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zephfair · 6 years

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Day 26 Grimmichi Selkie AU

Day 26: Selkie AU

Pairing: pre-Grimmjow/Ichigo

Rated T for canon type fighting

I’m sorry for appropriating the selkie legends and changing it up to better fit these guys.

A moment later, a human boy entered the small clearing that Grimmjow lay above and Grimmjow’s ears pricked with interest. The boy smelled good, for a human, and he was moving with strength and intent. Grimmjow wondered if he was brave enough to have entered the forest as a hunter.

When the boy unsheathed a sword, Grimmjow almost growled. But there were no creatures but him anywhere near the clearing. Why was the boy brandishing the weapon?

He lay there, watching the boy swing the sword and grunt and try again. It was obvious he didn’t know what he was doing, but Grimmjow was naturally curious and it looked like the kid might lose a foot any minute. He was a little disappointed when no mortal injuries occurred, and he yawned when the boy decided he’d had enough for the day and went back the way he’d come.

It didn’t occur to Grimmjow until later that night that he’d never once thought about eating the boy.

That was almost certainly the reason he picked out that tree again the next day for his afternoon nap. Only he wasn’t asleep when the scent wafted up to him, and his tail flicked in anticipation when he recognized the delicious smell of the same boy.

He strode determinedly into the clearing and took out the sword, going through the same motions he had the day before. Grimmjow watched until he could take it no more. The kid had some speed and raw strength, but he wasn’t going to improve his terrible technique fighting imaginary foes.

Grimmjow jumped down from the tree on silent feet and stood still behind the boy. Up close, the boy didn’t look as young as he’d thought, maybe what the humans would consider a young man on the cusp of adulthood. He was tall and nicely built but his hair was a brighter color than Grimmjow had ever seen.

The boy’s next wild stroke made him swing around, and he saw Grimmjow standing there.

Instead of fleeing like anyone with an ounce of self-preservation would, the boy steeled himself, gripped the sword tighter and attacked. Grimmjow admired that kind of ridiculous overconfidence in the face of nearly certain defeat.

Grimmjow dodged the first blow easily and skittered back out of range of the second. The fight soon became annoying and hopeless. Grimmjow had to go about half his normal speed and telegraph his moves so he didn’t accidentally slice the kid in half or crush his skull. But still, the boy kept fighting.

When the kid was breathing heavily and could barely swing the heavy sword anymore, Grimmjow took charge of the fight. He roared and charged, and when the boy slashed with the sword, Grimmjow easily disarmed him. The boy watched his sword fly across the clearing but still turned to face Grimmjow.

Grimmjow batted at him, knocking him to the ground easily with his heavy paw. The boy fell and Grimmjow pounced, using his weight to pin the boy on his stomach. When the body below him tensed, Grimmjow gently took the neck in his mouth and shook it.

It only made the boy struggle harder, and Grimmjow had to press down on him with the weight of his belly, trapping his legs and arms beneath him.

“Damn it, stop humping me and at least let me die with honor!” the kid wheezed.

Grimmjow let go of his neck in surprise. “I’m not humping you,” he said.

At last the boy’s body went stiff and motionless. “You...can talk?”

“Yes, I can talk, and I’m not going to kill you.”

“You’re just going to what? Mount me and let me go on my way?” How the human could still be sarcastic when he was at Grimmjow’s mercy showed he had balls. Grimmjow liked that.

“I’m not gonna mount you. I was just trying to get you to surrender. You’re a stubborn little bastard.”

“I’m not little. Or a bastard. Now if you’re not going to molest or kill me, let me up.”

Grimmjow growled and opened his mouth over the back of the kid’s neck in warning. But he didn’t bite. Instead he huffed out and moved slowly, taking his bulk off the kid’s back. “I’m going to let you up, but I promise you, if you run, I’m not going to be so merciful.”

“Fine. Just let me up to breathe.” Grimmjow sat back, and the kid sucked in several deep breaths of air, rather dramatically, Grimmjow thought.

Then he swung around to face Grimmjow. “You can really talk?”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think you were stupid, but you’re making me change my mind.”

“It’s just, you don’t meet a talking big cat every day.”

“I guess not,” Grimmjow shrugged his powerful shoulders.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Who says I’m not going to?” Grimmjow flashed a fang at the boy. “Maybe I just enjoy toying with my food first, for added spice.”

“You’re an ass,” the boy said flatly.

“Well, you’re a terrible swordsman,” Grimmjow retorted. “Where’d you learn to fight? A baby teach you?”

The kid bristled. “Well excuse me for being a beginner. It’s my dad’s old sword but the king forbade us from having weapons. So if I want to learn how to fight, I have to do it in private. Dad can’t even know.”

“Well, you’re awful.”

“Thanks.”

Grimmjow ignored the even heavier sarcasm. “You’ve got decent speed and some raw talent but you’re lacking any kind of technique.”

“Again, I told you, I’m trying to teach myself!”

