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#I’m counting the whole page as one since they’re all the same train of thought
greatgatsbyhateblog · 3 years
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I dont know how to caption this ,,
(ID under the cut)
[ID: a three-panel comic drawn in pencil on white paper, starring a simple stick-figure-like person, aka my persona, who has shoulder-length hair that curls out at the ends.
panel 1: my arms are crossed and I look very confident and am boasting, “Im not a cringey furry!”
panel 2: I am standing at a counter and looking down at an open sketchbook with a few small drawings inside. It is hard to make out what they are, but one of them looks like an anthropomorphic dog, and the layout of the drawings on the page is similar to a few drawings I posted yesterday about Star Trek: Discovery’s mirror universe episodes. i have no emotion on my face, and there are three dots/an ellipses next to my head. At the top of the panel is a narration box saying, “my first real disco fanart being mirror!Detmer’s fursona:”
panel 3: I am still next to the sketchbook but now look vaguely disappointed and am sayin, “I am a cringey furry.”
End ID]
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makeste · 3 years
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BnHA Chapter 324: Is There a Force Field Around Him??
Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal was all “please tell Midoriya that I spent a concerningly small amount of money upgrading U.A. into a wacky physics-defying funtime grid so as to make the final battle much more confusing for everyone.” Present Day!Mic (or Present!Mic, if you will) and Jeanist were all “if only somebody could deescalate this dangerously unhinged mob, we’ve tried nothing and we’re all out of ideas.” Ochako was all “LISTEN UP PEOPLE.” The mob was all, “god??” Ochako was all, “NO, IT’S ME, OCHAKO. I’M REALLY HIGH UP ON THIS BUILDING AND THE VISIBILITY IS LOW DUE TO THE RAIN, SO I CAN SEE HOW YOU MIGHT MAKE THAT MISTAKE. ANYWAYS, DEKU WAS OUT THERE RISKING HIS LIFE FOR YOU CLOWNS EVEN THOUGH HE’S JUST A KID, SO I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU COULD ALL REMEMBER HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS, THANKS.” Let’s see if her Big Scolding Energy has any impact.
Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so I have this speech planned out, and it’s really good, but it also only really needs about 6 to 8 pages, but I’m gonna see if I can stretch it out to 17 pages so I can kill time before we get to the next volume cliffhanger two weeks from now.” Anyway but it really is a good speech though. There are feels, and tears, and more talk about how Deku is so in need of a shower that just looking at him requires a tetanus booster, and more feels, and more tears, and bonus ship drama, and an iconic callback to the very first chapter which reframes the entire series in a new context in a totally epic and moving way, and it’s all very good. Except that Horikoshi is determined to never let anyone actually give this kid a hug. Who hurt you, dude.
omg we are opening on a callback to chapter 212, a.k.a. the chapter with by far the cutest flashback that doesn’t involve any baby Todorokis
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baby Ochako is lethally cute. she could literally murder someone with her cuteness. I just want to scoop her up and play airplane with her until she accidentally activates her quirk while we’re spinning around and we both helicopter up into the air never to be seen again
“a child’s insistence” huh well that’s all well and good, but I sure hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to drag out the whole “sternly lecture the obnoxious citizens” plot for another whole chapter. no offense but I think we’re good
so page 2 is just continuing the whole happy/worried faces monologue, which of course is very important to Ochako’s character as it provides the context for why “who protects the heroes” ended up becoming her thing. and this is making me think we actually are in for a whole second chapter of this sob. when will my boy finally get to rest
OH MY GOD SUDDENLY THESE PEOPLE HAVE EYES IMAGINE THAT
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HORIKOSHI: [reaches for a box of tissues while tearfully penning an homage to his beloved Spider-Man 2, specifically the train scene where the crowd sees Peter without his mask and they suddenly realize just how young he is]
HORIKOSHI’S HOMAGE SCENE: “COME TO THINK OF IT, I GUESS IT WAS KIND OF MEAN FOR US TO PICK ON THIS TEN YEAR OLD KID WHO WEIGHS 75 POUNDS AND LOOKS LIKE HE LOST A FIGHT WITH SATAN’S MOLDY OLD BASEMENT”
lol at this one guy who can feel the mood of the crowd shifting and is all “WAIT, NO, I WANTED TO KEEP BEING AN ASSHOLE DAMMIT”
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as many pointed out last week, this man is wearing an All Might shirt. that’s some fantastic irony there
-- SDKFJWIGKS
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“LITTLE GIRL, I HOPE YOU’RE NOT SUGGESTING THAT WE SHOULD ALL BE WALKING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A SOVIET-ERA BUS STOP.” heh. last week I said I was ashamed of BnHA being my favorite manga. that was a lie, actually
(ETA: in the original Japanese Ochako’s next two lines are basically “the only ones covered in mud will be us heroes!” followed by “please give us some time to get rid of the mud”, with that second line basically being the single funniest thing I’ve ever read rdslkjl. Ochako thank you so much for supporting my running gags. “YEAH WE KNOW HE’S DIRTY. WE ARE GONNA TRY AND CLEAN HIM UP, BUT IT MAY TAKE A WHILE, I’M JUST SAYING. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE AN ASBESTOS COSPLAY.”)
doesn’t the megaphone kind of look ever so slightly like an axe that she’s wielding maniacally here
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easy there Lizzie Borden
also that’s a really bold claim to make there. and not one she necessarily should have to make, either. but as we all know, there’s nothing that shounen manga likes more than having its heroes bravely hoist heavy burdens of responsibility like good self-sacrificing citizens
p.s. lowkey loving how Kacchan is positioned here standing slightly behind Deku. not presuming to stand in front of him all overprotectively (because he would hate if anyone ever did that to him), and kind of being unobtrusive and letting others take center stage -- but still being close enough to Deku that he can catch him if he stumbles or passes out again
(ETA: or maybe not lmao.
DEKU: [falls to his knees]
KACCHAN: [glancing up from his phone a few minutes later] “someone just sent me the stupidest meme about milk crates -- oh. uh. you good...?”
really, son. “the burdens you can’t carry, we’ll carry them for you. ...later, I mean. right now it’s late, and we’re all cold and wet.”)
also lowkey loving this OchaTsu moment here
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I was going back and binging Ochako chapters this past week for reasons, and I gotta say it really stuck out to me just how often these two are paired with each other. they do everything together. it’s a really sweet friendship that often goes unappreciated but it’s very cute
meanwhile, not to be outdone by the OchaTsu, Iida is staring at Ochako with open admiration talking about how she’s fighting too. it’s been so long since we’ve had any IidaRaka you guys. I was starving and I didn’t even know it
oh my lord IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING
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THE LIGHT IS BACK. he finally looks like him again. what a cathartic fucking moment omg
ffklkdw
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“I KNOW YOU ARE ALL SCARED, BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS, WE DEFINITELY CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY AND WE ARE ALL SCARED TOO!” good pep talk there kiddo
BUT, jokes aside, truth be told this is the exact right approach to take imo, and something that’s long overdue. I’ve said this before, but this new generation of heroes is shaping up to be much more transparent than the All Might generation. they’re basically abandoning the almighty, untouchable Superman “heroes as gods” concept in favor of the more nuanced “heroes as people” concept instead. and that’s a good thing. seeing their heroes as humans, with human limitations and weaknesses and flaws, will hopefully not only lead to more scrutiny and accountability, but also more awareness of how hard some of them are working and how much they’re sacrificing. that’s something All Might never quite grasped back at the start of the series -- that the weak, vulnerable, injured him could be just as inspiring as the mighty, invincible him -- perhaps even more so. there’s a power in seeing otherwise ordinary people show extraordinary bravery and compassion. it inspires others to try and do the same
SSDLHK AIZAWA SIGHTING AAHHHHHH
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so he was still back at the hospital this whole time?? smdh at this disrespect. that feeling when your sexy self-insert character’s powers of rationality are too strong, and so you have to nerf him so that he doesn’t ruin your Deku Angst arc twice over by (1) immediately talking some sense into Deku and making him come home Right This Instant Young Man, and (2) not allowing him to leave U.A. in the first fucking place. excuse me, you want to do WHAT now, Midoriya?? that’s it, go to your room
also living for Katsuki and Hawks’s soft expressions. Shouto’s too, although his is tinier and harder to see. and Jeanist’s 12-foot-long neck. imagine Jeanist’s head with Mic’s hair. maybe Jeanist had a mohawk back in the day and that’s why U.A.’s doors are so big now
speaking of soft faces, Enji’s is also excellent
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what could this random close-up possibly imply?? hell if I know. but Horikoshi truly fears no discourse and that’s what I love about him
OMGGGG
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“smh my child is so dumb.” poor Ochadad. your child is cute af count your blessings
SDOFFHSMH
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I’m telling you guys. lethally, catastrophically cute
this speech is still ongoing lol. Horikoshi you’re doing so good but I think we get the point now my dude. you gotta learn how to transition out of these things
UNEXPECTED TOGA WHAT
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“there we go” Horikoshi says, crossing off the last line on his list of Ochako ships. “that’s all of ‘em”
poor Ochako is just repeating the same “LET HIM REST, PLEASE, WITH EVERYONE’S COOPERATION, IF YOU DON’T MIND, WE APPRECIATE IT” talking points over and over again hoping someone will throw her a bone and acknowledge her already. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP HER
literally they’re all just staring up at her silently omg. work with me people!!
now she’s saying it for the 56th time but more dramatically all of a sudden
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they got so dramatic that for a minute I thought she had suddenly leaped off the building or something
look, not to rush you or anything Horikoshi, but I’m starting to get the feeling that this is yet another one of those “the volume is ending soon so I need to either hurry things up or slow things down in order to make sure we end it on my perfect cliffhanger ending” chapters where you go to ridiculous lengths to drag things out much to the exasperation of your week-to-week readers
(ETA: ftr, volume 31 ended on chapter 306, and I’m predicting that vol. 32 will end with chapter 316 (a.k.a. “you’re next!” [explodes]). I’m guessing vol. 33 will follow suit and likely end on chapter 326, so keep your eyes peeled for a big cliffhanger in two weeks’ time. Deku’s dad?? All Might in peril?? U.A. traitor at long fucking last?? we shall see.)
is Deku straight up falling in love with Ochako right on the spot lol what is happening
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I know I just said that I enjoy when Horikoshi gives zero fucks about discourse, but shipping discourse is a whole different beast lol. I hope he’s prepared
(ETA: and for the record, I have no interest in shipping discourse either, as always. and I think this scene can be interpreted as platonic, tbh, with the context being that Ochako was literally introduced as someone who was willing to help him so casually without a second thought, and now here she is saving him again.
I don’t think it really fully hit Deku until this moment how much he needed saving. like I said in another meta somewhere, selflessness is basically just selfishness on behalf of others. and Deku is selfless to a fault, but that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean he needs to change -- he just needs friends who are willing to be be selfish on his behalf in turn. and I think the full emotion of what it means to have friends like that just hit him at last. everything his friends have done for him, how much he needed it and didn’t even realize, and how grateful he is. anyways what a terrible day for rain.)
-- son of a --
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is he apologizing?? or pleading?? please tell me that’s not the case, because what the actual fuck. Deku you beautiful precious radiant selfless child, this is the exact opposite of how this should be. all these motherfuckers should be on their knees apologizing to you
DEKU WHY
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I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS FREAKING BOMBARDMENT OF EMOTIONS GODDAMIT. OUT HERE ARMED WITH YOUR FREAKING TREBUCHET OF FEELS TO LAUNCH AT ME UNPROVOKED. WHAT’S WITH THAT
FREAKING CHRIST. THIS BOY IS CRYING HIS EYES OUT AND HORIKOSHI IS JUST ZOOMING IN WITH THE CAMERA, LIKE CAN WE JUST CUT HIM A BREAK ALREADY. ENOUGH OF THIS. HE’S SO YOUNG AND HE TRIES SO HARD AND I JUST NEED HIM TO FEEL SAFE, HORIKOSHI PLEASE CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME THAT ALREADY WHAT IS THE FREAKING HOLD UP!!
GIGANTIC FOX LADY!!!
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GIGANTIC FOX LADY PLEASE BE MY HUGGER BY PROXY!! SERIOUSLY GIRL IF YOU JUST HOLD YOUR UMBRELLA OVER HIM OR SOMETHING AND DON’T GO THE EXTRA MILE I’M ABOUT TO LODGE AN OFFICIAL COMPLAINT. THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS NOW
!!!!
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A KOUTA IS GOOD TOO!!! oh my god if Kouta hugs him I will seriously 100% straight up cry. go on and test me
FOR THE LOVE OF --
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is this man expressly forbidden from drawing hugs in his contract or something. DO YOU DO IT JUST TO SPITE ME?? this is tyranny, sir
AND I KNOW, THIS PAGE ACTUALLY CHALLENGED THE VERY PREMISE OF THE SERIES ITSELF, AND HERE I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT HUGS, OR THE LACK THEREOF. “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes.” and just like that, he waves a polite middle finger at all of the Strongest Greatest Chosen One shounen protags of old, in favor of something much less conventional, much more interesting, and much more suited to Deku’s character. because if that one sentence doesn’t just sum up Deku to a T. he gladly relinquishes his Greatest Hero status in favor of acknowledging the hero in everyone. what a class act. that’s my protagonist
I love this kid so fucking much I swear. only just PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. GIVE HIM HIS HUG
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itjazzbicch · 3 years
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The Big Bang
Pairing: Hook x Fem Reader
Summary: Hook and the reader have been friends since high-school, making it together in pro wrestling and a part of Team Taz. The problems within Team Taz become too overwhelming for them, they try to ignore it and when Ricky explodes on the reader, Hook explodes on him…
Warnings: The reader gets shoved down, but that’s about it
Requested by: No one, but I hope you all enjoy! (This is my first time I’ve written for Hook, so I hope I did well!)
Word Count: 2224
Tag List: @demonqueen29 @jessiebean00 @new-zealand-chic @crowleysqueenofhell l @justamess44 @thatpanpal @hungmanhorsecarriage @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @linziland13 @xxx-jazz-xxx @writtingrose
I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF
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“I’m not going to tell you guys again!” Taz yelled, coaching Ricky, Brian, and Hobbs, “We are a team! The best team and you all are gonna start acting like it!”
Being a member of Team Taz was killing me right now. The whole team was a ticking time bomb, except for Hook and I.
[You trying to get out of here? I can’t stand this rn] I texted to Hook who was sitting next to me.
He looked up at me with a small smile, texting back:
[I was going to ask you the same thing. Let’s get out of here]
I quickly looked to see Taz still lecturing the guys , none of them paying attention to us.
Exactly when they had their backs turned, we snuck out. Whenever we made it far down the hall, I let out a deep breath, huffing:
“I don’t know about you, but all their arguing is getting on my nerves.”
“Welcome to the club,” Hook sighed, “They are being so childish like just shut up and wrestle.”
“Yeah no kidding,” I murmured, walking slowly next to him, “Wanna go to the football field?”
“Yeah,” Hook smiled, “I’m down.”
Hook and I have been best friends for a long time, trained together and now, in AEW together.
We thought it would be awesome to be a part of the same team, but the only team there truly was, was Hook and myself.
When we made it to the football field, I went into the center and just laid in the grass.
“I just wish we could wrestle our own matches and get away from all the guys’s bullshit,” I groaned, looking up to see Hook standing next to me.
“Wanna wrestle?” Hook teased, “Then let’s wrestle.”
“A sparring match?” I smirked, sitting up.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Hook murmured, looking away when he said, “More like a test for you. I’m obviously stronger.”
“Oh?” I chuckled, standing up, “You’re gonna get it now.
“Bring it on!” Hook encouraged, going into stance whenever I came at him with a lock up.
At first, it was a challenge to overpower him, but to gain the advantage, I stepped on his foot, then put him in a headlock, quickly doing a snap headlock take down, putting him in the grass.
“What was that about being stronger?” I teased, rubbing my knuckles against his hair, “Come on, Hook! Bring it on!”
At first, I thought he was crazy when he started laughing, but then he start tickling me!
“HEY!” I yelled out with laughter. I was trying to fight it off, but I couldn’t handle it for very long, I was way too ticklish.
“You cheater!” I screamed over his laughter, the tickling becoming too much.
I let go and ran away, but Hook jumped right up, chasing me.
“Come on! What about our match?!” He laughed, sprinting to catch up with me.
It didn’t take long till he caught up to me, both of us laughing when he wrapped his arms around my waist, reeling me in.
“Hook, stop please!” I laughed, trying to break his force, but he was too strong, tightening his grip.
“This is what you get for running away!” He laughed, somehow still tickling me.
I needed to get out of his grip and finally, I was able too. I was able to squeeze my arms down, slithering away, crawling backwards between his legs then jumping on his back, putting him in a sleeper hold.
“Time to go night night,” I chuckled, not really trying to put him to sleep.
We would play fight like this all the time, we met in high-school and our friendship never really changed. Hook was always the quiet type, but when we became friends, he opened up to me and we always had fun like we were little kids. It was only with me because of how strong our bond was, still play fighting now as young adults.
Like usual, Hook found a way to reverse. He used a lot of strength to swing me and I screamed because I almost fell off of him, but with one arm, he pulled me back up, swinging me around and holding me in both arms.
We were both out of breath, but smiling when our eyes met, staring into each other’s eyes deeply.
“Can we call it quits?” I huffed, still laughing a bit.
“When are you gonna grow up and stop being so ticklish?” He teased, tickling me one last time.
“What do you mean?” I scoffed, “You just can’t stop being ticklish!”
“Take a joke!” Hook groaned, but smiling, his voice a little deeper when he whispered, “I don’t mind. Your laugh is cute.”
“Is that why you tickle me so much?” I said nervously, feeling my cheeks heat up.
“Maybe,” He smiled, his tongue darting across his lower lip.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I chuckled, about melting in his arms when I saw his head leaning towards mine a little.
I even let my eyes close, but we both jumped when we heard:
“WHAT ARE YOU TWO OUT HERE FOR??”
It was Taz. I forgot how loud he could yell and he about scared me half to death.
“We have to get out to the ring now! Come on!” Taz yelled louder and we just ran, following him.
When we finally made it to the stage, I wasn’t surprised. Ricky and Brian were fighting, AGAIN.
Ricky had the FTW title for some reason and at the same time, they were distracting Hobbs, which made him lose to Adam Page.
They didn’t even care about that. Brian was yelling in Ricky’s face, demanding he give him back the title. Then Hobbs came over and none of them would listen to Taz.
I had enough of this. I couldn’t stand it anymore. So, when Ricky’s hand swung back, the FTW title swinging along with it, I grabbed it.
They all stopped, staring at me and I stood in front of them all, pleading:
“Guys, this needs to stop! We’re a team and a good one when you guys aren’t bickering like children. Please, just stop! We are better than this. We really are!”
“Y/N is right,” Hobbs agreed, nodding his head.
It felt like a moment of peace between us, for the first time in what felt like forever.
Hobbs made me smile with that comment and now that everything was silent, I sighed, “Here, Brian. You’re the champ.”
Brian was smiling too, going to take his title whenever I began to hand it to him, but when I did, Ricky shoved me, knocking me to the ground.
