking fly somewhere. I gotta get over that shit.”

Charlie pondered it for a minute, and she chose her next words carefully.

“Just to fly? Or to fly to a specific place.”

Indy laughed.

“You know, you’ve never been good at subtle. You got that from mom. But no, I’m not just doing it because of Grayson.”

“Did he ask you to?”

“Of course not, he wouldn’t do that.” Charlie’s shoulders relaxed. “But he does live in LA, which means I’ve gotta be able to fly out there.”

“How often?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Oh. Doesn’t he leave soon though?”

“January.” She said it casually.

“Inds that’s next month.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Charlie had a million more questions, but she held her tongue and sipped her coffee.

“I’ve gotta pack, our flight leaves in a few hours. I’m assuming you don’t have any breakfast food.”

“Actually, I do, but I’m not the breakfast chef around here.”

She sat her mug down on the counter and threw Charlie a wink before she headed back into her room as quietly as she could, sneaking up to the edge of the bed. Grayson had rolled to his stomach, something in his unconscious realizing that the pillow that he’d tossed away was in fact not his girlfriend. He almost looked too adorable to disturb.

Almost.

She went the gentle route, changing her mind on the pounce plan that she’d originally made. Instead, she crawled up the mattress and over his back, laying down on top of him with her cheek pressed to his warm shoulder.

He grunted a bit, but it turned into a sigh when she started peppering kisses along his skin.

“Mornin gorgeous,” he grumbled, eyes still closed. “What’re you doin’ back there?”

“Just hanging out.”

“Well- “ he rolled slightly, just enough to pull her over his side and onto the mattress so he could move right back with her underneath him -” maybe you should hang out down here instead.”

She relaxed into him like she always did, peppering kisses against his chest. Her hands ran over the ripples of muscles in his arms before she stopped and traced.

B-R-E-A-K-F-A

“Ahhh, so you didn’t just come in here for cuddles huh,” Grayson cut her off with a smile, quirking an eyebrow when she looked up at him.

“If you make us all avocado toast I’ll pay you in cuddles,” she offered. It puffed up Grayson’s chef alter ego just enough to convince him to get out of bed and throw some pants on. Indy stayed closed to him, soaking up the last bits of warmth from the morning as she helped him prep everything for breakfast. She could have done it, but Grayson’s pride at a very nicely laid out plate of avo toast, strawberries and honeydew was the best addition she could make. So she stuck to the coffees instead, passing over mugs as Devin appeared and Charlie followed, though she was still working on her cup from earlier.

“Well, now I see how he turned you into a breakfast person,” she said, graciously accepting a plate. They ate over quiet conversation, enjoying the last little bit of time they had before the airport and the inevitable goodbye. Grayson had bonded with the duo even more during their visit, and he was sad to see them having to leave again so soon. When Indy went to change, Grayson followed her, frowning when she didn’t pick her warmest jacket.

“It’s supposed to get really cold out, you’ll probably want your big one,” he said as subtly as he could, popping his knuckles as he spoke.

“I thought it was supposed to be a little warmer today,” she pouted. “We’re only gonna be outside to walk to the car.”

“Right, but you’re always cold. Just wear that one.” He gave her his most dazzling smile and she gave in, sliding in on before she left. Grayson was grateful that she listened - it meant he didn’t have to reveal his final graduation surprise too soon. He bit his tongue on the drive to the airport, gave out his hugs to Charlie and Devin, squeezing Indy into his side when she sniffled at the sight of her sister disappearing into the terminal.

Indy didn’t have a single suspicion until Grayson took a different turn into the city, much earlier than usual - 50th, instead of 26th.

“Bub? This is the wrong way.”

“No it isn’t.”

“We get off on 26th for the garage.”

“We aren’t going to the garage.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face - the sheepish one that always made Indy’s heart flutter. She’d seen it so many times, but it still had the same effect on her every single time.

“Well then where are we going?” There was a childlike excitement in her voice that made Grayson laugh. He pulled her hand up to his face, kissed her skin softly.

“You’ll see.”

The first stop it seemed, was a jewelry store.

“This is not the surprise by the way, just an errand. Gotta pick up a christmas gift for mom.”

“I was gonna get her a sweater for christmas, do you think she’ll like that?”

“Li does love a good sweater. She’ll love anything you get her though, you’re the favorite.”

Indy rolled her eyes but didn’t respond as one of the workers came up and asked what they were there for. When Grayson gave his name she headed to the back and came back out with a small box.

“May I?” She asked.

Grayson nodded, waiting for her to open it. Inside was a beautiful ring, silver and delicate, with a large light blue stone in a princess cut.

“It’s beautiful,” Indy mused.

“Blue topaz. My dad’s birthstone. Mine and E’s too. You think she’ll like it?”

“Gray she’ll love it, of course she’ll love it.”

“I hope so.” His nerves were evident - he was always on a mission to make sure that his mom still had a good Christmas, although she always said all she needed was to have her kids back under her roof for the day. He paid the final portion of the ring payment and slipped the box into his pocket, waiting until they were back outside to turn to Indy with a wide smile.

“Now, we really celebrate.”

They walked hand in hand down the street. Indy kept her protests to herself - she wasn’t used to being spoiled in any way. In fact, it still made her uncomfortable when anyone spent money on her in any form, but she tried to remind herself that money didn’t mean the same thing to him as it did to her. So when they strolled up to one of the nicer restaurants in the city for a late lunch, she bit her tongue and tried not to think about the prices, following him inside to the warmth. It was dimly lit, the type of place where the host would take your coat off and pull your chair out for you.

Grayson beat him to it, fingers brushing over her shoulders while he pulled her coat off. She felt underdressed in just jeans and a sweater, but he looked at her like she hung the moon for him and him alone, and she wondered for a moment if there would ever be a day in their lives together that he couldn’t make her blush just by looking at her.

The menu didn’t even have prices next to the items, and it made Indy’s mouth dry enough for her to finish her water before the waiter even came back for their order.

Grayson noticed. He always noticed. He reached a hand across the small table for her hand, thumb running over her smooth acrylics that she’d gotten pre-graduation.

“Why are you nervous bub?”

“This place is expensive,” she explained after a moment’s hesitation.

“And graduating college a year early is a feat worth celebrating,” he reminded her, raising up his wine glass filled with water. “Despite the fact that you seem to hate being celebrated.”

“I don’t hate being celebrated. I’m just… not used to it I guess. Wasn’t a big Cross family thing, even before.”

“Well, it’s a big Dolan family thing.”

“I guess I better get used to it then.”

She clinked her glass against his as he swallowed hard, the movement of his throat hidden by the lighting. He pushed the thoughts from his head, the constant nagging he seemed to never be able to escape from, the better part of his conscience begging him to do the right thing, to tell her what he was thinking. She didn’t deserve for him to drag it out if he really was going to end things - she deserved so much more, more than he could give her with the life that he led. But every time he thought he had the courage to say something she’d reel him back in with a smile, or a witty comment, or just a look, entirely unaware of what she was doing. And he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else but the spot that she’d managed to carve out in his soul in just a few short months. He knew deep down he’d never find anyone else to fill it, but he also knew that she deserved to live the life she wanted to. A life without a boyfriend whose life interfered with hers. He just didn’t know how to reconcile with the fact that he would break her heart, and his own in the process.

So, he ignored his conscience and gave in to the selfish side of himself.

When she asked where he’d gone, he said he was planning, and it wasn’t a lie. If he was only going to have so many days with her, he wasn’t willing to sacrifice a single moment.

So he held her hand on top of the table while they waited for their food, striking up a conversation about college memories and her classmates that she would miss the most. The food was as incredible as he expected, and he made a mental note to thank Ethan for the recommendation. Grayson made sure that Indy didn’t see the inside of the bill when the waiter brought it, even being careful to slip the $200 in cash in the billfold practically under the table.

He led her back out into the cold, for once thankful for the early sunset of NYC that already had the city lights glowing against the fading sky. There was something magical about it, about existing on the streets with so many other people, knowing each one of them had their own story and life that they led. Indy people watched as Grayson led her safely down the streets, letting her cling onto his arm for comfort and warmth. It was only a few blocks until they saw the metallic flags and turned the corner to find the Rockefeller Center tree, massive and glorious in its height. It was speckled with what seemed like millions of lights, all twinkling in bright colors amongst the branches.

“Wow.”

Grayson watched the wonder on her face with a chuckle. “You’re a New Yorker, aren’t you supposed to be used to this shit?”

She smacked his arm, but kept her eyes forward. “I haven’t been to see it in years. It’s beautiful.”

He looked at her. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

He let her admire it as long as she wanted, resting his cheek against the top of her head when she leaned over on him.

“You wanna get closer?”

She frowned at him. “How?”

Grayson started walking with her in tow, down the stairs and around the plaza until he got to the ground level, fishing two tickets out of his jacket pocket for the attendant at the front of the ice rink. Indiana squeezed his arm.

“Gray. Baby, this is so sweet, but I can’t skate for shit.”

“Why am I not surprised,” he laughed, shaking his head before he kissed her forehead. “I won’t let you fall. Promise.”

They checked out their skates quickly, lacing up on one of the benches before Indy rose on wobbly feet, immediately letting out a squeal and reaching for her boyfriend. He caught her with a laugh, adjusting his own balance before they started walking to the edge of the ice. That familiar Grayson confidence was evident as he stepped on, getting his bearings before he reached out a hand for her.

“C’mon, I’ve got you. You got this, just one foot at a time.”

She grabbed both his hands and let him counteract her weight as she tried to get her footing, finally finding her balance after a moment of wobbling.

“Okay, now push off with one foot and glide with the other. Like this.”

He went to let go to demonstrate, and she clung to his hands with a squeak. “Don’t let go!”

Grayson’s cackle bounced off the ice. “Okay, okay! I’m right here, you’re good. Just try.”

Indy didn’t like not being good at things. But god was she terrible at ice skating. It didn’t matter how much instruction Grayson tried to give her, it was like it refused to translate into the movement of her legs. She was adorable when she was frustrated, but Grayson wanted it to be enjoyable for her too, so after a few laps around of watching her struggle he slid behind her, hands solid on her hips.

“Just keep your legs and feet straight, and I’ll do the rest.”

She held onto his hands as he started to push her along - she’d forgotten that he was annoyingly athletic but the feeling of actually gliding across the ice kept her from teasing him about it. It was peaceful, and despite the crowd both on the ice and above them by the tree, she felt like they were the only two in the city.

Grayson took them through the middle after they’d gone around a few times, towards the center for one pass and she squeezed his hand when they got there.

“Wait, stop!”

He turned his skates, throwing a bit of ice onto her ankles on accident, peaking over her shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“Turn me around. Please.”

He did as she asked, faster than he meant to, and it had her nails digging into his shoulders as he tried to hold her up without them both going down. She was breathing fast when he got them steady, quirking an eyebrow.

“We gotta take a picture in front of the tree!”

He obliged, pulling his phone out of his pocket and turning them slowly until the tree was behind them, snapping a few of the two of them smiling before he kissed her cheek, and then her lips, randomly pressing the button and hoping they were still in frame.

Her lips were cold against his, and tasted like the vanilla chapstick she’d put on before they’d left the restaurant. It sent tingles down the back of his neck that made him put his phone back in his pocket and pull her closer to him.

Wrong move. He’d never met someone so uncoordinated in his life, and it was the closest call of them all when her legs started to flail. His only hope of saving her from hitting the ice was to pick her up fully and hope that he could keep his balance with the sudden weight shift.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, clinging to his neck while he laughed.

“What am I gonna do with you,” he teased, and in a moment of confidence he dipped her down like they were dancing and kissed her again. The same tingle went down his neck, the hair there standing up, still there even when he sat her on her skates again, keeping an arm wrapped around her waist.

Above them, as if someone had turned on a machine, it began to snow. Big fluffy flakes fell around them, disappearing into Indy’s light hair and speckling the top of Grayson’s. It was magic in its simplest form, and Indy couldn’t help but beam at him.

“I love you. So much.”

“I love you more,” he said, and he meant it.

They headed off the ice a few minutes before their session expired, unlacing their boots with numb fingers that they shoved in their pockets for the walk back to the truck. As soon as they climbed in the cab Grayson blasted the heat and opened an arm for Indy to cuddle up next to him. Once they were thawed enough, Grayson proposed the idea of hot chocolate, specifically to help the fact that Indy’s teeth were still chattering. Which was how they ended up at Jet’s 40 minutes later, squished together in the blue chair by the window, watching the snow fall as they sipped peppermint hot chocolates that Patrick had given them on the house. Grayson dropped a 20 in the tip jar anyways.

The lobby was busy, with people in and out constantly, wiping the snow off their shoes as best they could on the small doormat. They shuffled through the line, a few of them sitting down for a moment to wait for their names to be called. Indy was used to the bustle, though she felt a bit guilty that she wasn’t behind the bar helping out when she had the skills to. Instead, she just smiled any time a barista looked her way, and spent the rest of her time watching the snow outside.

Grayson’s eyes were on a girl. A few girls, actually, who looked oddly familiar though he couldn’t place where he’d seen them before. They’d sat at a table towards the back of the store, having come in right behind him and Indy. But since then they’d moved forward one table, and then another, and the not so subtle way that two of them had angled their phone had that familiar prickle at the back of his neck rising again. He shifted in his chair quickly, turning his head away and attempting to do his best to block the view of Indiana.

“Hey, you ready to get outta here?”

“Did you finish already?” She asked, surprised considering her cup was still half full.

“Yeah,” he lied. “Just figured we could get home and change into some cozy pjs is all.”

“That sounds nice.” Indy moved in to kiss his cheek, and though he tried to pull away, he didn’t do it fast enough.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Two for two. “Let’s just get home.”

The walk was as short as ever, but it was enough time for Indy’s mind to race. Had he been annoyed that she said something about the restaurant being expensive? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to help her ice skate - most people could at least hold themselves up on the rails at least. But he’d seemed so happy, which somehow made her feel worse, that she’d missed it somehow.

By the time they made it to the elevator, she was borderline panicking.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Did I do something?”

Her words broke Grayson out of his own thoughts, and he rushed into reassurances.

“No, it’s not you baby. It’s not, I promise.”

“Then what is it? And don’t say it’s nothing.”

“I’m good, really. Just wanted to get home.”

For the first time in her almost three months of knowing Grayson, she didn’t believe him. But she knew when to drop a subject, so she just nodded and followed him out of the elevator.

Half of Grayson’s wardrobe seemed to have migrated into Indy’s apartment, so it wasn’t hard to find cozy clothes that had them curled up together on the couch in no time. Grayson felt guilty, and tried to distract himself by running his fingers through her soft hair, tried to focus on the weight of her leaned against him. She was quiet as she scrolled through show after show, not really looking. She picked a random cooking show eventually just to fill the silence in the room, moving to lay across Graysons lap. His hand moved under her shirt, fingers still a bit cold as he ran them lightly over her skin.

She didn’t say anything, just glad to have him there with her. She traced on top of his sweatpants, shapes and words, L-O-V-E-Y-O-U and T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U. The fabric was so thick that he could barely make out what she was writing.

“Thank you? For what?”

She rolled over so she was looking up at him. “For today. For celebrating me.”

He traced a thumb over her cheek. “You’re welcome. I love you. So much.”

“C’mere,” Indy said, reaching up for him. It took some shifting, but eventually they got settled where they were laying together on the couch, with her pressed between the cushions and his chest. She was warm as she kissed him, slow and calculated, trying to get across to him that she was there for whatever he was going through without the words. He reciprocated, but his mind was still spinning, images of the girls and their phones behind his eyelids.

The kiss faded out into cuddles which faded into an uncomfortable silence that Indy was desperate to resolve.

“What’s the update on the tiny homes? Weren’t the floor guys supposed to come in yesterday?”

“Yeah, Ethan went out there and said they were almost done. We’ve got some interior designers coming out tomorrow and then they’ll be done-done,” Grayson explained, heart rate rising as yet another opportunity to tell her came up.

“They really got those done so fast. I guess that’s a perk of a tiny home though, not much floor space to floor. How often do you guys think you’re gonna come out and stay in them?”

He licked his lips, trying to find the right words to tell her.

“Well, actually-”

His phone buzzed in his pocket - a call from Ethan.

He didn’t know whether to feel grateful or annoyed, but he fished his phone out of his pocket anyways, sliding over to answer.

“Yo.”

“Hey, mom wants to put up the christmas decs tomorrow cause she still doesn’t have them up. You remember where we put the lights?”

“Yeah, they’re in the attic I think, with the tree.”

“Well, you’re the family santa, so get your ass out here early tomorrow to hang some lights. And bring Indy too, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Don’t make breakfast, we’ll bring donuts or something.”

“Fuck you, be here at 10.”

He hung up, making Grayson roll his eyes and look down at Indy.

“You up for Christmas decorating tomorrow at home tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun! But I’m sure as fuck not getting on the roof.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll do the roof, you can do the stuff inside with Ma. Deal?”

“Deal,” she smiled, wiggling up to kiss him again, trying to chase out the rest of her worries before she curled up into his chest.

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

The snow had piled onto the sides of the highway in ugly mounds stained with dirt and asphalt drudged up by the plows. So Indy kept her eyes on the trees as they flew by, specifically the evergreens she saw, with their green bristles weighted down with white, heavy and thick.

“Are you sure you guys wanna get on the roof with all this? Won’t it be slick?”

“Nah, Dad used to do it all the time. I’ll just make E shovel while I try to find the clips we put up there last year. Besides, if I fall off I’ve got a doctor to mend me up,” he teased, squeezing her leg.

“I’m not a doctor yet.”

“Okay, well an almost doctor then. How many years until you’re actually one again?”

“11 years minimum. Well, 10 for me cause I skipped a year in undergrad. But it could be up to 16, depending on how long my residency would go.”

“And you’re gonna do it all through JCU?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan right now,” she mumbled, eyes still focused out the window.

“Hey,” he got her attention, waiting for her to turn to him. “You’re gonna be an amazing doctor someday. You’re gonna help so many people. Just having you in the room, doing the little things for people, that’s gonna mean more to those people than you even realize. They’re gonna be really lucky to have you.”

The sentiment seemed to arise out of nowhere, but she still blushed at his kind words. “The little things are actually more the nurses, but thank you.”

He let her watch the trees for the rest of the drive, and she was so focused on them that she barely noticed Ethan already on the roof when they pulled in.

He had a bright orange shovel in his hands, the scoop full of snow that he began to swing back and forth once they stepped out of the car, shoes crunching the snow below them.

“Don’t you dare!” Indy called, but it was too late. The snow was already flying and she squealed, grabbing Grayson and pulling him out of the way while it rained down right where they had been standing.

A moment later and Lisa was outside, hands on her hip with the menacing energy only a mom could produce.

“Ethan Grant! That’s how you fall and bust your fucking head open! Knock it off!”

Grayson bit back a laugh when Ethan kicked a tiny bit more snow off the edge so it sprinkled down by Lisa.

“Will you get up there before he falls off please?” She turned to Grayson, exasperated. “Indy, come in, it’s cold.”

It was Indiana’s turn to laugh when Lisa hooked their arms together and led her into the house, leaving Grayson out in the snow. He grabbed the lights that Ethan had already gotten out, looping his arm through before he headed up the ladder at the lowest point of the roof.

“I’ve already done the other side of the house, so I’m just here for moral support and to save your ass if I need to, my job is done,” Ethan explained, moving over to a spot by the chimney to sit down.

“Oh yeah, you shoveled on a downhill slope, the horror,” Grayson muttered, but in all honesty he would rather do the lights himself anyways.

They talked about the tiny homes and the final touches they needed while Grayson moved around the roof carefully, trying to counteract his balance when he got closer to the edge, cursing his mom silently for having roofs so high that they couldn’t do it from the top of a ladder.

The front of the house went without incident, and Ethan begrudgingly helped by holding the extra lights while Gray strung them. But when Ethan went down the ladder to get the next strand to connect, he took a minute too long to come back up. Grayson tried to use what little patience he was born with, but it fizzled out quickly, making him stomp across the roof to the edge.

“Yo, what the fucks taking so long?”

“Gray.”

“Can you not find them or what?”

“Grayson.”

He didn’t like the tone of his brother’s voice.

“What? What happened?”

“Come down here.”

Grayson took the ladder so quickly that his feet almost slipped, but he was at his brother’s side in a moment, taking his phone that he had outstretched.

His stomach dropped into the snow under his feet as he began to scroll with a numb thumb. There were pictures. So many pictures, and Indy was in every single one of them. Tweet after tweet with different screenshots of the two of them - looking at the tree, ice skating, sitting in Jets, even walking down the street. He pieced it together, realized that the reason the girls had looked familiar was because they’d followed them.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

Bile rose in his throat when he found a video, zoomed in as far as it would go with surprising quality as he pushed Indy along on the ice, towards the middle of the rink. He watched her squeeze his hands and laugh, watched himself turn her around so they could get their picture, watched himself kiss her cheek and her lips.

He didn’t want to read, but he couldn’t help himself. There were a few familiar handles that talked about how happy they were for him, but the majority of it was exactly what he expected.

So much for ‘working on himself’ he’s back on the constant girlfriend trend

Didn’t think she was his type but okayyyyy I guess 🥴

When we said we didn’t want Grayson to end up with an LA girl, we didn’t mean ~that~

Her insta is indiana.jamie, i’ve never even heard of her

The worst was a two set of images from Jet’s, where her face was in plain view. The second one had edited lighting, and was zoomed in on his pocket, with the text above it.

Look I know I sound crazy but WTF IS IN HIS POCKET? IS THAT A RING BOX? GRAY BABY NOOOOOOO

“Fuck.” He couldn’t find another word, and Ethan was no help. A call from Adele came in on his phone, and E looked at him for approval. He just nodded and let him answer, turning away and heading into the house, not even bothering to clean his boots.

“Dee! Indiana!”

“In here!” She called back and he jogged into the living room, not realizing he was breathless until he got there and saw that the tree had been assembled. She had an ornament in her hand when he ran in and she put it on the tree quickly, her stomach tightening at the look on his face.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Where’s your phone, have you looked at your phone?”

“It’s over there, it’s just been playing music. Baby what’s wrong?”

He ran over to it, muttering out a ‘shit’ when the screen lit up, both at the flood of notifications and the fact that her lockscreen had changed to their picture from the ice.

“Woah.” She took her phone from him, unlocking it and heading after all the notifications on instagram. “Holy shit. I got 3,500 new followers, what the fuck?”

“Indy, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She closed her phone and looked at him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “For what?”

“I should have thought about it, there’s not usually paps in New York, I didn’t even think about fans, and now everyone’s tweeting a bunch of bullshit about you, I’m just, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Slow down,” she murmured, hand moving to his face. She saw Lisa leave the room out of the corner of her eye, but she kept looking at Grayson. “It’s okay. We knew this was going to happen.”

“They saw the ring box in my pocket in some of the pictures, they probably think we’re fucking engaged, and they’re gonna be relentless. Every time you get online you’re gonna see some bullshit about you because of me.”

“Gray, it’s alright. It’s okay, I can handle it.”

“No, you can’t, nobody can, it’s gonna get to you. If you say it doesn’t effect you, you’re fucking lying.” He ran his hands through his hair and then down over his face, sucking in a breath that Indiana recognized.

“Gray, don’t cry. Look, look.” She unlocked her phone again, exited instagram and held down until it shook, deleting it quickly from her phone. “I don’t even post much anyways. And I don’t have a twitter, I’m not gonna see what they say about me. I don’t care, I promise you I don’t.”

Her gut told her a different story. Though it wasn’t her favorite quality of herself, Indy liked to be liked. It was natural, but she sought validation from other people more than she wanted to, and it made her dangerously curious to see what had caused such a visceral reaction in her boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, dropping his head. She got up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s not your fault.”

And for the first time in his almost three months of knowing Indiana, he didn’t believe her.

#WOOOOOO #I hope you guys like it!#let me know what you think pls :')#mixtape #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fanfic

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nachotrash · 3 years

Text

MORE INCORRECT QUOTES WITH MY MOOTS

ft: @catchmewiddershins @lilikags and @paradise-creator // no haikyuu boys this time

Pauline: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this? Wid, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

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

Pauline: We're having a baby. Shiyu: Oh, congradu- Wid, slamming adoption papers onto teh table: It's you, sign here.

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

Pauline: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? Shiyu, whispering: Why are there little handprints all over the walls? Wid, whispering: Because I have little hands. Shiyu: Because they have little hands.

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

Wid: I was born for politics. I have great hair and I love lying.

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

Lili: Life keeps fucking me and I can't remember the safeword.

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Wid: Pros and cons of dating me. Wid: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Wid: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

(cons. you're the smart one😔)

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Shiyu: Sure, you're verified on twitter, but are you verified in the eyes of god?

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

Pauline: Theater kids are just choir kids who joined forces with the band and strings kids.

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Shiyu: Did you just call me a shrimp, you asshole?! I'm still growing, dammit!

(*lipbites in 166 cm*)

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Wid: I don't dab. I stab.

(nOw WhEarE HAvE i SeEn ThIs BeFoRe)

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Shiyu: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

(t-pose to assert dominance)

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

Shiyu, as a child, reading their school assignment out loud: I love my library because... Shiyu, mouthing words while writing: I love reading, fuck you.

(lmao baby nacho really be bold)

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

Shiyu: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

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

Lili: It's not ugly, just aesthetically challenged.

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

Pauline: The last time I went to an urgent care clinic, I checked off 'excessive crying' on the symptom list, and then the nurse got really confused and said that was meant for babies.

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

Pauline: All of your existences are confusing. The Squad: How so? Pauline: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me.

(we are the squad now)

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

Lili: Blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer extortion. The X makes it sound cool.

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

Wid: Real life should have a fucking search function, or something. Wid: I need my socks.

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

Pauline: New year, same me. Because I'm perfect.

(yes yes you are how dare you)

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

Shiyu: Yeah I'm LGBT. Shiyu: cuLt leader. Shiyu: God hates me personally. Shiyu: cowBoy hat. Shiyu: *sniffles* Trying my best.

(my asexual ass be like;)

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

Wid: *plays shreksophone* Wid: Woo. Wid: Time to listen to this on loop for all eternity. Shiyu: ...Genius coping mechanism my friend

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

Shiyu: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Pauline: Killed without hesitation.

----------

Pauline: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

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Pauline: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

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

Pauline: I hate Lili. Shiyu: "Hate' is a strong word. Pauline: I have strong opinions.

(oh no)

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Wid: How does that even work? Shiyu, mocking them: hOw dO yOu UsE a cOmPUteR aNd KnOw wHaTS GoiNg oN iT DoEsNt mAke SeNSe?! Wid: Your face doesnt make sense.

(...fair enough)

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

Pauline: Get in, loser, we’re committing vehicular manslaughter!

-----------

Pauline: My stomach growled super loud in French. Pauline: I would like to clarify, my stomach did not speak in French. It growled during French class. Shiyu: Bonjour. Lili: Le growl. Wid: Hon hon hon, feed me a baguette.

(reminds me of the 'ill speak french between your legs' tumblr legend and im wheezing)

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

Shiyu: *tapping fingers on table* Lili: *taps fingers back furiously* Wid: …What’s going on? Pauline: Morse code. They’re talking. Shiyu: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … - Lili: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

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

Shiyu: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely. Wid, Lili, & Pauline: Okay. Shiyu: If you don't want to die, give me all your money. Wid: Bold of you to assume I have money. Lili: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die. Pauline: Bold of you to assume I can die.

(pauline is a goddess. goddesses cant die)

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

Lili: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I weak or strong? Wid: Strong. Shiyu: Weak. Pauline: An idiot, is what your are.

(as long as you dont flinch or scream youre strong. unless you get punched in the gut by someone like ushijima ofc)

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

Shiyu: Those darn tall old people. Wid: Darm em' indeed. Pauline: Don't worry, they'll be gone soon enough. Lili: *sharpening knife* Yes. Dead. The Squad: Lili: Hahaha. Lili: ...Is this self-destructive behaviour?

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

Wid: Oh god, they texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Pauline. They're mad at you. Pauline: No, it's Shiyu. They're just being gramatically correct! *meanwhile* Shiyu: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at them. Lili: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Shiyu: I stand by my choice.

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

Wid: What do we think of Shiyu? *pause* Lili: *sighs* Nice pal. Pauline: I think they're gay.

=------------

Wid: Where is Shiyu? Pauline: I'll do you one better, who is Shiyu?? Lili: Here's a better question, why is Shiyu?