“Then you suck as a teacher <i>and</i> a student.”

“Is that why you attacked me?”

“I didn’t attack you!” Grimmjow said honestly. “I just came down to fight you. You attacked me.”

“Why did you want to fight me? Are you going to kill me or not?”

Grimmjow leaned his giant head down to the boy since seated he loomed over him. “Do you want me to?” When the boy froze and didn’t answer, Grimmjow said, “I won’t kill you until you’re stronger. I don’t enjoy killing prey unless they’re able to put up a fight.”

The kid looked at him with a strange expression. “What are you?”

“Grimmjow.”

“What’s a Grimmjow?”

“That’s my name,” Grimmjow growled.

“Oh,” the boy said. “I’m Ichigo. Are you one of the enchanted animals in the forest?”

“Ichigo,” Grimmjow repeated. “I’m not exactly enchanted and I’m not exactly an animal.”

Ichigo was still staring at him. “Huh. But why did you jump out at me?”

“I told you, I’ve been watching you. You suck.”

“Yeah, well, what are you going to do about it?” Ichigo challenged.

Grimmjow just stared back for a long moment. Ichigo finally snorted and got to his feet, and Grimmjow let him. “If you’re not going to kill me, I need to get home.”

Grimmjow pointedly turned his head the other way. “It makes no difference to me. I already told you, I’m not going to kill you when you’re this much weaker than me.”

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Ichigo picked up the sword and stalked away.

The kid’s —Ichigo’s—question rattled through him all night. What, if anything, was he going to do about it? Could he do anything about it? He was a skilled killer and a super-strong fighter, but in his cat skin, he was limited to show Ichigo anything about how humans should fight. And Ichigo definitely needed a hands-on opponent to actually learn anything.

He paced restlessly when Shawlong entered his territory toward morning. “We haven’t seen you in days, Grimmjow,” he said to his old friend.

“I’ve been busy,” Grimmjow answered and kept pacing.

Shawlong shut his eyes and swayed a bit. “I sense human. There was a human here. But there is no sign of blood or offal. What happened?”

“A kid, trying to teach himself how to fight. He’s terrible at it.”

“Grimmjow, what are you doing?

Grimmjow stopped pacing and looked up at him. “I have an idea.”

“Don’t do it,” Shawlong told him immediately after he explained. “Is one little human boy worth the risk?”

Grimmjow’s switching tail betrayed his ire and frustration. “He’s not a little boy,” he said reluctantly. “He has the potential to be a good fighter, with time and instruction.”

“And you are ever looking for a fight,” Shawlong sighed. “I would tell you again, don’t do it. But if you do, then take every precaution.”

“I know,” Grimmjow said irritably. “Now get out of here while I make up my mind.”

In the end, Grimmjow didn’t decide what to do until he smelled Ichigo coming back to the clearing the next afternoon.

Then he peeled off his cat skin and stepped out of it, folded it gently, carefully hid it a tree’s hollow, and stood in the center of the clearing as a man. He waited as Ichigo came hurrying into the clearing then promptly covered his eyes and tripped.

“I’m going to teach you how to fight,” Grimmjow said proudly.

“Who the hell are you?” Ichigo shouted.

Grimmjow glared at him, hands on his hips, body braced for battle. “I told you yesterday. I’m Grimmjow.”

Ichigo peeked at him between his fingers. “Is that you? The big cat from yesterday? How are you a man now?”

Grimmjow knew better than to trust and tell a human the truth so he waggled his fingers and said, “Enchanted magic, obviously. Now, let’s fight.”

Ichigo yelped, and Grimmjow got even more impatient. “What’s the matter with your eyes?”

“You’re naked!”

Grimmjow frowned down at himself. “So?”

“I’m not fighting you like that! It’s too…distracting.”

“Why don’t you just take off your clothes too and we’ll be even,” Grimmjow said slyly.

Ichigo all but quivered with anger. “No pants, no fight.”

Grimmjow sighed. “Fine then. Give me your pants.”

“Oh for hell’s sake,” and Ichigo took off running back the way he’d come. Grimmjow would have given chase, but since Ichigo had dropped the bag he was carrying, he figured he’d return. He lounged in the grass of the clearing until Ichigo came back and dropped a pair of pants on his head.

Grimmjow frowned at them and sniffed. “These aren’t yours.”

“No, they’re my dad’s. Now get them on and let’s fight.”

“Finally,” Grimmjow grinned and obeyed.

They fought and trained every day Ichigo could get away from his responsibilities at home. Grimmjow tried to teach him the basic moves and techniques of fighting hand-to-hand even though he had to work at adapting them to human limitations. And although he didn’t use a sword, Grimmjow still provided Ichigo with some fundamentals and gave him an opponent to react against.

And Ichigo forced him to keep the pants.

When Ichigo dropped to the ground in exhaustion or required a break for food and drink, Grimmjow slumped beside him and they talked. Ichigo told him about how the kingdom was in the middle of a war, and how Lord Aizen had named himself king, thanks in part to his ban on weapons for the commoners.