I got slammed right into the titantron, hitting my head hard. I held my head quickly, looking up to see Ricky scared shitless because they were all ready to kill him.
“You son of a-“ Taz began to yell, but all I saw was Hook, knocking Ricky to the ground, throwing punches.
“Hook! Hook!” They all began yelling, Ricky yelling and clenching his injured neck.
“Hook! I said stop!” Taz yelled, but there was no stopping him.
I have never seen Hook so enraged like this before. Hobbs was the one able to contain Hook , turning him to Taz so he could say:
“Son, I don’t blame you for being angry. I know how you feel about her and I’m proud of you for whoopin his ass, but you need to stop.”
Finally, I snapped out of it, Brian kneeling in front of me asking, “Y/N, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I groaned, watching Hook.
His chest was heaving, his eyes animalistic and the moment Ricky picked up his head and looked at Hook, all hell broke lose again.
Hook must have had a crazy adrenaline rush in order to break free from Hobbs grip, going right back to Ricky and about punching his face in.
There was so much yelling and commotion, Hobbs and Brian now trying to hold Hook back, one of them had each of his arms. Hook was still fighting and that’s when I realized that I needed to do something.
Quickly, I jumped to my feet, running at Hook and hugging him.
“Hook,” I stressed, holding his face so he would look me in the eye, “I am just fine, okay? Please just stop. Ricky is not worth the energy.”
Finally, Hook settled down, but was still ready if Ricky even dared to stand up.
“Guys, let him go,” I asked politely, Brian and Hobbs listening.
As soon as they let go, Hook’s arms latched around me, one of his arms around my head, his hand rubbing right where I hit my head.
“You sure you’re alright, baby girl?” Taz asked, “You hit your head hard.”
“I’m fine,” I assured, “I promise.”
I laid my head on Hook’s chest, hearing how hard and fast it was pounding, that increasing when we both looked to see Ricky on his knees.
“We have to go,” I sighed, looking up at Hook, “We can go back to the football field, somewhere.”
Hook still had his eyes set on Ricky, but he quickly looked to me and nodded his head, but before we left, he gave Ricky a death stare, then he kissed my forehead.
“Let’s go,” Hook whispered to me, hearing all of the anger in his voice that deepened.
“Brian, take them to where ever they’re going,” Taz commanded, then pointing to Ricky, “And you?! Your ass is coming with me! Get the hell up!”
Brian came to our side, walking through the tunnel with us and once we were far away enough, Brian said:
“Good job out there, Hook. I enjoyed watching him get his ass kicked.”
His comment made me chuckle, it even made Hook smirk a little despite how angry he still was.
We began to go towards the football field and once it was in sight, I stopped walking, my eyes meeting with Brian’s.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but can Hook and I have some time alone?” I asked sweetly.
“You’re fine!” Brian smiled, “Take your time. I won’t be far if you need me.”
“Thanks, Brian,” I smiled back, “And thanks for walking us out here.”
Brian gave me a simple nod with a smile, then began to walk away. When I turned around, I saw Hook stepping on the football field, kicking at the grass.
I had to jog a little to catch up, but I caught up with him, his pace slowing down once he noticed I was behind him.
“Hook,” I sighed, taking a deep breath when he turned around, a blank expression was on his face, but I smiled, “Thank you.”
Hook looked at me as if he was surprised, curious as to why I was thanking him, at first is expression gave off the feeling that He was ready for a lecture.
“You’ve always had my back,” I smiled, “And I love you for it.”
When I said the word love, a bright smile he was trying to fight appeared but there was no fighting it.
He took a few steps towards me and I thought he was going to say something, but his arm hooked around my hip, pulling me in and his lips crashed right into mine.
It was like the big bang theory blasted in my mind when I felt his lips against mine. A kaleidoscope of colors turning behind my eyes when I felt all the sweetness, a lot of built up emotion, like he had been waiting forever to do this.
My whole body broke out in goosebumps, all of those emotions rolling right off his lips onto mine and every bit of it was so strong.
I made sure I kissed him back with the same amount of passion, so much of it built up inside because there was no trying to hide the truth. The truth that I’ve been dreaming about this for years, happy that we finally gave in and crossed the barrier of friendship and turned into something more.
When my hand stroked his cheek, they were so warm, finding his jaw line and keeping it there, holding it a little tighter when our lips parted and we both gasped quietly.
Our lips were just an inch away, Hook titling his head up just a bit so he could look into my eyes. Slowly, I pushed the little part of his hair that was blocking the view of his eyes, his eyes glowing, brightening when he whispered:
“I wouldn’t have done what I did if I didn’t love you, Y/N.”
I couldn’t stop smiling when he kissed me again, whispering against my lips, “I love you.”
After one more kiss, he hugged me, keeping my head to his chest. I had never been happier in any other place like I was in his arms. Even after that huge fight, our night ended up being beautiful.
“You’ve always had my back,” Hook sighed, looking down at me, “And I will always have yours. You are my girl after all.”
Just when I thought I couldn’t smile any brighter, I did. My cheeks hot again and being raised by my smile, saying to Hook, “Wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”
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you-did-well-moon · 3 years
Text
Werewolf!Yunho meeting his mate
Type: Werewolf au, angst, fluff
Pairing: Werewolf!Yunho x HumanFemale!reader
Word count:  2,994
A/n: I know this took a long time, trust me, it felt like a long time for me too. With how I view Yunho, I expected this to be happier than it is. I was having a hard time while writing this, and it reflected on the story. Anyways please enjoy and stay safe!
TW: toxic relationship, financial struggle, deadlines, stressed reader, emotional and verbal pain, toxic masculinity, if I missed anything please tell me.
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You sat at the foot of your bed, still not made, staring at the mirror resting against your dull colored wall with lifeless blank eyes. Your posture slouched as you finished tying the laces of your running shoes huffing and letting your arms flop to the ground. Looking at the mirror, you tried smiling, but it was meak and disappeared as soon as it appeared. 
You hadn’t smiled a real smile in so long, you forgot what it felt like. To smile. To be happy. The forgotten emotion was one you took for granted when it was easy to to bask in the warmth of it. Now it's just cold. Cold and empty. 
You looked away from the mirror with a tight feeling coiling in the base of your chest not being able to bear looking at the stranger staring back at you any longer. Your gaze fell to the laptop, abandoned, due to frustration on your desk in the forgotten corner of the room. The thought of unfinished drafts and incomplete sentences shook violently in your mind. Disappointment in yourself pooling in your gut remembering your editor’s words. 
“If you can’t give us at least a first draft by the end of the month, we’ll have to unfortunately let you and your novel go.”
How pathetic was it that you couldn’t even come up with a simple sentence. A description, dialogue, a metaphor. Nothing. Anytime you sat yourself in front of the desk, your mind went blank. The cursor blinking at the top of the page mocked you with the possibility of millions of words. Not one ever made its way onto the page.  
The end of the month was in two weeks. 
You felt tears of hopelessness stinging the corner of your eyes, and you abruptly stood up grabbing your wireless earbuds, phone, and bag. Making your way into the kitchen you grabbed the water in the fridge and placed it inside your back, nothing but a numb feeling alienating you from reality and its broken expectations. You heard the front door of your little apartment open and slam close shaking the thin walls of the building. 
Your heart lurched as you winced immediately feeling like you were walking on eggshells. You were usually quick enough to leave before he got home from work, but you had been a tad bit late this one time. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly hoping for it to ground you through whatever vile words came from the one person you should have been able to trust with your ugliest feelings. 
Trying to walk past your boyfriend, eyes trained on the chipped wood of the front door did no good when he kissed his teeth and huffed as soon as he caught sight of you.
“You’re never home when I get home from work, and the one time you are here, you run away not even saying hi to me? Not even a “hey honey how was work today” or maybe a “hi love what would you like for dinner?” and never a “you’ve worked hard would you like a massage?” It's the same shit every day. You treat me like nothing when I'm the reason you even have a roof over your head woman.”
You kept your mouth the whole time he rambled on trying to ignore the clear stench of beer being able to reach you even with all the distance separating you, and the feeling of disgust mixed with desperation pooling at the bottom of your gut at yourself for not speaking up for yourself. Opening your mouth instead of letting your voice be taken from you. A long time ago, you would always say you would rather die than be without your voice. In a sense, you had died a long time ago. 
Around three months after you had started dating. That had been two years ago. 
Your English degree really did you no good. Not having enough time to be an intern in college really screwed you over when no job would take a bright eyed girl with the same passion in her heart for writing as a Karen’s passion for business that wasn’t hers, but with no experience. Even if the apartment was under your name, you’d probably be kicked out in weeks time.
You hated all of it. Everything that made up both the small and big parts of your life, you hated it. You hated his greasy hair and beady eyes, the nasty rough stubble covering the lower part of his face as a result of his laziness. You hated the hesitation in leaving him because of the fear of the stack of bills piling up next to the fridge. You hated the editors who couldn’t find it in some part of their greedy selves to extend your deadline. You hated the empty drafts sitting in your laptop collecting what could only be dead dreams and despair. You hated the cold emptiness that was always present in the confines of your chest. 
You recoiled at the way he said “woman” the same way someone would talk about a bug. Small and insignificant. Patronizing and confident in the worst way. You set your mouth in a tight line not even being able to look at him. Shifting your feet, you crossed your arms and looked up to the sky as if calling out to some unknown being to get you out of this pathetic corner you were trapped in. You cursed under your breath looking at the dying flowers on the coffee table with distaste as they wilted towards you mocking you. 
“What was that?” His voice got rougher with the menacing edge of fanned masculinity and control. Something that could put you in a dangerous place in a very fast amount of time. You looked at him with dull eyes poking your cheek with your tongue as a cold feeling settled in your gut. 
Your hands fell limply to your side and you chuckled humorlessly. 
“Fuck you”.
Those two words were enough to set him off as you slowly blinked and looked at the ground feeling your heart falter when he abruptly got up. You tried to stand your ground, but the surge of confidence was quickly withering away with fear taking its place. 
Ethan was bigger than you. Even if he wasn’t that much taller than you, there was a noticeable difference in his frame and yours. Weirdly enough, you didn’t regret your curse at him. The words still burned brilliantly on the tip of your tongue. 
It was bittersweet of course. His nose flared, and his eyes bulged as he took large strides over to you knocking the coffee table over on his path to you.
“What did you say to me you-” his words were said through gritted teeth, brash and loud in the silent apartment.
 Maybe he was bigger and stronger than you, but you were faster.
You inhaled sharply reacting fast as your hand reached behind you, turning the knob and slipping around it slamming the door close. Your bag bumped against your back while you bolted to the door with the word “stairs” painted in big bold letters across it. You were already at the door when you heard your apartment door open and Ethan angrily called your name. Threatening to break your laptop if you didn’t go back right this instant. 
You couldn’t help but snicker at the weak attempt. It’s not like there were much but empty pages anyways. 
A heavy feeling soon settled on your chest as you went down the stairs. Your apartment was on the 4th floor, and the stairs weren’t the most taken care of, but it’s not like you had much of a choice anyways. It seemed these days you were always wanting to run away from something. 
Your heart felt a little lighter when the warm rays of sun met your skin and the fresh air outside flooded your senses. Your walk to the park went as usual. Cars racing to get where they needed to, people chattered about everything and nothing, and your thoughts wandered to a world far away from this one. 
A world that wasn’t as dark as this one. At the same time your mind became your executioner, it became your safe place. The sick contrast making a nasty feeling flood your chest.
You arrived at the park with a small smile. The normalcy of the day bringing a little comfort to your still racing heart. Kids ran around, laughter ringing in the air around them as their parents watched on benches gossiping among themselves. People raced fast either by foot, bicycle, or skateboard, a visible sheen on their necks. You looked for the kind old man who always looked after your bag while you ran. 
He owned a music store a few blocks away, and he always sat on the bench closest to the pond with his cute corgi and habitually feeding the ducks peas and lettuce leaves when finished  with a certain chapter of his book. You walked up to him with a small smile as he looked up and took the sight of you in with fatherly worry.  
“You look a little pale kid, everything alright?” 
You did your best to liven up and gave your best customer service smile which the older man immediately saw through.
“Of course Mr.Jung. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m just a little tired from the editors. They’re on my back more than usual”, you laughed nervously as he hummed in understanding.
“I hope that boy of yours isn’t giving you any problems. Hey kid, have you ever heard of the term “break up?” he looked so serious you had to compose your shocked face. 
You waved your hands rapidly “I promise Mr.Jung everything is fine there is...I...oh my” you took a shaky breath as he simply shrugged his shoulders and pet his smaller companion who was having a very serious stare down with a duck. 
You wiped your sweaty palms on your yoga pants while you looked around at the tacky named paths trying to decide which one to run today. 
“The Pupper Runner path looks particularly nice today,” he suggested. You looked at the path pursing your lips in thought. The path wasn’t one you ran frequently. Since it was one of the wider and flatter paths, there were more people such as families or people walking their dogs. You also didn’t like having run-ins with the cyclists who were grouchier around this time of day for some odd reason.
After contemplating it, you shrugged and decided why not. Getting run over by a ticking time bomb on wheels wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen today. With a small smile sent in Mr.Jungs way, you checked your shoe laces before starting out with a light jog making your way down the specific path.
There was nothing really different about today’s run than others. Just having to dodge the wheel demons and kids happily running ahead of their worried mothers. You were grateful for the distraction. It kept you from straying too far into your head. It was just you running. Running like you always did these days, your shoes slapping on the concrete path and Got7 blaring in your ears. 
The heat of the sun shone on your skin, but oddly you still felt cold. It was always cold these days. A light breeze fresh to your burning skin as desperate eyes caught yours, and you were once again bought out of your stupor. 
A small boy was kneeled down fingers clutching his untied shoelaces not far from his dad who was trying to calm a crying baby. You didn’t really have a strong adoration for kids, but his panicked pinched face compelled you to come to a slow stop in front of him. Your chest heaved as you bent down to his level sitting on your heels and wrapped your arms around your legs.
“Hey bud, you need some help there?”
The kid made a distraught sound as he nodded his face shaking his hair out of his eyes. He looked dumb founded as he stared at his shoe laces in search of answers they would never give.
“Mama said to make a bunny, but this looks more like my aunt Carol’s dog” he sadly told you.
You snorted reaching out gently to tie his laces with a double knot.
With a grin you looked up at him ruffling his hair and giving him a thumbs up which he happily returned with a toothy smile.
“It’s alright kid, you’ll eventually get it. Just keep trying yeah? Don’t settle or you might catch yourself tripping next time you go on a walk. You’ll get hurt. Wouldn’t want that would we”, you said, lips still stretched kindly upwards, but something in your words struck stingingly deep in your chest. 
As the kid nodded happily with a carefree laugh you were about to get up when you heard the air being split and a strained voice yelling “watch out!!”. 
You looked up, panicked, only to see a frisbee racing right in your direction with alarming speed. With the goal of protecting the small child, you quickly turned your body. Your shoes making a rough sound against the concrete as a startled light cry left the younger boy’s mouth.
With your hands ready, you easily caught the frisbee gasping at the shock of the situation. You quickly shook it off as you gripped the frisbee turning back to the child who profusely thanked you, his small hands shaking as they clutched onto the hem of your shirt. 
You simply smiled reassuringly tapping his shoe and ushering him back to his father who has begun to successfully calm the fussing baby down. 
With shaking knees you tried to get up only to wince and slightly waver at the sharp sting that hit your ankle area. You clenched your jaw feeling more than annoyed at the current situation in hand. 
You stood up grumbling under your breath as a tall figure jogged over to you. While he made his way toward you, your narrowed eyes met his wide, apologetic ones. 
You felt the world shift around you as a calming warmth shot through your body melding with the confusion and panic pooling in your gut, and his eyes widened impossibly as he stumbled managing to stabilize himself right in time in front of you. His figure standing just inches away from you as his hands trembled, and his lips slightly parted.
You got a slight whiff of cologne and mint, but more than anything, the weird feeling in your gut was making a way for the dreadful panic clouding around your heart. 
You felt warm. 
After feelings of feeling nothing but the hollow cold licking at your veins, there was a nice warmth settling in your chest. 
You were scared of it. 
With a heavy chest you slightly inched back left somewhat immobile due to the aching pain in your ankle. “What the hell?”, you immediately set off on questioning him leading him to shake his head frantically at you. 
“I’m so sorry, i really am.” He put his hand on his chest as if trying to prove his sincerity to you, but you breathlessly took a step back stunned by the intense feelings taking over your heart and mind. 
You tried shaking it off, but the warmth lingered. 
You weren’t sure you wanted it to go away. 
“There’s kids here”, you were so distracted by all the emotions circling your mind you couldn’t possibly put any effort into arguing with the young man. His lips parted to make way for his lips as he nodded his head in understanding. “I know, I'll be more careful next time. I promise.”
Somehow, you knew he was being truthful. You went to say something, possibly something dangerous, but you shook your head and waved your hand. 
You tried taking a step but lightly hissed at the sharp pain that shot from your ankle up your leg. The man instantly dove forward steadying you with a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, and the other hovering in worry near your collarbone. 
With wide eyes you looked at him as he realized his un-asked for touch and immediately went to back away. 
He couldn’t.  
Your hand was clutching the cloth of his shirt near his shoulder blades. Hands slowly uncurling, you smiled awkwardly, but he kept his hand where it was. At his touch, the warmth licking the insides of your body became all the more distracting. 
“Um, I don’t think you can go all the way back home like this”, he cleared his throat looking at you shily under his bangs. Flustered, you smiled at the ground before looking back up and timidly asking “I can't. Mind helping me out?”.
At your question he let out a beaming grin nodding eagerly. He went to stand in front of you, and he crouched down looking at you over his shoulder with soft brown eyes. You did a small jump, and were caught by his hands slightly gripping under your thighs. 
He gave a low chuckle that somehow was felt from where your chest was pressed up against his shoulder blades. “So...what’s your name?”. You let a light giggle escape, “Y/n, yours?”. You saw his jaw move with the syllables of your name whispering it to himself. 
“Yunho”, you smiled also sounding out the name on your own mouth. You gave a shuddering exhale, and you laid your head on his shoulder letting yourself really rest for what seemed like the first time in forever. 
That night you walked right past Ethan who was quick to begin yelling at you, and you tucked yourself under the safety of your blankets feeling the warmth still encasing your heart, so comforting and alive.  
286 notes · View notes
amjustagirl · 3 years
Text
Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!)
feat. Tsukkishima Kei 
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requested for by @animestheticz (hope you enjoy it bb!) 
Previously:
Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro.
Masterlist link here
Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff
Wordcount: 2k
Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Tsukkishima / Reader
A/N: Any other characters you’d like to see? Send me an ask! 
(happy to do any characters other than Kenma / Hinata / Tendo - I don’t trust myself to do them justice!)
Oh and this is just shameless advertisement for my other fic - but I’m also writing a multi chapter fic based off Your Name / Kimi No Nawa featuring Akaashi Keiji (i.e. a bodyswap AU featuring our favourite Tokyo pretty boy). Check it out here!
——————————————————————
“P-please? Just this once?’ Yachi begs, fingers gripping your sleeve like a vice. 