(i dont know man. ive been trying to figure it out for the last few years)

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

Wid: On the count of three, what’s your favorite cake? Wid & Lili: One, two, three- Wid & Lili: Chocolate cake, peanutbutter frosting, and chocolate chunks! Shiyu: Our turn, Pauline! One, two, three- Shiyu: Vanilla! Pauline: I’ve never had cake before. What is cake?

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

Pauline: I am darkness. I am an power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am- Wid: A doll. Shiyu: A cinnamon roll. Lili: A sweetheart. Pauline: Pauline: ...stop it.

(cant deny the truth bby)

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

Wid, Pauline & Shiyu: *screaming* Lili: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Shiyu?! Wid: Wait, why are you asking Shiyu that when Pauline and I are also here? Lili: Because Shiyu wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

(i mean... its true )

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

Pauline: What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out. Wid: Fucking Shiyu and Lili were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

(manifests dvalin cause i wanna ride on their back and fall off)

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

Lili: Wake me up- Wid: Before you go go Shiyu: When September ends Pauline: WAKE ME UP INSIDE

(cant wake up- WAKE ME UP INSIDE)

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

Shiyu, watching Pauline & Lili panic : What's going on? Wid: Pauline is having a midlife crisis and Lili is just having a crisis.

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

Lili: *Gasp* Pauline: wHAT?? Lili: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish? Pauline: *inhales* Wid, in another room with Shiyu: Why can I hear screeching?

(shiyu: same shit different day)

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

Shiyu: Christmas is cancelled. Wid: You can't cancel a holiday. Shiyu: Keep it up, Wid, and you'll lose New Year's too. Wid: What does that mean? Shiyu: Lili, take New Year's away from Wid.

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

Pauline: So, are they your friend or... Lili: They’re like Wid, but if Wid was ordered to be around you. Pauline: Oh, so Shiyu. Lili: Precisely!

(if its about how annoyed i always look then you ahve a point)

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

Wid: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Pauline: When have I been paranoid? Wid: Um, when you first met Lili you thought they were an undercover cop…? Pauline: No one has a wart that big, I thought it was a surveillance camera! Wid: And last year you were sure Shiyu was a mermaid! Pauline: They hate wearing shirts! COINCIDENCE?! *Later, when Pauline’s theory is proven wrong* Wid: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Pauline: I still think Shiyu is a mermaid.

(id gladly be one)

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

*Wid drunkenly wanders around the manor and Lili is drunkenly giggling* Shiyu, completely sober: *sighs* Well, looks like it's just me and you against the wold, Pauline. Pauline, going to their room: Nope, just you. *shuts door*

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

Wid: We need to distract these guys. Lili: Leave it to me. Lili: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Pauline & Shiyu: *immediately begin arguing*

(*pulls out dictionary*)

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

Police: You’re under arrest for trying to carry three people on a single motorcycle. Shiyu, with Wid and Lili behind them: Wait, what do you mean THREE?! Police: Yes…three. Shiyu: Oh, my God— What the fuck!? Police: Wha- Shiyu: Pauline FUCKING FELL OFF!

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

Wid: What is love? Pauline: An emotional minefield. Shiyu: A neurochemical reaction. Lili: Baby don't hurt me.

(BECAUSE FUCK EMOTIONS)

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

Pauline: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions? Wid: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you. Lili: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two. Shiyu: Put spaghetti in it. Pauline: I am no longer taking suggestions.

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

Shiyu, pointing to the wall: What color is this? Pauline: Gray. Lili: Grey. Shiyu, turning to Wid: Now tell them what color you think it is. Wid: Dark white.

#incorrect nacho

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exhaustedfander · 4 years

Text

You Don’t Want This [Intrulogical]

This idea wouldn’t leave me alone until I put it to paper so here we are. This includes mpreg, just as a warning if that’s not your thing. Requests are open so please, send me some! I’d probably be willing to do any ship besides r*mr*m. As always, likes and reblogs are really appreciated, enjoy and have a good day/night!

word count: 3,106

a03 link

Logan hadn’t seen his boyfriend in a week now and that was decidedly very odd. Prior to now, they’d spent nearly every day together. At the very least, Remus would call him or send him a couple of dirty texts. But no contact at all? It just didn’t make any sense.

It wasn’t as though Logan hadn’t reached out. In fact, right before Remus had all but completely cut off contact he’d fallen ill. Remus claimed that it was nothing more than a stomach bug, probably some bad fish he ate. Normally, Logan wouldn’t doubt him; Remus was never one to forgo the truth, no matter how grotesque or messy it might be. But this…this didn’t feel quite right.

They’d been together for almost a year-in-a-half now, for god’s sake, they’d been talking about moving in together and now Remus wasn’t talking to him. He was dodging his call for the most part and the few times that Logan was granted the privilege of a conversation, Remus had come up with some very half-baked excuses as to why they couldn’t see each other.

Logan had asked if he’d done something to upset him. He put everything he had into his relationship, but he had never been the best at understand other’s emotions, as well as his own, so the idea that he had done something to unintentionally hurt Remus’s feelings wasn’t too out-there. Remus had sworn that it was nothing and that Logan didn’t need to worry, which only deepened Logan’s concerns. Still, Remus was upset and not knowing what he could do to fix it, he decided giving him some space might be the best course of actions. How it had gotten to an entire week of this almost radio-silence, Logan wasn’t sure, and he was damn near about to call Remus and demand some kind of an explanation when his phone began to chime.

Logan noted that it was Remus’s twin brother Roman calling. He and Roman had actually known each other for far longer than he’d been with Remus, having been friends for a long time now.

“Hello, Roman,” Logan said after pressing ‘talk’, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“When was the last time you talked to Remus?” The question came out of absolutely nowhere, effectively throwing him for a loop.

“Uh – just a few days ago. But I suppose we haven’t seen each other in a week now.”

“You suppose?” There’s an anger in Roman’s tone, fiery and frantic.

“What exactly is going on here? Clearly you know something I don’t.” Roman scoffed.

“Yeah, clearly.” Logan huffed out a sigh, his concern only escalating from where it had been. “Logan, you need to talk to my brother. Now.” In all honesty, Logan was surprised that Remus and Roman were even on speaking terms. They’d never gotten along very well in all the time that he’d known them and now apparently Roman posed vital information about his boyfriend that he lacked.

“I don’t understand. Why won’t you explain to me what the situation is? What did Remus tell you? Is he alright?” Roman sighed.

“I can’t be the one to tell you, Lo. And I know he’s gonna be too scared to tell you if you call him. Please, go see him. He’s in a really fucked up mental state and he needs you, even if he’s too afraid to admit it.”

Logan felt his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. Remus was in a, as Roman explained it, a “fucked up” mental state and he was afraid to explain the reason to him. The very thought of such things and all the many possibilities of what it could mean swirled in his head.

“Roman – please, just explain it minimally. You’re, you’re elevating my concerns. Is Remus unsafe? Is he injured or ill?” “Please, go talk to him, Lo. We can talk about everything once you guys have had a conversation, but I need that to happen first.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Logan muttered through gritted teeth, “Goodbye, Roman.” Before his friend could even respond he’d ended the call. Logan buried his face in his hands, fear settling deep into his bones. He’d felt like something was off, but he’d dismissed it. Why had he been so foolish? Why hadn’t he applied any logic? Of course something was wrong! Something had felt amiss for the entire week and yet Logan hadn’t wanted to upset Remus. Now, it seemed, he needed to go see him. He needed to know what the hell was going on.

Logan drove faster than was considered legal on his way to Remus’s apartment, something under almost any circumstance he wouldn’t do. But his anxieties were gaining in momentum and they wouldn’t let up until he saw his boyfriend.

Hopping out of the car, he pulled the key from his back pocket in case Remus refused to answer his knocking and approached the door. Logan gave a knock, feeling his hands beginning to shake.

“Remus, it’s Logan. Please, open the door.” Logan was met with silence.

“Dear, I saw your car in its spot; I know you’re there. Let me in, please.” Nothing.

“Roman just called me. He sounded…incredibly concerned for your well-being and I’m worried too. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m here…” Logan was just about to use the key when the door swung open, revealing a disheveled Remus.

“Rem –.”

“Remind me to kick my brother’s ass for calling you,” he snarled, though he stood aside so that Logan could enter, “It was none of his goddamn business.” Logan came inside hastily, noting that it was in even more of a disarray than usual. The coffee table and counter were littered with dishes and there were crumbled pieces of paper all over the place. Remus would often get like this when inspiration struck him like a bolt of lightning and he needed to write every idea that came to mind. Seeing the state his boyfriend was in, however, Logan highly doubted that was the reason.

“Remus, I know you’ve been avoiding me. I wanted to give you space, assuming I’d done something to upset you, perhaps. But getting that call from Roman…” Logan trailed off, seeing the look of utter exhaustion on Remus’s face. Remus’s hair was ruffled, sticking up this way and that, and his makeup was smudged, mascara and eye shadow having left a purple and black trail down his cheeks. Logan reached out to touch Remus’s face, only to have him jerk back and slam the door shut, “you’ve been crying…”

“Yeah, no shit,” Remus huffed bitterly, walking over the sofa and flopping down. Logan noted that his boyfriend looked even paler than usual, something that deeply worried him. He sat down beside Remus, giving him enough distance to hopefully feel at least a little comfortable. Remus crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes cast downward.

Silence hung between them for a tense moment as Logan watched Remus try not to burst into a fit of tears. It was agonizing.

“Remus, whatever is going on, you can talk to me. I love you. You know that, don’t you?” Remus sighed, running a hand through his frazzled hair.

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? Love’s conditional.” Logan knitted his eyebrows together.

“What? I don’t understand, why would you say something like that? Remus, what happened?” Remus shook his head, taking a trembling breath before meeting Logan’s expectant gaze.

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” “Clearly, that isn’t the case. Something’s the matter; I’ve never seen you look so upset.”

“Well, I’m pregnant, so that’s something, I guess.” Logan felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. He looked at Remus, searching for some kind of falsehood, a practical joke of some kind. All he found was broken, terrified sincerity.

“W–what?”

“Pretty fucking wild, huh? We were using protection and all that shit – and yet here we are!” Logan felt his heart beating out of his chest, his mind going a mile-a-minute. He went silent, needing a moment to process before continuing.

“Remus why…why would you hide this from me? When did you find out?” “Week ago,” Remus said casually, or at least as casually as one can muster when they’re very near to tears, “I talked to Roman about it, by the way. So you don’t even need to worry. He said he’d help me out, honestly, it’s really sweet of him. I didn’t expect it of him, but what do ya know? People surprise you sometimes.” Logan blinked, feeling himself beginning to tremble as he reached out for Remus’s hand. His boyfriend pulled away.

“I don’t need to worry? Are-are you under the impression that I’m not going to help you? This all comes as quite a surprise but – Remus? Remus, dear, look at me? Won’t you look at me?” Remus shook his head, tears burning in his eyes once more.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that, Logan. You don’t want any part of this, trust me, I can handle myself.” Logan finally acquired a grip on Remus’s hand, holding it tight. His boyfriend’s wide, tear-filled eyes met his.

“Remus, you should have told me the moment you found out. The fact that you’ve had to deal with this almost all on your own for a week now…darling, I would have never wished that upon you. You don’t have to ‘handle yourself.’” Remus sniffled as Logan rubbed the pad of his thumb along his knuckles.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…don’t say all that, I-I know you don’t mean it. You’re not going to want anything to do with me after this.” “Who says I won’t?” Remus shuddered.

“I do! I – I don’t want to trap you in something you don’t want any part of! You’ve got a life to lead, so go fucking do it! Go and find somebody else, I’ll be fine. Always am.” Logan shook his hand firmly, feeling the emotions burning through him.

“No. Remus, don’t say that. I cannot fathom what you’re going through mentally at this time, but I can assure you, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve been terribly worried and when Roman called…well, I feared for the worst. Darling, I love you. I could never leave you, especially in the vulnerable state that you’re in.” Remus sniffed, jerking away from Logan’s grasp and burying his face in his hands.

“Stop saying that! S-stop it, I know it’s not gonna be true anymore. Please, just stop it…” A sob bubbled in Remus’s throat as he felt a hand settle onto his shoulder.

“Falsehood," Logan replied, far softer than he usually said the word, "I do love you, and this by no means changes that. Whatever course of action you want to take, I will continue to love you. You are my partner, you are the person who has stolen my heart, and I support you in anything.” Remus went silent, save for the sniffles, poking his head out from his hands and daring to make eye-contact.

“Even…even if I wanted to keep it?” Logan nodded, rubbing steady circles into Remus’s back.

“If that’s what you want then, yes. Even then. Is that what you want, Remus?” Remus whimpered.

“I…yeah. Yeah, I think so. Do you think I’m crazy? Me, thinking I could do anything like that? Even though it was a complete accident?”

"Of course I don’t think you’re crazy. As I said, whatever you want to do, I will put my support in you. I’m here, Remus, and I’m not going anywhere.” Remus sniffled, a hopeful smile wavering on his face.

“Do you promise? You’re not – you’re not gonna change your mind?” Logan pressed a kiss to Remus’s temple, reassuring and tender.

“I promise.” Logan suddenly found himself with a lap-full of Remus who was hugging him as tight as humanly possible and sobbing into his shoulder.

“Okay good b-because I was totally lying. I don’t have anything under control. Logan, I’m fucking terrified.” Logan couldn’t say he was much less scared. He’d never imagined himself being a father, never considered the possibility of having something like that with Remus. And terrifying though it was, the idea of Remus no longer being in his life was far scarier.

“It’s alright. Fear is a perfectly natural reaction. It’s going to be alright.” Logan felt Remus beginning to relax in his embrace, burying his face in the crock of his neck.

“I’m sorry…I just thought…” Remus trailed off, noting how he was getting tears and smudges of makeup on Logan’s shirt, though he lacked the energy to care, “I love you. I love you so goddamn much and I can’t believe you wanna stick around. I mean, you know I’m being serious, right? I wanna keep them…I know it’s nuts, and I’m just about the last person who should be having a baby but…”

“I believe you, Remus. I don’t think it’s nuts. We’re two perfectly rational, functional adults.” Remus snorted.

“Yeah, maybe you are.” “You don’t give yourself enough credit, darling. You’re a fantastic author. You’re a wonderful person.”

“You’re one of the only people who’d say that, babe. Me and “wonderful person” aren’t really words that go together.” Logan pressed a kiss to the crown of Remus’s head.

“You’re wonderful in your own ways, my dear. And I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful father.” Remus moved to look at Logan, an elated look in his eyes.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” Remus said before kissing Logan enthusiastically. It was a scary statement to contemplate, but one that excited Logan nonetheless.

“That we are,” Logan said fondly as they pulled away, “That we are.”

=+=

Logan rubbed Remus’s back as he heaved his guts out for the millionth time that night.

“It’s called fucking morning sickness,” Remus moaned into the toilet bowl, “Does it look like morning to you? It’s 10 o’clock, for god’s sake.”

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Logan said apologetically.

“That was my big tip off,” Remus said weakly, “The moment I got you to leave I was puking all the time. I figured either I was dying, or I was pregnant, and well, luckily it was the later. Though at this rate I might die from loss of vomit or something.” Logan decided against commenting on the fact that “loss of vomit” was not a cause of death, opting instead for getting a washcloth to wipe Remus’s mouth as well as a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Remus mumbled, dabbing the puke of his lips before downing the glass in two swallows. “I feel like shit.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Logan coaxed gently, helping Remus off the floor and into his bedroom. Logan’s very much set on having Remus move into his apartment as soon as possible, but for tonight this is where they’ll both stay.

“I really am sorry for how I acted,” Remus said uncharacteristically softly as Logan shut off the lights and slid into bed with him, “I was just so scared…ha, was. I’m still so scared, but you’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“You don’t need to apologize, dear. You’re under an incredible amount of physical and emotional stress, your reaction, though unfounded, was understandable. I’m not upset with you, if that’s what you think.” Remus sighed, wrapping his arms around Logan and pressing his face into his boyfriend’s chest.

“That’s good…LoLo? Do you really think we can do this?” There was a fragility to Remus's voice unlike Logan's ever heard. “And – and you’re not going to get scared away? When things progress, I mean. We’re only in month two or so, I think?” Logan searched for Remus’s hand in the dark, finding it and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You could never scare me away. I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow, by the way. To check in on the baby.” Remus smiled, further ensnaring Logan in his octopus-like-grip.

“You’re the fucking best – shit, I probably got to stop cursing so much huh? Well…that’s a problem for a little bit later. Little bean’s too tiny to hear any swear words right now, anyhow.” Logan quirked an eyebrow.

“Little bean?” “Uh...yeah. That’s what I’ve been calling them, for the time being. I dunno I thought it was –.”

“It’s very cute. I’m not making fun of you.”

“Kinda sounded like you were about to,” Remus huffed.

“Well, I wasn’t. Go to sleep, Remus. You sound exhausted.”

“I’m still mad at Roman for telling you.” Logan sighed, carding a hand through Remus’s ruffled curls.

“I’m glad he told me, otherwise I wouldn’t have come here sooner. I wouldn’t have found out that we’re going to have a child.” Remus smiled.

“We are. Knowing you, we’re gonna have the smartest fucking kid. The two of you are probably going to make me feel like such an idiot.” “Don’t talk like that. You’re nothing of the sort. Our little bean,” Logan noted the way Remus squeezed him just a bit tighter when he said it, “Will be a wonderful combination of the both of us, I’m sure.”

“You have to promise me that you’ll help me find maternity clothes for when I look like a beached whale. Only fun colors though, none of those beiges or greys.” Logan smiled fondly.

“I promise, dear.”

“And when we tell our friends, you’ll have to do it. hearing it from me they’re just going to think I’m trying to pull a practical joke.” Logan chuckled.

“Of course.”

“I love you, Logan,” Remus said, voice layered with exhaustion.

“And I love you, Remus,” Logan said, listening to Remus’s breath even out as he drifted off to sleep.

Logan certainly hadn’t expected any of what played out to occur, but now that this was the situation he was in, he doubted he’d do much to change it. He loved Remus more than anything and though the thought of the two of them being a family hadn’t occurred to him much prior, it brought him joy to contemplate now. It was a scary concept, them being parents, but he was convinced they could do it. So many people even more ill-equipped had children every day, why should they be any different?

When Logan had called Roman after his and Remus’s conversation, he’d received a congratulation from his friend. Roman had known that Logan was going to stick by his brother, despite what Remus had been convinced of at the time.

Logan closed his eyes, holding Remus close and dreaming of the future they could make together.

=+=

#intrulogical #romantic intrulogical #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides oneshot #mpreg #mpreg Remus #hurt/comfort #angst/fluff #fluff #human au #Logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #cute #sanders sides fluff #remus the duke sanders #the duke #exhaustedfander

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astralsweetness · 4 years

Text

I can’t be honest (but neither can you) || Changkyun/Reader (m)

➣ I cannot believe this is my first contribution to Monsta X, this is really how I’m entering the writing side of this fandom OTL Also hello idk how to write short summaries?? I proof-read this at 4:30 AM so please tell me if I missed something lol. Fair warning I switch P.O.V.’s often in this and with absolutely no regard to any writing rules

➣ Changkyun/Reader | Angst[?] with a surprisingly happy ending that I didn’t mean to write | Showcases some bad coping mechanisms from both he and the reader | Mentioned Wonho/Reader, but it’s purely platonic in a sexual way | Smut warnings include: mentions of choking, pegging, fingering, mentions of a ruined sexual scene, sort of self-imposed edging if you squint, hair-pulling, facesitting

➣ It’s been almost a year since he called off the relationship and your name still tastes like a mixture between sugar and ash on his tongue when he says it, your picture is still saved in his camera roll, and he’s taken the plunge these last few months to reach out to you to be friends again. His hyungs tell him it’s a bad idea, and he tells them he knows, because he does, really, he swears he does. It’s just that his heart soars when he gets to talk to you and he can’t remember why he was ever scared of letting you in past that last wall he’d put up, and he’s going to your place and he hates himself because instead of “I love you” he says “please fuck me” and even now he can’t be honest to you about his feelings.

“I want you to fuck me.” He’s standing at your door, speaking in English with that deep voice of his, and you just blink blankly at him - he hadn’t called or texted to say he was coming over, and to be completely honest you hadn’t seen him in over a week. The silence is uncomfortable, but his eyes are intense, and he refuses to shift shyly under your blank stare.

“..well, come in I guess.” You invite him in with raised eyebrows - he goes easily, knowing your apartment like his own home. It’s been almost a year since you two broke up, but he hasn’t forgotten anything. That same stupid plant he hated was still on your table. He had no idea how it was still alive.

“So.. we aren’t together anymore, we haven’t hung out in a while, but you decided I’m the person you want to fuck you. Suddenly.” Your tone of voice conveys your lack of belief - this sort of feels like some very strange joke, but you have no idea who’d ever come up with one like this.

“You fuck Wonho-hyung all the time, and you aren’t dating him, so why can’t you fuck me?” His words are said in a rush, the first sign of nervousness, and you cross your arms and cock a hip. It’s your default power-pose, lets you feel like you’re in control when you have no idea what’s going on.

‘Is that really all it is?’ you want to ask, but you stay silent. He doesn’t seem aware that when you’re with Hoseok it’s more for the other man’s emotional well-being than it was just to get laid. Sometimes people needed to be broken apart and pieced back together lovingly just to feel okay. For Hoseok, you were a friend he trusted enough to let break him and then take care of the pieces that remained shattered on the floor.

“If you tell me why then maybe.”

“I’m not doing shit for a maybe.” He fires back instantly, gaze narrowing. His shoulders have tensed and he’s widened his stance, an unconscious reaction to the way your own body language had changed. Whether he actually felt it or not, at a subconscious level he believed he was being threatened.

You step forward and snag him by the forearm - the fight goes out of him instantly, replaced by pure innocent confusion as you lead him to your bed. He notices dully that you’ve redecorated your bedroom - though it makes sense considering he was the one who had helped you liven it up before.

“Sit - and try to relax. All the muscles in your shoulders are tensing up.” Your words have the opposite affect you wanted them to have - he tenses more, seemingly thrown off by your care, your notice of his minute actions.

You watch the way his gaze drifts over your room – it catches and lingers on a group picture of you and the rest of his group, tucked safely into the frame of your vanity mirror.

It’s a nice picture, though you really don’t remember taking it. You’re fairly certain everyone was drunk though, since you’ve got your arm thrown around Minhyuk’s shoulders in it, pressing your cheek against his.

It’s cute, even if looking at it is bittersweet. You can see the question on his face, the ‘why did you keep this?’.

“It’s not like I stopped being friends with them just because we broke up.” You feel defensive over your choice, face heating – you weren’t even near him in the picture, on completely opposite sides in it. He just murmurs a soft “oh” that sounds dejected, and you desperately don’t want to think about it.

“Anyway –“ You’re desperate to move on at this point, and he seems to feel the same because his attention snaps back to you. “You’re not really in a position here to argue and make demands, but fine -“ It was just sex, right? For you, anyway. “I can’t literally right now, I have a class in 30 minutes, but if you tell me why then we can negotiate.” You feel like some sort of fucking dealer.

He seems vaguely surprised you’ve agreed so easily, but he works his jaw and tries to figure out how to explain his reasoning to you - whatever it may be. You let him think and go in search of your computer bag. Online classes were a pain, especially those that required attendance in the form of a webcam. The bag has been thrown into a corner of your room, and you sigh and bend down to begin your annoying search.

“Well, we’re not together anymore, so..” You crane your neck to look at him, even as you continue to rummage through your backpack for your computer cord. Damn thing was in there somewhere, you knew. “I don’t have to worry about what you think of me anymore?”

He finishes his statement with an accidental upwards inflection that turns it into a question, and your hands pause before you turn back around and continue searching, mulling over your word choice carefully. ‘You never had to worry’ sits on your tongue, something that is desperate to be said, but you swallow it back down. He wouldn’t believe you and it’d cool the current mood.

“I see.” You finally settle on, standing and popping your vertebrae back into place as your prize - the fucking charging cord - dangles from your hands. Your two words could convey many meanings, and you can see from your peripheral that his brow has furrowed. It’s not the answer he was expecting, though you think he probably didn’t know what he’d been expecting in the first place. “Then - what is it you want?”

“For you to fuck me.” He answers again, and then swallows as he notices your blank stare has returned.

“I know that, you said that. I meant what specifically are you looking to get out of this?”

“I want it to hurt.” His words make your breath catch in your throat, emotions swinging between vaguely turned on and worried. Sure, he’d had some masochistic tendencies in bed before, but - “I mean - I don’t – not physically -“ He’s switched to Korean in the wake of your silence, a comfort language, and you wonder if he even realizes he’s done it.

“Okay.” You respond simply in Korean back and he stops his rambling, just blinks at you. You see the tension finally start to drain out of his shoulders and switch back to English purely for your own sake, because it was easier, definitely not because you wanted to be able to hear his voice speaking your native language. “So long as you promise to use safewords, I won’t ask. I’m not your therapist and I’m not -“

“My girlfriend.” He finishes your sentence quietly, back to English as well, and your mouth goes dry.

“And I’m not here to judge you.” You remedy - you weren’t going to mention anything about your past relationship, and he looks away quickly at that realization. “You mentioned Hoseok -“ His hand twitches at his side when you call his hyung by his real name, but you mercifully don’t call him on this. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you’ve gone this long purely on the denial that he regrets breaking up with you, and it’s too late to stop that now. “- so I’m going to treat this situation exactly like that.”

“Okay?” Changkyun has no idea what that means, his fingers curling into your bedspread. You check the time - 20 minutes until class.

“I’m your friend, and I want to help you. This doesn’t change anything between us, this doesn’t add some extra dynamic, some extra layer.” Your voice has gone business mode and he’s stiffened his back at it, an ingrained response from being in the music industry for so long. “I’m not doing this just because I want sex - if you are, that’s fine, but I’m just doing this to help you out. Is that clear?” He nods once, eyes wide. You think he’s cute. You’ve always thought he was cute, and it reminds you of how cute turned into smitten and smitten turned into perfection and perfection turned into love and love - well, he ended love. “Changkyun - do you promise this is just about sex or release of some kind and nothing else?”

Your tone had softened, and he’d been let out of whatever thrall your no-nonsense voice had put him into. The question hangs in the air heavily, dripping of a nectar so sweet it’s sickening.

“Yes. I promise.” His voice is hoarse, cracking and quiet - and you think he’s lying.

But you’ve held on to your denial for so long. He had said before that the spark was just gone - and what were you supposed to say to that? It wasn’t his fault; people fell out of love all the time. You could barely believe he’d ever been interested in you from the beginning and you refused to believe you were worth falling in love with for a second time. The fact that you had managed to remain friends is more than you could have ever hoped for.

“Okay.” You repeat his assurance, more for your own benefit than his. The room is quiet, and thunder rolls in the distance. Fuck - a storm meant spotty WiFi for your class.

You check the time again - 15 minutes.

“We can use the stoplight system -“ His gaze has blanked so you take the time to roughly translate it into Korean, explaining until his brow smooths out, and then you’re back to English. “Aside from that, though, I need to know what you’re interested in, what you want to happen or don’t want to happen. You can hang out here if you want during my class, or leave, I don’t care - but take the time to think over what it is you want in this session.” Your words are too clinical, you know this, but you can’t keep yourself from doing it that way. You know most of the things he’s into and not into, but if you don’t take this route then it all feels too intimate. Besides, he’d always kept a very careful hold of how much control he’d let go around you before, never wanting to slip too far into subspace, always wanting to seem in command, even when subbing for you. You wonder if that’s changed. You certainly don’t remember him ever blatantly asking outright to have something done to him before.

Memories flash across your mind eye, his back covered in your scratch marks, the way he moaned brokenly when you pulled on his hair, the way he came when you pressed your fingers to his throat. But he never asked for any of it - you had to ask if it was okay to do to him, and he always brushed off any of your attempts of aftercare.

You swallow again, feeling vaguely sick. Things had been broken in your relationship long before he called it off, but neither one of you wanted to admit it. Your heart hurts for multiple reasons, but when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye you know the biggest one: ‘I hope I didn’t hurt him by not talking about it’.

But he didn’t talk about it either. Did he care about whether it hurt you?

“Is that okay?” He’s been talking to you, and you startle out of your thoughts - a half-formed little smirk dances at the corners of his lips, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. He knows you well enough to know when you’ve been drifting. “I said, I’ll stay here if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine - sorry, was just.. thinking.” It doesn’t really surprise you that he’s decided to stay - he’s confident to a fault, it’s true, but there’s a slash of shyness that strikes through his character, and you know that if he left he might not be able to come back. The thunder rumbles in agreement.