Ichigo had found the sword his father had stashed away, and he told Grimmjow every session how he just wanted to be strong enough to protect his family and loved ones. Grimmjow just challenged him to fight harder.

Those times were some of the happiest for Grimmjow who had been used to the endless days of hunting for sustenance with nothing to motivate him. Now he cast off his skin on a whim and even lurked nearer the small village where Ichigo and his family lived.

At first Ichigo was appalled and refused to spar with Grimmjow that close to the village, but he soon smuggled Grimmjow a shirt and shared food when they took a break from training. Ichigo informed him that he’d never fit in with the villagers because of his bright blue hair and facial markings, and Grimmjow said that it didn’t seem to be a problem for Ichigo and his unnaturally flaming hair. But that conversation devolved into a rough and tumble roll through a wheat field and never resolved their argument.

Then one evening when Grimmjow left Ichigo worn out beside the stream, covered in mud but smiling tiredly, he was hungrier than usual. He returned to the hollow of the tree where he left his skin to put it on and hunt more efficiently, but it was gone.

He checked again and again, but it was not in the hollow. He made sure it was the right tree. He checked the ground and nearby trees. But there was no sign of his cat skin.

Grimmjow threw his head back and roared.

Shawlong and Ilfordt found him first, running in a frenzy through the forest, tearing apart trees and screaming, searching for his skin.

But when they approached, he shouted at them, and they froze, unable or unwilling to get any closer. “You are human, now,” Shawlong said quietly.

“You are trapped as a human, until you can find your skin,” Ilfordt said, backing away.

Grimmjow raged alone through the night until he found himself on the fringes of the forest the next morning, the quiet village slowly coming awake in front of him. He thought he had only one choice and with a deep, steadying breath, he committed himself.

He ran to the house he’d seen Ichigo enter and burst inside. Ichigo's family sat around a table, still and silent as statues as they stared at the intruder. Only Ichigo jumped to his feet and demanded, “Grimmjow, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

As Grimmjow shook with fury and tried to explain, Ichigo managed to get him to sit and pushed some food and drink to him. But Grimmjow couldn’t eat, too enraged to do anything but call for revenge on whoever stole his skin.

“We’ll find it. Somehow,” Ichigo promised, even though he had no idea how they would accomplish it.

His brash overconfidence actually calmed Grimmjow a little, and he realized that he’d come to consider Ichigo a worthy partner of some kind.

“First, we should question the villagers. Even though I don’t think any of them would do it, someone might have found it by accident and taken it home,” Ichigo said.

“We can help,” his little sister Yuzu offered. “No one will be suspicious if we ask around.”

“Thanks, you guys,” Ichigo said gratefully, but Karin snorted.

“We’ll let you know how much it’s going to cost you,” she said.

Isshin insisted that Grimmjow try to eat and drink then ordered him to lie down and rest. Ichigo stayed in the house with him to make sure he didn’t try running through the village upsetting people himself.

But the girls returned that afternoon with bad news—no one in the village had seen anything like Grimmjow’s cat skin.

“Then Ganju said that he’s seen someone strange wandering around the past few days,” Karin told them. “He said it looked like that weird gray-haired guy who came through here once with Lord Aizen. You remember? The one who was always smiling?”

“I remember,” Ichigo said. “Do you think he was spying for Aizen?”

Karin shrugged. “That’s what Ganju thought, anyway. Either that or he’s trying to figure out how to get more taxes out of us.”

Grimmjow had been looking from one to the other, and he slammed his fist on the table. “Well, if we know who it was, why don’t we go after him?”

“We’ll have to,” Ichigo sighed but his father held up a hand.

“How do you plan to do that? You know Lord Aizen is always surrounded by his warriors the Espada, and I’m sure that extends to his advisers as well,” Isshin said.

“I don’t know, but we’ll think of something. We have to. Grimmjow needs it.”

Isshin looked from his son to Grimmjow and how they had eyes only for each other, and he sighed, already able to see what they hadn’t even admitted yet.

“In that case, maybe it’s time I introduced you to some old friends of mine.”

Isshin sent Ichigo and Grimmjow to the capital with strict instructions to seek out Kisuke Urahara. It took all of Ichigo's wits and most of his strength to even get Grimmjow that far without him wanting to fight every single person who looked at him the wrong way.

Urahara took one look at them and welcomed them into his shabby shop. And introduced them to an entire secret society that was working underground to fight against Aizen and his tyranny.

They willingly accepted Ichigo into the group even as Grimmjow looked on jealously.

“I still can’t believe my dad was part of a revolutionary party back in the day,” Ichigo told Grimmjow during one of the few times they were alone.

“This is all great and good, but what are we doing to get my skin back?” Grimmjow demanded.

“Soon,” Ichigo promised. “You wanna go to Urahara’s training ground and spar?”