You’re sorely tempted to refuse her ridiculous request, but you can’t bring yourself to. This is Yachi Hitoka, your best friend, though currently she’s a nervous wreck fretting over her first date with Yamaguchi Tadashi. The sweet, freckled Hufflepuff chaser has finally worked up the courage to act on his painfully obvious crush on Yachi - both veritable balls of sunshine, so sweet and anxious and caring that you can’t imagine a better match. 
So you don’t understand why on earth you’re being asked to tag along on a double date with one Tsukkishima Kei. 
It’s not that you dislike the guy – far from it. You’ve had a crush on him yourself ever since Yachi started hanging around Yamaguchi in your third year, sucking you and Tsukkishima have been sucked into their orbit, reluctant moons revolving around twin suns. But you’ve tucked it away since Tsukkishima doesn’t seem to have an interest in anyone at all – in fact, half the time his snarky replies and cold silences make you think he barely tolerates Yamaguchi as a friend, let alone yourself. 
Still, refusing Yachi is tantamount to kicking an injured puppy, so you swallow your reservations and agree. 
‘Thank you!’ Yachi cheers. ‘We’ll have fun, I promise!’ 
-----------------------------------------
It’s summer, and your blouse is sticking to your back as you dash through Diagon Alley. Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi are already waiting in front of Flourish & Botts, the former barely even granting you a nod, though he does give you the courtesy of removing his headphones, while Yamaguchi bounces on the balls of his feet to greet you cheerfully. 
‘Woah there Yamaguchi – keep your enthusiasm for your date’, you joke, and he grins back at you.  And he does – stuttering and blushing as Yachi arrives. Yachi herself is no better – you swear you can hear her teeth chatter as she greets all of you, though she beams when Yamaguchi presents her with a small posy of flowers with clammy hands. 
‘They’re cute’, you remark to Tsukkishima as you walk beside him on the way to the first stop -  Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. 
‘Mm’, he responds, his face blank. 
You know he doesn’t suffer fools – worse still, talkative ones, so you fall silent until you reach the ice cream store. To your surprise, he pulls the chair out for you, and accepts your offer to share a cup of ice cream with you, a tilt to his lips when you automatically order a strawberry shortcake sundae – it’s his favourite after all. 
Yachi and Yamaguchi seem to have gotten over their initial shyness, chatting up a storm in their own little world. You’re excluded, as you expected, but you’re glad for their sakes. 
‘Excited about the last year of school?’ 
You glance up from your melting sundae, surprised that Tsukkishima is the first to break and initiate a conversation. From your interactions with him, he’s deliberate and methodical in his thoughts and words, so you take a few beats to formulate a response. 
‘Yes and no, really’, you answer honestly. 
He raises a thin blonde eyebrow, wordlessly beckoning you to elaborate. 
‘I’m excited for our classes, the syllabus seems really interesting this year’, you say, wincing at how desperately nerdy you sound – but you’re a hopeless Ravenclaw, and advanced Arithmancy and Astronomy excites you. ‘But it’s scary isn’t it – knowing that it’s our last year, and having to make all those important decisions that are going to affect us, years down the road?’ 
He hums thoughtfully. ‘I get that’, he responds, hands steepled under his chin. ‘I’m deciding between doing further studies in magical history and going pro – just for a few more years. But I know no matter what decision I end up making, I’ll probably end up second guessing myself’. 
‘Why can’t you do both?’ you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself. His brow furrows a notch. ‘You’re great at both, and I can’t see why you can’t as long as you put your mind to it’. 
You cringe at your cheesiness, expecting him to snark at you for your Hufflepuff-like optimism the way he does with Yamaguchi, but you’re surprised once again when he mutters a quiet ‘thanks’, a flush high in his cheeks, and then asks -  ‘And what about you?’ 
You wonder if he’s merely being polite, but his tone is serious, and his eyes are intently focused on you, so you tell him about your plans of taking on further studies in Arithmancy, perhaps even enroll in a Muggle university to study Mathematics for a semester or two, before working in Gringotts. The goblins may be archaic in their beliefs about the magical world, but their application of mathematics is extremely advanced. 
‘It suits you’, he comments. You want to ask him what he means by that, but Yachi pipes up from across the table.  
‘If you’re done with your ice cream, do you guys want to check out the magical menagerie? Yamaguchi’s going to get a cat!’ 
Before you can agree, Tsukkishima tells Yachi and Yamaguchi to go on ahead, drolly reminding them that they’re on a date, and they should go spend some quality time together. So they head off with wide smiles, shoulders bumping. They’re so sweet together it almost makes your teeth ache. Well, at least you’ve been dismissed as their reluctant chaperone, and you’re about to wish Tsukkishima a polite farewell when he taps your shoulder. 
‘Let’s go check out Flourish & Botts. I’m sure you have books you want to check out’. 
You blink – because you do, but you don’t expect Tsukkishima to accompany you, let alone be the one seeking out your company. He doesn’t even wait for your assent before he sets off, and you have to jog to keep up with the pace his long legs set. Thankfully, he notices you’re still lagging behind and slows down, though he teases dryly – ‘you know, at the rate you’re walking, I’m not sure we’ll get there before sundown’. 
You pointedly look up at the sun, still high in the sky, before levelling an unimpressed glare at him. He only smirks in response – and you’re so flustered by how attractive his expression is that you nearly trip over the threshold to Flourish & Botts. He catches you with a steady hand to your elbow – and now your heart is fluttering – is this how Yachi is like all the time? If so, you should really cut her some slack – the thoughts crowding your mind so distracting that you hardly hear Tsukkishima call your name in concern until he shakes your shoulder gently. 
‘Are you alright?’ Tsukkishima repeats, with a frown. 
‘Y-yes’, you reply, cursing your traitorous heart again. He doesn’t look like he believes you, insistently pushing you towards an empty couch. 
He clicks his tongue. ‘Don’t move’ he orders, before he disappears, probably to get the books he has his eyes on.  
You sink into the cushions, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands in embarrassment. An hour spent in his presence and you’ve already turned back into a lovesick fool. You’ve told yourself countless times to just get over your silly crush on him already because it’s not going to do you any good. 
Yamaguchi’s complained to you and Yachi countless times about girls asking him if Tsukkishima is single, but you don’t see him taking an interest in anyone at all – spending all his time instead in the library and on the Quidditch pitch. 
He’s the stone faced beater from Ravenclaw. People wonder sometimes if ice flows in his veins – but they don’t see the determined set of his jaw when he’s ploughing through homework and assignments because he knows he’s going to have to spend the whole day in training the next day, the glint of satisfaction in his eyes whenever he wins a match or scores a good grade, the patience he expends tutoring Yamaguchi (along with Hinata and Kageyama) in Ancient Runes – 
Oh Merlin. You’re a hopeless case. 
 You jump when he returns and drops into a seat beside you. 
‘Oi, what’s wrong with you’, he mutters a tad scornfully, though he drops the book you were eyeing onto your lap. 
‘N-nothing. T-thanks!’ you answer, internally cursing yourself for even picking up Yachi’s speech patterns. 
Get it together. You’re not a fool. 
He hums, browsing his own book. 
It’s pleasant spending an afternoon in a nook reading books. It’s not so pleasant when your heart palpitates every single time his knee grazes yours - and if you shift just a tiny bit to the left you’re pressing against his side and - oh 
‘Are you sure you’re ok?’ he asks, frowning again, when he notices you’ve been reading the same page for the past fifteen minutes. 
‘F-fine’, you stammer, warmth flooding your cheeks when he leans his face dangerously close to yours, bringing his palm to brush against your forehead. 
‘Your temperature’s fine’, he mutters, but he doesn’t pull away – and oh gosh, you’re so close you can count every single lash on his eyes, your traitorous heart causing you to drown in the quiet concern in his eyes – and oh - 
You’re not quite sure who makes the first move because your eyes flutter close, your nose bumps against his and you feel his chapped lips against yours for a split second before he pulls away. 
You open your eyes. 
Did that truly happen? 
Judging from the blank expression on his face, the past few seconds were probably just a fever dream. But there are signs that cool, quiet Tsukkishima isn’t his usual self - a flush creeping up the back of his neck, his fingers gripping the pages of the book so tightly it starts to crinkle.  
‘What was that?’ you blurt out, confused. 
‘What was what?’ Though his voice remains calm and collected, his flush has traveled all the way to the very tips of his ears. 
‘Nothing’, you answer, dropping your eyes back to the open book on your lap, your mind in a whirl. Surely you didn’t imagine that, right? Did you just - did he just - wait, you’re confused again, what’s going on? 
Your thoughts are interrupted by elegant, long fingers slotting between your own. ‘Silly’ he mutters, but there’s a fond twist to his lips and a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. 
‘I’m pretty sure I’m not the only silly one here’, you respond, in a sudden swell of confidence, though your pulse is sending tremors down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the silly one too’. You curl your fingers over his and lean into his side. 
He hums diffidently. ‘I guess it might seem that way’. 
You both share a shy smile. 
-----------------------------------------
Yachi is smug when you confess to her later that Tsukkishima - no - Kei asked you out as he walked you home that evening. 
‘I told you that we’d have fun!’, she says, grinning cheek to cheek. Then she starts rambling on and on about future double dates with her and Yamaguchi in Madame Puddifoots, where you can share couple sundaes and steaming mugs of hot chocolate - wouldn’t that be wonderful? 
You resist the urge to tell her that Kei has sworn off any future double dates - let alone at the white and pink lace bedazzled monstrosity of a cafe, and his suggestion of a quiet afternoon spent at his favourite bookshop cafe sounds far more inviting to you. 
You’ll let Yamaguchi break the news to her later, on a more appropriate date.  
Instead you just smile to yourself, thinking of the quiet affection in his voice as he wished you farewell, and the suppressed delight in his eyes when you called his name just as he was about to turn away and surprised him by pulling him down to you and pressing your lips to his cheek. 
Yachi’s right. You did have fun after all. 
425 notes · View notes
strawberry-jammers · 3 years
Text
One year
a dreamsmp x reader where a young (y/n) wants to rebuild an old old kingdom before they have to be crowned to rule over their parents kingdom. with the help of their friends and a couple of servants, they hope to rebuild it all with out their parent knowing about it.
part one part 2 part 3
part 2/?
masterlist
The lovely @acidicvolt edited this!
this part is just traveling and fluff lmao. it'll pick up in the others <3
this series is so much fun to write, I'm really enjoying it
word count: 2,215
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It had reached midnight, the sun long gone and nearly everyone in the castle was asleep, except for three. Karl and Niki made their way to the teens room, which was at the opposite end of the castle.
"Are you sure the king’s asleep? They have been on edge as of late…” Niki said, walking alongside Karl. Karl nods, clutching the bag he always wore. 
“Yeah, checked and everything. He's out like a light.” 
Niki nods, sighing. “Thank god he sleeps on the other side of the castle. We'd be dead if he found out we were helping his kid like this.” 
Karl nods again, looking ahead at where they were going.
In the young teens room, everything was prepared for their expedition. They packed appropriate clothes to sneak around, fight and blend in with. They had food, tools/weapons, along with the letters, money, and the lmanburg page. They were ready and excited to embark on this adventure.
Niki quietly knocks on the door, opening it a crack. Seeing that (y/n) was alone, she walks in, followed by Karl who closes the door behind them. (y/n) sighed, thankful it wasnt Eret. 
“So, you know the plan?” they ask. 
Niki nods, holding onto her own bag. 
"Okay, I'm staying behind to tell the king you two went on a camping trip for the next year or so. Somewhere in the middle of the woods where he can't check in to see where you are." Karl says to the two of them. 
"Thank you again Karl for doing that. " (y/n) says, leading Niki to their window. "Niki, you know enough of the plan right?" They asked, grabbing the ladder they had in case they ever needed to escape. 
"Yeah. We're heading to Tommy’s castle first right?" She asked, watching as (y/n) opened their window. A soft breeze entered the room. 
"Yep! Then we'll try to find Tubbo. Ready?" (y/n) said, hooking the ladder to the window and throwing it out the castle, trying to not make a noise. 
(y/n) looked down. It wasn't too high up, but it was still a bit scary. They looked back at the two servants, nodding. “Karl, when we reach the ground, bring the ladder back up and close the window. I'll go first. Again, thank you Karl, see you in a year!” with that, (y/n) climbed out the window onto the ladder. the two servants nodded, Niki going over to the window, watching the teen start to climb down the wobbly ladder. 
Once (y/n) got far enough down, they waved their hand for Niki to go after them. Niki smiled over at Karl. “It was nice meeting you, Karl.” she said, making the brunette smile as well. “It was! See you in a year Niki! Take care.” she nodded, grabbing her bag, making sure nothing was left behind. Once she saw everything was in check, she went down, following her new friend.
“Man, I should've worn a thicker sweater.” Niki said, finally reaching the ground. “Yeah, I should've checked before we left. Too late now though.” (y/n) responds, watching as the ladder slowly shrank back up into their room. The two of them waved at Karl, who smiled back at them. “Alright, where to go first? We can't just go straight to the tundra.” Niki said, watching as (y/n) looked around. It was still pretty dark out, so they hoped it wouldn't turn a day before they even left the castle grounds. “Well we need to find some transportation for when we exit the forest. Cant be going thru town, it's too early for that.'' Niki nodded, looking over at the forest. “Got any torches?” (y/n) asked the pinkett. Niki nodded, shuffling into her bag, pulling out an unlit torch and lighter. “Yep, need one?” (y/n) shook their heads. “Only one of us needs one for now, well just gotta stay close together. Let's go, we can't stay here forever.” (y/n) says, chuckling softly. “Of course! Let's go!”
The two of them entered the forest close to the castle, leaving it behind. (y/n) had no regrets, they knew they needed this, even if eret forbid them. Niki was excited, she hadn't gone on an adventure since she was small, so it was a nice change of pace.
“Yknow (y/n), we’ve never actually met properly before this. Only in passing.” she said, stepping over a thick tree root. (y/n) followed, nearly tripping. “Really? I didn't notice. Though, i was held up in my room for awhile there.” they said, looking at all the trees that encased the two of them. No matter how many years go by, they still found nature to be beautiful. “Yeah, I did become one of the king's cooks when you were 16, not too long ago.” she said,pulling a branch up for (y/n) to walk past. “Oh thank you. What were you doing before then? Before you started working for my dad.” Niki thought for a second before answering. 
“Well, i was only 18 when he hired me, so i was doing what any kid did at that time. For a while I took up gardening, growing many types of flowers, though they all ended up dying after a while.” she said. (y/n) stopped, noticing the forest was ending. “i did gardening as well when i was young child. Made many flower crowns and such with them.” Niki gasped excitedly at this. “Maybe we can make flower crowns together!! I haven't done it in so long..” (y/n) smiled. ‘Of course we can! We have a whole year after all!” they laughed together, looking out at the forest in front of them. “God I hope your mom doesn't fire me when this is all over…” (y/n) looks over at Niki, giving her a reassuring smile. “Well good thing I'll be the ruler when we get back. You're not getting fired on my watch.” Niki smiled at this. “Thank you (y/n)...should we go now?” (y/n) nodded, looking ahead once more.
The two of them continue to walk, leaving the small forest behind. “Okay, we should be in a farm area. The houses are spaced out so no one should see us. Should take a half hour to an hour to get through. There should be a train station after that. It'll take us to the arctic kingdom." Niki nodded, grabbing some bread from her bag. "Bread?" (Y/n) shook their heads, declining. "I ate before we left. Thanks tho." 
They both walked through the field, the torches flame flickering as they walked. There were no monsters around, since there hadn't been any around the area in 100s of years. They were safe. 
Niki looked at some of the farmland, noticing they had to walk through some of it. (Y/n) noticed it as well. "How do we get through there? They'll notice someone was here in the morning." (Y/n) said, not completely knowing how to get by. "Got any ender pearls?"  
(y/n) thought for a second, looking in their bag for some. “Oh, looks like I do! Got a bag full of ‘em.'' They hand some to Niki, who throws it over the larger field, hoping to get over without touching the wheat. (y/n) followed, both of them successfully getting across the farm.
“I am so glad that worked.” (y/n) said, putting the pearls back in their bag. Niki nodded, sighing. “Is the trans station past those trees?” she asked, pointing towards the small strip of trees not too far ahead of them. “Yeah, behind there's the train station. An old friend of mine runs it. Lets go!” 
The two of them basically run across the field, not wanting to waste a second of their time. The sun would rise at any moment, and they really wanted to get out of town before it rose. 
They had reached the trees, their original torch being burnt out from all the running. Niki grabbed and lit another, the two of them heading into the small patch of trees to the train station.
The station wasn't too much to brag about, a boring old timey train station was all it was. There was no train in sight, making the (h/c) haired teen sigh. “Damnit, the train might not be here for another several hours.” they said, heading up to the platform. Niki followed, smiling slightly. “Could be worse. Not sure how much worse but it could be worse.” 
The two of them sat at a random bench in the area, looking at the map (y/n) had packed.
“So the kingdom is all the way over there, which is about 6 hours by foot. Taking the train would be around the same pass but we wouldn't be out in the open.” (y/n) says, pointing their finger along the route they need to take. “Is there a way to get there any faster?” (y/n) shrugged, looking over the map. “We could either go through the towns and such, or we could get some horses and get there that way. Wouldn't know how to get any of those, they're kinda rare in this area.'' Niki nodded, thinking for a second.
Both of their thoughts were cut off by someone's cheery voice. “Hello! It's been a long time, hasn't it (y/n)?” They looked over to see their old friend, Jack Manifold, approaching the two of them. (y/n) smiled, standing up and walking over to the said man. “Eyyyy Manifold! Good to see ya!” The two of them hug, separating soon after. (y/n) looked over at Niki. “Hey, have you met Niki?” Niki smiled, putting the map in her bag, standing up as well. “Indeed i have! To be fair, it was a brief interaction. “Nice to see ya, Niki.” 
She nodded. “Nice to see you too, Jack.” (y/n) smiled, looking back over at Jack.
"Jack, we need to get to the arctic kingdom, do you know when the trains coming back?" They asked the slightly smarter man. He nodded. "Won't be coming back till noon today. I'm just here because I forgot something." (Y/n) looked up at the sky. It was getting lighter out. They sighed, looking back down at Jack. "We can't wait that long. Know any other way to get out of town fast?" 
"Well, I could lend you my horse. Most of the time he just sits here and cry's." I looked at Niki, who seemed to be pleased with the offer. "Mind if we take him? We'll return him at some point obviously." Jack nodded, starting to go around the train station. "I'll be in the arctic kingdom a day or so from now, so you can return him then!" We follow Jack behind the station, where his horse sat tied up while eating some grass. 
"His name is thunder, good lad. Constantly sad tho." Jack unties the reins from the pole, handing them to Niki. "Say, what's your trip for anyway?"  Jack asked the two of them. (Y/n) answered. "We're going to see prince Tommy to recruit him to a project we're working on. Top secret stuff man." Jack nodded. "Seems fun. Might join you if I feel like it. Well, have fun you two." They nodded, Niki getting onto the horse and bringing him to the front of the station. "Oh, by the way. You can't tell anyone I was here, at least for the reason I am here. I know I've asked for a lot but if anyone asked, can you tell them I went camping somewhere in the woods?" 