You half-watch him as you set up your computer on the coffee table – he’s looking around your apartment with thinly veiled curiosity, though you don’t really blame him. It didn’t really look anything like when you two had been together, and yet.. you felt it still had his subtle touch all over it. You wondered if he noticed that.

The class is boring, as it usually is – you’re watching the screen but your mind is far away, listening to your admittedly enthusiastic professor talk about the hyoid bone and articulations while your focus is on Changkyun. He lingers around you with a nervous type of energy, clearly not feeling allowed to roam around your apartment (it’d be kind of weird if he had, you admit) but also not feeling comfortable enough to sit on the couch next to you, even if he would have been off camera.

It’s almost like it was before, and you half expect him to sit down next to you anyway and throw his arm around your shoulder, always just off-screen, sitting next to you during your classes while he amused himself with his phone, just so he could be near you.

You’re just about to be able to feel the phantom warmth from the memory of his arm around you before he coughs and you startle, eyes snapping to him – he looks back wide-eyed, not understanding your surprise but murmuring a quiet apology anyway.

God you were so fucked.

.｡..｡.

“So?” The instant your class had ended you’d snapped the computer lid shut – you hadn’t retained a single thing said, what a complete waste. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d skipped and focused on Changkyun in the end after all. “Did you decide on what you wanted?”

You’re so flippant with your question that he feels like he’s being asked about what it is he wants to eat instead of how he wants to have sex – the entire hour of your class he’d been nervous, and those nerves had by now tightened into a very tight ball at the base of his spine that periodically sent white-hot flames licking along his muscles.

“I –“ His mouth is so fucking dry and he hates how small he suddenly feels – he’d never felt like this around you before, but usually it had always been you asking if you could do something to him, hadn’t it? “I said it earlier. I want you to fuck me.”

He watches your reaction with pin-point precision – the small widening of your eyes, the way your gaze darts to the side like it always did when you were thinking something over – it wasn’t like you hadn’t ever fucked him before, but he’d never asked you to do so, and you clearly hadn’t expected him to come out with something like that so easily.

Why the hell could he say something like that and not something as simple as ‘I love you’, or even ‘I miss you’?

“Okay.” You’ve wrested your thoughts back under control – it wasn’t fair of him to say something like that, looking so utterly and effortlessly attractive. “As long as there’s no kissing I’ll fuck you any way you like, Changkyun.” You were over him and he was over you and this was just sex.

If you said it enough you’d start to believe it, right?

Changkyun just nods at your terms, looking a bit despondent – you can’t help the strong surge within you that says to fix it, fix whatever upset him, but you have a feeling you knew already. He’d always been a bit fixated on kissing you, but you knew if you let him this time then it’d all be over.

“I don’t remember you ever falling this far into the ‘submissive’ side of things, Changkyun.” You’re desperate to regain the upper-hand, and he flushes a bright red at your comment, grumbling out a weak “shut up” that has you smiling.

“Have you been experimenting?” You’re still teasing him but he bristles at the insinuation that he would have been with anyone after you – you had no reason to think he hadn’t been but the mere thought of being with anyone other than you makes him ache deep in his chest, in his soul.

“No.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but it wavers still and he digs his fingernails into the soft leather of his belt, pausing. “I haven’t been with anyone since –“

He can’t say it, but you understand regardless – he doesn’t like how surprised you look, ducks his head and lets his hair obscure his view of you as he refocuses on undressing. It’s not that you’d been wrong to be surprised with his decision for today, either – before you, he’d never really definitively considered himself particularly dominant or submissive, happy with having the choice to be either at the drop of a hat. That changed with you though – you had been so uncompromising with your power, beautiful and self-assured, and he knew without a doubt that if you so much as even hinted at it he would be on his knees for you every single time.

Not that he had ever told you that, of course. He’d never told you anything he really wanted to. Even now, with you looking at him softly, trying to see if you’d crossed a line with your little teasing jabs, the words ‘I’m happy being this for you’ get stuck in his throat and all he can do is tug his shirt over his head wordlessly, fingernails clicking nervously at his belt as he undoes it. You pretend not to notice the way your heartrate accelerates as he reveals his body bit by bit to you, slender waist but powerful figure, beautiful skin, beautiful body.

“Well, then – lie down.” You gesture to your bed and he swallows down the stupid fucking butterflies he gets at the gesture – he’d been on your bed before, he’d been in this position before, there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about.

And still, despite his nerves, a pleasurable chill runs down his spine when he hears the cap of the lube being clicked open, and he forces himself to exhale as he shifts and tries to get comfortable on a comforter he no longer recognized, in a room that had no trace of him in it anymore.

You look at him with a level gaze, always so calm, and he ignores the erratic beating of his heart and nods his assent for you to begin, immediately shifting his gaze to your ceiling.

Why the fuck was he so goddamn nervous?

(He tries to forget the way he instantly whimpers when he feels your finger, slick with lube, probing at his rim, tries to forget the way he gets hard in under a minute from your heavy gaze and one finger alone, and god he aches for more, aches for anything you’re willing to give him.)

“You’re taking this awfully well.” The teasing comes out unbidden, spilling past your lips before you can even think about the words – but it’s true, for someone who had claimed to not have been with anyone since you he was taking your fingers incredibly well.

“My own hands – fuck – exist..” His snarky response turns into a shaky moan halfway through when you decide to carefully – but quickly – add a third finger. There’s something erotic (and interesting) to you about that, thinking over the fact that Changkyun had been finger-fucking himself ever since you two broke up.

“You look good like this.” It’s an attempt to make up for the previous teasing but all it does is cause him to groan and throw a forearm over his eyes, legs spreading wider when you hit that spot deep inside.

“Fuck, jesus – fuck..” It’s a broken sob instead of an actual sentence (though he manages to stick with English), a familiar feeling already building deep in his gut. He’s not sure if it’s because it’s been so long since he’d been fingered by someone else or if it’s because it’s you doing it, complimenting him while doing so, or if it’s a combination of everything, but his back arches against his will and he knows he is seconds away from coming undone already.

“Stop – stop, oh my god –“ At his desperate plea you stop moving completely and he wants to sob as the pleasurable feeling slowly ebbs away, an almost painful drag as it settles back into a dull burn. He’s gasping, tiny whimpering sounds as he sucks breath back into his lungs, chest heaving – his eyes are wide, fingers curling into your comforter. He looks frantic, frightened almost, and even if it wasn’t your responsibility you knew you’d be desperate to fix it.

“Changkyun, ar –“

“I’m fine.” He bites it out angrily, doing his absolute best to look like he had been anything but moments away from an orgasm five minutes into.. whatever this was. He’s shutting you out again, before anything even begins, and it fills you with such an irrational anger that you have to suck in a breath of your own to keep from lashing out, taking gentle care to extract your fingers even as your blood boils.

“Stop fucking lying to me.” You can’t keep the ice from your words, even if you manage to control the volume and pitch – his dark eyes snap from the ceiling to you in surprise. There’s a panicked feeling bubbling up in his chest, because he really doesn’t know if he can handle you calling him on his true feelings for you right now, doesn’t want to have to admit he still loves you while he’s naked and so vulnerable.

“I’m not –“

“Stop it.” His mouth shuts with an audible click of his teeth, so sudden is your cut-in. Your brow has smoothed out, no longer angry, instead immensely sad, and he’s not sure this is any better. “You said you wanted to do this because you didn’t have to worry about my opinion. So why are you still doing it?”

He can’t breathe, and the lube is drying sticky on your fingers, and for a moment neither of you are aware of the position you’re in, the way the thunder has become your constant background music – he’s looking at you unblinkingly and you’re staring back, and it’s too intimate, too much, but neither of you look away.

“Please stop.” He speaks and it’s barely a whisper, the sound of someone’s heart breaking louder than his voice. You don’t know what to say but open your mouth anyway.

Lightning flickers outside your bedroom window and then your apartment is shaking from the resounding thunder, the power flickering and then plunging the two of you into darkness. Suddenly you can breathe again, and you’re quickly trying to slide out from in between his legs because he said ‘stop’ and he was fully coherent even if he hadn’t said ‘red’, because he said ‘stop’ and you have only ever wanted him comfortable.

“Wait –“ He is frantic, grabs your forearm with frigid fingers as he leans half off your bed to catch you from retreating too far. It’s hard to see him but you get flashes from the light outside your window, electricity reflecting off his dark eyes in starbursts.

“You said to stop.” Your voice is broken and you feel so powerless, sick inside because while you rarely manage to ruin a scene it still tears you up inside each time, and Changkyun wouldn’t let you try to fix it with aftercare and you don’t know what to do anymore.

“I meant –“ Stop talking, stop laying me bare and open, just fuck me and make me forget everything, stop being you so I can stop loving you. “I just want to be ruined.” He says instead, and his voice is so low but so weak that you barely recognize it.

“I can’t do that if you don’t let me.” Your clean fingers curl around his and gently pry them from your arm – but then you keep holding them, and you want to let go but you can’t remember how to tell your body to do so. “Will you let me, Changkyun?”

The air is still and silent aside from the rain slashing angrily at your windows – there is no thunder, your own heartbeat loud enough (or maybe it was his, you didn’t know anymore).

“I want to.” He answers instead, voice quiet but a bit stronger than before, and your eyes have adjusted so you can see the features of his face vaguely now, follow the line of his brow to his cheek to his lips, and you’re leaning in and you hate yourself because you had promised this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.

“Let me wreck you then, baby.” And oh that nickname was a mistake but you’d said it anyway, a ghost of a whisper against his lips, a proposition and a plea all in one. He moves forward the last centimeter and connects your lips as an answer, a sound that is almost one of pure relief being ripped from his throat.

It’s like he’s been waiting years for this moment, doesn’t even fight as you grip his jaw lightly and angle him into a better position so you can scope out the inside of his mouth with your tongue, relearning things you had known long ago but had thought were forgotten.

There’s a flighty feeling in his chest, one of nervousness and expectation – he doesn’t want to give you control so easily, he doesn’t want to be opened and laid bare in front of you, he doesn’t want you to see something you dislike in him – but more than anything he wants you to touch him and keep kissing him and god he fucking misses you, has missed this. He’d asked you to ruin him, you’d asked to wreck him, but he knew he was already both ruined and wrecked just from being near you again, from having your lips on his own.

You try to slide your hands back down his body but he stops you, continues to kiss you as his fingers curl around your own, and the act is so intimate it almost feels wrong.

“Just – hurry up, I’m ready enough.” He manages to say scattered between four different kisses, never apart from your lips for more than a few seconds. You hate yourself for not even trying to stop him, leaning into them each time.

“You can stretch yourself some more while I get ready.” You have to pull away from him completely to say this, and he follows you like you’ve got some magnetic pull on him before you’re off of the bed and the connection is broken.

Even with your eyes adjusted it’s hard to properly get the harness on, fingers fumbling with the straps but managing in the end. You can hear him breathing harsh, anticipating – you can tell from the sounds alone that he hadn’t taken your advice, but you’re not surprised. Always your little pain slut, even if he had never wanted to admit it.

When you approach him again his eyes are wide, brow furrowing as he notices you’re still fully clothed – he keeps his mouth shut tight though, gaze darting in the dark. The storm still rages on outside but neither of you even notice it anymore.

Your fingers on the inside of his thigh startle him – he jumps, trying to close his legs, but you force them back open again. Something about that simple action makes a moan trickle into his throat, but he swallows it back down stubbornly.

He can’t conceal the next sound he makes when you press the blunt tip of the strap-on to his opening, though, a rasping whine as you push in slowly, so fucking slowly. Even with all the lube he knew you’d slathered over the toy it still takes a bit of work to get it into him, and every slight stretch makes him grit his teeth in a masochistic type of pleasure, feeling so full by the end that it makes him so painfully hard his head spins. It hadn’t taken long to get him worked back up, but he’s not really thinking about that right now.

All he knows is that he wants to be close to you, wants to feel good, wants to make you happy – he wants so much that he doesn’t think he can even begin to put any of it into words. It always ends up at ‘I love you’ and he already knew that was a phrase that lodged in his throat like knives.

“Please.” This he can say – you don’t know what he’s begging for but he’s begging all the same, the word ‘please’ becoming a chant that slowly shifts back into his native tongue when teeth mark his throat, fingertips pressing insistently into his hips as you fuck him hard and rough. He hopes, distantly, that it bruises. He wants to be able to remember this for as long as possible.

If he was present enough in the moment he might have been embarrassed by the sounds he was making – his naturally deep voice has transformed completely into high breathy whines, all trace of his ‘savage rapper’ persona gone when you bite his lip hard enough it throbs before you’re flipping him, pushing his shoulders down into the bed with one hand.

The feeling of your palm, small but blindingly warm on his back, makes him weak enough that his thoughts stutter, head a chaotic mess of fractured thoughts and sensations. His eyes are open but unfocused – it’s dark in the room anyway, but he’s unaware of it, cognizant only of your presence and his, that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest competing with the white-hot fire you were stoking lower in his pelvis.

You want to cry at how beautiful and perfect he is for you, the way he arches his back instinctively, presents himself as your own personal plaything – but he wasn’t yours, you had to remember that, remind yourself over and over that this was just sex. (If you repeated it enough it started to stop sounding like real words, and that was equally as dangerous as forgetting them in the first place.)

The head of the strap-on teases his entrance and he groans, clenching his fists into your pillow – you’d taken it out when you’d flipped him and he was fighting against every fucking urge and want and need his body was screaming at him to just take the plunge and force himself backwards. (But another part of his brain is telling him to wait, to make you happy, to draw this out as long as fucking possible because he has no idea if he’ll ever get to experience it again.)

“Can you tell me what you want?” Your voice is soft as silk, quiet, and a fluttery feeling rises up in his stomach at the sound, at how you’ve modified an order to be a request. He doesn’t know how he feels at the realization that you were taking it ‘easier’ on him verbally, that you had at some point come to understand he was having trouble letting go completely.

“I –“ He tries, he really fucking does, but like always the words get stuck in his throat. He just can’t seem to bring himself to admit what he really wants out loud and it is destroying him. One of your hands smooths down his side, lingering at his hip, and he feels like you’ve left behind a line of pure fire on his skin, almost burning away the shame and hatred he feels at himself for his fucking inability to be vulnerable, his cowardice.

“Just fuck me.” He says instead, defeat coating his words – and he can feel you hesitating, because it was obvious he’d meant to say something else and hadn’t.

He opens his mouth to say something, though he has no idea what, at the same instant you decide to slide the strap-on back into him. Whatever he’d been planning to do is gone from his mind instantly, his world reduced to just the dull burn, the frustratingly slow drag against his innermost walls, the way you manage to somehow brush up against the spot that has him trembling and dropping to his forearms. He curses in a strange mixture of Korean and English and you laugh softly at the sound, even as you slide out and thrust back into him hard enough that he jolts forward.

He feels, in a sense, like he is being broken in all the best ways – all he can focus on is you, all he can feel is the way you’re fucking him, grabbing at his hips. His breath is caught in his throat and he just knows he is going to ache later, bone-deep and satisfying.

But it’s not enough, never enough – you’re not asking to do more to him like you had in the past and he can’t manage to tell you what he desires most (though, at this point, he’s not totally sure he could say anything coherent anyway). He reaches back with one hand, groping – your fingers wrap around his and he drags them up to his hair, a wordless plea. He hopes you understand what he’s asking for.

A broken moan is ripped from his throat when you fist your hand in dark strands and pull backward, forcing him into an arch – his mind has blanked into varying shades of white, electricity on his skin and molten lava running through his veins, your heat against his back overwhelming.

You know it’s a bad idea before you do it, but you lean down and press you lips to his shoulder anyway, teeth scraping over feverish skin – the hoarse whine he gives at the feeling makes wetness pool between your legs, uncomfortable and wrong because this was just sex, this was just supposed to be for him.

The urge to mark him up is so strong it’s almost distracting – your hips falter in the bruising pace you’d set as your mind drifts, Changkyun groaning at the sudden shift in speed.

“Let me –“ He’s gasping, feels like he’s been running a fucking marathon or drowning (and oh, he has, drowning in you, in his expansive and terrifying feelings for you) but he knows your hips have to be sore by now and to be completely honest he is just downright greedy, wanting to feel you deep inside, wanting to –

He just wants so much. He reaches back to press at you gently and you let him move you instantly, trying to figure out what had bothered him – as soon as you realize he just wants a change in position you’re grabbing at his hips again, tugging him over your legs. His cock drags against the fabric of your shorts and he nearly sucks in a breath, trying to focus on lining himself up instead of the way it throbbed (or the way you were looking at him, hair splayed out on the pillow and yet so in command still).

He thinks he should feel more in control like this, on top of you, hands braced on your shoulders – but he doesn’t, not at all, and he knows instantly that he isn’t when you snap your hips up to meet his and he falls onto you, moan vibrating against the skin of your neck. He can feel your fingers in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, can feel the infuriatingly teasing way his cock is rubbing up against your fucking shirt you never took off. It’s gone untouched for so long that it’s absolutely aching by now and he thinks he might actually be able to orgasm like this – but he doesn’t want to, not yet, even with how border-line painful its become. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to have to go back to a world without you in it.

His hips stutter on top of yours when you tug on his hair again, grinding hard against the strap-on, and you lift his face high enough you can press your lips to his, all hot breath and panted moans. He tastes of honey and heartbreak and you want nothing more than to make him cum and fall apart, trembling, on top of you.

“Am I ruining you properly, baby?” Your voice is dark red and sinful, and he trembles at the sound and tries to seek out your lips again, a whine lodged in his throat when you tighten your grip on his hair and keep him in place, rolling your hips languidly up to meet his frantic movements. “Tell me.”

“Fuck..” He responds instead, deep and rough in his chest – it cracks into a high moan when you punish him with a harsh upwards thrust, fingers curling into your shoulders. Your soft laugh, amused or delighted he’s not sure, makes a feeling like electric butterflies break out across his skin. If you had let go of his hair he’d have buried his face into your neck again to hide his expression – but you haven’t, and he knows you can see everything, every part of him, every expression he makes.

He thinks he must look stupid, embarrassing – but all you see is pure beauty. His brow has furrowed and sweat drips down to his collarbones, bruised lips parted slightly, glistening from where you’d kissed him earlier. Hazy eyes try to look anywhere but your face failingly, allowing you to see the foggy galaxy residing in their darkness. You’re not sure if what you’re seeing is his pupil or iris, but you find it gorgeous all the same, intoxicating.

“I’m going to make you cum, Kyunnie.” He shakes at your dangerous words, your knife-sharp gaze. You’re aware he never responded to your last question. “You’ll fall apart up there, ruined, just like you asked to be.”

Your words wrap around him, coiling tightly like chains – he feels caught, trapped, and he wants nothing more than for you to make good on your word, even if it sends a sharp trill of fear through his stomach.

The grip on his hair lets go suddenly and he sags forward, as if your pull on him had been all that was keeping him upright. He’s left a mess of pre-cum on your shirt, flushes a dark red when you drag your fingers through it thoughtfully.

“Messy boy..” You muse, heat spreading through you when you see the way his cock jerks at those two simple words, so red and aching, so fucking beautiful and desperate.

Fuck, you wanted so badly for him to be yours.

One of his hands flies to your wrist when you finally wrap your fingers around him – more of his weight is on you now but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, not with the way he’s breathing hot and wet against your neck, the way he doesn’t stop you when you move your hand, just clings to your arm desperately like he’s not totally sure he wants to be touched yet.

A choked sound leaves his mouth, lips bitten bloody, and you turn your head so you can breathe against his ear, let him press his face further into your neck. “Such a little whore..” You murmur, and he sobs open-mouthed against your skin and thrusts weakly into your fingers and then back onto the strap-on, unsure of which feeling he wanted more of. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

A part of him feels like he’s dying, unsure if he was really okay with being so vulnerable with you – but another part of him, the larger part, feels like he is fucking soaring, like this is all he had ever wanted and more. There are flames licking at his body, coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last like this.

“You can fall, Changkyun.” Your voice is in his ear, like the sound of silk sliding over skin, fingernails tracing lightly along the back of his neck. He hates the way he reacts so viscerally to it, climax surging forward at the sound, at the way your fingers slide wetly over the head of his cock pinned in between the two of you. “It’ll be okay, you can fall to pieces. I’ll catch you.”

He orgasms with a wail that makes him flush a dark red, and he would have been mortified at the sound if every nerve ending in his body wasn’t currently sparking, his muscles spasming as he tries to keep thrusting into your fist even as the lightning bolt sensations turn from overwhelming to painful. He doesn’t even realize tears have slipped from his eyes until he feels your lips kissing them away, and he is hit with such a wave of emotion that he can’t breathe all over again (and it is just pure emotion, he couldn’t identify a single one of them if he tried).

After you slowly pulled out and settle him on the blankets he watches, distractedly, as you slide the straps down over your hips, leaving it on the floor to be dealt with later. Impulsively he reaches out to catch the edge of your shorts when you try to head to the bathroom, tongue sliding over chapped lips when you turn that powerful, beautiful gaze of yours on him. One of your eyebrows has raised, appraising him as he slowly tugs you back to the bed until you’re resting on your knees next to his waist. Sweat is drying sticky on his skin and he’s trying not to feel like he’d done something wrong, reacted in some undesirable way that you’d remember and relate to him for the rest of your life - but above all that, he wants to taste you. It’s the only consistent thought running through his mind, more prevalent than the lingering unease at having bared so much of himself to you.

“Please.” Again, it’s all he can say, eyes so dark and wide, pleading – his fingertips rest lightly on your hip, over the waistband of your shorts, lips parted ever so slightly. It’s so obvious what he’s asking for, and you want to say no. You’re pretty sure you need to say no. “Babe –“

You surge forward to cut him off mid-sentence with a brutal kiss and he gasps – you didn’t want to hear that, and you can tell from the way he’s frozen that he hadn’t meant to say it, even as his body returns the kiss on pure muscle memory alone. This entire experience had been a mess, a mistake, and yet –

“Okay.” It’s more a breath against his mouth than a word, but the way he smiles at your soft agreeance makes your heart hurt. You were in so deep, had fallen so far – how foolish of you to think you had been over him. How fucking stupid you’d been.

He wastes no time, pulling your shorts and underwear down like he’d done it hundreds of times before – because he had, you note dully – fingers wrapping around your thighs. When you sink down onto his face a tension drains out of his body that neither of you had even noticed was still lingering.

All he can smell is you, all he can taste is you – you surround him and this is all he’s ever fucking wanted, to be possessed by you, to be as close to you as possible. He’s not even totally sure what he’s doing aside from the fact that he’s putting his absolute all into it – he’s just trying to taste every inch of you he can, tongue delving as deep as possible before switching to suck on your clit. There’s no rhyme or reason to his method and it has you letting out a quiet sigh that borders on a gasp. He tries to memorize the sound instantly – any sound he could get out of you was a treasure in itself, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to hear them again after this.

There is no particular build-up to your orgasm – it’s at first lingering briefly bone-deep and then suddenly it is upon you in streaks of lightning, hips grinding against his face but mouth stubbornly shut. You can’t let this be any more intimate than it already was. (And yet you instinctively reach down and lace your fingers with his, and his thumb smooths across the back of your hand as he continues to mouth at your cunt, drink up your fluids. You are so utterly and completely stupid, your heart in your throat.)

There is a moment you want to carve out afterwards, a small bubble in time where the two of you could just bask in the afterglow and pretend like nothing had changed from a year ago – but you can’t let yourself do that, pushing yourself up off the bed even as every fiber of you begs to remain beside him for a moment longer. His fingers remain holding yours a moment too long before dropping to your bedspread, defeated.

Your heart suddenly felt like it was three sizes too big for your body, filled to the brim with love for a man you knew you’d have no second chance with, and you clench your teeth tightly to keep it from oozing out between your teeth like bittersweet sugar.

He’s still panting when you return with a damp cloth, reaches for it as if he really expects you to make him clean himself off. You scoff and catch his hand with your own, setting it back down on the bed as you begin to clean off his face first. Whether you wanted to avoid intimacy or not there were things you simply refused to throw to the wayside just because you wanted to remain distant, and one of those was taking care of him after sex. (He’s more receptive this time than he used to be, not fighting you and claiming he was fine, letting you dote on him with a sort of hesitant and soft acceptance. It makes your heart hurt all the more, the pure ache and want almost unbearable.)

“You’re always so messy..” It’s meant to be a light comment but the two of you accidentally lock gazes when you say it, your hand stalling in its motions. He looks like he wants to say something, lips parting – your breath catches in your throat, waiting, but he ultimately just shuts his mouth, gaze darting away from you. Your breath leaves you in a small burst. “Just relax, Kyun, I’ve got you.”

It’s the typical words you say to a sub after an intense session (with an accidental affectionate nickname that you bite the inside of your cheek for), but you mean them, and you don’t want to, but you do, irrevocably. You know that if he needed it, if he asked for it, you would let him stay here for as long as he wanted. You knew that tonight you wouldn’t be asking him to leave. And for that you are so, so incredibly fucked. (You wonder if he is too, judging from the way his eyes widen at the nickname and his breath stutters – but you crush that thought instantly, don’t dare to get your hopes up.)

He’s surprised that you take the time to clean him up, bring him water and a change in clothes – they aren’t his but they’re clearly a man’s, and he wonders if they belong to Hoseok considering the size. Something deep in his chest hurts at that thought. He’s even more surprised when you pull on an oversized shirt instead of telling him to leave – he faintly realizes that he recognizes it, a soft violet that hung down to your lower thighs and always felt soft against his chest when he’d hold you – crawling into bed next to him after changing into it, though he’s automatically moving to accommodate you, perfectly content to throw the thick comforter to the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Is.. this okay?” Your voice is quiet, so tentative and soft and hesitant, and all he wants to do is tell you yes, this was more than okay, this was everything he had ever wanted.

“Yeah – I mean, it’s your bed, so..” He hates himself for the way he responds, swallowing hard but taking the initiative to slide his arm over your side, nose in your hair. He can feel the way you tense, but you don’t say anything against it or try to pull away. “And.. this? It’s okay too?”

“…it’s okay.” It’s a small response but he inhales deeply in relief, drinking in your scent half by accident. It’s the same smell he had missed for so long, the one he’d dream of and wake up thinking there was a chance it still lingered on his pillow, heart dropping through his ribcage when he realized it wasn’t.

Despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach you fall asleep fast, mentally drained and physically exhausted - his fingers trace the line of your shoulder, head pillowed on his own arm as he watches you sleep. There is a purely warm and happy feeling trying to spread through his body, but it doesn’t make it very far before the remembrance that you still weren’t his and he still wasn’t yours freezes it in its tracks. He feels like his heart is melting, dripping through his ribs and oozing into his stomach and making him sick.

He’s shaking your shoulder before he even knows what he’s doing, and you’re half-awake and groggy but so fucking beautiful and every single one of his nerves feels like a live wire underneath his skin, buzzing and loud and painful, and he is so scared, but he is also tired. Tired of hurting, tired of missing you, tired of the way Kihyun will be talking about you but stop awkwardly when he notices Changkyun listening, tired of the way he smiles so big his cheeks hurt when the two of you talk on the phone, tired of how he swallows down the words “love you” every time you hang up – and he’s fucking tired of being scared most of all.

“Changkyun, you better be fucking dying..” You’re angry, always angry when woken suddenly, and he just wants to kiss you.

‘I love you, I’m stupid, I was scared, I always loved you, I never fucking stopped, did you know I would dream of you? Did you know that you were the only thing on my mind? On plane rides, in the vans, backstage, all I could think about was you and my hyungs all told me I was just hurting myself and I knew that but I still hoped that somehow you and I would end up happy together.’

Like always he can’t say any of it. It sits on his tongue and he just utters a quiet ‘fuck’ instead, throat tight. Why couldn’t he fucking do this?

“..Kyun?” He’s sitting up now, and you are too, side by side – your expression is open, sleepy but worried, and he has a sudden urge to take your face in his hands and kiss your eyelids.

The scariest part of telling the truth, of laying yourself bare for someone, of letting them in, was that they could take one look and never come back. And maybe he’s not afraid of loving you – maybe he’s never been afraid of loving you, with your eyes that hold the only stars he ever wants to look at. Maybe he’s been afraid of not being loved back.

He swallows hard, reaches for every bit of confidence and courage performing has ever given him, forces himself to be brave the way the industry has taught him to be. Moonlight filters in through the window and he thinks your eyes might actually house the milky way in them somehow.