“Hell yeah,” Grimmjow’s spirits temporarily lifted.

Then the Shinigami, as they called themselves, decided they would rise up against Aizen on the day of his next public address to the people, and Ichigo was made a part of the attack plan. Grimmjow refused to take a role but went along to protect Ichigo.

As soon as Grimmjow saw Aizen, the plan almost went to hell. Ichigo froze at the sight of the ruler standing on the stage, waving at the crowd.

Wrapped around his neck and draping down his back like a cape was the white skin Grimmjow was seeking.

“I’m going to kill him,” Grimmjow muttered, and only Ichigo's vise grip on his arm kept him from storming the stage.

“We’ll take care of him,” Ichigo promised, speaking low into Grimmjow’s ear. “We’ll get your skin back.”

Grimmjow growled, but he allowed Ichigo to lead him into place. When the word came from the Shinigami, all hell broke loose.

They attacked all at once, their best fighters taking on Aizen’s elite Espada while still others fought against Aizen’s guards. To the shock of most of them, Aizen and his two closest advisers didn’t even flee—they simple stood on the stage and watched in what seemed like amusement, as if the revolt were a drama playing out solely for their entertainment.

Ichigo found himself in a fight with one of the Espada and rapidly losing ground. The man was small, thin and very white, but he fought with a ferocity and ruthlessness that rivaled Grimmjow at his best.

Although Ichigo fought with all his strength, he was soon injured and pushed back out of the rest of the fray by the Espada. As the Espada raised his sword for the finishing blow, Grimmjow struck him from behind with a stolen sword.

The Espada turned and started fighting with Grimmjow while Ichigo struggled to stand. He watched in horror as Grimmjow learned how to defend himself with a sword as the battle raged. Then Grimmjow suddenly leaned closer to the Espada when their swords were locked.

“You. You’re like me,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the Espada said.

“You’re not human. You aren’t meant to be fighting in that skin,” Grimmjow said then parried quickly as the Espada went right for his throat.

“It is none of your business.”

“It damned well is my business as long as that bastard wears my skin around his neck.”

At that revelation, the Espada paused, allowing Grimmjow another blow and he pressed his advantage. “Does Aizen hold your skin, too? Are you trapped here by him?”

The Espada didn’t answer as he countered Grimmjow’s wild strikes. Then he said quietly, “Those whose skins he holds cannot fight against him.”

Grimmjow almost dropped his sword and Ichigo swore quietly. “Does that mean all the Espada are being held hostage by him?” Ichigo asked, just loudly enough that the two could hear him.

The Espada’s silence said it all. Grimmjow smiled savagely and said, “If you cannot fight him without punishment, what if you were to refuse to fight <i>for</i> him instead? If these men win, you can get your skins back and be free of Aizen forever.”

Another huge Espada crashed through the frantic crowd and raised his sword to Ichigo. Grimmjow shouted a warning just in time for Ichigo to block it, barely.

To his astonishment, the white Espada who was fighting Grimmjow suddenly stepped back lightning fast and sheathed his sword. “Yammy, we are retreating,” he said to the large man. “Tell the others. Although we cannot raise a hand to Aizen, there is nothing to say we cannot stand back and allow him to lose.”

It seemed to take minutes for the meaning to sink into the large man’s mind, but then he grinned cruelly. “I’ll spread the word,” he said and threw himself back into the crowd.

The white Espada inclined his head at Ichigo and Grimmjow then darted into the castle.

“Come on,” Grimmjow caught Ichigo around the waist and supported him until he got his breath back. “Let’s go get that bastard.”

As the Espada got the word and faded away, and the crowd of frantic onlookers escaped, the courtyard began to empty except for clusters of fighters.

Aizen saw them coming before they reached the stage. “Ah, you must be the one who provided me with this fine skin. It truly is magnificent enough for a king,” he said.

Grimmjow leaped at him but crumpled before he made it halfway. Aizen laughed. “Didn’t the Espada tell you? You cannot harm me as long as I hold your skin. You will become my slave and fight for me just as they do.”

“Like hell,” Grimmjow swore and knelt up just as Ichigo vaulted over him.

“He’ll never fight for you,” Ichigo shouted as his sword plunged toward Aizen’s chest.

Tousen’s sword parried Ichigo’s instead. Ichigo gritted his teeth and jumped back to swing again. Grimmjow’s hand closed on his shoulder.

“I might not be able to touch Aizen, but that doesn’t apply to his henchmen. Let me take him,” Grimmjow said, murder lighting up his eyes.

Ichigo moved out of the way and turned to face Aizen. Several of the strongest Shinigami rushed the stage behind him.

Then Ichigo attacked. Aizen had produced a sword and showed off the moves that marked him a master swordsman. But Ichigo had learned from a cheating, homicidal maniac who only ever had winning on his mind, and to the shock of all the onlookers, Ichigo began to overpower him. Slowly but surely, he pushed Aizen back, and then, with one mighty stroke, he disarmed him.