Jack nodded, smiling at the teen. "It's fine, secret adventures are cool anyway. I'll keep your secret, now grab your stuff and have fun on your journey." They smiled, hugging the male. "Thanks Jack, I'll repay you eventually." They say while letting go of their friend. 
He nodded. "Anytime (y/n). Now go, Niki’s waiting." They nodded, running off to the front of the station. They spotted Niki on thunder, who held all our bags. I looked up at her. "You know how to ride a horse?" They asked, trying to get up onto the horse. Niki giggled, helping them up. "Yeah, I was taught when I was younger. Come on, gotta get out of here before the sun rises right?" (Y/n) smiled, latching onto Niki lightly, so as to not fall off. 
"Yeah, lets go!" They took off, running along the tracks. The sun rose as they went, turning the sky into a pinkish color. 
Niki slowed the horse down a bit, staring at the beautiful sky. "I love the sunrise…" (y/n) hummed in agreement, resting their head on Niki’s shoulder. 
"I haven't seen it in awhile. Always amazes me." Niki nodded, smiling softly. "Should we continue or just watch the sunrise?" (Y/n) chuckled, lifting their head off the woman's shoulder. "We should go. Maybe we could watch the sunrise tomorrow. 
Niki nodded, returning the horse to his original pace. 
They left towards a small path in the forest, leaving towards the arctic kingdom where they'll hopefully find the first person they need to reach. 
Hopefully.
-----
series tag list, ask if you wanna be added! 
@xx-smiley-xx 
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bluesdesk · 3 years
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ZELDA HEADCANONS
Sun:
-- considers "Zelda" and "Hylia" as 2 different identities. When she has to act as Hylia (to give a serious order, to do some magic...), she moves her fringe to her left side. Also when Sky makes her angry in a discussion she is like: "remember I can be Hylia!" and  not "remember I'm Hylia"
-- she wears shorts under her dresses, she would be pretty uncomfortable without them.
-- She has a very strong personality, like a girlboss, and she's as chaotic as Tetra
-- She's Hylia, and so she must handle magic pretty well. Also Sky didn't have problems, if not more frequent nightmares and lightning scars and fear of thunderstorms... But "fear of thunderstorms" doesn't even count! However, she noticed her hair became lighter near the tips, and wavier.
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Dot:
-- the girly princess? No way! She grew up with Four, she's a smith too, she loves adventures and festivities. The fucsia jacket is a hoodie (she covers the hood with her cloack), she wears leggings and seakers nunder the dress, that's actually a high waisted long skirt she can remove
-- her hair is kinda orangey! Also it's pretty long
-- she's a relative of Four! In the italian version of Minish Cap she refers to Link's grandpa as "uncle Smith". This might mean Smith is her uncle, grand-uncle or greta-granduncle? Dot's mom might be Smith's younger sister for example.
-- She had a pretty simple life before MC and FS.  Dot had learnt some magic because of the whole "descendant of a goddess" thing. Not much, and she preferred to not use it. So, when she got petrified by Vaati's magic, she got the signs of it. Her hands and feet are as small as when she was 12 (MC), and her hair got way straighter than before. And when Vaati kidnapped her, she got some eye markings, like tattoos, on her arms.
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Lullaby:
-- genderfluid! But their father doesn't really support them and when they feel like a boy they just become Sheik and go in the woods or at Lon Lon!
-- They have a tanned skin and dark blonde hair
--They do want to be a mom though. Dusk is their daughter!
-- They can handle magic well, but Lullaby turned into Sheik for the first time when they were really young, and this had an impact on them. Their blue eyes became red with the Sheik mask (yeah I headcanon it as a mask!), and the repetitive use of it made their eye color turn from blue to violet even when they're "Zelda". They also got a sheikah eye symbol on their left eye, which they cover with their hair.
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Dusk:
-- She grew up with her grandpa (Lullaby's father)
-- She has Lullaby's skin color! Also she's thin and tall
-- She  didn't attend a royal/exclusive school but went at Twi's same one so they were friends as kids. She also studied swords and archery!
-- She simply didn't recognize Twi as a wolf, she thought he had become a spirit, because she didn't know he had the triforce too!
-- When Ganondorf turned her into his puppet, her skin became pale, and she had those black scars/signs and her eyes turned yellow. Her light power kinda healed this, but she now has light brown eyes, that turn blue when she's really happy and yellow when she's angry. Her skin color changed back to normal but her lips are always more violet than normal and she still has those black scars.
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Artemis:
-- Dusk's great-great-granddaughter! She has a similiar face, but her colors are different. Also she has chubbier legs.
--When the war started, she took the master sword and trained with it, until Impa told her she had to leave it for the next hero
-- She's been training with magic for a long time, since she can really use it perfectly, and she masters different kinds of magic. Every scar/sign she got is from the enemies' weapons, and not magic
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Flora:
-- She refused the whole princess/goddess thing, she just refers to herself as a scholar, researcher and adventure.
-- she loves Sheikah clothing!  She has stealth lessons with Paya
-- she tries to imitate Wild's cooking in secret, but she refuses to admit it because of the "powerful hero/ useless princess" thing
--She has also been training a lot with magic, and when she sealed herself and Calamity Ganon, her powers were awake. But being sealed for 100 years, with constant light powers on, and Calamity Ganon surely did something. The constant light made her photosensitive, and her hands are burnt, not as badly as Wild's face of course, but you can recognize they are. The usage of a newly awakened magic, for so long time and with that intensity made her unable to use magic for the next years after she came back, and if she'll ever get her magic back, it'll be only few.
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Tetra:
-- She grew up knowing her name wad Tetra. She didn't know it was just a nickname, so for her "Zelda" is a nickname she doesn't even like. In the italian version of WW/PH, her name is Dazel. She prefers Dazel over Zelda when she has to do royal stuff.
-- even as Zelda her skin is dark and her hair is all curly
-- Wind's grandma loves her and already adopted her in her mind XD but she keeps telling her she needs warmer clothes and she also gives her lots of Wind's clothes that became too small for him
-- she has blonde freckles on her dark skin, Aryll says she's a starry night
-- chubby!!
-- She had never heard of magic before her first adventure, so you might imagine she must have taken it really badly. She has a messed up sleping schedule and she falls asleep in the strangest ways, positions, and times. One second she's arguing with you, the next moment she's asleep, even if she's on her feet, this thing can get dangerous for her so she always brings someone (mostly Wind) with her. She has scratches everywhere from her petrification too, and being petrified surely didn't help with her previous situation.
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Fable:
-- she loves to wear pink and sky blue together! Pink is her favorite color and sky blue represents the goddess. She's a fan of jewels too!
-- Don't touch her hair, she'd get mad!
--Legend's step sister and somehow twin! She and Legend have different mothers and the same father (the father became a king after the marriage with Fable's mom, the queen). Oddly enough, they were born the same day of the same year.
-- She knows how to use a sword but she mostly uses magic and she can kick pretty well!
-- She can use magic almost perfectly, like Artemis! However, being in a painting gave her some lighter/"discolored" spots on her skin, pretty much like vitiligo. Just few spots, as she could handle that magic well too.
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Aurora:
-- a child. She's like 10/12. A pretty smart kid!
-- redhead, tanned skin, curly hair and lots of freckles!
-- autistic, her stims are most likely jumping and moving her arms! She loves springs and water in general, she could spend her entire days with fairies in a spring! Pretty enthusiastic about literally anything too!
-- she sees Hyrule as an older brother
-- She had negative memories about her brother, and giving the adjective "brother" to Hyrule is  like turning the page, seeing that adjective with a new meaning
--The poor kid often thinks her dreams are reality. She has problems in distinguishing vivid dreams from reality as she had been asleep for too much. On the other hand, she barely sleeps.
----------------
BONUS:
Phantom/Angel (Spirit Tracks!):
As the great granddaughter of Tetra, Phantom and Link should be related (One of Spirit and one of Phantom's parents must be cousins) Unless Spirit isn't the great grandson of Tetra and Wind... but maybe the great grandson of Aryll instead! This would explain why Spirit is in contact with the pirate crew but not royal, and since their first common relative is so distant (Wind and Aryll's parents) they wouldn't be considered as related and the fact they didn't know each other before would have more sense
-- She took her personality from Tetra AND Wind: her will to help and be a hero too, still being a bit sassy, and a little rebel (escaping from the castle). She's like, a perfect mix of their personalities.
-- As for her design, she has wavy hair, a slightly tanned skin (she's not dark skinned, unlike Tetra), she loves earrings and she has a lot of them!
-- She wasn't used to magic, she knew that but not too much, so being a phantom and leaving her body because of said magic had an impact on her. Her eyes were originally dark blue like Tetra, but they're now pink to purple and yellow! Her skin got lighter after ST, and so she wears makeup to seem less pale. Her eyes get irritated easily (red eyes when possessed) and she spaces out a lot, sometimes she has dissociative events
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Text
Rain Check
Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader
Word Count: 2860
Warnings: Lots of sexual tension and pining and ~heated glances~ or whatever but no actual sexy times. Author plays fast and loose with the canonical details of Spencer’s teaching sabbatical, as well as the logistics of grad school. There’s a teacher-student thing going on, but no weird age gap or whatever. Excessive objectification of Spencer’s hands, because really, what else do you expect from me? 
A/N: For the “mutual pining” square on my @cmbingo​ card! 
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You trail off. Spencer’s staring like he’s waiting for you to say something else, even though you’ve been rambling for a while now. 
“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 
“For what?” 
“You probably didn’t need to know all of that.”
He blinks, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. 
Something about him makes you want to open up; it’s been almost an hour of nonstop conversation, and you haven’t told him what you’re studying or even where you’re studying, but you feel like you’ve known him for years. You’ve talked about your favorite books and assorted high school traumas. He keeps insisting he’s not good at small talk anyway. 
“I really like listening to you talk,” he says, soft and sweet. “I just… I like watching you talk, too. I noticed your eyelashes and — and I got distracted.” 
Your cheeks feel hot, suddenly. You know the feeling. 
“Oh,” you manage.
There’s something about his hands; they’re just very fucking distracting, and every time he tucks his hair behind his ears, you lose your train of thought. It doesn’t help that he keeps absently-mindedly twirling a pen as he talks, long dexterous fingers moving with precise little movements, and — yeah. Distracting is putting it mildly. There’s this constant low flicker of want in your gut. 
“It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself this much in a bar,” he admits, with a self-conscious little half-smile. 
“Me too.” 
Probably helps you’re not actually inside the bar. You’re tucked in the corner of the deck, leaning on the railing, and even though it’s crowded, you’ve barely noticed your surroundings. Every time you look at him, the rest of the world feels distant, like one of those perfect movie moments where the crowd parts and the hero and heroine walk toward each other in slow motion, meeting in a spotlight as everything else fades away. 
It’s just… those moments don’t happen, not in real life and certainly not to you. It’s never as simple as that: see — want — have. 
You can’t help but hope that this time might be different. 
Spencer’s smiling, and the way he looks at you with those big soft eyes makes you feel like you’re standing in a spotlight. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. It’s just unusual, this jittery, excited, not-exactly-stage-fright thing happening in your chest. 
You have to remind yourself to breathe. 
The pause stretches a bit too long, and in an effort to fill the silence you blurt out, “What are you thinking about?” 
He hesitates, and his tongue slides along his lower lip, drawing your attention to his plush pink mouth as he says, “I was thinking—”
“Spence! There you are!” someone says loudly, and you’d be embarrassed by the way you jump, startled, if Spencer didn’t do the exact same thing. 
“Hey. Emily. Um… what’s up?” His voice cracks. He looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar; it’s flattering and oddly endearing. 
“We have a case.” The woman seems to be holding back a smile as she glances apologetically at you. “Meet you up front.” 
Spencer is visibly disappointed as he turns back to you. He gives you a helpless sort of shrug, and for a second, neither of you say anything. 
Your throat feels tight as your eyes lock on Spencer’s parted lips again. It’s been such a long time since you felt this drawn to a person; his closeness feels hypnotic. 
“I’d like to see you again,” he says shyly. “I — can you—” 
“Phone number?” you supply. His hands flutter and his eyebrows rise, like he forgot, for a second, that cell phones exist. Then he pats his pockets, pulls his out, and passes it to you. Once your number is saved, you give it back with a small smile. 
“I’ll probably be out of town for a few days, and then — maybe next weekend,” he says. 
“I’d really like that,” you admit, trying to make yourself take a step back. “This was — yeah. I’m glad I met you.” 
“Spencer!” someone says, from the door, and he waves them off without turning to look. 
“Earlier, when you asked—” He pauses, frowning, shifting his weight like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I was thinking about how much I’d like to kiss you.” 
His voice is soft and husky, and it cracks on the last word like maybe his throat is tight too. You feel hot all over. 
You never even shook hands; there’s been no physical contact whatsoever between the two of you, and now your head is spinning with the urge to reach out, to touch, to get closer... but it feels like you missed your opportunity for that — it doesn’t feel right, not when you know it’d be over much too quickly. You can tell Spencer feels it too. 
Once two magnets snap together, it’s a lot harder to separate them. 
“Rain check on that,” you say breathlessly, and he nods, raising one hand in an awkward wave as he steps back. 
-
This is Spencer, by the way. I’m really glad I met you.
The text comes in just an hour or so later, when you’re sitting in the cab on your way home, and you smile so wide it feels like your cheeks might split with it. 
-
The giddiness lasts until Tuesday morning, when you walk into the first session of your six-week-intensive graduate seminar and see Spencer at the white board, writing down page numbers for your reading assignment. 
Your eyes lock, and there’s another of those moments where you can’t see anything other than him. It’s not so pleasant this time, though. 
Spencer drops his pen, and you promptly forget how to walk, stumbling and spilling coffee down your front. You curse so loudly that the rest of the class turns to stare at you. 
To add insult to injury, the only open seat is directly across from Spencer’s. 
Fantastic. 
You spend the next hour and a half trying very hard to avoid eye contact, and for the most part, you’re successful. He doesn’t seem to want to look at you either. 
You do sneak one glance, though, and he’s just as pretty in the harsh fluorescent light of the classroom as he was in the golden glow of the bar lights. It seems really fucking unfair. 
If it were any other class, you would consider dropping it, but you were lucky to get a spot; this is big for your resume. It’s a special, one-time-only class, and your advisor had described the guest professor as “a genius, and one of the leading names in his field.” 
...fuck. 
Spencer dismisses the class. You start packing hurriedly, convinced he’s going to ask you to stay back, but you get out the door without incident. You’re already halfway down the hall when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. 
Can we talk? 
It’d be so easy to lie, say you have somewhere to be, put the rejection off for another day, but instead you take a deep breath and turn around. 
Spencer is sitting right where he was, except now he’s cross-legged in the chair, twirling a pen and frowning at it like it contains the mysteries of the entire universe. He gives you a twitchy attempt at a smile, eyes wide with worry. 
You move closer, sitting down next to him, trying to ignore those fucking fingers as he plays with the pen. This would be a whole lot easier if he would stop doing that, because it’s just like the bar — the same hot, fluttering sensation low in your belly, no matter how much you try to ignore it now. 
“I thought you worked for the FBI,” you mumble and he lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sigh. 
“I do,” he says ruefully. “I just — also teach, sometimes?” 
“Yeah. I got that.” 
His tongue does that slow swipe across his lower lip. You bite your own lip, trying not to stare, and Spencer drops the pen with a clatter. 
“Sorry,” he says, shoving both hands through his hair. “I’m so sorry if I — if this is — is this going to make you uncomfortable?” 
You frown, looking at him blankly for a second, because that was so not the reaction you expected. “Uncomfortable?” 
“Knowing that I — that I’m attracted to you? I’m aware of the power imbalance inherent in the situation and I promise I would never—” 
“Present tense?” you blurt out, and Spencer stops, blinking at you. 
“Well… yes. I thought that was obvious. I meant it, you know; I don’t just meet people like that,” he says, agitated. “It’s usually difficult for me to talk to strangers, and you’re — you’re just — yes. I’m attracted to you.” 
“I figured you would think I was immature, and — I mean, it’s such a fucking cliche,” you laugh, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. “I usually try to avoid modeling my life on Van Halen songs.” He gives you a blank look and you add hastily, “Never mind. Point is, a student with a crush, throwing themselves at a professor? Seems like a recipe for embarrassment.” 
“Oh,” he says, as a smile spreads across his face. “So… maybe after the class is over, we could—” 
“Yeah?”  
Spencer is blushing. Jesus pogo-jumping Christ, you want to kiss him. 
“It’s just six weeks. We’ll keep it strictly professional — appropriate — for six weeks.” The words are quiet, all husky and promising, and you can’t tell whether it’s intentional or not, but something about that tone sounds very fucking inappropriate. “And then… we’ll take that rain check.” 
You nod and clear your throat. “You’re on.” 
SIx weeks, two classes a week, ninety minutes per class. Easy enough. 
-
It’s not easy. Not in the fucking slightest. 
Part of you wishes he could be a bad teacher, or something. If he was boring — if he had an obnoxious laugh — something. Instead, every goddamn minute spent in his classroom seems like another reason to fall for this guy. 
And yeah, sure, he’s pretty. You catch yourself staring, sometimes: his long lashes, the hint of gold in his eyes, the sharp angles of his jawline, the messy hair… and you’re not the only one. It seems like the entire class is crushing on him by the end of the second meeting, boys and girls alike, and maybe you would make fun of the Indiana Jones-style lash-fluttering that’s aimed his way if you weren’t guilty of doing the same thing yourself. 
Once word gets around that there’s a cute new professor in the criminology department, rumors start to fly left and right. You’ve heard other students talking about him, speculating about the apparently “way more badass than you’d think” Doctor Reid. You hear stories about how he got shot once — was kidnapped and tortured — overdosed on heroin — saved a train full of people by talking down a lunatic with a gun — hooked up with a movie star — went to jail for murder — you name it, every story more far-fetched than the last. 
Well, he did mention getting shot one time, but you’re pretty sure the rest are too absurd to be true. 
Either way, it’s not the looks or the legends that have you hopelessly head-over-heels. 
It’s the way he lights up when he gets started on a subject that interests him. It’s the joy in his expression when a student asks a good question, or when they draw the right conclusion; his smile is bright and brilliant every time. 
The first time one of those smiles is aimed in your direction, along with a half-shouted, “Correct!” and an excited wave of his pen, you’re just about blinded. It quickly becomes one of the driving goals of your day-to-day life: make Spencer smile. 
He’s beautiful, in those moments when he’s grinning and enthusiastic, but the quiet moments are even worse. 
Sometimes he stares as you work your way through a train of thought, eyes glinting as he fixes them on you with a breathtaking intensity and this fierce pride. Sometimes, his voice is firm and sharp, and sometimes when he says things like, “Yes, exactly like that,” it sounds so much dirtier than it should. 
Sometimes — sometimes — once or twice or a dozen times — you fantasize about that voice. You’re only human. 
You never realized there was such a thing as a “praise kink,” but… yeah. That about sums it up. 