“I love you, still – always. I never stopped.”

He can’t breathe because you’re just looking at him, stunned and disbelieving, tears collecting on your lash-line but not falling, never falling, and he feels like the fucking worst for telling you now, this way, this bluntly – but he knows if he didn’t say anything he would have never said anything, and he’s not sure he could have survived that, so the words had fallen from his lips hard and heavy and desperate to be said. (And a part of him is still surprised he even managed to say them at all, rushed and frantic as they were.)

“I –“ Your brow is furrowed and your voice is thick, but when he reaches to brush your tears away you let him and his lungs start to tentatively fill themselves with oxygen again.

When you smile it is watery and weak but it is there, and he feels like sunlight has reappeared in the lining of his skin, bright and blinding and warm.

#sub!changkyun #sub!monsta x #changkyun x reader #monsta x reactions #monsta x imagines #monsta x scenarios #i don't usually do happy endings but this one just happened #i'm going straight to hell for this

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benditlikepress · 4 years

Text

texted you a picture where you looked pretty

@indestinatus @coffeedepablo @ncisjes

all day long I waited for my phone to ring

I counted every glow star on my ceiling

texted you a picture where you looked pretty

and wondered if you saved the ones you had of me…

[illuminati hotties – (you’re better) than ever]

The first time Tony sent Ziva a picture, she’d only been gone a week.

He hadn’t left the apartment for anything other than work since getting back - first because of jetlag, and then out of plain exhaustion. It didn’t help that both work and home were full of things that reminded him of her, of them, so much so that it was beginning to feel like a strange form of self-flagellation to stay cooped up there.

It was easy to convince himself he wasn’t thinking about her, talking himself into thinking about any and every other topic on the planet until he was lying in bed wide awake staring into space wondering where it had all gone wrong. It was then, and only then, that he allowed himself to obsess: to think over things he should’ve said, things he never said, or ways he could try and fix what he knew deep down was unfixable.

This particular night was worse than most – someone at work had stopped him in the elevator and asked him what was happening with Ziva, and if she was coming back – and he’d found himself seeking out reminders of her rather than pretending he wasn’t hyper-fixating on them. His phone was a great source for that: text messages and phone records and her name, over and over and over. His photos and videos, too, were full of her, and his tired fingers paused on one she’d never known he’d taken. The most recent one he’d taken of her - asleep, wrapped in sheets, the Israeli sun hitting the bare skin of her shoulders and back. Her hair was spread out over the pillow and her hand was spread over the vacated side of the bed, as though reaching out for him.

He couldn’t bring himself to scroll past it even when it caused a ball to form in his chest that made it hard to swallow.

It was 2am and he found himself opening a conversation thread and dropping the photograph into it, pressing send quickly.

“I really miss you”

He typed the words with nervous fingers and pressed send even quicker still before throwing his phone in a drawer and turning away from it.

He woke up three hours later and saw she hadn’t opened the message yet. He deleted it, and thanked the gods of modern technology that she never would.

———————–

The next time was a month later, and he thought he’d been doing better until he found a stack of old photographs piled at the back of his top desk drawer. They had been collected over the years and though some pre-dated her arrival in the States, she was a prominent feature in most of them.

Though they still hurt, he was finding himself increasingly able to appreciate them for what they were. He found one, near the bottom of the pile, that even had a smile threatening on his lips. A doctor-themed party from a lifetime ago that had to be up there with the more ridiculous ideas of his life.

The picture had been taken not long after Gibbs had left for Mexico and Tony had relented into Abby’s plans for a surprise party for Jimmy’s birthday, still keen to make sure that people didn’t stop seeing him as a friend instead of just a boss. It was him and Ziva, posing, with Jimmy’s drunkenly sleeping head face-down on the table inbetween them.

He remembered everything about that night: how her hand kept brushing his leg under the table, and every time he’d snapped his neck up to look at her but found her looking in a different direction. How they’d shared a cab home and he’d insisted on walking her to her door, in spite of her drunkenly listing a handful of ways she could kill any man who approached her with only the costume on her back. How she’d invited him upstairs and there was no pretence but he’d said no, trying to be diplomatic, though they’d only lasted another week of summer before that had all came tumbling down.

He opened a message again and snapped a photograph, the edge of his fingers visible holding it up to the camera.

“Remember this? Do you still have that picture of me piling stuff on top of him?”

He didn’t get a reply. Then again, he hadn’t really been expecting one.

He flipped the photograph over and placed it back on the pile.

———————–

The next time he sent her a photo, it had been over 9 months since he’d last seen her and she’d been on his mind all day.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get wrapped up in thoughts of her but it had been plaguing him in a way it hadn’t in a while – starting with a dream in the middle of the night that woke him up startled and coursing through his brain all morning. When it wasn’t better by night-time he’d gone for a drink with the team to take his mind off it, and when that hadn’t helped he’d found himself scrolling through old messages and photos and videos that he’d sworn he was going to delete (or at least put on a flash drive, out of sight out of mind).

When he still had that feeling that something was missing, that he was categorically in the wrong place right now, he got out of bed and walked into the living room in search of a cure.

He remembered, later, one photograph he’d never been able to take down. He lifted his head upwards to the top of his DVD shelves and grabbed for the card, bringing it down and sitting on the sofa with it in his hands.

A Paris street. Years ago now. She looked like a 50s movie star, frozen in time, and he could remember how enraptured he’d been as he’d approached her - watching her in her own world, flicking through postcards and wrapping her coat tighter around her.

Him capturing it in a photo had been what alerted her to his presence, but instead of asking him to delete it like he’d expected she’d simply rolled her eyes and told him with a smile that he was late.

He thought so fondly of that weekend even now. They’d both been overcompensating in the dust of everything that had happened, nervous and eager and hurting deep down, and Paris had come along at the perfect moment to show them both that the thing they’d been orbiting around for four years wasn’t lost. Could be stronger, even. And it was.

Before he could change his mind he went to grab his phone and snapped a photo of the image, opened the long-gone conversation thread and ignored his previously unanswered message.

“Weird day - you’ve been on my mind. Hope everything’s good. Open invitation: call if you need me.”

———————–

Almost two years down, he got a social media reminder of something he tried not to think about.

He didn’t have a photograph of the actual day Ziva became an American citizen. In spite of his promises he’d be there, he’d ended up in another country entirely as she swore her loyalty to his.

He’d felt sick even now that he’d missed her ceremony, knowing how much it had meant to her, even if she tried to play it down when he’d told her. He looked at the photograph that had popped up in his notifications, the two of them smiling with her certificate, and ran his hand over it. Her eyes were so bright and he could barely remember her looking so young.

He remembered how proud she’d been. Wondered if she still was, after how it had ended.

He found himself wondering, selfishly, if he still crossed her mind sometimes too.

“Happy anniversary Miss America”

Part of him was worried it would sound spiteful, but hoped she still knew him well enough to see the good meaning behind it. He pressed send and turned off his phone.

———————–

The first time he thought about sending a photo but didn’t, he was holed up in a small Paris apartment wringing his hands.

He’d known he wasn’t going to hear from her often – she’d took great pains to explain that, voice shaking, reminding him over and over that it was for his own safety. But Tali had been asking for her for days and Tony couldn’t stop looking at the photo they’d taken in Cairo, the one he swore he’d destroy soon, where Tali was curled up in Ziva’s lap and Ziva was looking down at her like she’d hung the moon and stars.

It was the same night, as if by magic, that his phone beeped. He scrambled around for it in the dark, heart in his mouth. A withheld number flashed on screen.

“Checking in. Everything is OK. On my mind tonight and always.”

———————–

The first and last time Ziva sent Tony a photo, he hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

When Ziva had been away he’d been non-negotiable on work trips and conferences. Now she was back he’d considered it a miracle he’d managed to get 18 months out of the way before being offered a spot on a 3 day conference that was taking place in London. Two hours in it became clear that nothing being shared was particularly relevant to his role, and any number of other members of staff could’ve been sent in his place. He knew he had no more right to be at home than any of them, but it made being away that much harder.

It was 3:18am in London and he knew it was even later in Paris but he couldn’t help himself as he flicked his screen on.

“Still awake? x”

“You sound like a teenage boy.”

“Take that as a yes”

The photo she responded with was a simple one from her slightly pixelated front-facing camera on the phone she refused to upgrade. She was sat up in bed, hair tipped over one shoulder. Wearing one of his t-shirts.

“How is it possible you’ve got even more beautiful in my absence?”

“Hush.

We missed you today”

“Never leaving again. Can’t wait to be home.”

“Pizza and movie night. Your pick.”

“Marry me?”

“Maybe the gigantic block on my finger in that photo did not give it away, but unfortunately I am already getting married 3 months from now.”

“That’s too bad. Lucky guy.”

“Yes, he is.”

“(Just so you know, it’s a rock. Not block.)”

“Goodnight, Mr DiNozzo. X”

“Night Mrs DiNozzo”

#tiva #ncis #ziva david #tony dinozzo #tiva fanfiction

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spine-buster · 4 years

Text

the storm before the calm (f. andersen) | 3

A/N: I continue to be baffled by the response to this fic. It’s overwhelming! Keep those canon questions coming!

TW: mention/explanation of EDs, EDNOS/OSFED

While alone in his hotel room one night, after most of the guys had left to go to a bar, Fred decided to conduct an in-depth search of Aleida Casillas. He knew there were a lot of things she wasn’t telling him, and that he couldn’t really trust the word on the street from girls like Serena. So he went digging.

The first links that came up were fashion related. Things she wore to events put on by the Toronto International Film Festival, by Toronto Life magazine, by various other institutions in the city that always liked to have charity galas and fundraising parties so people with money felt like important, morally conscious philanthropists when they wrote $10,000 cheques for their tables. There were a lot of pictures. And she looked beautiful in all of them. Stylish and classy and just plain good. Everything fit to perfection. He could see why she was a model – at least an apparent model – even though she never talked about it. Her body was to die for. People went under the knife to look like her.

Other articles appeared from her past. There was a photo of her as a teenager, posing in her school uniform, the kilt and blazer in full effect. There was a family photoshoot when Hello! Magazine did a ten page spread of their newly renovated mansion in Rosedale, another spread from when their dad celebrated his 60th birthday party at the Shangri-La, and modelling shots from her Instagram profile and designers’ Instagram profiles.

World-renowned cardiologist, Dr. Felipe Casillas, and his wife, plastic surgeon Dr. Leonor Casillas, invite us into their home!

Youngest daughter Aleida, 17, who was just recently accepted into the University of Toronto’s faculty of music, poses with her older sister Alejandra, 21, recently accepted to the University of Toronto’s faculty of medicine, are pictured above. Alejandra is keen to follow in her parents’ footsteps and enter the medical profession. “It’s important to me to carry on the legacy that my parents have established in Toronto,” she says.

Aleida, for her part, loves music. “I think if Aleida could sing every day, she would,” Leonor laughs. “She has been playing piano since she was a child. Aleida is far from a doctor, so it’s only natural for her to want to pursue it instead of medicine.”

Fred was irked at the comment. He clicked on other articles and read on.

Aleida Casillas, 21, poses front row at Alexander McQueen’s London Fashion Week show. Casillas has just graduated with a degree in music. “Perfect for serenading,” she flirts into our camera.

Click.

Toronto socialite and all-around beauty Aleida Casillas knows a thing or two about fashion. After attending Branksome Hall with up-and-coming designer Genevieve Jones, the daughter of renowned cardiologist Felipe Casillas and plastic surgeon extraordinaire Leonor Casillas knew it was a no-brainer to support the designer as she launched her first collection. She does, after all, have all the best connections. Who wouldn’t want to attach themselves to Aleida?

Click.

TDOTDIRT.com: Aleida Casillas is hot – we all knew that. But did we know she’s fuckin’ smokin’ hot?

Check out her tits in her newest modelling shoot for Genevieve Jones. Those nips poking through? Nice. And let’s not get started on her ass…

Aleida is probably the hottest girl in Toronto. Too bad she’s got a stick up her ass.

Click.

Aleida Casillas sits front row at the Genevieve Jones fashion show after modelling for the brand.

Click.

Aleida’s tight body—

Click.

Equestrian pursuits have always been a passion for the Casillas family. Dr. Felipe Casillas, the cardiologist responsible for the successful quadruple bypass of former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney, brings us to the horse farm where his family’s horses are kept. Left, Dr. Casillas’s youngest daughter, Aleida (15), poses with her horse Concordia.

Click.

Who wouldn’t want to slap Aleida’s tight ass—

Click.

TODIRT.com: Sent to us from a reader: If ANYONE ever runs into Aleida Casillas RUN THE OTHER WAY!!!!! That girl is the BIGGEST BITCH in the city of Toronto. She thinks she owns the city cause her family is rich! I PERSONALLY saw her ruin a date right in front of me by FLIRTING with the guy IN FRONT OF THE GIRL!!!!! She’s a heartless bitch!!!!! And she thinks she’s such hot shit because she’s in magazines and models and is popular on Instagram, but NOBODY LIKES HER!!!!!

Click.

Aleida Casillas keeps her Cuban roots close to her heart. She returns to Havana every year, where her family is one of the few who own a historic mansion in Miramar, to return to the place she has such find memories of.

Click.

If u check the insta of @aleidacasillas she posted a story of her at the leaf game. she’s def in the wag section. is she dating someone on the leafs?

Who?

omg aleida casillas is at the leaf game. basically confirms she’s dating someone on the team.

Who is this girl you guys keep talking about? Is she a known bunny?

Aleida Casillas is one of the biggest socialites in Toronto. These anons are reaching. If she was dating a Leaf, we’d know about it. Trust me. She’d make us know about it. She has no shame.

Um okay?

Click.

Lock.

He was left more confused than when he had started – at least somewhat. There was so much to know about her, so much that she was already telling him but so much he still needed to know. More than anything, he didn’t know how he didn’t know her before this. How it had to come to finding her crying in order to know who she was when she was already in the public eye and there was so much to find out about her.

He sighed.

He unlocked his phone again.

You have horses? he typed and sent off the message. He had no idea how she would react.

I have one horse, Mars. I’ve had horses.

Who told you?

I googled it

You must have found out a lot then

Nothing as important as what you tell me when we’re alone

God, he didn’t expect that to come out like it did. He was a grown man who wanted to hide beneath the covers.

Well aren’t you a lucky boy

I didn’t mean it like that

I know you didn’t

My attitude doesn’t come through via text. Sorry.

What are you up to?

Why haven’t you told me about your family?

Because I don’t think they’re very proud of me

I don’t think I ever lived up to their expectations, but my sister did

And that’s created tension

At least to me

They try to hide it but I know they’re disappointed

I doubt they’re disappointed in you

You’re successful

No I’m not

Not like them

Fred stared at the message for a long time – probably too long. Because before he could begin typing out a message – what he would say, he didn’t know – she’d already sent something again.

Go to bed Fred. Big game tomorrow.

God forbid people find out I’m the one to keep you up, right?

***

Fred watched intently as Aleida walk into the café. She was dressed in tight black pants, a tucked in black turtleneck, and a stylish brown plaid blazer. Her hair was styled in loose curls and it bounced so effortlessly, like she was in a shampoo commercial. Jewelry dripped off of her. On her neck, a multistrand pearl necklace hung over her turtleneck, the diamond clasp holding it together shining bright in the light. On her ears, pearl studs. On her wrist, stacks of Cartier Love bracelets she had obviously put on recently. On her fingers, a large emerald cut light green amethyst on a gold band on one hand; an equally as large emerald cut pale pink morganite ring on a gold band on the other.

He shivered thinking about how much money she was wearing. Why she was wearing so much money. She approached the table and set her purse down on it – a Birkin, naturally – obscuring the view of what was on their table from the rest of the café-goers. “Thanks for getting a table at the back,” she said, not even saying hello.

It was a point of pain for Fred that she was averse to being seen with him in public, unless it was at the backs of restaurants or cafes where very few people would see them. He tried to not let it get to him, but it was proving hard. “Yeah, no problem,” he said absent-mindedly. “Why are you all…” he didn’t finish his sentence, instead deciding to do jazz hands to signify how dressed up she was. Not that she didn’t dress up all the time – it was mostly a statement on the jewelry.

“I met with my friend Genevieve,” Aleida revealed, sitting down in her seat. “You must have heard about her in your readings.”

“The designer.”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “We did some new shots of her new pieces for Instagram, which is why…” she held up her hands, jingling her fingers like he’d just done, and motioned to her necklace. “Clothes are hers. Jewelry is mine.”

“You didn’t want to go home and change?” Fred asked.

Aleida’s brow’s furrowed. “Why? Do I not look good?”

“No! No no! You look incredible—”

“Then why would I change?”

“I – forget it,” Fred shook his head. “How are you?”

Aleida shook her head slightly. There were a few moments where it looked like she was going to say something, but she didn’t. She’d stop herself. “I’ve been thinking about the stuff we talk about,” she began, getting right into it. No formalities; no small talk. “And I don’t…I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Fred was perplexed. “What do you mean?”

Aleida sighed. “I’m just not…” her voice cracked slightly. “I’m not a good person. And you are. And I don’t know why you’re sticking around when it’s so obvious we’re like fire and ice.”

“Aleida, when are you going to get it through your thick skull that none of that matters,” he said, reaching over the table to hold her hand.

This time, there was no flinching. But she did tug away, and there was a sharp intake of breath as his hand refused to let go, even after being dragged further across the table. “Don’t do that,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because if you do, I’ll melt into you.”

Fred’s heart skipped a beat at her words. “What’s so wrong with that?” his voice was soft.

Aleida shook her head again, like she was trying to deny not only Fred but herself too of the nonsense that was coming out of her mouth. “I can’t…I can’t…”

“Why not?”

“I can’t corrupt you.”

Fred looked at her like she was crazy, because she was really sprouting some nonsense now. He didn’t know where she was getting this from – where her mind would go when she was alone and overthought things – but if this was the result of a mind too active to think rationally, he didn’t like it. “You’re not corrupting anyone,” he stressed.

“I’m too much for you.”

“Maybe you’re just what I’ve been looking for.”

Aleida continued to shake her head. She was stubborn – he had to give her that. And quite hard-headed. “You’re looking for balance. You said so yourself,” she said. “I can’t give you balance.”

“Who are you to tell me what kind of balance I need,” he said back to her. “Maybe you’re the balance I need.”

“Fred,” she stressed his name, “you don’t understand. I’m not in a good place emotionally and I haven’t been for months – some would argue years – and –”

“Aleida, stop it,” he said firmly. The stubbornness and hard-headedness were hard to get through but he could be that right back at her if she was going to be like this – putting herself to blame for things. “I’m going to be in your life whether you like it or not.”

“But why? Why?” she demanded.

“It’s not obvious to you? I like you, Aleida. Can’t you see that?”

She looked at him, bewildered. Like he’d just grown another head. “You like me?”

“Of course I like you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You honestly think I don’t?”

“You – you mean you think I’m beautiful,” she attempted to correct him.

“No. Well – yes – that too – but besides that. I like you. However you present yourself to me. However you are. I like you.”

Aleida looked mystified. Like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Like it was a foreign concept that someone could like her and want to be around her willingly without bringing her beauty into it. He wondered what made her think this way – what made her think the only reason people stuck around was her beauty. “Listen, Aleida—”

“Aleida?” a voice suddenly interrupted their conversation.

All the emotion drained from Aleida’s face as she violently tugged her hand away from his grasp and hid it underneath the table. She looked up and noticed an all-too-familiar face at the waiting area of the bar. Fred looked behind him to see a woman walking towards them. Dressed impeccably – much like Aleida – except with less jewels draping off of her, although he still noticed similar Cartier love bracelets and a gold necklace. Fred figured she didn’t come straight from a modelling shoot. Although, the more he stared at her, the more he noticed similarities between the two women.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked, a nice smile on her face. She had beautiful, clear skin; long dark brown hair slicked back into a ponytail with a trendy headband; full lips painted with a neutral pink. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here after you didn’t answer my text this morning! I thought you might have dropped by the clinic.”

Fred looked between the woman and Aleida. Aleida caught him staring, and when she did, she knew she would have to explain. There was no way getting out of it. “This is my sister Alejandra,” she explained quickly, with no enthusiasm in her voice. “Alejandra, this is Frederik.”

Alejandra. It took a second for Fred to realize that she was Aleida’s sister. But after taking another look at her, and noticing their similar facial structure, noses, cheeks, and lips, he wondered why he didn’t see it sooner. He cracked a polite smile. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.

“So this is Frederik Andersen,” she smiled, shaking his hand. “You look different without your goalie mask on.”

Fred chuckled slightly. “Yeah.”

“Sorry if you get that a lot. When my husband found out Aleida somehow befriended you it was a big shock to us all.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” he said. His eyes flashed to look at Aleida quickly, who looked more nervous and uptight than usual. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Aleida has told me a lot about you.”

“Did she tell you she was supposed to come visit our clinic this morning?” Alejandra slightly laughed, shifting her attention back to her sister. “Where were you?”

“I had a shoot.”

“A shoot?”

“With Genevieve.”

“You had a modelling shoot with Genevieve.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, alright,” Alejandra accepted Aleida’s excuse nicely enough. She didn’t put up much of a fuss. “Mom was wondering if you’re still coming to dinner Wednesday night. She didn’t get a text back from you.”

“I’m coming.”

“Fred, would you like to join?” Alejandra asked.

Before Fred could even breathe – before he could even entertain the notion of getting dressed up, going to Aleida’s parents’ house, meeting them and interacting with them for an entire night like Alejandra was proposing – he noticed Aleida’s eyes bulge out of their sockets at Alejandra’s question. “Fred has a game Wednesday,” she said quickly, answering for him.

“Oh…okay then. Next time,” Alejandra nodded, smiling politely again. She focused back on her sister. “Did you eat today? Since you were supposed to come for breakfast.”

Aleida tried not to glare at her sister. “I’m trying to eat right now.”

“No foam latte for Alejandra!” the barista called out, placing a large takeout cup on the bar. Fred, Aleida, and Alejandra looked towards the cup before looking back at each other.

Alejandra smiled at them. “Guess I better get going – Oliver is waiting outside anyway. It was really nice to meet you Fred,” she said, extending her hand one last time.

“You too.”

“I’ll have to have you over for dinner or drinks sometime, whenever Aleida lets me,” she winked at them. “Take care.”

Fred watched as she walked out of the café, meeting with a man waiting that Fred could only assume was her husband Oliver before the continued down the street. He looked back at Aleida, who was already looking down at her empty plate, not bothering to watch her sister. “So that was Alejandra?” Fred asked.

“Doctor Alejandra Casillas-Rowe,” Aleida said her full name pretentiously, rolling her eyes.

“She was nice.”

“I guess.”

“You look like her,” Fred commented.

Aleida finally looked him in the eye. She snorted at his comment. “She looks like me. She made herself look like me.”

Fred didn’t want to get into it. There was obviously something there that he didn’t want to get in the middle of. Relationships between sisters were notoriously…complicated. He figured this was no different, especially considering the way Aleida was and what she had already told him about Alejandra living up to their parents’ expectations and Aleida not.

Instead, Fred reached under the table to hold her hand again. This time, she didn’t tug away.

***

“This is the big boy who was looking for you that one time,” Frank, the drummer in Aleida’s band, purred as he was introduced to Fred at Aleida’s house during a “gathering” she was having. He eyed Fred up and down even as he spoke. “A very, very big boy.”

“Stop scaring him,” Aleida giggled, pinching the skin on Frank’s forearm.

“Didn’t you?” Frank quipped.

“Apparently not,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Fred added.

“You are. And believe me, that says a lot,” Frank said.

Fred felt Aleida snake her arm around his bicep. He tried not to shiver at the contact – at the fact that for the first time, it was her that initiated the contact. “He’s gotta meet everybody else. We’ll be back.”

Frank scoffed playfully. “But he’s a tall glass of water and I’m not done drinking!” he complained, giving Fred yet another up-down.

“Goodbye Frank,” Aleida whisked Fred away.

As Aleida began introducing Fred to everyone, he made sure to keep track of their names and their instruments. There was Frank, the drummer; and Celeste, the saxophone player; and Malakai, the trumpet player; and his twin brother Marcellus, the trombone player; and Oscar, who played guitar on a vintage archtop; and Gina, the bassist, both double bass and electric; and Aleida of course, the pianist and singer. As he met them, they all gave him knowing looks.

These were the members of Aleida’s band, The Havana Cats – her second family. They had been with her since she was twenty, when they all met magically one night at some bar downtown and realized they all played instruments and had a nagging desire to start some form of band as a means to relax from stressful university workloads. And they did – they formed a band and jammed in rented out studio space or in someone’s garage. But then they got good. Really good. And then Marcellus got the bright idea to book them a gig. And they played it and did really well, so the owner asked them back. Again. And again. And again. And then they incorporated themselves into a business, and got booked at bigger clubs and more exclusive events thanks to Aleida’s name, and soon enough, they were booked a lot.

And they stuck together.

Most had day jobs – Malakai and Marcellus worked for the same financial securities firm, Gina worked as a web designer, Celeste as a music teacher, and Frank as waiter in an upscale restaurant – but their real passion was the music. They were booked most weekends, at either private events, galas – like where Aleida had performed the same night she met Fred – or the odd jazz bar in downtown Toronto – like where Fred had watched them last.

Genevieve was at the party too, tall and statuesque, with an air of grace about her that Fred immediately felt the minute he was introduced to her first. They made polite small talk – she asked about the team, he asked about her being a designer – before the band came over all in one go. That was when things got hectic. But despite everybody being there, treating Aleida’s townhouse as if it were their own, eating all the food on the island and playing all the music from the speakers, Fred knew that Aleida was surrounded by people she loved, and people that loved her.

There were moments when Fred would watch Aleida and he knew she was happy – that the smile on her face and the slight crinkles of her eyes were signs of pure, true, genuine happiness as she was surrounded by them. There were moments when their eyes would meet across the room and she’d wink at him and he’d wink back, and he knew she wasn’t playing a game – that the wink was a genuine, deliberate act on her part to flirt in front of people she was comfortable with. There were moments when she’d come up to him sitting at the bar and she’d stand in between his large legs as he sat on a barstool, and her body would be dangerously close to his, and her fingertips would graze his thigh or he’d bring his own hands up to lightly touch her hips or lower back or backs of her thighs and a blush would overcome her cheeks, and he knew she wanted to be there – that she wanted to be close to him, physically close, and that her guard was down, which was why she was even doing all of this in the first place. She must have taken the conversation at the coffee shop to her heart, because there was no fighting, there were no stupid excuses, and there wasn’t any confusion about the feelings shared.

Fred was seeing the happy Aleida. The true Aleida. What Aleida could look like. What Aleida was like, at her core. Without…everything else around her.

It was the most attracted he had ever been.

The band began to argue about whether or not they should jam out a few songs. Oscar had already picked up the acoustic guitar sitting in the corner and was strumming random chords. Celeste was offering songs. Malakai was shooting them all down. Fred’s hands were cold as Aleida had walked away from him, leaving him unable to touch her and feel his fingers burning as he did so. He watched her kick Frank off her piano. A Steinway Model D Concert Grand, it cost over $150,000. Most people didn’t even have them in homes, because of their size and the fact that it was a concert piano meant for a giant stage, but Aleida did. It was her baby. And it wasn’t for fooling around with. So Genevieve was explaining to him.

“Aleida’s a treat, isn’t she?” Genevieve was quiet as the band continued to argue. The sound of a few quick piano chords filled the room.

“She definitely is.”

“You know, Fred, it’s really telling that you’re still here.”

Fred gave her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a fire inside of Aleida,” Genevieve explained. “Not many people are able to handle the heat.”

Leave it to a fashion designer to speak in metaphors. What was the fire supposed to represent? Her personality? Her issues? Fred wished Genevieve would just say what’s on her mind. “I know she’s going through a lot, and she’s maybe been through a lot, but I’m able to look past the front she puts up with people,” he explained.

“I know you can. That’s why I’m saying it’s telling you’re still here,” she clarified. “It’s telling, because a lot of people know about Aleida, and they think they know her just because they see her or hear stories about her, but I’d hazard to guess it’s only the people in this room who know and understand and can see the true her.”

“So what’s that got to do with her fire?”

“Most people just feel the burns. Only some people can see the fire, Fred. And you’re one of them.”

Before he could respond, the familiar sounds of a song he knew all too well hung in the air and distracted him, making him focus instead on Aleida sitting behind her piano and on Oscar strumming the guitar notes. John Mayer. He watched as she closed her eyes and continued to sing, her voice deep and jazzy and soulful all at once. Everybody in the room became mesmerized listening to her. Oscar helped sing the second stanza, then it returned to her.