Aizen still wore his smug smile even as Ichigo held his blade to his throat. “Will you really kill me, Shinigami? None of you has the courage. You’ll throw the country back into chaos and civil war without my leadership. None of our allies’ leaders will accept an overthrow of my government.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to keep you alive as a figurehead for now,” Urahara said from behind Aizen. As Aizen turned to look at him, Urahara clamped something around his neck. Aizen slumped to the ground, his eyes glazed and lifeless.

“Not dead,” Urahara said to the outcry, “just in a dream-like world where time has no meaning. Until we can figure out what to do with him.”

Ichigo was already clawing at Aizen’s throat underneath Urahara’s device, trying to free Grimmjow’s skin. When it came unfastened, he pulled it off Aizen and held it, warm and heavy and feeling somehow so familiar.

He turned to where Grimmjow had just overpowered Tousen and was snarling at the Shinigami trying to take Tousen captive. Ichigo rushed over to him.

“Grimmjow, it’s here. Look, it’s yours,” Ichigo babbled, holding the living weight of the skin out to him in trembling hands.

Grimmjow was shaking, too, when he accepted his skin and brought it up to his face. He closed his eyes and stroked it gently.

Then he handed it back to Ichigo in front of all the Shinigami and fighters.

“It’s said that whoever holds the skin of a selkie holds their heart. And since you already have that, you might as well take this too. I don’t have any other use for it.” Grimmjow’s voice was gruff but steady as he looked into Ichigo's eyes.

Ichigo accepted the skin and buried his face in it. Then he buried his face in Grimmjow’s chest, the skin clutched between them. “We’ll hold it together,” he promised. “You’ll always be free to come and go, however you please.”

“It would please me to be with you,” Grimmjow said in a low voice, just for the two of them.

Ichigo leaned up and kissed him.

And so Ichigo refused to accept a position with the Shinigami in the capital and went back to his village where he and Grimmjow could live and fight together. The Espada regained their skins and were never heard from again.

They all lived happily ever after.

The end

#my fic #my 30 days #slowly but surely #this one is totally weak

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booksncoffee · 7 years

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under my skin - five

five || screaming on the inside

“You should probably start thinking about your outfit,” Niall continues whilst Brooklyn openly glares at him. He really doesn't know when to shut up sometimes. She likes to think that one day it’ll be his downfall. “Wait, no. I think I’d want to choose your outfit for our date. That’d be fun.”

“Well, I hope you’ve been saving your money cos you’ll be buying my coffee for a year.”

read below || read on mibba || story page

When Brooklyn receives a text message from Louis asking her if she’d like to get coffee with him, she has to reread it a few times. As far as she knows, he’s not one to wake up early in the morning. He goes to sleep late and he wakes up late too. She knows that because sometimes he’d text her ‘good morning’ and it’s 12 in the afternoon.

Brooklyn doesn't respond to his text straightaway as she decides to take a shower first. She checks her phone once again after that to see if the text message is still there and when it is, she types a reply: Sure. Why not?

Beck is still asleep when Brooklyn steps out of her room, all dressed for work – she may have put on a little effort to look extra good this morning.

Beck must have gotten home late last night because she’s pretty sure she heard his footsteps coming in at around 2 in the morning – she didn't check if it really was him because she was too afraid to leave her bed. She hopes it’s him because the thought of this flat possibly being haunted sends shivers down her spine.

Curse the stupid horror movie she watched last night before she went to bed. She still doesn't know why she thought it’s a good idea to watch the movie alone – well, she’s not really alone because she texted Niall whilst she watched it since he’s the one who recommended the movie to her. Her texts were filled with exclamation marks and words written in capital letters – she’s sure she was Niall’s main source of entertainment last night. The last text she sent to him was a few rows of the middle finger emoji. He responded with three laughing emojis.

Once she’s out of her flat building, Brooklyn sends a text message to Louis, telling him that she’s on her way to the coffee shop, to which he replies with a picture of him holding a cup of coffee. He looks so sleepy, his eyes so heavy and she can tell that he’s not a morning person.

When Brooklyn reaches the coffee shop, Louis waves at her and she makes her way to him, pulling out a chair to sit. “Morning,” she greets him.

“Morning,” he responds along with a poor attempt at smiling. Brooklyn kinks an eyebrow at him and he groans. “I don’t know how you people wake up early every morning. Mad respect for you.”

Brooklyn lets out a laugh; he wasn't kidding when he said that he isn’t a morning person. “You’d get used to it eventually.”

He looks at her to see if she’s joking and when she simply shrugs, he shakes his head. The thought of him getting used to waking up so early in the morning doesn't sit right in his head.

“Anyway, I bought black coffee for you,” he states as he hands her the paper cup. “Dunno what you usually drink so.”

Taking the cup from him, she smiles. “Black coffee sounds good. Thank you.”