At first you worry that he’ll lose interest: that you’ll say something stupid or he’ll find someone else, because in your experience with men, they don’t wait around for six hours, let alone six weeks, once they’ve realized they can’t immediately have what they want. Instead, it only gets worse as the weeks pass. 
It’s nothing obvious, nothing that could be labeled as inappropriate — you still haven’t touched Spencer, not so much as an accidental brush of his hand against yours when he passes back a graded essay. It’s just that his gaze lingers, whenever he looks in your direction, just a moment longer than it would on anyone else. Every time your eyes meet, you have a hard time remembering that the rest of the world exists. It might as well just be the two of you. There’s this heat between you, this crackling electricity, like touching a live wire every single time, like you can’t pull yourself away to break the current. 
It’s the longest six weeks of your life. 
-
“That’s our time,” Spencer says, glancing at his watch. “I’ll get your essays marked and returned to you before break, and on Sunday evening, I’ll submit your final grades, at which point—” His eyes flick to you, and you bite your lip. “— my responsibilities as your professor are complete. It’s been a pleasure.” 
-
“Hi,” Spencer says, without preamble, when you pick up the phone on Saturday evening. “This is — um. This is Spencer?” 
You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning so hard you can barely say, “Yeah, I know.” 
“Right. Um… where are you?”
“Just dropped off a few library books.” 
“I got grades done a little early,” he says hesitantly. “Do you want to… meet me at my office, maybe? We could go out for dinner?” 
You’ve never been there before, but you know where it is. Open office hours with Spencer always seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, because your self-control only goes so far.
“Sounds good,” you say, voice strained, heart racing. “Be there soon.” 
You walk fast. 
The building is mostly deserted, at this hour, and as you walk quickly down the hall, the catch and release of breath in your lungs seems too loud for your quiet surroundings. 
You might be panicking a little bit. There’s still a part of you that’s just waiting for him to change his mind, to realize how dorky and awkward you are, to find someone more polished or accomplished or… something — fuck, this seems to good to be true. 
Spencer has one of the old, cramped temporary offices used by visiting professors, and even though he’s only been here for a month and a half, he’s amassed quite a collection of books in the small space. When you step through the open door, he’s got his sleeves rolled up as he places a couple books gently in a box. He runs his hands through his hair with a sigh, making it even more hopelessly touseled. 
“Hey,” you say, and he turns around, wide-eyed and nervous for a moment before a smile — one of the brilliant too-bright ones you’ve become so fond of — transforms his face. 
“Hi! Um, I’ll come back tomorrow to finish cleaning, I was just — we could go out, I don’t have to — dinner? Are you hungry?” He picks up a pen from the cluttered desk, twirling it like he just really needs something to do with his hands; he seems just as anxious as you feel. It’s comforting, for some reason. At least you’re both awkward dorks. 
“Not hungry,” you say shyly. You close the door, slow and deliberate. 
Spencer’s eyes widen and then go dark, all heavy-lidded and heated. 
He drops the pen, closes the distance between you in two long strides, and cups your face in his hands before kissing you, deep and urgent, dizzyingly perfect. It’s desperate, after all this time, all that pent-up longing and suppressed electricity surging through you all at once, making you gasp at the sharp incredible sting of his teeth nipping your lower lip. 
It’s one hundred percent worth the wait. 
You’re both breathless when he breaks the kiss, but you sway closer anyway, trying to follow his mouth, and blink like you’re coming out of a trance. His lips are red and swollen. 
“Rain check on dinner?” he asks. His voice is suggestive and smoky — there’s nothing appropriate about it. 
When you nod, he just reaches behind you and locks the door. 
.
.
Smutty bit is now here!
.
More CM fic here! 
222 notes · View notes
wicked-mind · 3 years
Text
Betrayed: Chapter Four
Summary: Everybody thought Steve’s sister had passed away decades ago. But when you show up at the facility and try to attack Bucky, there are questions to be answered.
Word count: 5.5k
Warning: A bit of violence, talk of kidnapping and torture, talk of surgery, a hint of PTSD
Series Masterlist
All Writings Masterlist
NOTE: I would like to thank everybody for your support. As I previously said, this is the first time posting creative writing on any platform. As a thank you, I’ll be releasing two chapters today (3/19/21). Again, any feedback is appreciated. Enjoy (:
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Chapter Four- I Guess We Can Be Friends
The rest of the team returned finally. A smile returned to Y/N’s face after seeing her brother and Wanda after the week. Steve made sure to get a run down of everything that happened in his absence from Clint and Bucky. Hearing of her nightmares, the voice she heard, and the progress her and Bucky had made. Steve and Bucky both exchanged the word ‘progress’ again with a smile. The chip they had recovered was protected, they couldn’t access the information on it right away, having to do some deep digging.
Steve found his sister chatting with Wanda, filling her in on everything that had happened. Y/N talked to Wanda about her nightmares and how Bucky was the one who woke her from them. She told her friend about how she heard the voice in her head, to which Wanda looked concerned. With Y/N’s permission, she could look to see if there was something else in her head, but she would wait for that until Y/N was ready for that. Steve entered the room with a light knock, smiling at Y/N.
“I’m all caught up on things that happened while we were away.” Steve told his sister, with a small comforting smile, “We recovered your chip still in tact. We are trying to get into it the information on it.”
Y/N nods, then looks at Wanda, “I need you to do it. Look in my mind and see if there is someone else.” She said, to which Steve and Wanda both looked shocked, “Please Wanda, I can’t sit here and wait to see if he starts whispering again. I have to know if it is real or if it’s me slowly going insane.” She whispered the last part.
“Don’t you think we should wait for a little bit? At least until we see the information on the chip?” Steve asked, concern in his voice. He didn’t want to push his sister into anything that could more damage her fragile state.
Y/N looked from her brother to Wanda, nodding, “Do it.” She demanded.
They gathered in the medical bay, allowing Y/N to lay on one of the beds. Wanda positioned herself behind her friend’s head, looking to her for permission. Y/N nodded and closed her eyes. The whole team watched closely, besides Natasha who had already left to go to the prison. Bucky and Steve had concerned looks on their face about this. Wanda positioned her hands on either side of Y/N’s head, red glowing from her fingers. For a moment, it was silent as Wanda searched, before she drops her hand, looking up to Steve with wide eyes, “There’s someone in there.. I can’t tell who but he is definitely the cause of the whispers. It’s has the same energy as Y/N, but it’s darker, stronger.” Wanda said gently, then looking at Y/N’s face. For a moment, Y/N looked relieved that she wasn’t going insane or being haunted by ghosts. But then worry came across her face as she realized something else was pulling strings in her head.
Bucky shifted uncomfortably on his feet, feeling useless. He couldn’t protect Y/N from the voice in her mind. He had the instincts to protect Y/N from anything and everything. He was determined to find this owner of this voice in her head, make it stop.
“We will wait to see what Natasha figures out.” Steve broke the silence, walking over and helping his sister up from the table. He looked down at her and offered a smile, to which one was returned up to him.
When Natasha was able to get into the information on the chip, she gathered the team to share her findings. She waited for them all to be seated around the circular table before beginning, “The chip showed what Y/N told us. It was used to send direct orders to her no matter where she was in the world. We are still working on downloading the information of where she went and what she did.” Natasha paused, “It also had a second function. It was blocking out some other transmission to her brain. I would guess it was keeping away the whispers that Y/N is now hearing. We aren’t sure what is causing the whispers or why it was important for Hydra to keep them out.” She paused, before looking at the rest of the team, “We don’t know how dangerous these whispers are. There was a reason Hydra wanted them blocked out. They could pose an immediate threat. The safest option would be to keep Y/N in the detention center until we know more.”
Y/N had snuck to listen outside the room. She was very quiet, and could get away very quickly if necessary. She, after all, was trained for things like sneaking around and gathering information without being seen, among other things.
The room fell silent as the team processed what Natasha was proposing to them, “We can’t do that to her.” Steve told the team, “She hasn’t been a threat to any of us since the first night. If we put her in one of the detention cells, it’ll show we don’t trust her and think she’s dangerous. Y/N is just trying to get back on her feet. She doesn’t want to hurt any of us.”
“I don’t trust her. That’s the issue.” Natasha countered, “If those whispers are dangerous, she can snap at anytime and turn on any of us. If she bites one of us and flees, that’s the end of it. Someone will die. We have to take necessary precautions.”
Bucky glared at Natasha for this idea, his jaw clenched, “You can’t do that to Y/N.” He repeated Steve’s words, “She dug herself out of a grave she was meant to stay in, took the chip out, and found us for help. She just wanted to see her brother again.” He said, “She attacked me for a reason. I have forgiven her. She’s not a threat unless we treat her like one or give her a reason to feel threatened.” He paused, taking in a deep breath, eyeing everybody else in the meeting, “If we force her into a cell, we are no better than how Hydra forced her into that coffin. She will break down as it reminds her of the things she went through. You break that trust, we won’t get it back. Any of us.” He said, looking to Steve, then Clint, and to Wanda who was nodding her head in agreement.
Wanda cleared her throat before speaking, drawing the attention to herself, “Y/N is not a current threat to anybody. I’ve seen in her mind, but more importantly I’ve spent almost every day with her. She just wants to live and be happy. Her mind is full of good. She’s a good person of which horrific things have happened to. Y/N doesn’t deserve to be punished for something she hasn’t done yet. I can keep an eye on her mental state, let us have an early warning if the whispers come back stronger.” Wanda watched the others as they slowly nodded in agreement to what she was saying.
“I have part of a solution.” Clint finally spoke, his arms crossed as he sat in his chair leaning back, “She doesn’t pose a threat now. I’ve trained with her more than anybody, she knows how to hold back. She has self control. But, just in case, why don’t we keep some of her blood in stock in case she does snap and bites one of us?”
Steve nodded, “I think that’s the best idea. We will get her to donate some blood to us for emergencies. She will understand and want to help. She doesn’t want to hurt any of us, she will want us to have the cure.” He looked at Bucky for a moment, before looking to Natasha who shook her head, knowing she was out numbered, “For now, we keep an eye on her. Help her. If something happens, we will discuss it.” He said in a tone that everybody knew meant the conversation about locking Y/N away was over. He sighs, slowly standing, “On another note, the annual fundraising gala is tomorrow. Everybody pick a charity of your choice before the party.” Natasha folded her arms, looking at Steve, “You really think the gala is the best idea right now?”
“Of course. We have been walking on eggshells for six months, putting all our focus on unraveling this mystery. We need a break. Thor is already coming in, and the guests have already sent in their RSVP. They’re expecting it. ” He said, knowing he was just irritating and pushing the limits with Nat, who had now exited the room in a hurry, “I guess that concludes our meeting.”
Y/N listened, she took a deep breath, then started chewing on her bottom lip. When they started speaking of the gala, she left. She knew when her brother used that tone it was end of discussion with her situation. She swiftly made it back to her room, sitting on her bed, pulling a magazine onto her lap. She just flicked the pages, not reading it at all. She was thinking about what was said in the team’s discussion. What Natasha said, about locking her away. Maybe that was for the best, she didn’t want to be a threat. She didn’t want to hurt anyone else. But listening to what Steve and Bucky said, they were right. The way Bucky talked about how she would break, he was right. She couldn’t keep herself under control if she was locked away, isolated. It would just be more proof that she was who she thought she was, a hopeless killer.
Y/N heard Wanda approaching and focused back on reading the magazine. Wanda came in beaming with a smile, “Up, up, up, get up!” She said, pulling Y/N by her hands to her feet.
Y/N smiled and laughed, letting her pull her to her feet, “What are we doing now?” She asked, happy to have a best friend like Wanda. She brought joy into Y/N’s life, someone she can be herself around.
“We are going shopping, where’s your shoes?” Wanda said as she searched around the room before throwing the black combat boots at Y/N, how caught them with ease, “The gala is tomorrow and we need to find some dresses.”
Y/N put her shoes on quickly, excited to go out and spend the day with Wanda shopping. She hadn’t got to leave the facility that much, she was excited to see what the world offered her today. Plus it would be nice to get her mind off of what she learned listening to the meeting.The two walked out the front of the facility, Wanda spinning the car keys in her hand. Y/N looked back at the facility, seeing Natasha watching her through the window, before getting in the black BMW with Wanda, “What’s Nat’s issue today?” She asked, curious of what the reply would be.
Wanda waved her hand as if to say forget about it, “Oh don’t worry, that’s just her face. She has RBF. Some days it flares up more than others.” She joked, putting the key in the ignition and speeding down the driveway towards town. On their dress mission, they talked about things. Wanda asked Y/N to tell her if she started hearing whispers again, that it was very important to let her know to which Y/N nodded, promising her best friend. Then they talked about something Wanda always wanted to talk about. Bucky. Wanda knew Y/N’s feelings about him, the good and the bad ones. Lately the better ones have been taking over and replacing those bad memories. Wanda was determined to help replace those memories, for Y/N’s sake and Bucky’s. She knew Bucky still had strong feelings for Y/N, it was hard not to keep out his thoughts when they screamed so loudly for Y/N. And she also knew that Y/N still had those lovey-dovey feelings for Bucky, just maybe a litter deeper down.
THE NEXT NIGHT
Wanda was helping Y/N get ready for the gala, already done getting herself ready. This was Wanda’s favorite event the team held. They got to dress up all fancy and let loose in their own home. There was no shop talk, just fun. Wanda slowly ran the curling iron through Y/N’s blonde hair, curling the ends perfectly so they would bounce as she walked. Wanda was already dressed and ready. As she finished up Y/N’s hair, she smiled, placing the curling iron down, “Don’t touch that.” She warns, not wanting her friend to get burned. Y/N nodded, looking at herself in the mirror. She was all dolled up for this event.
Wanda smiled, putting on her heels, “I’ll meet you out there.” She said, heading for the door, before looking back at Y/N who was still looking at herself in the mirror, “C’mon Y/N, get dressed. Chop chop!” She said and then disappeared out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Y/N tore her eyes away from herself. Her eyelashes were darkened with mascara and her lips were red from a lipstick she borrowed from Wanda. She looked very similar to how she did when she was taken by Bucky. She had curled her hair, put on red lipstick, excited to meet him for their date that never happened. The memory was painful, but she thought about the things Bucky had done for her. He was patient, kind. He helped her through break-downs. He said all the right things. He was being the Bucky she remembered and wanted. She decided she would be open to giving him another chance, being more accepting of him. The only way she would know for sure is if she let him in a little bit. She slowly stood, walking over to the closet and pulling her dress out. Wanda had helped pick it out. Y/N was a little reluctant, the style of dresses had changed since the last time she had worn one. When did they become so revealing? Y/N slipped off the robe she was wearing to get ready, placing it on her bed. She slipped the black dress on. It fit her curves perfectly, although maybe a little tight, “God how do people breathe in these.” She said, flattening out the scrunched lines as she walked in front of the mirror. The dress was jet black, flowing to the floor. There was a slit up the side to show off her pale leg, a little too high if you asked Y/N but Wanda assured her it was the style. It had sleeves that draped over her arms, a small dip in the front but not too revealing. She lifted her hand to her shoulders, her fingers brushing against the silver scars from a past life. She didn’t remember how she got the ones that looked like bites, but there were many of them that were hidden by the view of this dress. She slipped on her black heels, wishing she could just wear her boots. But Y/N knew Wanda would just drag her back to the room to put the shoes on. Y/N gave herself one final glance in the mirror. The dress was beautiful, she was beautiful. Even with the red eyes that seemed to glow. She turned and made her way out of her room and to where the party was being held.
As she entered, Wanda immediately was at her side, handing her a glass of dark wine which Y/N accepted immediately, taking a small sip. The lounge was decorated beautifully and filled with people who were all dressed up also. Steve was sitting at the bar with Bucky and Sam, laughing. He noticed his sister’s arrival and quickly walked over to greet her.
“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve said, giving her a quick hug, “I’m glad you decided to come. It’ll be fun.” He promised.
“Yeah I didn’t get to really decide.” Y/N laughed, looking at Wanda, “I’m pretty sure she would’ve dragged me down here, I figured it was easier to come willingly.”
Steve chuckled, giving Wanda a thankful smile, “It’ll be great, don’t worry about anything. Tonight is all about fun.” He said, placing an encouraging hand on his sister’s shoulder, before getting pulled away by some men who seemed excited to have a conversation with the Captain America. Steve figured a Y/N needed some fun. It had been all serious since she came back that she hasn’t really gotten to live.
Y/N and Wanda walked around, introducing themselves to guests and sharing stories. Well, Wanda was doing the sharing. Y/N didn’t have any stories to share, just listened and laughed as she met all the new people. All of them were very nice, and not too intrusive.
Bucky had noticed Y/N as soon as she walked in. He about spit up his drink by how beautiful she looked. He wondered if this is what she would’ve looked like for their date that never happened. It made his heart jump thinking about it. He watched Steve go up to her, a little jealous that he was just able to approach her so easily. He watched her throughout the night, staying at the bar. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Y/N was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He watched her laugh, envying the wine glass she kept bringing to her lips. It reminded him of the one kiss they shared. He cherished that memory of them. Her lips were so soft against his. He wanted that feeling again but knew it was out of his grasp.
At some point, Bucky lost track of Y/N in the crowd. His eyes scanned all the faces in the room, looking for her. He stood up when he saw she wasn’t with Wanda. They had been together the whole night, but now they weren’t. He pushed through people, apologizing and saying excuse me as he searched for Y/N, before turning to look out a window. She was standing out on the lawn alone, her head tilted up to the sky. He immediately made his way out there, wanting to make sure she was alright. He shut the door quietly and approached Y/N, smiling.
“Y/N?” He said, wanting to give her a heads up he was approaching, “Everything alright?” He asked as he stood beside her.
“Oh, hi. Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” She said, looking over to him with her red eyes. She noted how handsome he looked. He was wearing an all black suit, his hands in his pockets. She returned her gaze up to the stars, a soft smile on her red lips, “Just needed some air. I got distracted by the stars. They’re beautiful.”
Bucky kept his eyes on her face, “Yeah.. Beautiful.” He said, not talking about the stars. He examined her face. She was smiling, and her expression was nothing but happiness. He loved seeing her like this- happy. It’s what she deserved.
Y/N looked back to Bucky, noticing he was still staring at her, knowing he wasn’t calling the stars beautiful. She turned towards him, her red eyes meeting his crystal blue ones. She smiled softly, her red lips curving, before she looked down at her almost empty glass of wine, “Buck…” She said softly, as if ashamed, “I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. And… you know.. biting you,” She gestured towards the scar on his neck, biting her lip before continuing, “I know that wasn’t you. They were in your head like they were in mine.” She was just now realizing it had been god knows how long since she drank and she may be a little tipsy.
Bucky shook his head at her apology, his hand leaving his pocket as he touched her arm, “Hey, don’t. It’s fine. Your last memory of me was taking you to them. I understand. I probably would’ve had the same reaction. It hasn’t changed the way I see or feel about you, darling. I know who you are. You don’t have to apologize for your trauma.” He said softly, smiling at her.