She and Fred locked eyes.

“Don’t say a word, just cover and lie here with me, cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see…”

A shiver ran up his spine.

***

When everybody was gone, Aleida found herself nestled into Fred again. He had to be a gentleman about it. Despite being touchy feely all night, he had to ask to touch her before she agreed, and his hands were so soft and delicate as he did; and when he wrapped his arms around her, she couldn’t help but melt – do the exact thing she was scared of doing when she spoke to him at the coffee shop. But she found it harder and harder to say no to him, harder and harder to be so hard and difficult with someone who was only so easy and delicate with her.

And so as she looked into his big blue eyes, and felt the scruff of his beard along the backs of her fingers, in the depths of her mind she knew he deserved better. Explanations.

“You okay?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

Explanations. He needed more explanations. He needed to know what happened to her. What she had been through. Other things that made her the way she was.

So she was going to tell him.

“I had an eating disorder – well – I – I had trouble with food, and I had trouble with my body for a long time, because people paid more attention to it than they did me, and it really fucked me up for a really long time, and I think it’s the other major reason why I am the way that I am today,” she said, finally.

Fred’s eyes stung upon hearing her revelation. He had never known anyone with an eating disorder, even though he knew the brain was a tricky and complex thing. He wanted to be more understanding – not just for his sake, but for Aleida’s. He assumed that she had probably told very, very few people about it – and a part of him wondered, knowing the relationship with her family, if she even told them. As much as it was painful for him to hear, and as much as it probably took a lot for her to tell him, it was a privilege hearing it. It meant she trusted him. “Aleida…”

“What I had was an EDNOS – but now they call it OSFED,” she kept talking, needing to let it all out now that it was out in the open. “It started my last year of high school…basically the day I turned 18 and was legal. I wasn’t anorexic or anything – or bulimic – and I didn’t really binge eat often. But I was obsessed with my body because everybody else became obsessed with my body. I would think about everything that went into my mouth and how it would affect my body and how it looked. Like, if I ate a kale salad would my stomach still be flat? If I ate a donut would my boobs get bigger from fat? It was all in an effort to maintain the beauty that people were so fixated on, because I was convinced by everybody around me that it was the only thing about me that mattered.”

Fred’s mind was racing a mile a minute, thinking about what she had to go through at such a young age. He wanted to punch every single person who was responsible for making her feel the way she did; for making her think she was only beautiful and not anything else – a real, three-dimensional human being with needs and wants and emotions just like everybody else. “How long have you been sick?” he asked.

“It went on for a couple of years before I got help. It was the worst kind of psychological torture. You have no idea. But I finally told my parents – well, my dad, the one who isn’t a plastic surgeon.”

Fred’s mind began to race again, thinking about everything she had to endure. The pain and suffering of being in a body she had a bad relationship with; the constant guilt of trying to nurture herself with food but fighting an internal battle with herself wondering if it was worth consuming; the harassment from people around her who only focused on the least important part of her; the self-hatred; the loneliness; knowing that everybody around her was obsessed with the one thing she didn’t want them obsessing over, and judging her over the one thing that didn’t need to be judged. He was at a loss for words, and a loss for actions. “I’m so sorry,” was all he could say.

She smiled meekly at him. “You’d think that a doctor who sees Felipe Casillas making an appointment would know better, but apparently not. The first doctor told my father it was a privileged disease,” she continued to confess. She noticed Fred’s eyes go wide at what she had just said. “He told my dad that I had been a bored teenager, and a bored adult, and if my dad gave me something to do, I would grow out of it.”

“That’s horrible,” Fred commented.

“I know. I’m pretty sure my dad tried everything in his power to get the guy’s medical licence revoked,” she said, slightly smiling. “I’m okay now, if you’re wondering. But it was a struggle for a really long time.”

“You’re so strong,” Fred blurted out, the filter between his brain and his mouth non-existent. “You’re so, so strong.”

Aleida didn’t know whether to believe him. She didn’t know if she was strong. She never thought about it. Other things, unfortunately, preoccupied her mind, and her strength and how she overcame something like that never took precedent. She almost let it destroy her. Maybe it did.

There was nothing left to say. Fred and Aleida knew there was nothing left to say. Words exhausted them – he knew he didn’t exactly speak much, but he didn’t need to. Aleida’s words – the more important words – hung in the air around them. They continued to just stare at each other, his blue eyes and her hazel eyes communicating things that didn’t need to be said with words.

Then, Aleida moved closer.

And closer.

And then, she kissed him. And he kissed her back. And it was soft at first – like everything else to do with Fred, Aleida thought. And then she kept kissing him. And kissing him. And kissing him. And he kept kissing her. And kissing her. And kissing her. And soon Aleida didn’t know where her lips started and Fred’s began. And she didn’t need to guess what he tasted like, because he slipped his tongue into her mouth. And he didn’t need to guess what she tasted like, because she slipped her tongue into his mouth too. And they kissed.

And they kissed.

“Aleida?” Fred’s voice mumbled against her lips as they caught their breath.

“Hm?”

“You have to start doing things that make you happy.”

She made sure she was looking him directly in the eye. “I already am.”

191 notes · View notes

luvshuas · 5 years

Text

whoever falls first loses

pairing - minghao x reader

tags - fluff + friends to lovers

synopsis - drunken nights in don’t always lead to strange bets, but when they do they end with two losers in love

word count - 4k

warnings - mentions of alcohol

note - i didn’t want to put “minghao + y/n are annoying/oblivious” in the warnings but minghao + y/n are annoying/oblivious

“I have an idea!” Minghao announces. He rolled onto his side, gazing sleepily into your eyes. “We should make a bet.” His voice slurred slightly, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol, lack of sleep, or a combination of both of them. You let him continue nonetheless, “I’m going to make you fall in love with me, and you’re going to make me fall in love with you,” he paused, pointing one of his slim fingers in your direction. “Whoever falls in love first loses!” Minghao nodded his head, as if convincing himself that this was a good idea.

You stared at him blankly. Even in his drunken state this was such an odd thing for Minghao to do, but you still agreed to his bet. “I hope you’re ready to fall in love ‘cause you’re going down Xu Minghao.” You broke out into an infectious smile, Minghao mimicking your expression seconds later.

“Get your laptop then! We’re creating a contract to bind us to this bet!” He said, sitting up. You wordlessly searched around your apartment for the piece of technology. It had to be somewhere in your living space, but your foggy memory was against you in your searching.

“I couldn’t find it.” You said, returning from your fruitless search. Minghao merely shrugged. Not having your laptop posed no threat to his bet, not when he had the most brilliant 21st-century invention stuffed into his pants pocket.

“I’ll type it on my phone and send it to your printer.” Minghao dug his phone out of his pocket. You moved into the empty space next to him on your bed. “As of September 28, 2019, I will make blank -- we’ll fill in the blanks with our names -- fall in love with me before I fall in love with blank. Whoever falls first must agree to whatever the winner’s request is.” Minghao said as he typed. You watched his fingers tap away at his phone, quickly growing tired.

As Minghao finished up sending the contract -- if you could even call it that -- to your printer he noticed the sudden pressure on his left shoulder. “That’s not fair,” he mumbled, setting his phone on the bedside table. “You got a head start.” It wasn’t long until Minghao’s consciousness began to slip. With your cheek pressed against his shoulder, he fell into a comfortably deep sleep.

_____

As the morning of the next day began to shift into afternoon, consciousness finally returned to you in the form of a pounding headache. The bright sunlight streaming through your uncovered window cast a warm glow over you and the pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You paused, momentarily forgetting that you had fallen asleep next to Minghao. Broken up memories of the moments before you fell asleep rushed back to you. “What kind of bet…” You mumbled louder than you intended. A low whine left Minghao’s lips as his arms retracted from your waist. You felt the bed shift under his weight as he turned onto his side, though he found no refuge in the beaming sunlight.

“Why is it so bright?” He whispered. His words jumbled together as he slowly began to fully wake up.

“That’s how sunlight works, Hao. Get up, we’ve probably wasted most of the day sleeping.” You tugged at his shirt. Minghao slowly flipped around to face you once again. Silently, he pulled you into his arms, tugging you towards his chest.

“Don’t nag. It’s too early.” His voice was still quiet. A part of you wondered if he remembered the bet you and him made last night, but that same part also refused to ask him if he knew about it. What would he say if I asked about it, you wondered. Your eyes studied his face, which seemed to be relaxing again as he slowly began to fall back to sleep. You traced the slope of his nose, the curves of his lips, and the highpoints of his cheeks with your eyes. They were so soft, so delicate.

“Stop staring. I can’t sleep.” He mumbled. Groaning, you push him off of you. You climbed out of your bed, making it a point to be as loud as possible. “Wait, come back! Your spot is cold now!” Minghao called after you as you left the bedroom. You ignored his pleas to return back to bed, opting to search your pantry to find something to help with your headache.

“Who does he think he is,” you grumbled. “‘I’m going to make you fall in love with me’ my ass.” You moved aside cans of preservatives and bottles of who knows what until your eyes landed on a jar of dried ginger. The corners of your mouth tugged up in a small smile as you grabbed the jar and two bags of tea. You silently began boiling water to make you and your tired guest a hangover remedy.

Minghao didn’t leave your bed until the whistle of the teapot became too loud for him to yell over it. “What are you making?” He asked, rubbing his eyes with loosely balled up fists. You glanced at him quickly, taking in his tousled hair, before removing the kettle of boiling water. You poured its contents into two cups, setting a piece of ginger and tea bag in each.

Minghao’s focus on you didn’t last very long once his eyes caught sight of a piece of paper sitting in your printer’s tray. Slowly, he crossed the distance between where he was standing and where the printer was sitting. “What was I thinking?” He mumbled to himself as he read the contents of the paper.

“What are you looking at?” Your voice pulled Minghao from his thoughts -- and self-loathing. He quickly grabbed the paper off the tray, sticking it behind his back as he turned to you.

“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just looking through your stuff and being nosy.”

“Ok, well, I made something to help with our hangovers.” You left one of the cups on the counter to let Minghao decide if he wanted to try your hangover remedy. With one of the two cups in your hands you moved into the living room, quickly finding a comfortable place to sit on your couch. Minghao stayed standing where he was for a moment, unmoving until his hands finished folding the paper into a size small enough to fit into his pants pockets.

“Thanks, but maybe I should go home. I didn’t expect an impromptu sleepover so I have no change of clothes, and I’m not too fond of chilling in the same jeans and t-shirt I got drunk in last night.” Minghao said, patting his jeans to make sure he slipped his phone into one of the pockets before taking his leave. You looked up from your cup. As much as you wanted him to stay you nodded in agreement.

“Text me when you get back to your apartment.” You said, slightly cringing at the rattling sound of Minghao grabbing his bag -- which was not short of any charms or pins. Minghao bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to contain the butterflies filling his stomach from spilling out. Your request for him to text you that he has arrived home safely wasn’t new, but it felt different this time. More tender and caring. Or maybe it was just him.

“I know,” he said, slipping the straps over his shoulders. “I always do.” You smiled at the slight tone of annoyance as he spoke. You kept your focus trained on him as he unlocked your front door and stepped out into the chilly autumn air. “I’ll see you soon. Maybe tomorrow. Who knows?” He said, a slight lilt in his voice. You raised your hand to wave as he closed the door and left you in your small, silent, and empty apartment.

“Xu Minghao, what am I going to do with you?” You said, turning away from the door and continuing to sip on your tea.

Minghao stood outside the door of your apartment for a few moments, rereading the ‘contract’ you and him had created last night. It felt slightly relieving to read the outcome of his liquid confidence, but he felt more relief in the possibility that you might have no recollection of this bet. As he crumpled the paper he swore to never drink around you again out of fear that he might kiss you instead of suggesting a silly, meaningless bet.

_____

Minghao stayed true to his word when he said he’d text you when got home. And he texted you the next day, and the next, and the next. His presence was constant in your life; whether it be through unannounced visits or a few exchanges over text. It left you with no surprise as to why you felt your mood lift at just the mention of his name or why you began to wake up in the middle of the night with his name being the only memory of your dream.

Minghao was stuck in a similar boat -- though his had long since sailed. His feelings for you were as bright as day to him, and kept under lock and key from you. Not a very secure lock, he reasons. Even days after he’d last seen you the events of his drunken suggestion kept playing through his mind. Especially your agreement to take place in this bet. Perhaps he was overthinking the whole situation, but how else was he supposed to react when his person of interest agrees to a bet implying that both parties would fall in love with the other?

Despite his mind being crowded by you, he still managed to miss you. A quick text could fix that, he thought, already typing out a message to send to you. He always felt nervous asking to see you, but he could come up with an excuse as to why he wants to meet up if it came to that. He’s definitely done it before.

The startling ding! from his cell phone pulled Minghao out of his thoughts. “Yes! It’s been so long since I’ve been on a picnic. Which park did you want to meet at?” You wrote back. Minghao’s lips tugged up into a smile. He could feel how excited and happy you were just from how quickly you wrote him back.

“The one half-way between our apartments. I’ll see you soon!” Minghao sent back after a minute. Wasting no time, he grabbed a basket you had given him for some holiday years ago and began to gather drinks and small snacks to pack into it. Having already been dressed to go out for the day, all Minghao had to do was grab the basket and a jacket in case he got cold -- or, alternatively, if you underestimated the chill of the wind and left yours at your apartment.

The walk from Minghao’s apartment to the park was roughly 10 minutes, and then an extra 15 minutes from the park to reach your apartment. As he stepped into his building’s elevator he briefly considered taking the bus, but quickly threw that idea out, opting to get used to the chill by walking to his destination.

Ignoring the normal sounds of the city, Minghao’s walk was fairly quiet. To the outside eye he looked like a young boy who just came to terms with being madly in love with his significant other. He blamed the giddy skip in his step for giving off that impression.

As Minghao neared the park he caught sight of you sitting on a bench. His pace slowed down, finding amusement in the way you scanned the area around you every seconds to try to spot Minghao. Once your eyes finally landed on him a smile stretched across your face. Minghao’s slow gait quick sped up the moment he saw your smile.

“I missed you!” You said, standing up once Minghao was in front of you. With a slight hesitation that only you would have noticed, you grabbed his free hand and began pulling him in the direction of a patch of grass directly in the sunlight. “It made me sad when you didn’t show up at my apartment without warning the past week.”

Minghao’s breath caught in his throat. How were you so bold and nonchalant about grabbing his hand while his stomach was doing a 360°? Nonetheless, Minghao let you pull him in the direction of your desired spot. “I’m sorry. I got busy.” He lied through his teeth. You glanced back at him. It was obvious you knew he was lying. If he was busy then he wouldn’t have been texting you so much during the week. You let it slide instead of pushing for the truth.

Stopping in your final destination, you turned to Minghao. “Did you bring a blanket or something to sit on? Or we can just sit on the grass.” You said. Your hand never let go of Minghao’s -- not that he minded anyways.

“It hurts that you think I would forget something so important.” He teases. Minghao pulls his hand out of yours, despite every bone in his body screaming at him to hold on, to grab the blanket from the inside of the basket. After setting the basket down he fans the blanket out onto the grass.

“I’m glad you asked me on this picnic outing,” you said, helping Minghao unpack the goodies he had brought with him. “I really did miss you. Texting isn’t the same as talking in person.”

Minghao smiled to himself, “I think you just miss looking at me.”

“Don’t become arrogant; otherwise it’ll ruin your attractiveness.” You rolled your eyes. The smile tugging at your lips gave the opposite impression of your eye roll. You cherished these moments with Minghao. The moments where you could playfully flirt with him, but still brush it off as teasing if you thought he began to pick up on your growing feelings for him.

“You’re more attractive when you’re quiet so start eating.” He teased back, handing you a little bowl of fruit. Minghao’s outward appearance betrayed what was going on in his mind. Calm, cool, collected, he chanted to himself.

____

Your meetings with Minghao once again became more frequent. He began to show up at your apartment unannounced, and encouraged you to do the same. He gave you something to be excited about in your day-to-day life. You couldn’t deny the feelings you felt for him. They were too obvious to you to be able to pin them as just fondness towards him.

But, similar to Minghao, as feelings develop so does the tendency to overthink. Though your mind wasn’t plagued with thoughts about whether or not Minghao remembered your drunken bet from weeks ago, you still worried about the possibility of your feelings being one-sided. A part of you, the rational part, reasoned that they had a better chance of being mutual considering it was Minghao who suggested the bet. Yet another part of you was still convinced Minghao only thought of you in a platonic manner.

It was that part of you that led you to his apartment at midnight, the scent of alcohol permeating your breath. You had no memory of how you stumbled your way to Minghao’s apartment, but you knew where you were going even with alcohol clouding all of your senses.

Minghao thought that the sloppy knocks on his front door was a neighbor coming home drunk. “You’re at the wrong…” Minghao’s annoyed statement trailed off once he saw you leaning against his door frame.

“Minghao! Can I come in? I’m tired.” You asked, stumbling towards the door as Minghao moved out of the way. Once he saw you safely in his apartment he closed the door. Though he’s seen you drunk -- hell, he’s gotten drunk with you -- he still felt strange about the situation he was in.

“What happened?” He assumed that something must’ve happened in your family or work life for you to get wasted and then stumble your way to his apartment. You ignored his question; instead choosing to slowly make you way to sit on his couch. Minghao watched until you were safely seated before grabbing a cup of water from his kitchen. “Hey, drink some water. I don’t want you to dehydrate.” He said, handing you the cup of water. His voice was soft and full of worry.

You accepted the glass and took small sips from it. The cool liquid slid down your throat with hard gulps. “Do you want to know why I’m here?” There’s a tone of nervousness in your question. You want him to ask you why while simultaneously wanting him to send you home. Oh, the joy of faltering liquid confidence.

“Yes, and why you decided to get drunk.” His voice was stern yet still so soft. It never failed to amaze you how he could be so demanding, but speak in a way that makes you want to give into his demands. You must be a wizard, you once told him.

You set the half-empty glass on the coffee table in front of you. “Do you remember the bet we made? Whoever falls in love with the other first loses? I think I’m losing.”

Minghao stares at you, clearly caught off-guard by your sudden confession. He remembers someone once told him that someone’s drunk words are their sober thoughts, but how much truth could he put into that ideology? “I’m not confessing to you while you’re drunk.” He mutters.

“How long have we been friends, Minghao? Since college, right? That’s an awfully long time for someone to develop feelings.” You turned from him to scan the room. Foggy memories of the two of you in his small studio apartment filled your mind.

“I think I’ve liked you for awhile. I just didn’t realize it, you know? But you’re always there to make me smile and give me company. Maybe it was inevitable that I fall for you, whether or not we made a bet.” You continued, turning back to face him.

“God, why do you have to be drunk right now,” Minghao groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “I have an extra pair of clothes for you. Come on.” He says. Minghao stood up from his spot next to you on the catch, extending a hand for you to grab.

“That’s not how you respond to a confession, Hao.” You say, grabbing his hand. You let him pull you up from the couch and lead you towards the bathroom. Minghao leaves you at the bathroom door to go into his room, returning with a t-shirt and a loose pair of pajama pants in his hands.

“Change into these, and then get into my bed. I’ll bring you another glass of water once you’re out.” He says, pushing the clothes into your arms. You watch him retreat back into the living room before you enter the bathroom.

Minghao sits back down on the couch, running his hands through his hair. His mind was replaying your confession, and with each loop he believed it less. Maybe drunk words are sober thoughts, but people make mistakes when they’re drunk. He wondered if your sudden confession was a mistake, or maybe you thought he was someone else.

“Hao,” you called out. “I’m done.”

Minghao turned to catch a glimpse of you walking into his bedroom. A shaky sigh left his lips as he stood up to refill the glass of water you left on his coffee table. He walked to his kitchen, quickly turning on the faucet to fill the water. He watched it blankly until he felt it spill onto his hand. He turned the faucet off, tipped the glass over a bit to pour some water out, and then made his way to his bedroom.

“Drink this so we can go to bed. It’s midnight , and I know you probably have plans tomorrow.” He said, handing you the glass of water. Minghao moved to the other side of the bed as you downed the water.

“Are you sleeping in here?”

“Do you not want me to?”

“No, I do. Please stay.” You set the empty cup on the bedside table. Minghao nodded, reaching to pull the string of the lamp on the table on his side of the bed. You stared into the darkness that swallowed Minghao’s room, letting your eyes adjust.

“Minghao, do you like me?” Your question was barely audible. You felt the bed dip down has Minghao climbed under the covers.

“I’m not confessing while you’re drunk. Get some sleep.” His tone shut down any conversation that might’ve continued. You turned away from where Minghao was laying. He sounded cold, but could you blame him? You did show up at his apartment at midnight drunk and spewing out a confession. As sleep began to overtake your consciousness, you felt his fingers ghost over your back. A silent apology.

_____

The week following your drunken confession, you did your very best to avoid Minghao. His texts were met with no reply and his calls were always sent to voicemail -- ones which you’d listen to the moment you saw them in your phone. You felt bad for essentially ghosting him, but the embarrassment you felt for confessing to him outweighed all rational thoughts.

Minghao, however, was consumed by your confession, drunk or not. Your words looped through his mind day after day, minute after minute, second after second until he felt like a broken record player. He wanted to respect your space, but it was getting too much for him. Not being able to see you after what you had told him was getting to be too much for him.

The pounding of his fists on your door was loud, and it didn’t help that they echoed throughout your apartment. “I’m coming!” You screamed as you walked towards the front door. “What could you- oh.” You felt your heart stop. Seeing Minghao stood in your doorway didn’t scare you, but the force of his knocking and your inability to read the emotions sketched on his face did.

“We need to talk.” He said -- though it was more of a demand. You moved out of the doorway to let him in. You knew that this talk would’ve been inevitable, but you would’ve instead had it later rather than sooner. Minghao moved into your living room, though he remained standing.

“Minghao,” you mumbled quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or ruin our friendship by confessing. God, I didn’t think I would do something that stupid drunk.” Minghao listened to you ramble, never bothering to interrupt until you had taken a breath and closed your mouth.

“I’m mad because you did it while drunk. Do you know how long I’ve had a crush on you? And then you just confidently say you like me while drunk. I just wish I had the balls to say it before you.” He sighed, pacing the length of the living room. You stared at him. Had you heard him right? Did he say he likes you?

“Wait, so, you like me? As in romantically? As in non-platonically?” Minghao snorted at your disbelief. You watched him nod silently. You definitely heard him right the first time.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts, I guess. That bet we made while drunk is a perfect example of that.” Minghao stopped pacing. He stood still a few feet away from you, not daring to cross the distance and ruin everything.

“So that means you lost?” You ask. Minghao stared at you with a calculating look. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, if only it wouldn’t ruin the surprise that came with having a conversation with him.

“I’d be willing to.” His voice was so quiet, testing the waters to see if his reply would be accepted. You gave him a confused look, prodding him to speak louder. “I’d be willing to. To lose the bet, I mean.”

A subtle smile tugged at your lips, “You’ll have to beat me to it.”

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nxfelibatae · 4 years

Text

pose || jimin x reader [pt.2]

When the opportunity presented itself there was no way you were going to let it go, only 10 days to make a boy fall in love, It must have been easy, but you let yourself be carried away by your feelings, and nobody should risk their heart to the ones who are addicted to play with it. Love disguises itself in many ways and it hurts when you find out it was all a lie.

pairing: fuckboy! jimin x reader!

word count: 8K

genre: Fluff, slight angst, light smut, how to loose a guy in 10 days AU

warnings: Alcohol use, sex references, slow burn, swearing. Everybody it's kinda lying. That's pretty much it.

A / N: inspired by the movie How to loose a guy in 10 days. First work here so please be nice guys :(. It's a two people work.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

PART 2

Day 11

'Hey, are you okay?' Asked Nayeon

'Yeah, why?' You answered while packing up your stuff.

'The professor called for you 3 times and you didn't answer, you were here but… not exactly.' Nayeon answered with a mocking tone.

Actually, what was going on in your head was the question you were asking yourself since last night, where would you find a guy who would date you? You knew you were pretty and smart, but that wasn't enough for the boys at college, they were looking for something easy, something for one night, and you were not down for that kind of relationship.

You thought that if you were ever going to date someone again, it was going to be for a long term. But you knew you had to let that idea fly away for the sake of the article or at least until you get the job.

'Where do I find a guy who agrees to go out with me for more than a one night stand?' You finally let out with a snort. Nayeon looks at you like as if you were joking.

'There are millions of boys in the world, surely you will find someone perfect to write the article about.' She says.

'You always know what to say Nayeon.' You say while resting one side of your head on her shoulder.

With spring coming soon, you could already feel the warm weather in the air predicting it was going to be a nice one. Spring was your favorite season, mostly because of the cherry blossoms and the fact that you could sit under your favorite tree for hours writing ideas for future projects you hoped you could achieve and all this without the risk of freezing your butt like in winter.

'We should eat outside, it looks like it's not that cold.' You say walking towards the exit that led to the main courtyard.

'Okay, go look for a place to seat and I'll go get us something to eat.' Nayeon left after you nod in agreement.

As you walk down the courtyard looking for a place to seat, you let the wind hit your face confirming your assumptions about the weather. There was a table in the middle next to the fountain, while you settle in, you leave your things on the table and breathe deeply letting in the smell of wet soil, courtesy of the sprinklers that had watered the grass a few minutes before.

Now that you were alone maybe you could think clearly about the article. It was nice outside and maybe ideas would flow better. You open up your bag to search for your journal, only to realize that it's not there.

'Where did I left it?' The panic in your voice was evident, that journal was your life, all your ideas were inside it, all your tasks to be done, your appointments, the ideas for the article… You turned your bag upside down taking out everything that was inside of it just to make sure it was't in there, you needed to find that journal as soon as possible.

'What are you looking for?' Nayeon says with a concerned look in her face while placing the food trays on the table.

'My journal, have you seen it? I can't find it and everything I need is in there. '

Why is this happening to me, what kind of teenager novel is this?

'The one you where using in class?'

'Yeah the one with the… Oh my god! I left it back in the classroom! I have to go back to get it, wait here. ' Nayeon is left looking really confused with a carrot in her mouth as you walk away.

You let your mind cool down a bit before remembering your last class, with so many things on your mind you should have forgotten it in your seat compartment. When you where about to open the door, it opens suddenly, revealing Hyunjae with your journal in hand.

'Oh! There you are, I was about to look for you to give you your little diary. ' Says Hyunjae with a smile that you knew was not sincere.

'Did you read it?' You asked while snatching it away from her.

'A thank you would have been enough,' she notices the suspicion in your face 'I didn't read your pathetic thing.' She rolls her eyes.

'You better not.' You stick the journal to your chest protecting its content 'Thank you… I'll better get going'.

'No problem, that's what co-workers are for, right?' She was wearing that fake smile again, 'I need to go as well, I need to work on my article, have you started yours?'

'Something like that.' You put a weird gesture, more like a pout, letting her know you haven't even started it.

Hyunjae turns her face to the side laughing a little 'I haven't started mine either, I don't even have the topic yet.'

'I have a topic, but I don't really know where to start.'

'You do look kinda stress… do you know what you need?' Asks with a smirk 'A party!'

'What?' You let out in confusion.

'Mark Tuan, do you know him ?,' you look at her still confused, trying to analyze what she's saying, 'He's kinda my friend. Tall guy, handsome, he's from America… he just moved to a new house with some other friends and you know open house party… it's today. ' Hyunjae finish with a hurray movement with her hand.

'Why are you being nice?' You say softly, looking at her like she was a total stranger.

'What do you mean?' She says frowning.

A silence reigns between the two of you for a couple of seconds before Hyunjae talks again.

'Look, it's just a stupid party. If you wanna eat, fine. If you don't, fine too. I was just inviting you because you look like you need a break and it's not like you know the right people to party with… 'Finishes raising one of her eyebrows.

'I don't do parties actually.' You interrupt her. 'And this is really… weird. You've never invited me to something in your life, I think I'll pass. ' You turn your back at her walking back to the courtyard where you left Nayeon. 'See you at the office' you say without turning your head back at her.

Hyunjae doesn't even bother to reply to you before she continues with her path with a smile in her face, heels making noise as she takes every step.

'What the fuck was that?' You think out loud as you continue walking.

When Nayeon sees you with journal in hand she lets out a relief sigh.

'Great! You found it! I thought we would have to deal with all your secrets being exposed with copies pasted all over the halls just like in the movies. Can you imagine? '

You nod as you let yourself fall on the seat next to hers.