He flashes her a bright smile, one that doesn't look forced like earlier, and he asks, “D’you wanna go for a walk?”

Brooklyn looks out the window, at the people passing by. She prefers staying in the café where it’s warmer, but she finds herself nodding, “Yeah.”

Louis pushes the chair back and holds out his hand for Brooklyn to take. She hesitates, looking at it for a couple of seconds before she eventually places her hand in his. With her other free hand, she picks up the coffee cup and he leads her out of the coffee shop. The cold wind nips at her skin as soon as they’re out so she brings the cup up to her lips, blows off the steam and takes a sip.

She immediately regrets it.

The coffee tastes bad that she starts coughing when it hits her throat. It isn’t as bad as the one Beck made for her, there’s no salt in this one, but it’s not good. It’s too sweet like someone accidentally spilled ten spoons of sugar in it and instead of making a new one, it’s given to her.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks when he glances at her, concerned written all over his face.

Clearing her throat, she nods. She doesn't have it in her to tell him that the coffee he bought for her tastes awful. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Louis doesn't look convinced, but he nods his head anyway as he brings his own cup to his lips. Brooklyn keeps her eyes on him, wanting to see if he’d react the same way she did when he takes a sip, but he seems fine. He doesn't start coughing, doesn't scrunch up his nose when the taste of the coffee hits his throat. Maybe he ordered a latte or a cappuccino.

He catches her eyes and arches an eyebrow before he brings one hand up and starts wiping his mouth. “There’s something on my mouth, isn’t it?”

Brooklyn shakes her head. “No, no, there’s nothing.”

“Oh,” he stops what he’s doing and laughs, realising how silly he must’ve looked wiping at nothing. “So you’re just staring at my pretty face, then?”

Although a wave of colour flushes her cheeks, Brooklyn rolls her eyes and shoves him away from her, making him laugh. He does have a pretty face and she’s quite certain that she told him that before. “Wonder where’d you be without your pretty face.”

“Probably still working at Toys R Us, trying to woo lasses that walk in.”

“Still working?” She repeats, brows knitting together. “You mean you used to work there?”

“Yup,” he answers with a nod. “For a couple of years actually.”

“Oh my God,” her eyes gleam with excitement. She’s always wondered what it feels like to work there. Is it stressful given that you’d have to deal with kids and their parents? Is it fun since you have toys all around you? She has lots of question, but instead of voicing them out, she says, “Please tell me everything.”

Brooklyn listens intently as Louis talks about his work experience at Toys R Us. He makes sure not to leave the part where he would sometimes hang around the music section – the one with the little pianos and guitars – and show off his basic skills to girls that he wanted to impress. He also tells her that he worked there until eventually he was discovered by one of the model agencies and he didn’t think twice before he marched into his manager’s office to tell him that he’s quitting.

“Can’t believe you never told me this before,” Brooklyn mentions once he’s finished recalling his memory as one of the sales associates at Toys R Us.

“In my defence, I didn't think you’d be so interested to know about it.”

“Please, I’d love to know all of the embarrassing things you’ve ever done.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “If that’s what you want, I have plenty of embarrassing stories to share.”

Brooklyn opens her mouth to tell him that he should start sharing because she needs to get to work soon, but she’s interrupted by the sound of someone calling out Louis’ name. They stop walking and Louis glances through his shoulder. Brooklyn does the same and she sees a guy making his way towards them.

“Chad, mate!” Louis’s face lights up as he greets his friend. He pats Chad on the back once, twice, before he pulls away. “Thought you’re in New York?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “That’s two weeks ago.” His eyes land on Brooklyn, then, and he lifts an eyebrow. “And who’s this lovely lady?”

“This is my girlfriend, Brooklyn. Brooklyn, this is my mate, Chad.”

For a moment, everything around them stops moving as the time stands still. Brooklyn feels like she’s going through an out-of-body experience when she steps forward and shakes Chad’s hand with a smile on her face. She doesn't think it’s possible for her to move when she’s still in a state of shock. Her head is spinning, the word ‘girlfriend’ echoing in her ears. They’ve never talked about this, never talked about how they’d label each other in front of their friends. Brooklyn thought they’re doing this whole ‘let’s just go with the flow’ thing.

“Girlfriend, huh?” Chad sounds surprised, but in a pleasant way. As in he’s amazed that his friend has gotten himself a girlfriend. “About fucking time.”

Louis rolls his eyes, though his cheeks are turning red from embarrassment – or probably from the wind, Brooklyn doesn't know. “Says someone who hasn't been in a relationship for fucking ages.”

“Hey,” Chad steps forward to punch Louis’ arm before continuing, “You know how I work, mate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis replies half-heartedly. “You don’t have time for a girlfriend. Whatever.”

Chad nods his head, agreeing. “Well, Brooklyn, it’s nice to meet you,” he says with a smile before swooping in for a hug. Expecting a handshake instead, Brooklyn’s taken aback by his friendliness. “We should hang out soon.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Brooklyn finds herself saying once she’s gotten over the shock.