Y/N lifted her head again to meet his gaze. His skin on hers felt almost electric. It made her skin crawl, her hairs standing up. She nodded, her eyes looking around Bucky, anywhere but his face. Hearing him call her ‘darling’ made her body feel warm. She felt like her heart was racing. She finally looked at his face. She could tell he had just cut his hair recently, probably to look nice for the gala. He looked just like the Bucky she knew. When she arrived his hair was longer, but now his hair was shorter, those blue eyes watching her, a small grin on his face. She took a small step towards him, “Since all is forgiven…” Y/N said, her eyes keeping contact with his, “I suppose that means we can be friends.”
Bucky’s grin only widened as she took a step towards him, his eyes never leaving her face. He was observing every move she made. Everything about her was extraordinary. As she spoke the words he had long waited for her to say, he felt as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders, “I would love that.” He replied, “That means we can do friend stuff, right?” He said, talking a small step closer to her, his hand still on her arm, “Like go for coffee, watch movies, have dinner sometime?” He said softly, hoping he wasn’t overstepping with her.
“Hot chocolate,” She corrected, “Not coffee.” She smiles, her eyes watching his as he stepped closer, she bit her lip slightly, her focus moving from his eyes to his lips.
Bucky chuckled at her response, “Hot chocolate with caramel.” He responded, remembering it was her favorite. He knew she didn’t like coffee, but she loved hot chocolate. He was locked onto her eyes that looked at him from underneath her long, dark lashes. He looked at her lips for a moment, wondering if he should move in closer. He felt as if she was giving him all the signals, even flirting back with him. She hadn’t denied him. He leans his face in closer to hers slowly, watching for any reaction, which to his surprise didn’t come.
Instead, a different surprise happened. A flash of light separated the two quickly. When the light faded, Y/N noticed a circle emblem on the ground, but then noticed the man standing in the middle of it. He had short blonde hair, was tall and muscular. He held a large axe in his hand.
“Great timing, Thor. Good to see ya. You’re late.” Bucky said, obviously a little annoyed that the moment between Y/N and himself was ruined.
“Barnes! Good to see you.” Thor replied, placing a pat on Bucky’s back. He was smiling ear to ear, obviously excited about the event, “Who’s your friend?” He said turning to Y/N.
Y/N smiled, “Y/N Rogers.” She said, her red eyes studying him. She had read about him and heard all the stories.
Thor looked at Y/N confused for a moment, “Steve got married? I wasn’t invited?” He said, almost hurt looking.
“No..” Both Y/N and Bucky said at the same time, both laughing a little bit, “I’m his sister.”
Thor looked relieved, before smiling, “Oh yeah, I see the resemblance now. Besides the red eyes, that’s extremely interesting.” He said, point at his own eyes as he talked about hers. Noticing he made her slightly uncomfortable with the comment, he continued, “Well, I better go in and say hello.” He said, walking passed the two and into the party.
Y/N looked back at Bucky, laughing a little at what just happened. It was a little awkward and embarrassing, but the timing was funny to her.
Bucky smiled as she laughed, “So uhm…” He chuckled out, watching her closely, “More wine?” He said, motioning towards the almost empty wine glass still in her hands.
Y/N shook her head, smiling, “Oh no, I’m good. It’s been forever since I’ve had a drink. Tonight I’m a one and done type of girl.” She said, nodding as she told herself this. She was already a little tipsy, she didn’t want to press her luck, “We should head back in though. My feet hurt and there’s some left over pasta in the fridge that’s calling my name.” She said, turning and starting to head back inside. Bucky followed her close behind, smiling to himself. She was treating him like a friend, maybe even more than a friend. She was talking to him like she had growing up. It was exciting to him. It reminded him of a simpler time. He followed her up the stairs to the kitchen in the living quarters, watching as she heated up her food in the microwave. Y/N grabbed a fork, turning to see him still there, “I’m gonna eat this in my room then go to bed.” She said, smiling a little.
Bucky nodded, “I’ll walk you.” He said, even though it was right down the hallway. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with her, just in case this was a dream he was going to wake up from soon. He joined her as they walked down the hall, stopping at her door and opening it for her.
Y/N slipped into the room and placed her food on the desk before turning back to Bucky who was still standing there like a dream, waiting for her. She approached him, smiling, “Thank you.” She said softly, She reached her hand out and touched his arm, still smiling up into his eyes, “Good night, Bucky.”
Bucky grinned at her touch, “Anytime, doll. Good night.” He said happily, accepting the fact this would be the end of their night together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Tonight was perfect to him. He turned to return back to the party down the stairs. Nothing could bring him down tonight.
Y/N smiled at the pet name, giving his face once last glance, before shutting the door. She smiled to herself. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time. She felt undeniably happy. There was no negativity creeping in at all. She quickly kicked off the heels and changed out of her dress into some sweats and a tank top, hanging the dress back up in her closet. She grabbed her pasta and sat on her bed, turning on the tv. It didn’t take long for her to finish her food, placing the now empty food box in the trash before curling up in bed, falling asleep.
Thor had made his way around saying hello to everybody, before returning back to Steve who was now with Bucky at the bar, “You didn’t tell me you have a sister,” He said to Steve, holding a mug of beer in his hand.
“It never came up.” Steve said, smiling at his friend.
Thor shrugged, “Would’ve been nice to know. The red eyes are very interesting.” He mentioned, taking a large drink of her beer, “Is she otherworldly?”
Steve shook his head, “No, she was a Hydra experiment.” He informed, looking uncomfortable by this conversation.
Thor nodded, taking note of the buttons he seemed to be poking on Steve, “That’s unfortunate, I’m sorry.” He said, placing a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Oh, and sorry for ruining your moment.” He said to Bucky.
“Moment?” Steve asked, looking from Thor to Bucky, “There was a moment?”
Bucky said silent for a moment, before speaking, “It’s alright, Thor. Y/N and I were just talking.” He said.
Thor looked from Bucky to Steve, “Right… Talking. That’s definitely what I saw.” He said with a smile, “I think I need another.” He said as he looked at his now empty mug, before walking away.
Steve watched Thor leave, before looking around the gala, “Where is Y/N?” he said, realizing he hadn’t seen his sister in a while, and after hearing about the potential ‘moment’ he wanted to make sure she was alright.
“She went to bed, I walked her up.” Bucky said, to which Steve looked at him, eyebrows raised, “She said we could be friends again.” He informed, smiling slightly, though he didn’t get the reaction he was hoping for from his friend.
Steve nodded slightly, “Just friends.” He said. He was never thrilled about the idea of his best friend and sister growing closer. He was Y/N’s brother after all. He knew Bucky was a good man, but he still couldn’t think of them being anything more than friends, “I’ll head up there, be close just in case anything happens.”
“No, I’ll go. Don’t worry, I won’t disturb her.” Bucky said, standing from his seat at the bar, “Besides, you’re in charge of this party. Can’t be leaving. I’ll just sit down the hall until Wanda comes up.” He promised, to which Steve nodded almost reluctantly, still wondering what moment Thor had intruded on. Bucky turned and made his way back up the stairs. Keeping his promise to Steve, he sat outside Y/N’s door in the hallway. He could hear the tv on inside the room, listening as he tried to determine what she had been watching before she fell asleep. He concluded it must be a tv medical show of some sort. After about another hour, Wanda came through the hall, giving a smile towards Bucky with a nod as if to say she had it from here, before disappearing into the room. Bucky stood, watching the door close he caught a glimpse of Y/N sleeping soundly. He smiled, tucking his hands back in his pockets as he made his way back to his own room.
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TAGLIST: @vicmc624 @the-ayo-lit @daddysfavoritesexkitten @springsoulofengland @tcc-gizmachine @taina-eny @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable
242 notes · View notes
mooshys · 3 years
Text
take-out menus aren’t meant for ordering
genre: fluff
word count: 1.5k
synopsis: a slight character study for miya atsumu between a conversation with his brother and the writing of his vows. the word “slight” being underlined, highlighted, and circled multiple times.
There is a take-out menu laying on the empty counter of Onigiri Miya, spread out completely flat so that it is no longer in its trifold state. The paper has a nice gloss to it, giving an even sheen when underneath the low lights. Its pages are filled with professional pictures of the food offered, appetizing from a single glance and even more-so with the descriptions added underneath them.
But, sitting at the counter and staring at the empty spaces on the page, Atsumu isn’t looking to order. At this point in time, he’s too frustrated to even think about eating. He makes sure his struggle is known, groaning just loud enough so that his brother can hear him.
And, by the fifth prolonged sigh, his brother notices.
Osamu thinks it’s annoying. Really annoying. He wonders why his brother always decides to settle all his baggage into his restaurant instead of actually finding guidance from a trained professional.
(Free therapy, he thinks. He should give himself a raise for having to deal with his brother when he’s working behind the counter.)
“What’s the matter, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu finally asks in an attempt to get his brother to stop making his restaurant feel so gloomy. He’s glad it’s only the two of them during the odd hour because he’s sure Atsumu would have driven people out with his attitude.
Atsumu exhales, so deep and long that one might think he has some sort of pre-existing health condition. His pause before speaking makes Osamu think he’s preparing a soliloquy. 
“I can’t think of anything to write.”
Osamu raises a brow. Then he chuckles. “Can’t do much of that if you don’t have a brain to start with.”
He quickly dodges a pair of wooden chopsticks thrown in his direction and laughs as his brother seethes in his seat. Predictable as always. He didn’t even need to rely on his twin telepathy to know Atsumu’s next move.
“This is serious!” Atsumu yells out. His voice echoes and Osamu puts on his Totally Serious Face to show his brother that he does cares (at least a smidgeon). “The vows. I can’t think of anything to write for ‘em.”
Now, Osamu stares at him with more interest, a twinkle in his eyes that gleams only for a second before he throws his head back to give out a hearty laugh. It’s the kind of laugh Osamu does when he’s really, really happy. Like when the entire Inarizaki crew surprised him for his birthday by buying him out for the night, or when he won two thousand yen from the lottery. While Atsumu sits in disbelief (because was his suffering truly that hilarious?), Osamu shakes his head to compose himself again.
“C’mon, it shouldn’t be too hard to come up with something,” Osamu says. He points to a blank space on the first page. “Start it off right next to the tuna onigiri, that’s real romantic when you say your vows with our number one seller in mind.”
Atsumu groans again. How can he be joking at a time like this? When it feels like his life (his love life, that is) is at stake? He was about to yell out a slew of vulgar words, but his stomach interrupted him, choosing to speak up with a loud grumble. Red in the face, Atsumu shuts up, shrinking in his seat under the gaze of his brother.
“No wonder your brain capacity’s lower than usual,” Osamu teases. “You’re hungry.”
“Whatever.”
“The usual?”
“...Whatever.”
Osamu rolls his eyes. “Quit actin’ like a baby.”
“I’m not actin’ like a baby!” Atsumu cries out in a manner that reminds Osamu of a baby. “I can’t keep puttin’ this off! In a week, I’ll have to say this in front of everyone and they’re gonna think I’m an idiot because I can’t come up with anything good!”
“Trust me, nobody’s gonna think you’re an idiot at your wedding because of your vows,” he replies and bites his tongue to suppress the insult following. “If you write it too deep and poetic and pretty, then everyone’s gonna think you hired someone or that you copied it off the internet.”
“But—”
“Trust me,” Osamu repeats. He doesn’t look up as he molds the rice in his hands, creating a triangular shape. Years of practice have allowed him to do it so easily, so perfectly that Atsumu can’t help but stare. “Say the things that come easy for you. The things you’ve said before and the things you’ve been meaning to say. That’s what you should write.”
With the exception of the sound of tuna searing in the back and the occasional drip from the faucet nearby, there is a serene quietness shared between the two. Atsumu mulls over his brother’s words, thinking that it honestly sounds like advice that you would have given him, but he brushes it off and then looks back at the blank spaces in the take-out menu. The empty spots are almost inviting him to scribble all over.
“Alright,” Atsumu says as he clicks the pen in his hand and starts jotting any and all thoughts. “Think she’ll be mad I wrote my vows on a menu?”
Osamu chuckles as he places the plate of onigiri in front of his brother.
“Absolutely not.”
───✱*.。:。✱*.:。✧*.。✰*.:。✧*.。:。*.。✱ ───
There are two take-out menus stored in a little box hidden in the bottom drawer of your dresser. The paper for both of them are wrinkled and yellowing, a clear testament of the time that has passed since first exchanging them. Scribbles of ink take up the empty spaces, the words uneven and crossed out and misspelled after multiple attempts to write from the heart.
At times, you find them in the midst of cleaning or a sudden remembrance whilst watching a film. The box is dug out from the neatly folded shirts and shorts meant to be worn in the upcoming summer season, and, upon lifting the lid in one gracious motion, the vows are always there, waiting to be read again and again. Each time, something new pops up, strikes you with a “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that!” moment as your fingers gently trace over his words.
Sometimes it’s the slight change in ink color when it comes to your name, an indication of the writing becoming lighter. (A pause in thought? Whenever you asked him, he would scratch the back of his head and shrug his shoulders.) Others, it’s the way entire lines are crossed out because he kept misspelling the same word multiple times.
Very Atsumu-ish, you muse with a silent chuckle. 
Atsumu-ish. Because the words erratic and unorthodox and lively and everything in-between just aren’t enough to describe his entire being, so Atsumu-ish became the one true representative of whatever he had up his sleeve.
(It started as a joke between you and Osamu wanting to tease Atsumu when he was being outlandish, but then it spread to the rest of the circle and was kept as Official Inarizaki Alumni Vocabulary when Kita mumbled “Atsumu-ish” without a hint of jest in his voice, completely serious about its usage.
“Atsumu-ish,” he pondered loud enough so that the rest of the guys could hear him. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but I guess you’re right.”
And it stuck with everyone else, causing Atsumu to sulk about it for five whole minutes as he whined and groaned about “Osamu-ish” and “Suna-ish” not being a thing to which Kita gave a straight answer: they’re not you. His truthfulness made Atsumu slump in his seat until you squeezed his hand from under the table and whispered that his name just rang in a special way.
He liked the sound of that and straightened his back when you teased him about it again.)
Atsumu-ish, Atsumu-ish, Atsumu-ish.
At this point, you had repeated it in your mind so many times that it started to sound a bit weird. His name echoes once more, making you pause as you stare at the old take-out menus. It did start to sound a bit strange now, but you most certainly aren’t sick of it.
(You don’t think his name would ever tire you out. Decades, centuries, millenniums, and through whatever multitude of lifetimes the universe has to offer, you think that you’ll always hold the way his name sounds close for comfort, like a seashell pressed against your ear.)
When you read through his words, you can tell he put a lot of time into writing what really matters to him. He’s always been one to say the first thing that pops in his mind (brash and honest to a fault), but seeing that struggle for the right string of words, for the right day, and for the right moment in time just reminds you that he’s always been the kind of person who says the things he does because he cares. 
His words are a little blunt, almost unrefined, but it’s so easy to see how he wanted his vows to be perfect. Perfect in the Miya Atsumu kind of way. 
And only Miya Atsumu would write his vows on the take-out menu of his brother’s restaurant.
Atsumu-ish, you think again with a chuckle as you admire the two take-out menus—from the same place, a coincidence that makes you laugh at the thought of his brother dealing with you two separately. Both are a little bit worn, but the words are easy to read. 
Easy to love.
Much like himself.
194 notes · View notes
kopikokun · 3 years
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Snack Run with a Snack༄ j.jh
↳ On your usual movie night with the members, they assign you sudden snack collecting duty. You’re a little peeved, but at least Jaehyun offers to tag along. Unfortunately for you, things really aren’t going in your favour tonight.
pairing: idol!jaehyun x camera operator!reader (feat. johnny, jungwoo & doyoung)
genre: fluff, comedy, co-workers to lovers
warning(s): expletives
word count: 3526 words
☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: crush (souly had) ✧ mango love (shawn wasabi, satica) ✧ make you feel pretty (lovelytheband)
Request 39: Jaehyun x Staff!Reader during movie night where she’s an extrovert and is close to all of the members.
← BACK TO NAVI.
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— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.
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Your fortnightly movie nights are always something you anticipate eagerly, no matter how frequent or repetitive they may be. It’s always nice being able to take a breather from the grievous monotony of your daily schedule to just kick back and—essentially—do nothing. You know the rest of the members cherish these ephemeral moments too, because despite all odds, they’ll valiantly try to show up and join you, or at the very least make an appearance. Once, Ten had even barged in, still with his extensions intact.
    To be fair, you’re not any better. When you heard that Jaehyun was participating the other day, you had dropped all other priorities just to come over. Safe to say, your roommate was not pleased seeing the state of the abandoned living room.
    Your vision sweeps the perimeter of the room. Usually, it’s packed to full capacity, but there are only four others here besides you today.
    “The glasses.” Doyoung purses his lips, planting his stare on a startled Jungwoo. “Where are the glasses? I thought I told you to get them?”
    Jungwoo smacks a hand to his mouth, the sound of skin against skin so loud that you wince on his behalf. “It totally slipped my mind. Honest to God. I got sidetracked.” He clasps your—an innocent bystander’s—shoulder with such force that you physically jolt forward. Jungwoo flashes you his signature million dollar smile.“Hey, could you be a dear and help me out? I still haven’t decided what movie we should watch tonight.”
    “Yeah, sure.” You grimace, already turning on your heel, mumbling, “You didn’t have to hit me.”
    “Thanks!” he calls after you. “And sorry!”
    His voice cuts through the hurried chattering between Jaehyun and Johnny which comes into earshot as you step into the kitchen. Their mouths move at the speed of bullet trains and Jaehyun’s hands flutter around his pensive face frantically. Maybe it’s the rose-tinted lenses, but the sight endears you. The slightest of chuckles escapes your lips at his delirium.
    Their bodies seize, their zealous conversation slipping into a steady silence.
    “What’s wrong?” you smirk. “Were you guys talking about me?”
    “No,” Jaehyun snaps, so quickly that it almost prickles. “Why would we be talking about you?”
    “Ouch,” you pout, masquerading the sting with a frivolous cadence . “How mean.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “What are you doing here? I thought you were, uh, clearing the table?” There’s a nervous edge to Jaehyun’s voice which insinuates that he knows something you don’t.
    “I was, but then Jungwoo asked me to get the glasses in his stead since he’s too busy fussing over which movie we should watch.”
    Johnny laughs. “I should go help him out then, or he’ll be stuck on the selection page for ages.” He pats Jaehyun’s back as he leaves. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
    You toss an inquisitive glance at Jaehyun. He turns away, cheeks blooming with colour.
    Admittedly, you’re more than intrigued by what Jaehyun had been so ardently conversing about. A small part of you whispers the possibility of it being you, and your heart soars. Now you’re the one getting sidetracked. Of course, you are. This is one of the rare moments you and Jaehyun have shared alone. Although you see him almost daily, there’s always someone closeby; a fellow staff or member of the group. And while you’d consider yourself someone who thrives in social situations, there’s nothing more you desire than a few seconds in solitude with the charming man.
   You swing the plywood cupboard door open, extinguishing your idle delusions, the handle cool in your grasp. Three shelves greet your vision; each stuffed full with either miscellaneous tableware or seldom used kitchen utensils. You spot the mug you gave Mark for his birthday collecting dust in the corner and scoff bitterly. And he said it’s his ‘favourite mug’.