'The weirdest thing just happened…' You say looking at her.

'Uh? The journal being there or… '

'No I mean. Hyunjae was there and she handed me my journal and she was… kinda nice? I don't know. She tried talking to me about the article, and then she went “You know you look tired, why don't you come to Mark Tuan's party?” '

'What? What did you said? '

'I sad no, of course. I'm not stupid, she must have an ulterior motive. '

'Are you dumb ?!' Nayeon screams back at you. You jump a little in your seat 'That's the perfect opportunity to fish. We are going. You need to text her and ask her for the address. Mark is pretty popular and his friends are really cute, we could find you a guy in 5 minutes there. '

'What are you talking about? Nayeon, I know no one in that party besides Hyunjae and I don't even trust her to call her a friend. Maybe I can find a guy somewhere else. '

'It'll be fine. I'll come with you, so you'll know me too, okay? I'll even dress you up with cute clothes and all. Besides, I need parting too, I need to get my mind out of that dude. '

'You can't be serious right now, Nayeon. You dated the guy for 7 days. 7 god damn days! ' You let out with frustration.

'Only?!' She says with an offended tone in her voice. 'I already told you it was special while it lasted. It's always about the connection, not the time. ' She takes another carrot and bites it, while taking her phone with her other hand meaning she was mad. You just roll your eyes, you didn't feel like going into that topic again.

'Okay, I'm sorry…' You take the fork that was on the tray and start pinching the food with no appetite.

Was it really a good idea to go to the party? What where the odds of finding a guy in one night? One that actually wants to date and not just to fuck around? You were running out of time, If you wanted to write this article, you would need to find a boy as fast as you could, Nayeon had a point when she said it was the perfect opportunity to fish.

But then there was Hyunjae and her weird way of being nice to you outside the office. You guessed it was a tactic to let your guard down so she could take advantage of you on the whole job competition thing.

You thought about the perks of going and see how well you cope in a place so unknown to you, Nayeon will be there helping you which is good since the article was going to be based in her personality, perhaps it wasn't that far and most of the guys from those parties where completely strangers. If you didn't have luck that night, you could call it off, find another topic and move on with your life and take this as a funny story to talk and laugh about later.

The more you think about it, the more you convince yourself about going, even though it's not really your element or one of your favorite places to be at. You were not going to give up so easily and without fighting,

'Fine.' You say snorting. 'We'll go to this stupid party.'

'Oh, you were still considering not going? I'm already asking my friends for the address, there's no way we're not going 'she smiles back at you with a mischievous look in her eyes.

Am I really here?

Your mind couldn't stop thinking about how easily you convinced yourself about this being a good idea, and how Nayeon convinced you that wearing a top that didn't leave much to imagination was a good idea too. Nayeon was nowhere to be seen and you were standing alone, with a red cup, in a room full of strangers. You could recognize a few of your classmates but you hadn't had big conversations with them, just a little wave here and there in the hallway. Discomfort made its big entrance when two drunk dudes were pushing each other about to start a fight near you.

You ran out of there before the chaos started, heading to the pool looking for Nayeon, calling her was not an option anymore, her phone would go directly to voicemail every time you called her.

You turned to see the crowded house from the outside hopping Nayeon was okay, and just when you were about to go in again, someone grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the little crowd.

You recognized Hyunjae's face seconds later. It was a little dark, but you could still see her pink lipstick and her very short purple dress. She was also holding a red cup in her hand and a tall, dark haired guy was standing next to her.

'Hey! Not passing after all, huh? I'm glad you made it! ' Hyunjae shouted over the music 'This is Mark, the host of the party,' she puts her hand on his chest with a little pat 'Mark this is the friend I've told you about.' extends the same hand towards you finishing the introduction.

'Hi !, I've seen you around school, I heard you are from America as well' he smiles in a way his eyes disappear and lets his teeth show.

'Yeah, I moved here freshman year.' You try not to be rude by avoiding his gauze, but the only thing you could pay attention to was the crowd behind them hoping to see Nayeon in the middle of it.

'Are you looking for someone?' He seems to accomplish something is troubling you.

'I'm actually looking for my friend, I lost her like an hour ago and she's not answering my calls or texts.'

Hyunjae is about to talk, but something, or more like a someone, caught her attention.

Park Jimin.

She saw him standing inside the house with his entourage of two dumb friends, laughing and talking about something. This was her opportunity to talk to him after a very long time. He looked really hot. With that leather jacket and all black outfit, but she wasn't even surprised, because he looks good without even trying.

'Why don't you help her find her friend Mark? I need to talk to someone, I'll catch you later 'said Hyunjae winking at him before leaving.

Hyunjae didn't let either of you say something, she was already heading inside the house to catch her favorite toy.

They were friends with benefits since early junior year when they met at a party hosted by Jimin himself. Ever since, every time one of them felt like having sex they will call each other or at least they used to. Lately the one who made those calls was Hyunjae, usually texting Jimin several times to have a good time but now he was throwing really bad excuses and she was determined to find out why she was being ignored this way.

After she finally passed through the people that was surrounding Jimin, she got to where her prize was.

'Hey Chim Chim!' Screamed with a high pitch voice putting her arms around Jimin's neck while he tried to catch her due the surprise of the girl throwing herself at him. 'Me and my bed have missed you.' Says while making a pout trying to look cute, he just took her arms off of him, making a disgust face. Jimin's response surprised Hyunjae making her angry and making his friends laugh at each other, avoiding meeting her gauze.

'What's your problem Park?' Hyunjae dropped the high pitched tone as she crossed her arms in front of her and posing in a way that showed how angry she was, Jimin nodded to his companions to leave.

'What do you want Hyunjae?' Asked the guy with an irritated voice.

'What do I want? You've been ignoring me for a whole month, what's up with you? '

He looks at her with a smile, ignoring her displeased face. 'I thought that I was delivering the correct message when I ignored your calls and your texts.'

The girl looked at him offended, lifting an eyebrow, still crossed arms and an angry vibe.

'Look I don't want to be rude but you are not giving me another option' Jimin's says as he pulls away from the wall where he was leaning on 'I'm not longer interested in your… sex services. If you don't mind, I'll go find my friends now. ' He smiles for a second and turns trying to leave but Hyunjae stops him by graving his wrist.

'What are you saying? What has gotten in to you? Do you have a girlfriend now or something? ' Jimin turns back facing Hyunjae who has a sarcastic smile in her face.

'Possibly… or maybe I just got bored of you, that's it' Jimin answers.holding her chin.

'Like if you were the type of guy who would sleep with one girl for the rest of his life and respecting the whole fidelity thing' she snaps his hand away from her face. Hyunjae was pissed. This had never happened, she was used to being begged, not the other way around. Jimin was hurting her ego really bad, but she wasn't gonna let him know that, she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

'What do you know about me? The only thing that you know the best about me is my dick, 'he looks down' and my name, and it sounded great when you screamed it. ' His face gets close to hers while he grabs her wrist and pulls her closer to him. He's teasing her, Hyunjae knows this is the way he fools around, trying to make her ask for more.

Hyunjae could only roll her eyes, she was really irritated by the attitude Jimin was taking.

'Come on baby, don't be mad. It was good while it lasted. What where you expecting? That we will become boyfriend and girlfriend? '

She let a sarcastic laugh after hearing that. 'As if. I know you and your dick like the back of my hand Park Jimin. You're not capable of having a relationship. Hell you're not able to feel love for someone other than yourself. ' She pushed him away a little, almost spitting the words at him, trying to hurt his ego the way he did with hers. He was not going clean after this conversation. Jimin just lets out a giggle.

'Do you even know the concept of romanticism, Jimin?' Hyunjae strikes back with a mischievous smile. 'I mean do you even know what love is ?, and I'm talking about love in all its letters.'

He tenses his jaw after her words and she smiles widely, she was getting to his nerves.

'You know nothing about that…'

'Come on' she interrupts him, putting her arms out of her sides in a mock of boredom at the argument. She places a finger on his chest and comes close to his face, almost brushing her lips against his 'You get tired after the first fuck, what can you possibly know about feeling something other than pleasure?'

Now he's the angry one. Hyunjae can tell by the way he looks at her frowning. She knows giving him the sense of not being capable of getting something it's hurting his ego. Hyunjae feels like she won the battle, so she takes a step back, ready to leave. But then he talks again.

'Fine, I'm gonna prove to you I can be romantic.' His tone is as tense as his jaw. 'Pick a girl. Right here, right now, and I'll date her and I'll make her really fall in love with me, easy. '

Hyunjae is the one that giggles this time. 'Are you sure of what you are getting yourself into, Park?'

'I'm doing this to shut your pretty mouth. Pick one, anyone. It's not gonna be that hard. ' She knew that already, they were talking about Park Jimin, she knows for a fact that half of the girls in college where already in love with him. If this was a bet, she was going to lose easily.

'And what do I get from this? If this is going to be a bet, what is in for me? ' She's trying to make him doubt, make him back off out if it.

'You name it.' He says smiling, giving her a lusty look. As if she was going to let him sleep with her one more time. Not a chance. She thinks

'Fine, I want money. If you lose, you're giving me 1M won. '

‘What the fuck? Do you think I’m a millionaire or something?’ She knows it was a lot money, but it’s her new strategy, maybe with a high amount, he would back up. Why was she digging in more? She was paving the way to a place where she was going to lose for a fact. She was supposed to make him step back, not encourage him to do it. How was she going to let herself out of this? There’s not a single girl in campus that wanted to get rid of a guy like Park Jimin.

She turns her head, trying to find an excuse to leave but before she can think of something, she spots you standing next to Mark and your friend. Something lights up in her head. A memory. Your article, she remembered. You were supposed to find a guy and scare him off in less than 10 days, you were the perfect girl for this bet and as a plus she was going to ruin your article and get the job for herself. Life was just so great sometimes.

'Well, you're so sure about yourself, you don't have to worry about that right?' She is teasing now, tickling him like a sleeping lion to get into it. 'Are you still in, Park?' She smiles.

He doubts and Hyunjae thinks for a moment that Jimin would withdraw from the bet. What a fool she was. 'I'm down, it'll be easy' Jimin finally gives in and reaches out to seal the deal, just as she called it.

'Not too soon honey, there's rules to be set' Hyunjae reaches for a napkin close to them and pulls out a lipstick out of her handbag.

'Do we have a deal, Park?' Hyunjae places her hand in front of Jimin to close the deal.

'Of course we do, the easiest money I will ever win in my life' Jimin doesn't think twice, not even after he reads the short period of time he has to complete the task. So he reaches Hyunjae's hand and closes the deal.

'Great, now.' Hyunjae clapped her hands before putting them against her lips 'Who will be the lucky one?' She begins to see everywhere playing fool of not knowing who she is going to pick from the crowd.

'What about her?' Jimin pointed a tall girl, nice body and pretty face.

'You think I would go easy on you?' Hyunjae asks raising her eyebrow in disbelief. 'You probably know her and she is hot, so… no.'

Jimin laughs and shakes his head in. Maybe now he remembers why he kept going back at her whenever she called, she was funny.

'Uuuhh, what about that girl' she pointed at a girl dancing unconventionally in the middle of the dance floor.

'Are you kidding?' He laughs sarcastically 'I fucked her already and she's literally crazy, I'm not going back at her, no way'

'Though crowd, I see.' She hesitates a moment before returning her gauze to where you are 'Okay, what about her.' Jimin follows her gauze until he sees Mark talking with two girls 'The one with the back cleavage blouse.'

He looks at you, scanning your face. She's pretty and nice body Jimin thinks. You looked naive, this was going to be more easy than he thought. 'Done' Jimin let out big smile which turned into a smirk really quick, he was confident. 'You better prepare that money right now, this would be too easy.'

'Sure it will' Hyunjae said with an evil smile.

In the other side of the house, you where coping up with the new guy and Nayeon.

Mark was easy to talk to and funny. At some point you about making him the victim for your article, but he was way too nice, you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, you actually liked him.

While he helped you looking for Nayeon, who was in line to get into the bathroom with her phone in Do Not Disturb mode at a party full of people for whatever stupid reason, you got to know few things about him. He was from LA and moved to Korea when he was 16 with his family, they lived in Gwangju, but he wanted to go to college in Seoul so he moved and met the guys he's living with at college.

Now you were in the middle of the house, talking to each other with ease. You don't even remember the moment you got rid of your cup, with all the walking you did around the house to find Nayeon, you guessed maybe you left it somewhere around.

'I'm really sorry for scaring you, I truly am' said Nayeon for the 50th time since you've found her.

'It's fine, just, let me know where you're going next time' you dedicate her a smile to let her know you are not mad at her anymore. You placed your hands in the back pockets of your jeans as you talk again. 'Maybe we should get going now, Nay. I'm kinda tired. '

'But we haven't found a guy' she says whispering under her breath so she cannot be heard.

You were not that excited about that topic anymore, she can see it in your face by the way your lips became a thin line.

'Hey, Mark!' A black haired guy approaches from the back of both of you to greet your new friend who was standing next to you. He stretches hands with the stranger and brings Mark close to give him in a semi hug.

'Park Jimin!' Says Mark with a big smile in his face 'Long time no see…'

'Same goes to you, dude. Last time I saw you, you hosted parties back at the dorms. ' He continues talking. You can tell he is handsome, marked jawline, pretty smile and now you could appreciate better the softness of his hair. He also had trouble written all over his good guy attitude. 'And you weren't so good with your social skills, who are your pretty friends?' He says looking at you and Nayeon with a smirk in his face. You don't pay attention to the comment, but Nayeon blushes at the mention of you being pretty.

Mark introduces you, but it doesn't seem to be enough for the guy, so he takes a step in, invading a little too much your personal space. 'I'm Park Jimin' he says. 'Nice yo meet you…' He checks you out without shame, head to toes, scanning every inch of your body right in front of your eyes.

You take a step back, uncomfortable to his sight. 'Nice to meet you too…' you grab Nayeon's arm and you pull her next to you 'We should get going.' You say in urge.

'Oh, are you leaving already?' Asks Jimin, was it ?, with a pout staring back at you.

'Yes.' You answer quickly, but so does Nayeon, contradicting you with a hard 'No'. The guy looks confused now, and you feel the awkwardness flowing in the room.

'Can I talk with you for a second?' Nayeon grabs your arm, dragging you a few meters away from the guys. 'What are you doing?' She says frowning.

'What do you mean?' You are playing fool at her question. You knew where this was heading. She lifts an eyebrow at you, reminding you that she can read you and you're not fooling her. You sigh. 'I want to go home, Nayeon. This whole idea is stupid, I don't even know how to talk to a guy in a no friendly way. Let's just go home, I'll find another topic 'you were not feeling good about this anymore. You felt ridiculous.

'No, we are not going anywhere.' Nayeon grabs both of your shoulders. 'Listen, you haven't even talked to a guy in this party apart from Mark and now this cute guy comes and try to talk to you but you act in a way it would make him run, which is the point of the article, but not this way and not this fast. Give it a try at least. '

'Are you crazy?' Now you were pissed. 'Nayeon, he looks like a total ass, he just wants to get in my pants. I'm not going to pick a guy that just wants sex from me. I was willing to sacrifice my first real kiss with someone for the sake of this article, but not to a fuckboy which I'm sure he is, he smells like it. Do you even know him? ' You throwed one of your arms back at where you left the boys talking.

'Are you kidding? Everyone at college knows him. The fact that you live under a rock doesn't make him less of a good match. Sure he doesn't have the best reputation but… '

'I wonder why.' You crossed your arms while looking at her rolling your eyes.

'Look, just give it a shot. If he doesn't meet your expectations, we can find another guy. Mark has many friends. If we can't find someone else by the time the clock strikes 2:00 AM, then we bail and you can tell me “I told you so” for the rest of my life, okay? '

The idea was tempting, but your mood wasn't the best anymore. You hadn't given anyone a chance, not even the Park Jimin guy who came to you a few minutes ago, and yes, he was handsome, but this wasn't really your element, you didn't know how to flirt with a boy with such experience as him, but again, you haven't even tried. You remembered all the things you did when you let yourself go and gave the unknown a chance, thinking that this might be the exception.

What were you so afraid of? You thought that maybe the idea of finding a new you, that was flirty and sassy perhaps scared you or maybe you were scared by the idea of playing on a field that you had never played in before. But as anything in life, you had to learn, after all, practice makes the master doesn't it?

'Fine, but If I don't find a fucker before that time we are leaving. For good. You're not gonna throw a tantrum at me. AND… 'you raised your voice a little. 'You have to do the dishes the hole week'

'No way, I'm here because of you.' She said smiling.

You smiled back as Nayeon dragged you back with the two boys that where now warmly talking to each other. Jimin was still standing there waiting for you like a good boy, with a commercial smile.

'So, are you guys leaving?' Asked Mark with his hands in his pockets.

'No, I managed to convince miss boring here to stay a little longer.' Nayeon says pointing at you with her thumb.

'Oh that's great!' Now Jimin was the one talking as he looked at you, turning his body a little towards you too. 'Are you thirsty? Do you want a drink? ' He looked thrilled at the idea for some reason.

Something about this guy didn't seem right to you. What is he trying to do? You were not really used to guys talking to you, but you were sure they weren't this smiley and attentive.

'No thank you.' You sinked your hands in the back pockets of your jeans one more time. Nayeon and Mark were talking animatedly, you laughed a little when you see her flip her hair in a flirting way. She will never learn.

'Perhaps you wanna dance?' Asked Jimin one more time.

'Noup.' You maintained your look straight to the floor, avoiding the cold gauze of Jimin's eyes.

Playing though girl? Thought Jimin rolling his eyes. Girls resisting to him were his favorite ones. First they say they won't sleep with him, but end up falling for his charms days later. He just had to act like the “perfect boyfriend” and be careful with his words if he wanted to get in their pants. This one was a new challenge. And Jimin loved challenges almost as much as bets.

The rest of the night follows up like that, you being most of the time quiet and following Mark and Nayeon wherever they went. He seemed like a good guy and despite of him trying to make a move in Nayeon, he kept including you in all his conversations and introducing you to new people all the time, but among all those people he introduced you, nobody captured your attention enough to make a move and get a boy to write on your article about.

What was weird to you is that Jimin didn't leave your side and followed you around through the house like a dog. He was trying really hard to make a conversation and you didn't want to be rude so you answered all the questions he threw at you. How old are you? Which semester are you in? Do we go to the same college? Do we have the same classes? No I'm sure not because I would never miss a beauty like you in one of my classrooms.

You were getting tired of his lame pick up lines. And even tho 'you were trying not to be rude, it was impossible for you to respond to his compliments. Frankly, you were actually flattered and if it weren't for the dim lights in the house, you could tell Jimin would make fun of your red cheeks every time he called you pretty or beautiful which makes you believe he forgot your name because he doesn 't call you by it all night.

You encountered Hyunjae a few times at the party. The last time you saw her, she winked at you while she had her hands around some guy's neck before turning back to kiss him. Little did you know she was actually winking at Jimin, he giggled after seeing her already with some other guy.

The four of you were talking by the pool, everyone holding a red cup except for you even though Jimin offered you a drink more than 20 times that night. Nayeon and Mark were laughing at Jimin's silly jokes. You managed to smile several times, but not really laugh like them, maybe it was the alcohol in their veins or you just didn't understand the jokes. You checked your phone for the millionth time, waiting for it to mark the time to go and also as an excuse to avoid the accusatory look Nayeon was giving to you that screamed “you're not even trying”. There were still a few minutes left to the time both of you set for your luck.

'Are you okay?' Mark asked you noticing your lack of excitement.

'Yeah, you seem like you're not having fun at all…' said Jimin. Of course he was going to talk.

You shook your head before you talked 'I'm just tired. Plus, I don't really like parties' you said shyly.

'Why didn't you say so?' Jimin saw a chance in taking you out of there and he was going to take it. You had closed many doors to him that nigh and he was not wiling to give up on you, he couldn't give up on you, that would mean he was willing to lose a lot of money. 'Do you want to get out of here? We can go grab a bite, if you like? ' He said smiling widely.

You were about to reject him, but Nayeon spoke first. 'Yeah, why don't you go? You said you were hungry before anyways'. You looked at Nayeon, almost screaming “what are you doing?” At her. Jimin was really nice to you the whole time, even though you were not too talktive, but that might be because there wasn't a moment when the two of you were left all alone.

Dinner couldn't harm, could it? It was just something easy, two grown ups talking and getting to know each other, what could go wrong? And if in any moment you see Jimin wanting to be smart and take advantage of you, you could call it a night, go back home and think of a better idea to write your article on. And if you like it and it works, he could be the perfect victim, you could torture a playboy and teach him a lesson at the end, just to make sure he doesn't play with girls anymore. This could be fun.

It would only take 10 days to write a good article and get a good job, stay in Korea, live better, pay the bills. Suddenly, it doesn't sounds that bad anymore. You take a look at him one more time.

'Fine, sounds nice. Let's go. ' You got up from the bench and waited for Jimin to follow your action.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ Said Nayeon, clueless of what has gotten into you. Perhaps the smell of pot made you a little high.

Jimin on the other hand, was not surprised by your response, he was waiting for a yes in the moment he drooped the question, believing that you tough girl facade wasn't gonna last long since he knew how to talk to girls. He thinks he has you in his hand, it was just a matter of time before you begged for him to love you back. He smiled widely and you catch yourself liking the way he looks when he does.

‘I said fine, let's go. Are you okay by heading back home alone?' You asked her in a rush.

Jimin it's getting up now, standing next to you to you, waiting to get the answer you are looking from Nayeon, who looks too stunned to give you a correct answer, eyes popped up and mouth semi open. Mark answers for her, letting you know that he will make sure she gets home safely. You smile at him and say thank you.

After that, Jimin offers you his hand and you take it, feeling a tickle in your hand when he secures the grip. Jimin guides you off the house, passing through the people who were dancing and the ones far too drunk to even stand still.

When he is heading out, he makes sure Hyunjae sees him holding your hand as you walk pass the door. She looks at him with a smirk and he winks back at her. In his language, he's telling her that he already won, but Hyunjae is far more pleased, she knows what Jimin is getting himself into and she knows that the girl he just walked out with, it's going to be the death of him.

After walking for a couple of minutes he takes out a key. You wait patiently for him to find his car, big was your surprise when you see him get on a motorcycle, you don't know what to say, you've never been on a motorcycle, this whole situation was new to you.

'Are you getting on or not?' Jimin says showing a big smile while passing you a helmet.

'I've never been on a motorcycle before ...' you keep walking slowly.

'At the?' he says with fake surprise in his voice. 'It will be fun. Don't worry, I won't let you fall. I can protect you '

You think about it for a moment and you take the helmet from his hand, what am I doing? Your body begins to feel an adrenaline that has never felt before. Once you put on your helmet, you get on the back of the motorcycle.

'You will have to hold on to me so you don't fall.' You listen to him and put your hands on his shoulders, you hear him laugh. 'You are going to fall that way sweetheart, that's not secure enough. Put them… right here. ' He says while putting your hands around his waist and connecting them in the front just like a hug, you are glad that he can't see you from the front with your bright red cheeks. 'Are you ready?' He looks at you from his shoulder, you nod, afraid that if you talk, your voice would sound like a murmur due to the nervousness that runs in your body

Jimin starts the engine and the sound scares you a little so you stick closer to him, the cold wind touches your face as he drives away. Little by little and street after street, you gain enough confidence to lift your face and close your eyes for a second. Jimin sees you smile from the rearview mirrors making him smile as well.

It doesn't take you long to get to a cafeteria with a 90s style, you were fascinated with the place, it was really pretty, with classic benches, tables and music according to the time.

'This is my favorite restaurant, it really captures the 90s, their milkshakes are the best.' Jimin says as he helps you get off the motorcycle.

'I will have to check that for myself.' Jimin opens the front door for you like a gentleman, you didn't expect him to do it.

You can see posters of classic artists on the walls when you go through the door that remembered you of the music you heard when you were little. You can recognize a few of them, Britney Spears, The spice girls, Nirvana, Radio Head. Was that Cristina Aguilera?

You were surprised of how many western artists where pasted on the walls. You never imagined a place like this would be so close to you and you never find out about it. It reminded you of America, your home and your life before you moved to Seoul.

He tells you to choose a table and after you take a seat, a waitress quickly arrives at your table with the menus, she's really pretty. You lay your eyes on Jimin while she goes away, for your surprise he was more interested on the menu.

'What do you usually order?' You ask turning the menu pages.

'This would sound too cliché, but a cheese burger with fries and a strawberry milkshake.' He laughs a little and you realize that when he smiles his eyes disappear, it looked very cute.

'Then I'll have the same as you.' you close the menu leaving it aside, Jimin waves to the waitress and orders for both.

Now that you're out of the party, it's easier for you to talk to Jimin, he doesn't seem too bad, maybe you judged him too quickly, he tells you about many of his adventures, and you tell him about your internship , omitting the article you were going to write to get the job.

He takes every chance he has to call you cute names in between. You have to admit that gorgeous, beautiful, baby, or pretty girl were pet names only a guy with very much experience and no sense of good memory would use, but you catch yourself liking it and after he calls you many of them you get used to it and stop blushing every time he calls you by them. Jimin almost regrets you being used to it, he liked the way your cheeks light up in a very cute way.

He just keeps playing it cool, marching his plan slow and fancy as he always does with girls like you. He asks for your phone politely and smirks after you exchange numbers, Jimin keeps teasing you a little and he makes some comments here and there that are not really appropriate, but to his surprise you play fool to them. Is that or maybe you just don't get them.

In the course of the night, you get to know him better. You know his major, his age, and that he is not from Seoul but that he has the same group of friends since he was a kid back in his hometown. It surprises you how interesting Jimin actually was and with all the talk and silly jokes you lose track of time. You learn that he is actually really funny and he seems to be very interested in you, but you don't let you guard down.

'Oh wow, is it really late, or early?' You ask laughing, the clock shows 4:00 AM, how did that happened? You were surprised due to the fact that the cafeteria was still open at such hours.

'Time flies when you have fun.' He says while leaning back on his seat. 'Let me get the bill and I'll take you home.' Jimin waves to the waitress one more time to ask for the bill.

'Oh please, let me give you money for what I had.' You say searching in your pockets for the money you took before you went to the party.

'Come on, don't play that card on me. Besides, this was a date and it was my idea, so I'll cover it. '

You ignore the fact that he called your little run out of the party a date. Before you can complain he gives back the payed bill to the waitress, he opens the door for you once again as you walk out.

The way to your house was fun thanks to Jimin's jokes that you now understood, during the trip you could also analyze the evening and it was not what you expected, Jimin behaved the best with you, maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought , even so you would have to be attentive to what he did.

Jimin walked you to the door of your apartment even when you told him it wasn't necessary that it was literally 6 feet away from where you were, but he didn't care.

'So, here it is.' You say looking at the white door 'Thank you so much for the food, I'll pay for it next time.' Jimin smiles thinking that he already has you where he wants.

'So, there's going to be a next time huh?' He asks leaning to you.

You start to feel overwhelmed by his proximity making you take a step back.

'Maybe, that depends on you.' You flirt back, this is weird, it's the first time you act like this and you were liking it even more after his eyes sparkle a little with your response, he's been waiting all night for that kind of answers.

'It does?' He leans again 'I can text you later and we'll se about that ...' He gets closer to your lips with every word.

'Maybe I won't answer ...' Jimin curses mentally to the fact that you decide to follow his game just when he leaves you at the door of your house. This is his game, this is what he likes, being contradicted and tested around.

'Won't you really?' Jimin is so close to you lips now that you can almost breath the same air as him. He is inches away from kissing you but when he takes the chance and leans forward to do it, you turn your face, making his lips fall in a cute kiss on the cheek.

You can't really read his expression, you don't know if he is angry, mad or just simply confused because he was about to kiss you and you didn't let him do it. Were you playing with his head?

'We should take things slow, don't you think?' you say as you take his face with one of your hands. He blinks a little and smiles after he nods. A kiss lands on his nose before you open the door to get inside as quick as possible. 'Drive carefully. I'll get you later. ' You disappear inside and slam the door without letting him say goodbye.

You see through the peephole, curious about if he will knock your door again and claim that kiss that he was about to get, and he almost wants to. But you just see the way he smiles funnily and scratches the back of his neck before he heads back to his motorcycle.

Jimin thanks Hyunjae in his way back home because from all the girls at the party she had to pick you, an innocent girl who would be easy to make fall at his feet. Even if she called the bet off, hanging and fooling around with you was going to be one of his favorite activities. He was going to get you, even if it costed him the whole 10 days to do it.