“I’ll text ya,” Louis says. Chad gives him a pointed look as if to say that he doesn't believe him, so Louis adds, “Promise.”

Chad bids his goodbye, turning on his heels to go back to where he’s coming from. Once he’s out of their sights, Brooklyn and Louis continue their walk. Silence lingers around them for a few minutes as his words are slowly sinking in her head.

“Fucking hell.” Louis mutters to himself all of sudden. His facial expressions changes as his brows are pinched together and his lips are pulled downwards. He stops walking and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Everything okay?” Brooklyn asks even though she has a clue as to why he looks angry with himself.

Louis takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose before he starts speaking. “I called you my girlfriend,” he states. Brooklyn opens her mouth to say something, but closes it a second later when she realises she doesn't know what to say. Maybe she should just let him talk. “I probably shouldn't have done that since we’ve never talked ‘bout it and it’d be so fucking embarrassing if, y’know, if…” He trails off, leaving her hanging.

“If?” Brooklyn questions as she kinks an eyebrow at him. She needs to know what he’s about to say before he stops himself.

Louis runs his tongue across his bottom lip, probably to buy himself some time whilst he avoids her gaze. He looks nervous, which is so unlike of his usual self because he’s always confident and Brooklyn’s pretty sure this is the first time she sees him this way. That knowledge makes her nervous as well.

“Fuck it,” he says under his breath before he looks up and says, “It’d be embarrassing if you’re not on the same page.”

Brooklyn’s eyes widen, but she’s quick to compose herself – it’s something that she’s quite good at. She clears her throat and looks at Louis. She can see the sincerity in his dark blue eyes, can see the nervousness with a hint of hopefulness written all over his face. Then, she remembers the good times she’s had with him and she knows there’s more to come. She also enjoys being around him and as she quickly makes a list of pros and cons in her head, she realises that there are more pros than cons.

Taking a deep breath, Brooklyn takes his hand and says, “We’re… We’re on the same page.”

Louis looks shocked like he doesn't expect she’d say that. He stares at their hands for a beat longer before he eventually finds his voice to speak, awe transforming his face. “I-Fuck. Brooklyn, you just made me the happiest man ever on this dreadful morning.”

Laughter escapes Brooklyn’s mouth, but Louis swallows that sound when he kisses her.

Brooklyn feels like she’s missing out on a lot of things when she walks into the break room to make herself a cup of coffee and hear Niall and Harry’s laughter reverberating round the room. Normally she’d roll her eyes at the mere sound of that because they’re probably talking about something that she doesn't find funny at all, but this morning she makes her way to them to know what’s going on.

“What’s so funny?” She asks as she pulls out one of the chairs and situates herself between Niall and Harry.

Both of them stop laughing to raise an eyebrow at her, surprised that she wants in on their conversation. Whereas Harry squints his eyes, looking at her suspiciously, Niall leans forward and places a hand on her forehead as though to check her temperature. Brooklyn slaps Niall’s hand away and that makes him laugh.

“I was just telling Harry about your texts last night,” Niall tells her. Her eyes widen and she slaps his arm, to which he winces in pain. “What’s that for?”

“Those texts are confidential,” she replies with her brows furrowed. “You’re not supposed to share it with anyone.”

“Anyone except Harry,” Harry chimes in with a grin. Sometimes, when he’s with Brooklyn and Niall, he likes to refer to himself in the third person pronoun. It’s weird but in his defence, the two of them likes to talk about him as if he’s not there to hear everything they say to each other. “Harry deserves to know everything that’s going on between Niall and Brooklyn.”

Brooklyn rolls her eyes at Harry. She turns to Niall and points her finger at him, who raises his eyebrows at her. “I’m not taking any movie recommendations from you ever again.”

Laughter tumbles out of Niall’s mouth. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“It kinda is,” she counters as she glares at him. Brooklyn has always had troubles sleeping after watching a horror movie – it’s been that way since she’s six. Despite telling herself again and again that what she sees in the movies aren’t real, she can’t prevent the fear from weaving its way into her, scaring her and making sure that she wouldn't get a wink of sleep.

“Ha, Brooklyn’s a scaredy-cat,” Harry remarks with a chuckle, which earns him a kick on the shin. “Jesus. And bloody strong too.”

That puts a pleased smile across Brooklyn’s lips. The workout she does during the weekends proves to be useful. Brooklyn returns her gaze to Niall and says, “I bet you’re the kind of guy who brings girls to see a scary movie with hopes that she’d hug you when she gets scared.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Niall grins, winking when she scrunches up her nose in disgust. Harry’s laughter joins Niall’s and Brooklyn pretends as if she’s not the least bit curious. “Don’t worry,” he pats her on the shoulder, offering her a smile, “You’ll find out eventually when I win our bet.”