    Your face screws in bewilderment. Usually, the glasses are graciously arranged on the bottom shelf; easily accessible for the people who are less gifted in the height department (namely you). Strangely, today they are at the very top, shoved deep inside, so far in that you’d think that it had been done with malicious intent. If they were in the middle, perhaps you could’ve reached them with a little extra effort, but given their current position, even on your tiptoes you wouldn’t even come close. The tips of your fingers barely graze the bottom portion of the glass. You huff.
    “Do you need help?”
    Your head swivels to see a clearly humoured Jaehyun, his eyebrow arched.
   “Yeah, someone’s kept the glasses on the top shelf,” you grumble, tenaciously continuing to reach for them despite knowing that you and your height—or rather, lack of it—have been bested. “Must’ve been Johnny. The tall-ass.”
    “You’re probably right. It wouldn’t be his first time either.” You groan in exertion. “Hold on, let me help.”
    “Thanks, Jae—”
    Your eyes widen and your stature stiffens. Just the smell of his aftershave is enough to knock you out.
    Jaehyun’s chest presses against your back firmly. His hot breath tickles your neck; the fine hairs stand on end. His right arm, hugged in the most breathtaking way by a black sweatshirt, reaches forward while his left is planted on the counter in front of you, caging you in. You’ve done your fair share of ogling at Jaehyun’s more than ravishing physique before, but only from afar. At this proximity however, you can individually trace every vein on his forearm. They’re like roots branching across the ample muscle. God, you’re making it very apparent that you’re staring.
    While probably not the most proficient, you don’t dispute this method of reaching for glasses. You’re sure Jaehyun knows there are better ways to do this too.
    Stunned, you all but stare in what you can only describe as awe at Jaehyun’s side-profile. Sharp lines accentuated by peculiarly delicate features, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel like running your fingers over the curves of his cheekbones, the arch of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow.
    Jaehyun’s gaze latches onto yours, his arm still hanging above your head. You swallow dryly before licking your lips. Jaehyun’s jaw clenches, the movement guiding his eyes to them. The counter is digging into your hip.
    “I got the glasses,” he breathes, your vicinity means you can practically taste the mint on his tongue.
    “Thanks,” you mumble.
    Neither of you move farther or closer to each other.
    Jaehyun places the glasses beside you. “I should probably go set up the projector now.”
    “Yeah, you should.” No, don’t.
    He nods curtly, prods the inside his cheek with his tongue and shuffles out of the kitchen. You lean on the counter, recomposing yourself. Your heart pounds in your ribcage. Jaehyun’s lingering aftershave muddles any chance of a coherent thought.
    What was that?
    Sure, over the past week or two, you and Jaehyun have made your ever augmenting attraction to one another remarkably tangible, but neither of you had acted upon it. Until now.
    Dazed, you almost forget to do what you had initially come in here for. You have to literally turn a 180 to retrieve the five glasses which sit innocuously on the countertop; they lay witness to your sins.
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    “So, how’d it go?”
    “Did you do it?”
    “Well, technically no, but—”
    The four men are huddled together in the middle of the living room, each with equally suspicious expressions carved into their faces. Jaehyun’s back is turned to you as he’s hunched over, almost like he’s sharing some petty gossip.
    You set the glasses down on the communal dining table, shift your weight on one leg and perch your hands on your hips like a disgruntled teacher waiting for her class to fall silent. Doyoung is first to sense your presence, nudging Johnny and jutting his chin towards you.
    You can’t suppress the snort that courses through you when—simultaneously—all four of them disperse. It looks almost rehearsed.
    “Why are you guys acting so weird today?”
   Johnny sputters, Jungwoo chokes on presumably his own spit, Doyoung makes a sound which resembles more of a wheeze than a cough, and Jaehyun’s body goes completely rigid.
    “We’re not acting weird,” scoffs Johnny.
    You’re unconvinced. Just the way the whole room was immediately shrouded in a thick cloud of tension at your question was very telling.
    “Yes, you ar—”
    “Alright then,” Jaehyun clasps both of his hands together like a middle-aged man in the midst of a conference, “the movie! Jungwoo, what did you pick this week?”
    Jungwoo hammers a fist to his heaving chest. “I picked Jojo Rabbit.”
    “Oh, Minji noona watched it the other day. She told me it was so good she cried,” Johnny says. “And she rarely—if ever—cries over movies, or anything, really.”
    “Why didn’t she and the others come over today? They’re always here for movie night.” By the others, you’re referring to the rest of the staff who are usually present. Being more or less the same age, the members naturally gravitated towards the rest of you; your closeness in years meant that you could easily relate to one another. You’d consider yourself a decently convivial person as well, which was probably another fundamental factor.
    Once again, a restless fog congests the room. You seem to have struck another nerve.
    Jungwoo tightens his grip on the remote. “They were… busy.”
    His spontaneous lie is deplorable at best, but you let it slide.
    You assume they think your conjectures have diffused because they seem to share a relieved glance; Jaehyun casts an appreciative smile to the bunch. He clears his throat. You don’t miss the mental exchange between him and Johnny, who grins wittingly.
    “How about the snacks?”
    All eyes are on you.
    Your eyebrows cinch. “What?”
    “The snacks,” Jungwoo reiterates. “You’re on snack duty.”
    The way he says it makes it sound like you were aware of this. “No, I’m not.”
    “Yeah, we told you in the groupchat,” Doyoung says. Jungwoo seems to be restraining a smile.
    “No, you in fact, did not.” Scorned by this blatant accusation, you begin fishing your phone from your front pocket to show the others that none of you had come to that agreement.
    Jaehyun’s hand coils around your wrist, halting your movements. “I’ll come.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “I’ll come along with you to get the snacks,” his grip loosens, “if you want me to.”
    “Oh.” Your arm falls limp to your side. You study Jaehyun’s earnest gaze. “Sure.”
    It’s painfully palpable that the rest of the group were expecting this; their lips curling with a smirk of gaiety.
    “Great, I’ll go grab some cash.”
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You really should have thought twice about letting Jaehyun tag along.
    “You should’ve stayed at home.”
    “I wanted to come.”
    You’re reasonably terrified, both for you and Jaehyun’s sake. Getting recognised out in public is an all too plausible scenario, and you really do not have the resolve or strength to fend off a horde of fans right now.
    “Relax, it’s like 11pm. Nobody’s going to be just walking out here. At least, not anybody sober.”
    While he makes a valid point, you’re still skittish. “Alright, but keep your head down.”
    “How will I see where I’m going?”
    Collecting your wits, you reach for his hand to tug him forward. “I’ll lead the way.”
    Though Jaehyun is more than capable of staying grounded in his spot, you drag him along with relative ease, like a lifeless rag doll.
    “I… was just kidding.”
    Not looking back, you say, “Does that mean you want me to let go of your hand?”
    Brazenly, Jaehyun intertwines his fingers with yours, strengthening his palm’s embrace. A jolt of exaltation zips up your spine.
    “No, don’t.”
    The remainder of the brisk walk to the convenience store is spent in exhilarating quietude, one that conveys a hundred messages. Not once does Jaehyun’s hold of your hand weaken.
    The intimacy of the store welcomes you wholeheartedly. From its single constantly flickering bulb, that one cooler door with the rickety handle, and to the out-of-order slushie machine, you could peruse this store with your eyes closed. Being NCT’s camera operator first and designated snack buyer second, you’ve been in here more times than anyone should ever have to be in a lifetime.
    It’s not the most popular store on the block. Their selection is limited, their interior outdated, but in your humble opinion, they are leagues ahead of any other store out there. Plus, it’s usually vacant, meaning minor risk of being spotted. Other than you, Jaehyun and the single weary employee, there’s only one other person in here, a tattered hood draped over their head. While they’re sketchy in a certain sense, you’re confident that they don’t pose a threat to you or Jaehyun’s safety.
    “I’ll go get the crisps and you get the chocolates,” you declare, standing on your tiptoes.
    “Chocolates? We’re getting chocolates? We already have some in the fridge.”
    “Okay, then I’m getting chocolates.”
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Another reason you love this place to bits is because of its prices. Everything is outrageously cheap. The first time you had visited, wet behind the ears, soul bursting with vigour yet pockets embarrassingly empty, you almost cried. You had one of the best dinners of your early adult life in this very store. Sure, it was just a truckload of processed, packaged food, but here’s the thing: it was a truckload. And when you’re as financially stable as a thumbtack balancing on the tip of its point, a truckload of food is a blessing bestowed by the Gods.
    So, safe to say, you and Jaehyun definitely got your money’s worth.
    In fact, in the time the two of you expended scouring the aisles for tid-bits, a forlorn cloud had consumed the sky. It had started raining. Lightly at first, but the drizzle had swiftly transitioned into a furious storm.
    Thunder claps in the distance, the sound so tumultuous it shakes the tiles of the store floor, the vibrations so intense they reach the tip of your head.
    “Do you have enough money for an umbrella?” you ask.
    “Even with an umbrella, I think it’d be too dangerous for us to go out there,” Jaehyun says, and as if to illustrate his point, another bolt of lightning strikes the Earth. The convenience store trembles. “And no, I don’t have enough money for an umbrella.” From the tone of Jaehyun’s voice, his delight is hidden by the pretense that he too is upset by this development.
    “Then I guess we’ll have to call one of the guys to pick us up.”
    Jaehyun’s expression immediately turns sour. “I mean, yeah… I guess we could.”
    Under normal circumstances, you would have been pouncing at the opportunity to spend some quality one-on-one time with Jaehyun, alas, three other undoubtedly starving men are waiting for your return.
    A long, dull white counter, meant for customers to sit and eat at faces the heavy gloom outside. Droplets of rain cling to the glass like fluorescent crystals embedded to cave caverns, before slipping down in a wavering trickle, racing each other to the bottom. You take a seat on one of the plastic stools and Jaehyun takes the one beside you, dropping the bag of snacks to the floor.
    “Hello?” Johnny’s sonorous voice greets through your speakers.
    Jaehyun stares at you, anguished. To his right, the hooded stranger from earlier slips into the third stool, leaning forward and shelving their chin on a palm. They stare outside the window.
    “Hey, Johnny. We got the snacks, but Jaehyun and I have a separate problem.”
    “I know. It’s pouring.”
    “Exactly,” you nod. Jaehyun looks like he’s about to crumble into a heap of anxiety. “Can you pick us up? We don’t have enough cash to hail a taxi.”
    There’s a commotion on the other side of the line; hushed discussion and rustling of fabric. You can’t pick up a lot, only the words, “Yeah.” and “So, that’s what we’ll say?”
    “Sorry,” Johnny finally says, after much delay. “I can’t.”
    “What do you mean you can’t?”
    Beside you, Jaehyun visibly perks.
    “Car’s being repaired,” he replies languidly. “Mark popped a tyre while learning to drive the other day.”
    You groan. “You’re joking.”
    “Dead serious.”
    “God, the car just had to be out today of all days.”
    “Sorry, it can’t be helped,” Johnny sighs, a twinge of mischief to his voice. “The matter’s out of my hands.”
    “It’s fine. We’ll just… wait it out or something.”
    “We’ll try and see if any of the others can swing by and pick you guys up, so just stay put for now.”
    “Alright thanks, Johnny. Sorry about tonight.”
    “Nah, it’s fine,” he says. “Have fun with Jae.”
    The call ends with a click before you can probe Johnny further.
    “No go?” Jaehyun chirps.
    You shake your head. “No, though you don’t seem bummed out about it.”
    “Yeah,” he shrugs. “It’s not often I can spend some time alone with you anyway. In a way, I’m glad.” You bite the flesh of your cheek, face turning hot. Jaehyun turns in his seat, reaching down for the plastic bag. “And, we have snacks to—”
    His eyebrows furrow.
    “Jae?” His adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “The snacks?”
    “They’re… gone.”
    “What?”
    “I put them right here beside me, but they’re gone! I swear I—”
    The bell above the door chimes as the mysterious figure—the one who had been sat beside Jaehyun mere seconds ago—dashes out, with, lo and behold, a very familiar plastic bag dangling in their grasp.
    You point a finger towards them. “They stole our snacks!”
    Jaehyun’s head whips around to gawk at the culprit who has already made their way out of the store, head-first into Mother Nature’s wrath. He leaps out of his seat, hell-bent on chasing the person down, practically foaming at the mouth. “Motherfucker—”
    This time, you’re the one who grips his wrist. “Jaehyun, wait. It’s not worth it.”
    “They just stole all of our snacks! Am I supposed to just watch them get away with them?” he seethes. If not for his genuinely fuming expression, you would’ve laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
    “They already had a head-start, Jae. I doubt you’ll be able to chase them down. And what if someone sees you? How are we supposed to explain why Jung Jaehyun of NCT was sprinting in the rain after a stranger with a bag of snacks?”
    His shoulders sag. “But… our snacks… and your chocolate! What about your chocolate?”
    “It’s fine. I didn’t even get the version I liked. They were all out of the original ones.”
    Jaehyun slumps back into his seat, defeated. “Should we call the police?”
    You snicker. “And tell them our snacks got stolen? They’d laugh in our faces.”
    “I hate that you’re right. I wish they’d treat snack theft with the same severity of other crimes,” he jests, despite still being obviously disheartened. “Hope whoever that was gets struck by lightning and fucking sizzles out there.” He cards a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
    “It wasn’t your fault, Jae. I mean, who the hell steals snacks anyway?”
    “No, not that. Well, I am sorry about that but what I meant was... I screwed this up.”
    “Screwed what up?”
    “You know how everyone was acting really strangely today?”
    “You guys weren’t being very secretive about it.”
    He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well, it was because they were helping me get us alone.”
    Jaehyun’s confession is like the final piece of a puzzle; the final thread to connect all the dots together. “So that explains why everyone collectively decided to not show up today, and why the glasses were on the top shelf, and why you guys said I was on snack duty when I clearly wasn’t! And I bet the car isn’t even busted too!”
    He nods, a wry smile etched onto his lips. “The glasses weren’t actually a part of the plan, but in the end, they were in my favour, so I’m not pissed about it.” You flush as the memory floods you. “They did all of that, and yet I still blew it.”
    “Who said you blew it?” you say. Jaehyun lifts his head to look at you. “We’re alone right now, aren’t we?”
    He swipes his tongue over his teeth. “Well, yeah, I suppose we are.”
    “So, just tell me you like me already.”
    Jaehyun jerks back in his seat. “You knew?”
    “Of course I knew,” you grin, “because, I like you too.”
    His face breaks out into the widest smile possible; one that stretches his lips so much that it must ache. “You do?”
    “Yes, I do,” you giggle. “Even though you got our snacks stolen.”
    By the time you two make it back to the dorm, clothes dripping rainwater onto the carpet, lips swollen from stolen kisses, and smiles teeming with euphoria, the rest of the street is already dark. Johnny, Jungwoo and Doyoung greet you with knowing smiles and playful comments.
    “Look, I’m super happy for you guys and stuff but,” Jungwoo gestures to your empty hands, “where the hell are the snacks?”
216 notes · View notes
vanchlo · 3 years
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Beside
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Main Masterlist / Word Count: 4.6k / Warnings: Is angst considered one? Is sadness? Excess fluff?  / Song: Beside You by 5SOS, ofc
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Premise: You had been his first fan, before anybody else, arguably. Perhaps, that had been what had made it hurt the worst when he had forgotten you, amongst so many other things. How could you ever tell him that, if you were given the chance?
Pairing: Harry x Reader
“He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.”
- Unknown
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You’d be lying to yourself if you said that it looked any different. Sure, the addition of the few cardboard boxes and elliptical could maybe chalk up to that. But, the lie fell away before it was even really thought when a memory was sparked by every item your eyes fell on. What was different about it was how it felt, and how it felt more than different, if there was even a word for that. You were rather sure that there were never words good enough for your feelings after everything that had happened over the years.
You hadn’t even been sure if you could make it this far. That started with the drive, the worst part being driving past his. You thought that nothing could trump that until you opened the door and the multitudes of memories came flying at you. Long ago, you had taken down the pictures tacked to cork boards and shown in frames, but somehow, they had reappeared. Thanks to your mum, you thought. It felt like knives in the back of your eyes when you saw them, reminded for the hundredth time of how much things had changed. You weren’t sure if the reminders would ever stop, seeing as how they had been coming for the last nine years. Although they had dwindled over time, according to your proximity and whereabouts, they still never ceased. They never stopped hurting, or stirred up ‘what if’s inside of you.
*
Tears streamed angrily down your cheeks as the cotton fabric of the curtains left your hands. You had checked maybe twice now, three if you were telling yourself the truth. The thing was, you hadn’t been doing a lot of that lately, but you had needed it right in that moment as his curtains remained still. Then, there were yours, yanked to the side in a blush pink crumple. The images stared back at you, making your head hurt more than it already did. You weren’t sure how that was even a possibility.
“You rang?” a voice nearly demands. “Hullo?” you still don’t know what to do or how to say it, until you do.
“I’m sorry.”
“Reckon it took ya long enough. Now, why’re you cryin’ over Maths? Don’t think it deserves that much attention, don’t you agree?” he replies, making the pages in front of you blur all the more when your bed dips from his weight. “God, remind me again why we’re takin’ Geometry t’gether when we could’ve done somethin’ easier?”
“I dunno. I thought it was your idea,” you answer sheepishly, finding his shoulder with your head.
“Beats me. Whatever helps me avoid mo’ Maths down tha road,” he suggests, and you find yourself humming along in agreement. His fingers calloused from trying to learn guitar are felt on your forearm. “What d’ya say we take a break from this t’ bake some cookies?”
“But I want to finish it now,” you protest, meeting his eyes for the first time. They’re green as ever, and softer than you predicted after the argument you had had last night.
“Ya, and yer not gonna get anythin’ done if yer upset. I think doin’ somethin’ fun, like bakin’ fer a bit will be jus’ tha trick. C’mon,” he almost cooed, shutting the textbook and then tugging on your hand. They had ended up burnt, but the both of you ignored it when you later ate them on your bed as he explained tangents, cosines, and the like.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” he answered with enough confidence in his voice that you thought maybe you’d ask for some. You thought to yourself, isn’t that what you had been doing all of this time? Regardless of how many times you had asked that question, the same answer never made you feel any better. You nodded, just like every other time, assuring him you believe him, but you didn’t. How could you?
“You really won’t forget me if you make it big on the show, Harry?”
“Truth or lie, bubs?”
“Don’t tell me,” you whisper.
“‘Course not, love. How could I forget me bestest friend in tha whole wide world, huh? ‘ve known you since we were in nappies, ya don’t f’get that kind o’ rubbish,” and then, you were laughing.
Every time you’d think of that memory, you’d chide yourself for how you’d left it at that. The way that you let him leave you, but more importantly, how he let himself leave you.
*
That was one of the last times things had been so normal, and the last of burning cookies in the oven. There weren’t any more food fights in your kitchen, splashing hot, sudsy water at the other, or snapping tea towels at the other’s bum. A few weeks after the burnt cookies, you’d found the last one at the bottom of the cookie jar, amazed that any were left after his greedy hands. With an emptiness in your chest, you dropped it in the trash bin hurriedly, and escaped to your bedroom. It hadn’t been the first time, and you hoped, somehow and in some way, it would be the last.