<- PART 1 | PART 3 ->

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acefrogmonarch · 5 years

Text

Hi There! one-shot

Ao3

Not the update you wanted. Maybe I continue one-shots that are similar to my universe, maybe not.

What else is new, we are thriving in this fandom.

When you're late to the Maribat fluff week but you don't really care so

I used this to help me with https://www.talkinfrench.com/how-to-read-a-french-menu/ the dinner scene. Because I'm going to be as accurate as god damn possible! Every single meal I have stated is real and can be eaten. These characters aren't mine!

Mariette couldn't wait for tonight! It's been months since she and Adrien got to catch up. Looking through her closet, she couldn't decide between her cardigan and favorite blazer. Both were in the same navy blue that matched well with her outfit.

Placing both jackets on her bed, Marinette compensated which would look best for the white tank top, watermarked with "I survived Gotham." Walked around her old room, Marinette looked back at the tan shorts under the tank top.

Making her way back to bed, Marinette grabbed her phone from the end table. Sending a text to Adrien if they could color coordinate together.

Mari-Bear <3: I don't know what to pick for my outfit, whats your main color?

Adrikins: uhhhhh

Adrikins: I think it's blue???

The last time Adrien questioned what color it was, he wore hot pink shorts to a stakeout. "But Mari, I said it was red!" Marinette didn't trust his wardrobe again. Never again. If he dressed in hot pink shorts with a yellow shirt again, Marinette was going to have words with him. Maybe throw hands. Both.

Mari-Bear <3: Photo.

Adrikins sent a photo.

It was a relatively nice outfit. On the model figure, it complimented all his looks, even brought out the colors of his eyes. "A bluish-green?" Talking out loud, or mumbling help her spin ideas out even if it annoyed Damian to no end. "A mesh, with green and blues."

Marinette kept mumbling to her self, then suddenly an idea hit her. She threw her phone at her bed and went straight to her closet. Pulling out an old jacket full of meshed blues.

Marinette didn't like how it never went with any of her other clothes, often forgetting it in the back of the closet. With the chilly night and perfect color combo, it was the clear winner from her other choices.

Hoping in the shower, she cleaned herself up. Humming lightly to "Ugly heart by G.R.L". That song was still stuck in her head after so many years. It meant so much to both of them. It was the first time since the defeat of Hawkmoth that they enjoyed being teens again.

Granted they were 18, but that didn't put a damper on their mood one bit. After Chloe moved to New York with her mother, she sent the lastest pop songs that circulated the radio. That song immediately caught Adrien's attention. "We should dance to this Mari!"

Marinette was video calling from Gotham, on a visit to spend time with Damian and his family. "What? Why?" Searching up the lyrics to the song, Marinette let Adrien beg. "And before you say 'Let's put it on youtube.' Let me remind you, that last time, I got recognized all over Paris."

The first-ever dance/singing video they did it to was Indila love story. Marinette had a black mesh on with Ladybug inspired shirt that went to her upper thighs. Adrien had a leather jacket and black pants on.

They didn't even notice they were being recorded by Alya. It blew up once people recognized who were dancing, a lot of theories started popping up if it was their love story. Dancing had been an outlet for both of them.

That 1) wasn't dangerous.

2) helped the itch of staying still for too long.

Adrien was the one to answer questions via Instagram live. Saying it was the love story of Ladybug and Chat Noir. True but no one knew that they were the real Ladybug and Chat Noir. Giving back the Miraculous and Kwami's to Master Fu was the hardest decision for either party.

Stepping out of the shower, Marinette dried off her body and patted her hair down. "You're not my sunshine anymore!" Singing off-key and spinning around in a circle, striking a pose. Marinette giggled and wrapped the towel around her body.

Taking her hairbrush with her, she stepped out of the bathroom. Marinette went to her dresser and took out undergarments. Damian shifted in his place on Marinette's bed next to her laid out Clothes.

Marinette looked at her... Well, she didn't know what Damian was to her. At first, he was insufferable to be around, but then he let her in and they've changed since. Her patience growing and his temper lowering.

They started to balance each other out. Marinette hoped that she wouldn't have to be the one to confess first. It was hard enough on Luka and Adrien, but then again. They weren't Damian, not by a landslide.

Checking her phone, Marinette checked the time. "22:30 Perfect timing." Putting it back down, Marinette grabbed her clothes and undergarment and headed back to the bathroom to leave her partner in crime in peace.

Humming the tone of Indila in the bathroom as she dressed. Putting her hair into a messy fishtail braid, Marinette opened the door to find Damian on the other side. Moving out of the way, Marinette noticed how Damian shuffled to the toilet.

"No no no no" Quietly whispering in embarrassment. Quickly closing the door behind her and getting her mind out of the gutter, she quickly found her socks and flats, making her escape. "I'm leaving, bye Damian!"

As she went downstairs, her parents were already in bed. Sneaking out of the bakery she closed the door with her key and checked herself in the mirror. Nodding in satisfaction at her attire, she briskly walked to the designated restaurant. Adrien was outside in a coat, looking at his phone.

"Adrien!" Turning to the familiar sound, Adrien began waving wildly, they hugged each other as they got closer. Adrien squealed a little. "I'm so happy to catch up tonight." Marinette looped her arm around Adrien's. "Me too." Adrien already making his way inside the restaurant.

"I have so much to tell you." Adrien took off his coat as they entered the building. "You always pick the grandest of places, Mon Chaton." Adrien couldn't help but blush slightly, scratching his cheek in embarrassment.

"Ever since I took time off of modeling to get my teaching degree, I rarely treated myself and I thought that since it's been a while since we've last talked, why not do it now." Marinette hummed skeptically at Adrien.

"Or maybe." Marinette stopped in front of the door, effectively stopping Adrien from walking in any further. "Hiding from a couple of someones?" Raising in eyebrow as Adrien looks everywhere except her face. "We gotta work on your 'What are you talking about' face." Marinette snorted at the oblivious man in front of her.

Adrien sighed in relieve at the lack of interrogation by his companion. "Please don't tease me so much Mari, I can only take so much." Marinette laughed and Adrien couldn't help but give a little chuckle.

"Let's enjoy the evening, M'Lady." Adrien slightly bowed and Marinette, in turn, curtsied with her 'dress'. "Of course, silly tomcat." Folding the coat in his hands, Adrien puts it over his arm, letting it hand. While Marinette went and asked for the reservations. "Dupain-Cheng."

As the waiter sizes their outfits, Marinette looks over to Adrien to check his outfit. "That damn coat always gets in the way of your outfit." Adrien chuckles softly. "Well, It was from a thrift store." Marinette patted his arm and laughed.

"From all those years ago?" Adrien nods as the waiter clears his throat. "Right this way Ma'dam." With the waiter in front, Marinette followed with Adrien right on her tail. As they reach a clearing near the middle, Adrien rounded around another table to Marinette's chair.

"Allow me." Bumping the waiter out of the way, Adrien bowed, letting him pull the chair out for Marinette. Marinette let out a snort and curtsied again and sat down. "Oh thank, kind sir." Adrien let out a huge grin and made his way to his chair, hanging his coat on the back of his chair. "But of course madam." They laughed as the waiter set down their menus.

The waiter looked at Marinette. "What is for your Apéritifs and Digestifs?" Looking up, Marinette smiled. "Le pâté de mouton artisanal and Cointreau for me-." Adrien looked up from his carte. Even if they both knew what he would order, he still wanted to act clueless. "Fino and Cognac for me."

Marinette's stomach couldn't help but growl thinking about dinner. "For entrée, we'll get a salad." Marinette started listing off, while Adrien put down the menu. Adding in little things for himself, Marinette took care of the le plat principal.

"I'll have a Boeuf Bourguignon while he'll take Foie gras." Adrien leaned over and stopped Marinette from talking. "With assiette of Fromage." Marinette raised an unimpressive eyebrow and glared at him.

"Really? What else would you like Le dessert." Adrien was practically bouncing in his seat. "Can we!" Marinette's sass is replaced with sorrow, smiling softly. "Yeah. Yeah, we can."

"Two Crème Brûlée for later into the evening." The waiter nodded and took away la carte. "You know." Marinette started as Adrien had taken out his phone, looking up at Marinette. Adrien stared at Marinette.

"You know I can't do the eyebrow thing, Mari, What's up." Putting his phone back down on the table, he brought his hands up to rest on the table. "You know the rules."

Humming, Marinette kept looking at them. The drinks and pâté quickly arriving after a beat of silence between the two. Digging in, Marinette continued. "You better be careful Agreste or you might charm two reptiles." She pointed at him with her spoon.

Adrien blushes at the implication and scrambles to shush her. "I told you in that confidence, Mari!" Marinette couldn't help but laugh at her friend's sudden shyness. "How's everything else." Adrien beamed. "Oh gosh, Mari, I have so much to tell you!"

Getting back in the rhythm of having each other's presence. was one of the most basic things to do. Easier then coping with anxiety, easier than dealing with people, easier than being Ladybug. They still completed each other in every way except romantic. And that was okay.

"I'm getting ready to be a TA. Helping in the classroom and seeing how teachers interact with their students. But I'd rather work at a college level. Not many people enjoy Physics at 16." Marinette smiled at her partner. "I sure didn't."

Adrien grinned and sipped his Cognac. "No, you were horrible." Marinette grabbed her napkin and swatted at him. "Don't let me relive that." Adrien jumped away from the harmless napkin and tittered. "You're gonna get us to kick out of another restaurant again," Adrien warned Marinette. Offended Marinette dug in her Pâté.

"That was you and you know it." Laughing together this time, they hardly noticed the waiter. "Your food, Ma'dam." Moving the finished pâté, the waiter places sliced ficelle in a basket in the middle, time for the next course!

The waiter places their meals in front of them. "Thank you garcon." Digging in, Marinette hummed in delight. Looking at the meat, Marinette couldn't help but feel a little guilty. After discovering that Damian was vegan. She made the time to learn and make homemade vegan meals for Damian.

Marinette asked for Alfred's opinion on what meals Damian liked the most and what she'd seen him eat on the few dates they've had together. Mari spends many nights on perfecting numerous deserts. Damian caught her several times making a dinner menu and tried some.

Marinette just assumed that it was Jason or Dick. Many turned out great, while others... Let's just say she wasn't allowed to make something the boys couldn't stomach.

Marinette turned to her dinner and scarfed it down. Taking a sip of her drink she turns to Adrien. "You know that Kagami and Luka are right behind us." Adrien dropped her head then looked up at her and smirked.

"And Damian is right behind me." Marinette whipped to turn behind her. Lo and behold, there he is. "Dami?" Adrien couldn't help but tease it. "It's not Dove?" Marinette couldn't help but flush red at the nickname she accidentally gave him.

"Adrien!" Marinette swatted at her with her hand. "That wasn't true Dami." Damian turned and smirked. Marinette couldn't help but flush brighter. 'O-oh god. Why do I like you again?" Damian raised an eyebrow. "You like me?" Marinette's eyes widen at her slip. Abruptly standing up, she walked out of the building. "Nope, nope, nope."

Damian followed after her, catching her arm and looking at her eyes. "Dami, let go." Damian didn't. 'Of course, you didn't even listen to me half the time." Damian grinned slightly. "You should watch your mouth, Malak." Groaning, Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. "Really that's what you're addressing right now?"

"If you wanted my opinion on how I feel about you, you could have asked." Marinette stared at him, no smirks, no grins, serious Damian wasn't a Damian she could handle. It was too much! "Ugh, curse your genes." Damian let out a small chuckle. "Whatever you say ya qamar barid**."

Looking away, Mari sighed and noticed his loosened grip on her arm. "我的爱人* you know, there is only so much you can do that doesn't effect me." Damian picked her up and Marinette giggled at the strength her deepest friend had. "And you should know that it's the same for me habi alghali***."

They walked over, leaving Adrien to clean up the mess with Kagami, Luka, and the restaurant bill. "Just one night Mari, why couldn't you enjoy dinner instead of running off with Damian." Picking up her coat, Adrien continued onto Luka's and Kagami's table. "Room for one more?" The hidden meaning saying so much more than anything that night.

"Of course. Hime." Adrien blushed at the nickname. "Just because my preferred pronouns are she/her doesn't mean you can keep doing that Kagami." The blush on Adrien's pale face says otherwise. Luka went in to kiss her cheek, Kagami did the same on the other.

"我的爱人" is my lover.

"Habi Alghali" Is my precious love.

"Ya Qamar Barid" is Oh cold moon.

#fluff week #fluff #maribat fluff week #late to the party #maribat #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #marinette dupain cheng #marinette

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drmedicsgamesurgery · 4 years

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Danganronpa Togami Volume 3 Part 1 (Summary)

Thanks to @enoshima-pyon @shockersalvage @jinjojess @hopeymchope for helping out! Merry Christmas!

Danganronpa Togami Volume 3 - I'd Stake The Togami Name On It

In terms of the development of talent, we are still in the experimental stage because we do not know how to cultivate talent.

(Eric Hofer, "The Temper of Our Time") [0]

This text was written using the following note-taking system.

K2K System ver2.3

Pseudo books, bad books, and popular books. I think that one must often tolerate these in a world rife with copies of copies of manuscripts. I am left speechless by the solidity and sheer veracity of a system.

Therefore, my job is only to add or delete a few things.

I am very aware of my place, I will hold onto my spirit until the very end.

I pray for the soul of the original.

That is, if there is such a thing.

CHAPTER 11- The Three Byakuya Togamis

It’s a simple story. One young man decided to try to take over the world. After many repeated extraordinary adventures, the young man got what he wanted and was able to return home safe and sound. And he lived happily ever after.

But here is the problem: which of the following young men is the protagonist of this story?

“I believe I’ve given everyone a slice of cake, no? Back during the Yalta Conference [1] when the world was being split up, the president’s daughters prepared food to calm the atmosphere. Since we’re in a helicopter, a banquet is out of the question, but at the very least I can offer some cake…”

“Who cares about the cake? Let’s continue our conversation. After all, at the moment I am allowing you the right to lead.”

“Heh heh. What admirable conduct from you, Byakuya Togami. Well then, let’s get started, shall we? Nee-san, you eat up too. Please sample this sweet, saccharine cake–it’s American, filled with sugar and butter.”

A dreamy expression crossed the boy’s–Kazuya Togami’s–face.

And so began our discussion of world domination–over a tea set, under the watchful eye of countless gun muzzles, within a WHO helicopter.

In the four years since I’d seen my younger brother, he had grown so much that I barely recognized him. His thin frame had filled out with an appropriate amount of muscle, a sarcastic smile stretched across his lips, his eyes which had once been filled with constant fear now sparkled with self-confidence, and he now wore glasses that resembled Byakuya-sama’s. This young man who had only once referred to himself as Byakuya Togami was now brazenly exerting control over us, UN military forces in tow. He was certainly throwing his weight around.

Since I wasn’t restrained, I put a finger to my temple and accessed Borges, intending to get some information.

Borges Search Result

#71009224

Data Type: Person

Title “Kazuya Togami”

The perpetrator behind the Biggest, Worst Incident in the History of the Togami Family. He was the sole survivor of the Burning of Kuchinashi Village, but was raised by Michiko Furuhata as a legitimate son. No body was discovered during the large-scale search that followed the incident, but he was presumed deceased. He has had direct contact with Kudan. One of the top targets marked for assassination by the Togami Conglomerate. Is currently posing as Orvin Elevator, the adopted son of World Health Organization Infectious Disease Prevention Unit director Keith Elevator, and working as the captain of the WHO Infectious Disease Prevention Unit’s task force.

“Byakuya Togami. You are under arrest by the UN-affiliated organization WHO, and currently in our custody. We are acting in accordance with Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter [2] set out by the United Nations Security Council. Considering the weight of your crimes, they will require action on par with the International Criminal Tribunal of Former Yugoslavia.” [3]

“Hmph.” Despite being handcuffed, Byakuya-sama’s usual demeanor was unruffled. “If you are planning to treat me the same way as Pol Pot, I will not forgive that.” [4]

“But you are the one spreading the seeds of massacre around the world, aren’t you?”

“And do you intend to take me to the International Court of Justice as is?” [5]

“Yes. We will cross the border from the Czech Republic into the Netherlands, and you will stand trial. Your crimes are heavy, Byakuya Togami, for trying to pick a fight with the world. Don’t forget that I could allow you to be lynched at this very moment to nary a complaint.”

“You certainly seem like you want to beat me.”

“I’m rational. I don’t intend to contribute to the violence you’ve brought upon the Czech Republic by drawing so many maniacs crazed with bloodlust.”

“What are you talking about, you ‘won’t contribute to violence?’ With all of these guns here?”

“Think of the number of guns as an estimation of how dangerous you are.”

“If that’s the case, then there’s far too few.”

To my delight, the UN forces’ gun muzzles bobbed in surprise at Byakuya-sama’s uncharacteristic smile. Similarly pleased, Kazuya cheerfully responded with: “Don’t move, okay? Byakuya Togami.”

“Obviously. If I couldn’t keep still at a time like this, I would not be fit to be a Togami.”

“Well then, until we get you to the International Court of Justice so you can be stuffed into a cell, why don’t you enjoy this tea time with me?”

“If you do not remove these shackles, I won’t be able to teach you table manners.”

“Would you prefer to eat like a dog? I know you are revered as the SHSL Heir, Byakuya Togami, so it would certainly make for a good story, showing you eating like a mangy hound.” [6]

“To think, such a powerless brat saying things like he’s part of society.”

Byakuya-sama, despite the handcuffs, skillfully pushed up his glasses with his fingers.

“Heh heh. But you see, I am already part of society. I’m the captain of the WHO Infectious Disease Prevention Unit’s task force.” [7] Kazuya, as if to mimic Byakuya-sama, adjusted his glasses as well. “I’m much different from how I was four years ago.”

(Thanks to Jinjojess for the translation up to this point).

“Listen here boy, if you want to have a tea party, how about at least some tea talk? Tell me how much the WHO has this current state of affairs under control.” Byakuya asks Kazuya, and he begins.

"The situation has progressed to the following stage: The 'Despair Disease' can now be spread without the 'Despair Novel'. This is why the tragedy in that village occurred just now.”

Byakuya mocks him by saying that the ‘tragedy’ in the village wasn’t brought about by the disease but by them massacring everyone without distinction. Kazuya retorts calling them all trash and all he did was throw the rubbish away, so there is no big deal. Shinobu thinks to herself that it might be her fault Kazuya turned out this way.

Kazuya then declares that Hope’s Peak Academy is also under investigation, since the Despair Novel was written there.

During the investigation, continues Kazuya, they found out that the academy is secretly working on two projects: the “Sage Plan” and the “Bible Plan”. Kazuya says both names have religious connotations, which is ironic considering Hope’s Peak is a school that worships hope as a god.

He still doesn’t have enough information on the “Sage Plan”, [8] but he says that apparently the Despair Novel was written using the system of the “Bible Plan”. The “Bible Plan” consists of an AI which studies all the books and stories in the world to create a Bible which will bring hope to people just by reading it. The data that the AI works on are input by SHSL such as SHSL science fiction writer, SHSL oral inheritor', SHSL light novel writer, SHSL folk story collector etc.

"What do you think Hope’s Peak Academy is most afraid of? Is it human extinction?"

"No, it is human despair."

"That's right, whether it's a giant meteorite or a nuclear war, I hope that the academy will not budge, but if at that time, human beings are in despair, give up their struggles, give up hope... they will be intolerable.”

Byakuya says that he is boring and to go to a bookstore to buy some actually well written books. Kazuya goes on to say that since they couldn’t touch the hearts of all humans, that they instead, let an AI create a story that could. Shinobu is confused and wants to take headache medicine, but Byakuya is simply and utterly bored by the idea. Kazuya says it’s not in an AIs essence to defeat humanity, such as in Go or Chess and that Byakuya’s way of thinking is backward.

"I will say it is 'boring' on the premise of correctly estimating AI capabilities. No matter how good an AI is, one thing is that it can't be done anyway."

"I would appreciate further details."

"That is 'creation', if you don't have the ability to create, you can't write a story."

Kazuya retorts saying that it has no need to as since it has analysed narratives for so long, it has merely become an algorithmic process. He points out that it’s the same as Dr. Victor Frankenstein’s story: they tried to play God and as a result they created a monster. As Kazuya puts it, "People often compare Dr. Victor to God who is the Creator, and the monster is used to compare with Adam, created by God. However, this contrast quickly collapsed. Dr. Victor as a human being imitated God's behavior, the result is a terrible monster, a monster will only kill everywhere. The story writing AI is also a fake God, it and The Bible that was created, are just a strange monster."

After listening to the talk of Kazuya, the expression of Byakuya became very smug, he took a sip of black tea and said, "Let us not stick to these old literary theories."

"Listen, Dr. Victor who created the monster, and God who created human beings, the situation is exactly the same. If you ask why, it is because both sides have encountered unexpected situations. Isn't it? Yes, that is the death of Christ. Is Christ as God's own being killed on the cross, is this also within God's plan? If Dr. Victor is a rebel to God, then God is also a traitor to God Himself; if Dr. Victor is guilty, then God is. Just like this, after the negation is denied, the result is that God and Dr. Victor are put on the line. In essence, they are equals. Since you are a student of Hope’s Peak Academy, you should know these things in advance."

"It seems that you have read a lot of Zizek's [9] books, but in any case, the books written by anarchists can't save humans. This motive makes me very displeased."

"Motive?"

“It’s a third-rate motive to let an AI write a Bible out of fear of human despair. When Hope’s Peak Academy was subjected to this boring uneasiness, they were already poisoned by despair, which is like making a doctor who got a cold force the patient to give him an injection."

After Kazuya and Byakuya throw witty insults at each other, they both look over at the guy next to Byakuya, stuffing his face with food.

*Chew chew*

*Swallow!*

It may be because their hands are cuffed, or just because they are too greedy, but Imposter is buried in the cake, eating like a pig. He seemed to find it hard to notice that he was caught up in the crowd and slowly lifted his face. His face and glasses were covered with cake. Kazuya calls out to Ultimate “Mr. Pig” Imposter.

“Mr. Pig,” says Kazuya. “To be a student at Hope’s Peak Academy, having ties with those who those who took the ‘Bible Plan’ system and started the “World Domination Proclamation”...who are you?”

To all of this the Imposter responds with this:

"Pardon me but, since you aren’t eating those carbs, give them to me."

Shinobu wonders about who the Imposter is, originally thinking he might be with Kazuya, she dismisses the idea. Is it possible that Imposter shares some sort of relationship with Byakuya, then.

The Impostor snorts and tells everyone to don’t bother trying to figure out their true identity and they are just a teenager. Even when Kazuya asks how many people have joined Super High School Level Despair or if they were the ones who are behind inciting the Reserve Course to to hold their “Parade”, they merely dodge answering it.

“I just said you don’t have to think about my identity. I am just…yes, I am just chasing a star.”

Byakuya seemed to looked bored as he gazed at the Imposter. “What do mean by chasing the stars? Explain it to me.” he ordered.

“I have been paying attention to you. To me you are the ‘Super High School Level Heir’, a symbol of Hope. It is because you are that symbol of Hope that I will fall into despair.”

“How twisted. Also, deal with the cream on your face.”

The Impostor tells the real Byakuya that they should eliminate the WHO, which doesn’t have anything to do with the story, and then start once again the battle between Hope’s Peak Academy and the Despair High School. Shinobu compares this to a girl rejoicing after they confessed their love to their crush and she becomes somewhat embarrassed upon seeing it.

Byakuya-sama is God.

Shinobu believes this to be the absolute truth of the world, though it doesn’t need to be expressed in such a way like what the Imposter is doing. Shinobu is also quite unhappy that other people are now declaring it as truth as she believed that “fact” was her own personal secret. But Kazuya says that the Impostor is the one who doesn’t have anything to do with the story since he is just a fake pig. The Imposter shoots this back at him as Kazuya being the one no one wants to see and that he can’t even match up as an imposter himself. Imposter equates Kazuya’s skills as a fake to a worm. The Imposter then tells him to heed these words and go back home.

"I have been taken away, my hometown, my name, and my life. It is all gone. There is no place for me to be able to return. No matter what people say to me, I will stand in front." Kazuya says.

"Tell me one thing, is life interesting being robbed by others? Hometown, name, life, and even your beloved sister. Has losing all of those made life interesting?" taunts the Imposter with a smile.

The Imposter’s ironic smile makes Shinobu want to vomit, as it reminds her of Kazuya and she avoids their sight. Since the Imposter isn’t Kazuya, she has no idea what to make of them.

Kazuya looks at Byakuya and asks him to return his sister and everything he stole from him, starting with the Kudan. The Imposter also gets in it out as well, since they desire the Kudan as well.This is because, at least how Shinobu sees it, since the Kudan is the secret behind the Togami’s family prosperity:

If you can’t get it, even if you don’t understand it, you can’t really become Byakuya Togami.

“Answer me, Mr. Authentic, where is the ‘Kudan’?”

“Answer me, Byakuya Togami, where is the ‘Kudan’?”

As both demand it, Shinobu notes that the two seems to be acting less like those who want to become Byakuya Togami, but rather those who want to become his enemy.

Byakuya answers that he sealed the Kudan away, since he doesn’t need it to dominate the world. As such, Kazuya demands it back since he found it, though Byakuya believes the knowledge of the Kudan’s prophecy is worthless since the future can’t be changed regardless of one knowing or not. While this is happening, Shinobu looks up information about the Kudan.

Borges = Search Results

#69010922

Classification data

Title "About the various Kudans (short version)"

It seems that you do not understand the meaning of the prophecy.

No matter how many methods are tried and how many means are used, it cannot stop it. This is the prophecy.

——TORI MIKI's Banquet in Parsifal [10]

Kazuya argues that even if one is destined for failure, they would still be able to minimize the loss thanks to the Kudan’s prophecy given him a warning. Byakuya just insults him and calls him a defeatist that was needed to face reality. To prove his point, he then he wraps the handcuffs he is wearing around Shinobu’s neck, and pulls with strength. Shinobu however is loving it, because of how close Byakuya is.

"You have been escaping from reality all this time. I want you to see it clearly,” Byakuya says “Look carefully: this woman, ‘Blue Ink', belongs to me, so I can even treat her like this."

Byakuya-sama raised my head up and rubbed against my cheek. Ah, now i'm really sweating, this feels weird.

Kazuya’s exploding blood vessels appeared on his forehead, and hid glasses trembled without him having to touch them. No, his whole body was shaking, from the top of his head to his fingertips. This was, without a doubt, a sign of true madness. Kazuya’s body trembled, staring at us intently.

“Hey!”

I heard such a voice, and in the next moment, the table was cut into two halves from the middle. The cake and the teacups flew around, and the fake Byakuya screamed with a clearly frustrated voice, "Gah, I haven't finished eating yet!"

Kazuya’s right hand… It’s the same...

The same light sword as that time.

My brothers and sisters, murdered in cold blood with that very sword.

"Your lives... are now in the palm of my hand. So, will you be dying now? Do you want to Die? Answer me."

"My my, what a strange sword that is. How did you manage to pull that party trick off."

"I cannot wait to slit your goddamn throat."

Kazuya approached us with that lightsaber in hand. Byakuya-sama, in Kazuya’s blind fury, whispered quietly into my ear.

“Wait for me.”

Then he finally let me go. Kazuya has snorted and repeatedly gasped in a mixture of pure anger and sexual excitement, restraining the impulse to use the sword on his hand immediately. His expression was so distorted, it looked like a twisted laugh.

"There is still a long time before we arrive in the Netherlands. Now, Shinobu, it’s only been for years since we last met, but let us continue where we left off… Nice and slowly…” [11]

Translation notes:

[0] Couldn’t find the actual quote in english but hopefully this will suffice.

[1] The Yalta Conference, also known as the Crimea Conference and code-named the Argonaut Conference, held February 4–11, 1945, was the World War II meeting of the heads of government of the United States, the United Kingdom, and the Soviet Union to discuss the postwar reorganization of Germany and Europe. The aim of the conference was to shape a post-war peace that represented not just a collective security order but a plan to give self-determination to the liberated peoples of post-Nazi Europe. The meeting was intended mainly to discuss the re-establishment of the nations of war-torn Europe. However, within a few short years, with the Cold War dividing the continent, Yalta became a subject of intense controversy.

[2] Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter sets out the UN Security Council's powers to maintain peace. It allows the Council to "determine the existence of any threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression" and to take military and nonmilitary action to "restore international peace and security". Chapter VII also gives the Military Staff Committee responsibility for strategic coordination of forces placed at the disposal of the UN Security Council. It is made up of the chiefs of staff of the five permanent members of the Council.