“Ah, speaking of the bet,” Harry interjects as he leans forward and places his elbows on the table, his eyes darting from Niall to Brooklyn. “There’s only like a month left.”

“A month?” Brooklyn asks. Harry nods. She could’ve sworn they agreed to make a bet yesterday, not a few months ago.

“Looks like you’re in luck, Cooper.” Niall states, grinning from ear to ear. “You don’t have to wait long to go on a date with me.”

Brooklyn rolls her eyes. She admires his confidence, she really does, but at the same time it irritates her more than words could describe. She doesn't like how he talks as if he’s already won. Which of course, isn’t true unless- Brooklyn pushes that thought away immediately. There’s no way Mr Storm has already chosen whose article he’d want to publish. That wouldn't be fair to her, to everyone.

“Well, I hope you’ve been saving your money cos you’ll be buying my coffee for a year.”

Harry chuckles to himself as he enjoys the back and forth between Brooklyn and Niall. “What if neither of you win?” He asks out of nowhere. That question catches the both of them off guard. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think you two are phenomenal writers but what if, ya know?”

Brooklyn looks at Niall, hoping that he has an answer for that. It turns out that he seems just as lost as she is, so she racks her brain for something. Anything.

“Erm, I think we’ll just call off the bet,” Brooklyn proposes, to which Niall nods his head, agreeing. She turns to Harry and this time, she says it with more confidence, “We’ll call off the bet if neither of us win.”

“That sucks,” Harry pouts.

“What sucks?” Suki questions as she walks into the break room with an empty cup in her hand. Harry’s eyes immediately become wider and he straightens his back as he plasters a smile across his face. Brooklyn and Niall almost laugh at how quick his demeanour changes now that Suki is in the room as them.

“Uh, they’ll call off the bet if neither of them win,” Harry answers.

Suki pulls a chair out and sits next to Harry. His face lights up at the close proximity and Brooklyn has to sink her teeth into her bottom lip to prevent laughter from escaping her throat.

“Huh, that does sucks,” Suki agrees with Harry, which of course makes him beam with happiness. She turns to Brooklyn, then, and says, “I’d love to see you go on a date with Niall.”

“What?” Brooklyn gasps. “I thought you’re rooting for me.”

Suki shrugs. “I was rooting for you until Harry convinced me that it’d be more fun to see you go on a date with Niall. He thinks your head would explode.”

“Thank you!” Niall expresses his gratitude. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Cooper.”

“My head won’t explode,” Brooklyn counters. That’s ridiculous.

“Yes it will,” Niall says to her. “From how awesome our date will be.”

“You’ll have to ask for Louis’ permission, though,” Suki adds and that makes everyone confused. Brooklyn’s confused too, for the first few seconds, before it dawns on her that Suki knows. “They’ve made it official, so I think he’d like to know if you’re taking her out on a date.”

“Official?” Niall asks. He sounds surprised and… disappointed – Brooklyn’s not quite sure about the latter, though, because for all she knows, she might be hearing him wrong.

Unable to look at him, she keeps her eyes fixed on the table as she answers, “Uh, yeah.”

“When?” The next question comes from Harry.

“This morning,” Suki responds to that question for her friend. As soon as those words leave her mouth, the tension in the break room is almost palpable. Suki looks at Harry, who’s looking at her as well, the both of them probably wondering the same thing: whether or not they should leave Niall and Brooklyn alone.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Niall’s the first one to break the silence.

Brooklyn finally finds it in her to look up and look at Niall. There’s a crease between his brows and he doesn't bother to hide the fact that he’s displeased by what he’s just heard. “It just happened this morning,” she says with a shrug before quickly adding, “And I didn't think you’d be interested in my love life.”

Niall’s expression hardens as he presses his lips together. For a moment, she thinks that he’s going to say something, to make a snarky remark maybe, but instead he gets up from his chair and heads straight for the exit. He doesn't even say a word and that’s even worse. Brooklyn hates silent treatment, especially when she doesn't deserve it.

“What’s wrong with him?” Brooklyn groans. She didn't think her not telling him that she’s in a relationship with his friend would be a problem for him. In fact, she thinks he’d be happy because he’s the one who introduced Louis to her.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Suki apologises as she rubs her friend’s arm. Brooklyn offers her a weak smile and tells her that it’s not her fault.

Harry gets up from his chair as well and pats her shoulder, “He’s probably just upset that two of his, uh, closest friends didn't tell him that they’re in a relationship now.”

Harry’s words remain in Brooklyn’s mind as she stays in the break room for another five minutes until she’s composed herself and is ready to return to her desk. Niall doesn't look at her when she takes a seat and if anyone were to ask her, she’d say he’s being such a child.

Sure there’s a part of her that thinks Harry might be right, but there’s also another part of her that thinks Niall is overreacting.

#1dff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan au #here's chapter five!!!#posting this 25 minutes before niall releases his mv #aka before we lose our minds #ums #pls let me know what you think!!!#i'd really appreciate it #:)

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