[3] The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) was a United Nations court of law dealing with war crimes that took place during the conflicts in the Balkans in the 1990s. During its mandate, which lasted from 1993 - 2017, it irreversibly changed the landscape of international humanitarian law, provided victims an opportunity to voice the horrors they witnessed and experienced, and proved that those suspected of bearing the greatest responsibility for atrocities committed during armed conflicts can be called to account.

[4] Pol Pot was a Cambodian revolutionary and politician who governed Cambodia as the Prime Minister of Democratic Kampuchea between 1976 and 1979. Ideologically a Marxist–Leninist and Khmer nationalist, he was a leading member of Cambodia's communist movement, the Khmer Rouge, from 1963 until 1997 and served as the General Secretary of the Communist Party of Kampuchea from 1963 to 1981. Under his administration, Cambodia was converted into a one-party communist state governed according to Pol Pot's interpretation of Marxism-Leninism.

[5] The International Court of Justice (ICJ),sometimes called the World Court, is the principal judicial organ of the United Nations (UN). The ICJ's primary functions are to settle international legal disputes submitted by states (contentious cases) and give advisory opinions on legal issues referred to it by the UN (advisory proceedings). Through its opinions and rulings, it serves as a source of international law. It is located in The Hague, in The Netherlands.

[6] Japanese food culture believes that food is placed and eaten at a table. It’s extremely unsightly to lean over, or on the floor or elsewhere, because that is where dogs eat.

[7] The full name is the Infectious Disease Prevention and Control Unit (IDCU).

[8] You don’t get an explanation for the sage plan so my guess is it's referring to Izuru. Also I wasn't sure if it’s actually translated as Sage Plan but thats what im going with for now.

[9] Slavoj Žižek is a Slovenian philosopher, currently a researcher at the Department of Philosophy of the University of Ljubljana Faculty of Arts, and International Director of the Birkbeck Institute for the Humanities of the University of London. He is also Global Eminent Scholar at Kyung Hee University in Seoul. He works in subjects including continental philosophy, political theory, cultural studies, psychoanalysis, film criticism, Marxism, Hegelianism and theology.

[10] Parsifal is an opera in three acts by German composer Richard Wagner, who you would know for composing Suisei Nanamura’s ever favourite “Die Valkyrie”. It is loosely based on Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach, a 13th-century epic poem of the Arthurian knight Parzival (Percival) and his quest for the Holy Grail (12th century). This exact book by TORI MIKI, however, does not exist, at least, not in this Reality.

[11] So it looks like you weren’t supposed to like Kazuya **AFTER ALL** TV Tropes?

To Be Continued.

https://drmedicsgamesurgery.tumblr.com/GameSurgeryDRTranslations

#Danganronpa #Danganronpa:Togami #Danganronpa Togami #DRT3 Summary #Danganronpa: Togami #Part 1

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ginnyzero · 4 years

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Completely Harmless Ch. 21

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Twenty-One Did Someone Say Ice Cream?

The email Lily received from Aaron Silverglade was next to incoherent. Oh, there were legible words, but they didn’t string together to make any sense. He sounded quite upset, as much as written words could sound upset.

Lily hopped a bus to Jorvik City and met him at Leonardo’s.

“Sir Aaron, whatever is the matter,” she asked as soon as she was certain that he had a fortifying sundae and stiff coffee in front of him. They sat under one of the umbrella tables outside of Leonardo’s.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m going to fail miserably and make my mother more disappointed in me. I don’t know why I ever thought this was a good idea. Anastasia is doing so much better at this than I am and I can feel mother’s icy disapproval from here. Why can’t I be more like mother?”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Slow down! Your mother loves you. You just helped her achieve a huge victory against G.E.D. by getting rid of those oil rigs. Not that you need to do things like that for her to love you. She loves you no matter what. Now, exactly what is the problem?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What, what?” Lily waved her spoon. “The oil rigs are gone. We’re revitalizing the paddock. The race track can now move forward.”

“With the ice cream bar,” Aaron waved his hands and then slumped.

Lily blinked rapidly. “You know everything about ice cream.”

“But, what to call it? How to decorate it? I don’t know anything about that!”

Lily reached out and grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “You don’t have to.”

“But, but,” Aaron sputtered.

“That is what professionals are for. There are professional decorators. And professional marketers.” Lily sniffed. “Really, Dame Anastasia copped out by naming the restaurant the Silver Glade. That’s an easy go to stand by.”

Aaron bit his lip hard. He dug into his ice cream and took a few bites.

“Now,” Lily took out her phone and did a search for the decorator. She found the phone number and slid her phone over to Aaron. “Here is the decorator your sister hired for the restaurant.”

Aaron stared at it.

“Call him,” Lily urged.

Aaron reached for his phone and slowly dialed the number. He explained who he was and what he was trying to do. He took the phone away from his ear and looked at it with a frown on his face, brow furrowed. “He’s on his way. Since, we’re having ice cream.”

“We must have been photographed on social media.”

“Oh dear. I hope they aren’t saying anything salacious.”

Lily did a quick search. “Not really? They don’t know who I am and I’m wearing Silverglade Clan colors.”

“Hmm,” Aaron said.

“Random employee pep talk,” Lily shrugged and put it away.

“We should be more careful,” Aaron mumbled.

“That could make things worse,” Lily told him. She ate her ice cream. “I confess I don’t know a lot about wine or ice cream. Other than it is tasty and I like eating it.”

Aaron fidgeted. “Well, the winery is a very lucrative business and it could be more so. You see, the price of wine really depends on its scarcity. A good bottle of wine can sell for at least 500 Jorvik shillings.”

Lily got out her phone and did a currency conversion. “So, 20 American dollars?” It appeared that 1 dollar equaled 25 Jorvik Shillings. And 100 Jorvik shillings equaled 1 star coin. (Lily made a note to never use star coins on the transport.) So, 100 Jorvik shillings was roughly 4 American dollars in market value.

“I suppose,” Aaron blinked. He stirred his ice cream. “Of course, the price of an individual bottle goes down as you order more volume. But depending on the amount of wine made and sold in a year, a winery as big as mothers can make 50 billion shillings a year.”

Lily did the conversion on her phone. “2 billion dollars a year?”

“Not every year and, between you and I, we aren’t currently making nearly that much as we don’t have the proper marketing or demand.” Aaron flushed. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“Probably not,” Lily said. “But that is really interesting!”

“Wine output is determined by how many hectares of grapes you have planted. And of course, everything depends on soil salinity and the weather. We have cooler weather here in Jorvik. That all effects the taste of the wine. And if your wine doesn’t taste good and pass certain standards, you can’t price it higher. We aren’t as fussy as France,” Aaron sniffed. “But we still have standards.”

Lily grinned around a spoonful of ice cream.

The decorator literally flounced up to the table. “I hope you haven’t started talking about anything juicy without me!” He struck a pose.

“Just about wine profits,” Lily said.

“Well, say no more until I have ice cream,” the decorator sat and ordered from one of the servers. She returned quickly with his bowl of ice cream and left them.

“All right, darlings, explain everything about this wine and ice cream bar?”

Lily raised a brow at Aaron.

He floundered.

Lily decided it was probably better if she took over. “The wine cave has a room that is meant to be a tasting room,” she said. “I haven’t been in it.” Her brow furrowed and she picked up the phone and sent a text. She set the phone down. “Sir Silverglade knows a lot about ice cream and the concept is to pair ice cream dishes with wine to attract tourists with something a little different? Sir Silverglade was telling me about how our cooler weather makes the wine taste different than if we had warmer weather.”

The decorator tilted his head. “Is it even possible to pair wine and ice cream without it ending badly?”

“Small cups! Small!” Lily widened her eyes.

The decorator grinned. “The whole point of a wine tour is to get gloriously drunk and buy lots of wine you don’t need.”

Lily sighed.

Her phone buzzed. She picked it up, checked the messages and passed it to the decorator. “The tasting room.”

“Another very empty box,” the decorator sniffed. “How distressing.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “If you remember, the outside of the wine cave looks like the Parthenon or another long rectangular greek temple.”

“It’s based on the Valley of the Temples in Sicily,” Aaron said stiffly.

Lily gestured. See?

“Romantic get away for a Silverglade ancestor, I’m assuming. Sounds like a story,” the decorator smirked.

Aaron mumbled something and fiddled with his shirt sleeves.

“Continue please, a big empty room is a blank canvas, I want to hear more about your ideas.” The decorator passed the phone back to Lily.

Aaron cleared his throat. “Outside of France, many wineries maximize their profits by having different types of grapes and they grow these grapes in different areas of their property called cotes that has the best weather suited for them and we have to be very particular about soil salinity. Our Pinot Noir grapes are in the area of the winery that has the best weather due to their rather finicky and delicate nature. All of the vines at the Silverglade winery are different types of red grapes, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Melbec, Merlot, Zinfandel, and Syrah.”

“Is there a reason for that?” The decorator asked. “I know that Riesling is a very popular wine to have with local foods. That is if anyone ever recommends a wine at all. But Riesling is a German white grape.”

Aaron shrugged. “I don’t know. Those are the varietals we have. We also have a Rose blended wine and a Red blend fortified wine in the style of Port for sale. We use the skin contact method to make the wine pink and take the skins out before the wine becomes deep red. It’s traditional.”

Lily bit the inside of her cheek. The Silverglades could be so stuffy.

“But the good thing about red wine is that it pairs well with our local fruits such as strawberries, blueberries, and lingonberries. You can even pair it with apples and cheese,” Aaron brightened. “For white wine, you pair it with things like peaches, orange, and melons. We don’t have those around Silverglade so, it’s all fortuitous you see.”

“Or Fruituitous,” Lily wrinkled her nose.

Aaron grimaced at the pun.

The decorator laughed. “I like you, darling,” he waved a spoon at her.

“So my ideas for ice cream feature the local produce and of course we want to use local cream products and import chocolate, everyone loves chocolate.” Aaron fiddled with his utensils. “I have a list of items. I just can’t narrow it down.”

“Why bother narrowing it down?” Lily furrowed her brow. “I think it is more important that they taste good and pair well with the wines at the winery.”

“Yes, you must have a taste test,” the decorator nodded emphatically.

“I think they go well.”

“We trust your judgement,” Lily said quickly. “Having a tasting will provide publicity for the ice cream bar and let you gauge feedback on what the people will like.”

The decorator nodded. “She’s right. Publicity is, well, queen, in this case.”

“I mean, as long as you aren’t doing anything to outre like rose or violet or lavender ice cream,” Lily said.

“We could,” Aaron murmured. “Rose and cardamom go together and you know how much mother loves cardamom. And cardamom and lingonberries go well with red wine. In some recipes you can substitute rose water for red wine.”

Lily felt the need to point out. “You denude Agnetha’s rose bushes she’ll come after you with her chainsaw no matter if you’re the son of the Baroness or not.”

The decorator burst into laughter.

Aaron pursed his lips. “Agnetha is scary. They’re old friends you know, her and my mother. Went to university together.”

“Oh good grief,” Lily groaned. “That explains so much.”

“And Lavender goes with rose wine,” Aaron added.

Lily sighed. “Yes, but they also scream snobby.”

The decorator snorted.

“Wine making is snobby,” Aaron retorted.

“Okay, make them a special at some point.” Lily waved her hand.

Aaron tried to retain what very little dignity he had. “Most of my ideas are things that people will like, vanilla and berries, chocolate and nuts, strawberry cheesecake, sea salt caramel, that sort of thing.”

“Those all sound delicious,” Lily said.

“And something with cardamom for my mother,” Aaron continued stiffly. He slumped again. “I don’t know what to call it or what I want things to look like.”

“This tasting room at least isn’t in a drafty old cellar, even if the walls look like it,” the decorator sniffed.

“Aren’t wine cellars rooms nobles actually have?” Lily tilted her head. “I mean, does the manor have one.”

“Yes, the manor has a wine cellar,” Aaron nodded. “Mother keeps all the special bottles there.”

“Then, why not call it the Wine Cellar and keep it simple, like the restaurant was simple. I mean, no one is going to care that it’s not really in a cellar. Or they shouldn’t.”

“Since the cellar of the wine cave is filled with kegs and kegs of aging wine,” Aaron murmured.

“If we call it the Wine Cellar people are going to expect grapes as décor,” the decorator sniffed.

“I don’t see why we can’t do a bit of that.”

“And too keep the walls rough.”

“Also doable,” Lily said. She raised a finger. “Wait, why not face them with marble slabs. That way they can look “rough” and be fancy at the same time.”

“We don’t want it to have the same exact look at the Silver Glade, but the two should say they belong in the same place, did you just say marble slabs,” the decorator raised a brow.

Lily shrugged. “It’s an idea.”

“It’s going to be cold.”

“It’s summer,” Lily reminded him.

Aaron ducked his head and smiled.

“Let me see what other ice cream parlors are doing,” the decorator picked up his phone. “You never know what you can use for ideas.”

He scrolled. “All right, modern and elegant but with old world flair. I’m seeing two that have ideas that could work. This ice cream parlor in Prague that turns into a bar during the evening, and this other one in Palma, Spain. I’m thinking more the floor and the fact they have the greenery on the ceiling.” He turned the phone around so Aaron could look at the pictures.

“I like the lamps in Prague, they remind me of the lamps Agnetha is putting in,” Aaron said.

Lily craned her head forward trying to see.

Aaron turned the phone around.

“Oh, the one in Prague is very clean. Both have the exposed lighting. But the walls in Prague remind me more of the walls in the restaurant, like they’re clean despite not having the French Paneling.”

“An ice cream parlor and wine bar doesn’t really need French Paneling.” The decorator sniffed. “And the humidity would ruin it.”

“Could we make chairs out of old barrels?” Lily asked.

“Why do you even need me?” The Decorator asked.

“Because you can tell us if our ideas are good or bad,” Lily smirked at him.

The decorator sighed. “That is the sort of old world kitsch that it probably does need. We can use the same type of lamps or similar as to the restaurant and the rest of the winery.”

“We have hanging flower baskets already and urns of flowers,” Lily pointed out.

The decorator looked at the pictures again. “I know this building looks two and a half stories high with the pitch of the roof. All the lighting will have to be brought in it looks like. Let’s give the walls a good polishing. I know a contractor. We’ll install a marble floor with several coats of protection. Everything will have to be hand built. Maybe we can use barrel staves on the front of the bar.”

“We may not be able to use ivy or roses, aren’t those sunny plants. Agnetha talks and talks,” Lily bit her lip. She set her spoon down, ice cream done. “I can’t remember all of it.”

“I was thinking that we could take a nod from Prague and do the logo in lights, whatever it ends up being.”

“We’ll get a marketing team on it,” Aaron said. “I know Anastasia has one for the restaurant. I’ll tack my requests onto hers.”

“Excellent plan,” the decorator smirked. “I’ll get some drawings for these barrel chairs and use the same roman style idea we’ve been using and that should take care of the ‘wine cellar’ vibe we’re going for.”

Lily nodded rapidly.

Aaron looked faint with relief. He sipped his coffee.

“And use Agnetha’s artist for lights,” the decorator sighed. “She has to be charging through the nose to get it done as quickly as she is.”

“Would you say no to Agnetha or Baroness Silverglade?” Lily said.

Aaron smiled again behind his mug.

“No, not at all,” the decorator admitted. “Hmm, doesn’t she have that arch thing near the Riding Arena.”

“Yep,” Lily said. She produced a picture.

“Yes, exactly, we’ll create something to set off the bar area from the lounging area with that type of theme, though you know, one story instead of whatever that is,” he rolled his eyes. “I know, because I’ve been to France, that the top of that arch has square tile motifs. We can use grapes there, probably in a circle with roses in the corners. Then horses on each side of the arch on the walls.”

Lily nodded rapidly.

“That way we won’t have to change the base of the lamps that she already has a mold for and we won’t get bitched at.”

Lily giggled.

“And we can wrap them in something that likes to climb and is shade loving to help bring in more greenery. There, I think I have a plan. Hanging globe lights from the ceiling with more hanging plants. Put shade loving plants in the urns.” The decorator clapped their hands together. They finished their ice cream. “I’ll go get on making a picture for you to approve.” He stood up. “Excellent meeting you again, Ms. Lily. I’ll be in touch, Sir Silverglade.” He smiled and sauntered off shoes clicking on the tiles.

Lily stared at Aaron.

Aaron sipped his coffee. “He seems very good at his job.”

Lily bit her lip.

“Thank you, for, for all this, you do know just what to say.”

“Sir Aaron, we want this to succeed just as much as you do and, well, ice cream.” Lily widened her eyes. “Now, don’t forget to put up a JarlList to get some employees.”

“Of course, and I am going to call Anastasia and tell her I liked that outfit Franzeska came up with that had the blouse with the contrasting collar and cuffs. It was very professional looking.”

“Yeah, I’ll leave you to it,” Lily breathed. She got up. She wanted no part of the fight over what place was going to have what outfit. She retreated across the street and grabbed the trolley as it headed by to take her to the bus station.

At least, the crisis seemed to be averted.

Lily debated on the way back to Fort Pinta if she should pop her head in and tell Baroness Silverglade to remind her children she loved them a bit more often.

Lily shuddered.

No, probably not a good idea.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

#star stable #sso #star stable online #jorvik reimagined #fanfic #star stable salt #completely harmless #many nods to ruth westside #silverglade reimagined

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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The Ballerina and the B-girl Part 9 (Branjie) - Starsha

a/n: Always accepting more prompts for one shots you guys wanna see outta this lesbian AU! Today we have: It’s Vanjie’s birthday and you betcha Brooklyn is going to spoil her rotten.

Vanjie was awoken abruptly the morning of her 28th birthday to Silky’s big ass hollering at her from the door to her bedroom.

“Bitch wake up its yo birthday! And looks like you gotta a something something from Miss Brooklyn at the front door”

Vanjie shot up in bed, a huge grin plastered across her face. Despite having been dating her incredible girlfriend 11 months, any mention of the blonde still sent her into a giddy spin. She tumbled out of bed, clad in a tiny red silk nightie fringed with lace that had been a previous gift from Brooke. The wealthy CEO took great joy in spoiling her girlfriend, but this particular day was going to be a whole other level of opulence and indulgence.

Upon the front door step laid a dramatic setup; upon a beautiful red love seat sat two presents wrapped in shimmery golden wrapping with red bows, and roses arranged into the letter V. There was a card laid on top, Vanessa’s name penned beautifully onto the envelope. Vanjie just stood there in awe of the effort that had been put into her, and it was only 8am in the morning.

“Bitch you’d better read that card pronto, but when you show us later if there’s some kinky shit in there you should omit it for my sanity” Akeria proposed, also quite stunned at the display in front of her. However, she’d spent enough time around Brooklyn at this point to know that the bitch spared no cost when it came to her small Puerto Rican housemate.

Vanjie picked it up and eagerly opened the envelope, a card with a beautifully written message slipping out. She read it carefully, imagining the words as though her girlfriend was speaking them.

‘Happy birthday my baby, my world! I’m so sorry that I’m caught up at work and can’t give you this in person, so I suppose this will have to do. I hope you like the loveseat, I saw that you couldn’t take your eyes off it when we were at the mall the other day. Unwrap your other presents in private, they’re just for you and me for now ;) you’re going to be a good girl and put them on for me tonight, I’ll pick you up at 8. I’ll see you then baby, I hope you have an amazing rest of your day.

With all the love I have to give, Brooke’

Vanjie beamed, hugging the card to her chest. How in the hell she had gotten so lucky she had no idea. Silky and Akeria helped her to carry the display back through the house to her room, where she asked for some privacy to open the wrapped gifts. Vanessa perched herself on her new loveseat and settled back with glee at how soft it was, imagining cuddling Brooke on here. The gifts were beautifully wrapped, Vanjie undid the bows on top, before taking care not to rip the gorgeous golden paper.

Her heart stopped as she took in what lay inside the packages. The first was a dress and not just any dress at that. This was a dress that Vanjie had been drooling over for months, had gone into the change-room at the fancy store to try on just for shits and giggles because she could never dream of affording it. It was red, tight and with beautiful shimmery detailing in intricate patterns. It was the kind of dress that made you feel like you were going to walk a red carpet. Brooke had removed the price tag, but Vanjie knew that this thing costed a grand and she was absolutely blown away that Brooke had bought it for her, that it was hers.

The second gift made Vanjie blush with glee even harder than she already was. She was immediately excited when she saw the name on the box, an extraordinarily expensive lingerie brand that she already had a couple of pieces from courtesy of Brooke. She opened it to reveal a gorgeous white set complete with thigh high socks and suspenders, again one that she had dropped over this time online. Vanjie wondered how in the hell Brooke knew what she wanted, then remembering the blonde had walked into the room and taken a glance of the screen whilst they had talked one day. Vanessa had the most caring, thoughtful and generous girlfriend in the world.

‘Thank you thank you thank you babe I love all of my pressies so much!! Can’t wait to wear these for you tonight! I love you, hope work isn’t too stressful. Here’s a pic of the birthday girl for you <3’ Vanjie texted Brooke, taking a picture of herself in her full length mirror ensuring to pull her lip between her teeth and pose all sexy in her lacy nightie.

She knew Brooke loved to see her in anything that she had bought for her, it was Vanjie’s way of saying an extra thank you. She noticed that there was something else in the envelope and almost had a heart attack when she read what it was. She burst out of her room to find Silky and Akeria, both of them sitting on the couch. They had given her presents last night, Silky had given her a couple of candles that smelt like cookies and berries, as well as some nice chocolate. Akeria, the more practical friend, had gifted her a new hair curling wand as her old one was reaching zombie status. She was so grateful that her friends had spent money on her and couldn’t wait to share what she held in her hand with them.

“Ladies looks like I know what we doing today!” Vanjie stated, her voice bordering a yell as always, “Brooklyn gave me a voucher for 3 full day passes to that fancy spa downtown!”

“Fuck yes thank you Brooky Cookie!” Silky yelled, using the name she had coined for Vanjie’s girlfriend. She and Akeria had grown extremely fond of the bitchy looking blonde and not just because she bought Vanjie nice things. The woman was kind hearted and considerate, she always asked how they were when she saw them and never tried to intrude when they were having a housemates hangout night. If she was completely honest with herself, Silky was jealous as hell Vanjie had found a woman like Brooke but she was so happy for her as well. She knew that time with Vanjie living in the house was fleeting, predicting that very soon Brooklyn would ask her to move in.

The trio of best friends spent the day at the spa being pampered; massages, facials, hanging out in the spa baths. It was a perfect day, quality time with her best friends was something that Vanjie treasured. As time rolled around to the evening, Vanjie was in front of her mirror in awe of how she looked in the dress. It clung to her curves and accentuated her waist, the detailing sparking in the light. She felt like a movie star or a princess, snapping a picture to send to her mum. She knew the woman would demand pictures of her and Brooke as well but this would keep her satisfied for a while. Brooke had met her mum 6 months into the relationship, but that’s a story for another time.

When Vanjie stepped out of her room to greet Brooke at the door, both her housemates where speechless at how she looked in her new dress. Brooke had a similar reaction, however an underlying lust was simmering as the blonde drew her eyes over every inch, tongue darting out to wet her lips. Vanessa had a similar reaction to Brooke’s attire, a black jumpsuit with a plunging neckline showing off her cleavage and sinfully tight over her ass.

It was only once goodbyes to Silky and Akeria were said and they were inside of the fancy car being driven by an employee of Brooke’s, that the blonde pulled Vanessa towards her and enveloped her lips in a passionate kiss. Vanjie whined slightly as they separated, Brooke’s hands running all over her body.

“Happy birthday baby. You look so beautiful” Brooke mused, “I’m glad you like the dress” Vanjie beamed and settled into Brooke’s side for the drive, “I love it so much Brooke, I feel like a princess or some shit” at which the blonde giggled.

It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant that Brooke had selected, but Vanjie was confused to see the layout when they walked in. They were lead to a beautiful room overlooking the city lights, with only one table set for two.

“This is a private dining place baby, they let you design a menu and everything so I got you all your favourite things” Brooke explained as she pulled out Vanjie’s chair for her so they could sit down. Vanessa was in awe the entire dinner, Brooke had indeed ordered crab legs, oysters, fish tacos, berries and chocolate chip cookies served fancy style. It was all so incredibly delicious and amazing to be sharing this meal and this night with Brooke. Vanjie’s entire world revolved around the blonde and she didn’t want it any other way, she loved her with all the love in her little heart and it was evident that Brooke felt the same.

“Vanessa, I’ve got a little something else for you” Brooke began, pulling out a small rectangular box from her coat and handing it to Vanjie, “I love so much baby girl and I want you to always remember that” Vanjie opened the box to reveal an extremely expensive looking gold necklace with a heart shaped locket. She carefully opened the locket to reveal her favourite picture of them together, her laying back into Brooke’s arms in the park.

Vanessa immediately pulled Brooke into a thank you kiss and insisted that the blonde put the necklace on her. Brooke’s hands ran gently across her neck and played with her hair, Vanessa suddenly being extremely keen to go back to Brooke’s in search of a flat surface for Brooke to fuck her over. Must have been the oysters. Brooke seemed to have similar ideas, paying the bill promptly before they went out and got into the car again.

Vanjie was surprised when they were dropped off at a very fancy looking hotel rather than Brooke’s house. Brooke refused to explain a thing, checking in with a room booked under her name and leading Vanessa towards the elevators. Once inside, she pushed Vanjie against the wall and captured her lips in a heated kiss. Vanjie kissed back with want and need, whining when Brooke pulled away with a giggle so they could exit and find the room. Once the door was open and Brooke had ushered Vanjie inside, it became evident why this particular room as been booked. Next to the bed there was a stripper pole, and Vanjie felt a flood of arousal downstairs at the thought of what Brooke had planned. The blonde pulled Vanjie against her, hands finding the zipper on the back of her dress.

“As beautiful as you look in this dress baby girl, I want to see how you look in your other present” Vanjie let Brooke unzip the dress and ease it off her, leaving her in the lingerie set. Brooke’s eyes widened and darkened, taking a few steps back to admire Vanessa.

“So fucking beautiful. So fucking sexy” she mused. Vanjie made a move to walk towards her but Brooke shook her head. “No baby girl, you’re not allowed to touch me just yet. Be a good girl and go sit over on the bed for Mami”.

Vanjie was already dripping and Brooke’s dominance only made her wetter. She did as she was told, crossing her legs in the search of some pressure where she needed it. Brooke on the other hand, began to walk around the pole, dipping down to the floor before coming back up. Vanjie was absolutely mesmerised as her girlfriend began a strip tease, taking off her jumpsuit to leave her in black lace panties, suspenders, thigh high black tights and her heels. Brooke’s breasts tempted the hell out of Vanjie, bouncing free perfect and full as she swung around the pole. The blonde dropped to her hands and knees after an impressive pole dance that showed off her flexibility, crawling towards Vanessa. Her breath caught in her throat as Brooke began to kiss up her leg and over her panties where she needed her most. Brooke looked up at Vanjie with a devilish grin, and Vanjie knew she was in for a wild ride tonight.

— many hours later —

Vanjie lay snuggled naked in Brooke’s arms, the blonde lovingly stroking her hair and her face nuzzled into Vanjie’s neck. Vanessa could not remember a single day being as perfect as this in her life. She was so content and so happy, and she knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with this incredible woman. Brooke stirred and placed a couple of loving kisses onto Vanessa’s neck, prompting a small moan out of the shorter girl.

“Vanessa, could I ask you something?” Brooke murmured, her usually confident voice quiet and unsure. Vanjie rolled over so that she was facing her and carefully tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“I’m all ears Brooke” she replied. Brooke looked so nervous, placing a hand on Vanjie’s waist to draw her even closer, their legs tangled together.

“I’ve been thinking about us, and where our relationship is going, and I was thinking that maybe you might like to move in with me? I know that you love living with your friends though so I understand if you don’t want-“ Vanjie cut off her girlfriends rambling with a passionate kiss, pouring all her love and soul into it.

“Brooke I want nothing more than to live with you, sleep next to you every night and wake up to kisses every morning. I love you so much” Brooke’s face broke out into a blinding grin, and Vanjie could see happy tears in her eyes. They kissed hot and deep, Brooke pulling Vanjie on top of her and hugging her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you too” Brooke murmured against her lips, and Vanjie’s heart almost burst right then and there.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #the ballerina and the b girl #lesbian au #mild smut #fluff #starsha #s11 #dance au

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