Without knowing it, you had started a bad habit of lying to yourself, right then and there. As you stood at the window, pinning the curtains to the side in your secret S.O.S message, you waited. It wasn’t nearly as long as a few days before when your legs had ached for being there so long, but you still waited, too long. He didn’t come or pull his curtains aside. Somewhere deep inside of you, you knew that he never would come to your rescue ever again.
*
You couldn’t remember the last time that you had came home since moving out that a visit hadn’t been marred by the memory of him. Then again, when you thought hard on it, you were sure that there had never been a time where it wasn’t. Even if it had been nine years since things had changed, your eyes still strayed to his window at every visit. Sometimes, you even thought you saw his outline behind his curtains, or in the near dark, on your bed waiting for you. He never was there waiting, and unbeknownst to him, you could never help it but be waiting. It was what you had done best, and worst, for the last near decade.
It was difficult for you to remember the last time you had been home, stretching your thoughts until you figured it was last Christmas. Another one where he left you waiting, seeming as if that was the thing he was best at himself. Leaving you waiting for a text from him, but regardless of the bittersweetness, they came. On Christmas. Your birthday. Random days. The day you graduated with all of your classmates and without him. Then, when you had graduated uni, unable to stop wishing that he had been there, just like he was supposed to at all of the big moments. Most of all, when your mums told him to text you and the other way around, which you think hurt you the worst.
*
The house was quiet after a busy day cooking with your mum for a Sunday lunch. It always had confused you how so much fuss and work could be made just for a meal that lasted shy of twenty minutes. Tick tocking, the clock above the tap was the only sound in the house later that night. A mild summer heat still clung in the air outside, but you had chosen to stay in. You tried not to register the traditional disappointment on your mother’s face when she had asked you to join her to go next door for dinner. After several times of obliging, sitting at his family’s table with memories splashed all around, you found it unbearable to do it ever again. Worst of all, it made you doubt yourself when you’d remember the way your eyes gravitated towards the door, wondering if he’d walk in. It happened every time, even if you knew he was on the other side of the world at the moment. You couldn’t do it again, not just that, but so many other things.
At the memory of fingerpainting on the sliding glass door, much to your mum’s horror at your mere ages of three, you retreated to your bedroom recalling how you had insisted it was his idea. You didn’t believe him when he pulled the same thing then, and certainly you didn’t now, when a Peter Pan like scene waited before your eyes.
Your blink was long and purposeful, but no matter how many times you repeated it, it failed to do its job. It was still there when you opened your eyes, leading you to have a hard time believing them. At first, you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe them. If you were going to lie to yourself, you’d tell them that you wished it was a mirage of sorts just like all of the other times. You wishfully thought that it’ll go away with a blink, but it doesn’t.
If you weren’t lying to yourself? You’d tell them that you should be a lot of things, including wanting it to be imagined, but you couldn’t change the fact that it was not. Deep inside of yourself, you knew like black and white that you wouldn’t ever want to change it. If you thought with your brain, that’d be another story. You should be mad, but you weren’t. For once, you hoped that the good feeling would outweigh all of the bad ones for just enough time so that you could have a good visit. You had wanted that, and so much more, for so many years, more than anything at all, that it could be like old times. That dream had yet to come true, and you had buried it long ago.
Swallowing against a dry throat, you decide with your hand that you’ve been ready for years for this to happen, and the light flickers to life at your fingertips.
“Y’know, ya shouldn’t just leave yer window open. A burglar or someone dodgy like that may very well take advantage o’ it. ‘s quite dangerous.”
Were you lying to yourself right now? No, you weren’t, and so you saw how he had changed. His chocolate curls were longer now, but still cropped around his ears. More rings claimed his fingers, and so did the ink all over his observable body. Self consciously, you wondered if the little train in his noggin was running on the same tracks.
“Reckon it’s also dangerous to just help yourselves into a girl’s window,” your reply sounds anything but firm like your words had implied, but you don’t. It’s a tie between whose lips begin to curl first, but secretly you hope it’s his, so that it means you’re closer to seeing those trademark dimples. “Harry,” it falls before you have the chance to reel it back in. In succession, your name drops from his pair. The ones you had always dreamt of, and according to your mums whenever they got the chance, you had kissed once or twice when the two of you were little. You couldn’t blame yourself, if you were telling the truth.
“Ya didn’t use t’ mind it,” he defends. Only now, do you allow your eyes to stray from that face you weren’t sure was real. Your prior wish is nudged at when you realize that he’s sitting in the same spot he always had been when you found him like this. Whether it was after school, when the moon was high in the sky, or after you’d ripped the curtains to the side, it was always the end of your bed where he sat.
You can’t help it, and you say something that you’ve been trying to for too long.
“Hare, that was almost ten years ago.”
It catches him off guard, just like the words had done in your mind, unspoken for so very long. On your one hand, you could count the number of times you had seen him since he walked on to that stage. Each one was less personal and more unfulfilling than the last, and you hoped undyingly with every fiber of your being that this time wouldn’t be. For once, you didn’t want him to disappoint you, but you couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t. If you tried and if you didn’t lie, you could think of one long ago, you could think of so many. You wanted this time to be different, and at the same time, you didn’t want him to be. No, you wanted him to be him. Your Harry.
“What do you want, twerp? Why are you breaking into my childhood bedroom at nine o’clock at night?” your questioning lips deal. No matter the itch you have, you can’t get your feet to move in his direction.
The fact couldn’t be more of a truth when you hear what he says, “Mum told me ‘bout yer engagement.” Without you knowing, your feet wander across the room and away from him. On your vanity, sits the gold band with diamonds of all sizes set into it. It was the very reason you had come home, but if you were being honest with yourself, it wasn’t the only one. No, that one was sitting behind you on your bed. The biggest one of all, for so very long. “‘m sorry.”
“What could you be sorry for?” your voice is still and rather quiet, but the feelings inside of you are the least bit that.
“Loads. That I didn’t congratulate you earlier, that I didn’t know ‘til now. You should’ve told me, ‘m really happy fer you. Congratulations t’ tha both o’ you, ‘d love t’ meet tha lucky man.”
All at once, words and emotions are flying at you, and you’re unable to make sense of them. First, you want to be mad. Then, you want to be sad. Is there a middle ground or a combination?, you wonder. “Well, you don’t need to worry about it, because I’m not getting married,” it had been the third time you had said a version of these words out loud. The bloke in question, of course, your mum, and now, Harry. You hadn’t thought that this was how it would be playing out.
“What?” hasty questions are riddled in his one breath. The images pass before your eyes until you tear them from the ring, but it doesn’t make them go away. Out of sight and out of mind didn’t really work for this one, you had found, or with this one over there, either. He had been in your mind more than he had ever been in your sight, you think. “Love, why not?”
“Well, Harry, marriage doesn’t really seem to be in the cards for me. I dunno why I ever thought it had,” you confess gently, as if you need to soften the blow for him, of all people. You weren’t sure if he deserved it anymore, even.
“What d’ya mean? That’s all you could jabber ‘bout when we were kids, and teenagers too. It was all ‘bout walkin’ down tha aisle and bein’ a mum . . havin’ four bloody kids, and no less. What were tha names, again? Avery, Margot, Henley, and . .”
“Jones,” your lips decide for you. “I’m surprised you could remember all of those.”
“‘s not hard when you’d already decided our kids’ names when we were only five, bubs,” he wheezes, a nostalgic happiness dripping off of his words, likened to honey. “You’d always insisted you’d marry me one day, and not let anybody else have me.”
The tears had come and went over the last few days, and once again, they had made their fateful return. Sometimes, you had wished that he could know how many multitudes you had shed because of him. For him. At others, if you thought with your heart, you knew that he shouldn’t know. He couldn’t.
“I remember it being the other way around. You said I’d be your wife one day, I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
“A truth or a lie, love?” the saying brings your actions to a halt, making your eyes freeze on the bottle of contact solution just within reach.
“Truth.”
“I was sad t’ hear you’d broken yer promise t’ me when Mum had told me you’d gotten engaged,” this time, you’re not sure if his words are imaginary or actual. The feelings bubbling inside of you, demanding to be felt and then spoken, feel quite like the latter.
It was never ‘my mum’ between the two of you, because growing up it was as if the both of you had had two mums and a dad, or for Harry, two. Since the day he went away, she had never stopped being your mum either, and she reminded you with every card and text checking up on you. Sometimes, you’d wished she would just stop, but you didn’t know how to do that. You feared not knowing how to accept that if she had even agreed, if asked. She had spent countless times stroking your hair when you found your way onto her sofa, another sob on your lips from missing her son.
“‘s it shitty o’ me t’ say ‘m tha least bit relieved?” his next words come, and you can hear the sheepish tone in them.
“No, join the club.”
“Did he cheat on you? ‘Cuz if he did, I swear t’ high heavens that I-,” you stop him when his words become unnecessary, but after the ‘stop’ you utter, your lips falter.
How do you tell him that he’s the reason? The very one that led you to end the engagement with a man that was everything you had wanted and more, and yet, he wasn’t. Because, he wasn’t the man who stands behind you now. The exact one who at one time in your lives would walk around your gardens in nappies with you and nothing else. The boy you took baths with as a child, took naps with fighting over who got the Mickey Mouse blankey and the next day who got the Scooby Doo one. Try as you might, you couldn’t find a way or a time to tell your fiancée any of that, in all of the years you had been together, or even just the other day when he wrapped the ring back in your hand with wet eyes.
If you were even able to tell Harry that, how could you ever bring yourself to tell him what you’ve been holding inside of you for all of these years? You had tried again and again to forgive him for what he had done, but each time it had failed sooner than the last. What was to say that even if he was there in front of you, that one more try would work? How could you tell your lifelong best friend who wasn’t really your best friend anymore, who hadn’t been almost longer than he had, that you had never stopped loving him, but never stopped hating him for leaving you?
“No, he didn’t cheat on me. He was perfect . . but not for me.”
“‘m really sorry ‘bout that, love. Mum had good things t’ say ‘bout him afta meetin��� him and I trusted her.”
“Harry, like you ever approved of my boyfriends when we were in school,” you argue with a smile, not realizing you’re facing him until well, you are. His lips are smiling at you until they’re not, and it’s the furthest thing from your own, too. “You never liked any of them, and always were mean to them.”
“I rememba. Only gave ‘em a hard time ‘cuz there wasn’t one who treated you good enough, like you’d deserved,” if he sees the wetness collecting on your cheeks, he doesn’t mention it. His lips don’t, but his eyes do all of the talking, and more.
“Why are you saying all of this now, Harry?” it had been years in the making and there was no stopping it now. You couldn’t lie to myself anymore. No, not with the tears in your voice could you mask another one fed to his ears.
“Truth . . or lie?”
“I’m done playing games with you, Harry! We’re bloody twenty five years old, we’re supposed to always tell the truth. You promised all those years ago that you wouldn’t lie to me, and you did just that, Harry! How could you?” you feel the words swell inside of you, and you’re past trying to figure out how to get them to stop. He stares back at you with a face devoid of any inkling of understanding, telling you what you had always known, despite the lies you’d told yourself. “You left me, Harry! You forgot about me! Y-You went on that tv show and I didn’t exist anymore. How could you do that to me? We were the bestest of friends, ever since we were babies! I cheered you on, Harry. I was your biggest fan before anybody else, listening to your made up songs on guitar before we even started school. We wrote our own songs and we had our own band, The Brunette Bunch, with you on guitar and me on the keyboard . . I always knew you were a rockstar, because you were my favorite person in the entire world, Hare. But, you were there one day, and then you were gone. My best friend never came back after that . . I couldn’t count the hundreds of times that I’d hate myself for wishing that you’d never went on that show.”
“You were never very good at sharing me from tha start,” his words are sugar, perhaps the spice, and everything nice. So many still wait inside of you, left unsaid.
“I couldn’t do it, Hare. I couldn’t marry him, because of it.”
“Bubs, you left him ‘cuz o’ me?” his astonishment is vivid in your eyes and his, as well.
“You never did do that great in Lit, trying to make out what the books were trying to say,” your attempt is measly at a laugh, but amongst the glassiness in his eyes, you see an echo of it. “Twenty years later and I still can’t help but want nobody else to marry you.”
The dimples are home again and they make the same word resound inside of you, too. His steps are quiet but they speak volumes in your skull, and in your chest.
“Seems it was yest’day ‘d find you scribblin’ ‘Mrs. Harry Styles’ over and over in yer Comp journal, ‘stead o’ practicin’ cursive.”
“Oh, I was practicing my cursive still, just the important stuff,” this time, it’s the closest thing to a real laugh you've shared in days. It’s been years and more since the last time you’d heard one spill from his own, until now.
“Sure,” he titters. The soft padding of his Vans on the carpeted floor stops, but your heart tells you that it never will. There had been a lot of never’s that took up rent in your heart for too long now, but another one seemed to be turning to dust in front of your eyes. “Could never tell you how sorry I am fer leavin’ you behind, love. Never could, but I never fo’got you. Ev’ry time I called home I asked Mum how you were and what you were doin.’ At first, I couldn’t take the truth, and Mum didn’t want me t’ know, but I told her t.’ Y’know how she’d hug you ev’ry time you saw her? That was from me, told her t’ give you a hug from me ev’ry time I called, ‘cuz I hated that I couldn’t give you one . . I know ‘s no excuse and that it wasn’t anythin’ compared t’ yers, but it hurt too much afta awhile t’ see you when I came home. I wanted things t’ be the same again, but I couldn’t, knowin’ I was to leave again. But, y’know what, I never stopped. I asked Mum each and every call ‘bout you and made sure she told me ev’rythin.’ Saw photos o’ you graduate school without me, uni too, yer fiancée, passin’ yer driver’s test, movin’ t’ London, and at last, I got t’ send her one o’ when you came t’ that concert o’ ours a few back and saw me backstage. I never fo’got you, or stopped worryin’ ‘bout you, knowin’ how bad ‘d fucked things up. Just didn’t know tha first thing t’ do or say t’ fix ‘em.”
If you were dreaming all of this, you realized, you hoped that you wouldn’t wake up for a while still. You needed this to be real for just a bit more, maybe longer. Definitely, more.
“Truth or lie, Hare?” is all that your lips can utter at this point. You think that you made the right call when his lips sing with a laugh.
“Truth. Always, bubs.”
“Can I give you that kiss I’ve been sitting on for a good ten years, now?” it had been so long since your lips had curled with happiness because of him. Within moments, it feels like mere minutes since the days with your heads resting on each other’s shoulders with textbooks and Red Vines in your laps. Not much further, walking home with scraped knees reading Dr. Seuss to each other, either.
But, when his lips touch yours, it could feel like a million miles away, too. For the first time amongst your own lies and truths, you’re telling yourself the truth when you think that you’re glad that you’re here. Cradled against his chest and with his arm around your waist, you’re at last happy where you are, because it’s finally with him beside you again.
“Can I have a truth, bubs?”
“Sure, Hare. What is it?” you yawn, your forehead nudging against the sandpaper feel of his face. Quickly, you’d realized there were so many things you had to learn about him. You couldn’t be more excited to annoy his ears with questions.
“How set are you on that ‘never gettin’ married’ thing?”
With warmed cheeks and heart, at last, just the same, your smiling lips deal an answer you’ve held for too long.
“I’m still set on not letting anybody else marry you, if that tells you anything.”
In that moment, it had been the easiest it’d ever been to let yourself tell the truth. He’d changed and so had you, but he still smelled the same and felt the same and he was your same Harry, and your heart did too. It greeted him again as his lips did the same to your own, giggles shared underneath the covers like you’d been doing for years with him beside you.
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todoscript · 4 years
Text
𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬
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@grow-a-smile-for-a-while​ requested: i request 7 fluff + 10 angst please? With either Bakugou or Shinsou. (With 10 angst being them worried about the readers mental health) Thank you so much love ur writing!!1! 💗💗
anonymous requested: 7 fluff soulmate au for shinsou please!! Love your work 💛
prompt for milestone event: “I think you might be my soulmate.” + “I’m worried about you.” genre: soulmate au. angst with a bit of fluff. pairing: shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader word count: 3.1k+ warnings: implications of mental health issues.
author’s note: I combined the two requests since they both share the same prompt! This is actually my first time writing a soulmate au so I hope it’s alright. Special thank you to my lovely beta readers @tamasoft​ & @etegomanere​!
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Throughout his entire life, Shinsou has only ever known the colors white, black, and gray.
They’re colors that prevent him from fully embracing the world as he walks through life each day peering through muddy lenses. Some say beyond the glass that obscures them all lies a realm painted in beautiful hues, teeming with an euphoria of colors outside the monochrome of perpetual black and white.
If such a paradise exists, Shinsou has yet to see or meet anyone that has ever set foot in that world. In fact, he honestly doubts such a thing is real, and has long adapted into his endless days stuck between the grays filtering through his vision.
However, today, he experiences something entirely new.
Today, he sees the color red.
It starts early in the morning, from the very moment he lifts himself up from his bed at the white sunlight trickling into his dorm room. There, with unlidded eyes, he glimpses into a vibrant, spontaneous pigment that lines itself on the outside.
Shinsou blinks twice, squinting, unsure if the grisly stain invading his vision is really there. But after consecutively rubbing his eyes in an attempt to brush it away, he groans when the angry color has yet to leave. The crimson that surrounds him is very much real.
With an average person, they’d be ecstatic, absolutely joyful at the change happening before—no, within their very eyes. What they’re seeing now is only a step forward toward that rumored world of infinite hues—a whole artist’s palette of colors waiting for them. Sadly, that isn’t the case for Shinsou as he realizes he’ll have to go about his day lugging such… severity surrounding him.
The extremity of the hue that covers the corner of his sight reminds him of fires setting ablaze in the thick of a forest. It hurts to look at, hurts to stride through his day with such an intense color following his every move like it’s tormenting him. If this is what the other colors are like, he’d rather keep to his monochromatic existence, please. Just even looking up and darting his head around is enough to give him a headache.
“Whoa, my man Shinsou, you okay?” Shinsou’s classmate, Kaminari, asks him while the upbeat boy takes his seat to his right, noticing the grim expression on his classmate’s face that likely isn’t due to any lack of sleep this time, considering its austerity.
“Yeah… I’m fine,” Shinsou assures, managing to suppress the extra strain leaking out when he turns his head. With the red intensifying at his movements, he wills himself just to look straight ahead for now. That’s all he needs to get through the school day anyway—directing his eyes to the front of the classroom where their homeroom teacher, Aizawa, enters to give them the news for the day. And yet, he can’t help but allow himself drift to your empty desk lying to his left, located one seat down the column from his.
He grumbles. That makes it three days now—three days since you last attended class.
Shinsou knows you haven’t been going to class because you “weren’t feeling well”—the answer you gave him when he approached you last night as you were walking down the hallway to your room.
He knew something was wrong. Your demeanor in that moment felt off, it was strange and unlike you.
You were rubbing your hands up and down your skin, acting like just being in his presence was nerve-wracking, and you never once met his eyes during the conversation. No matter how often he craned his head to see you, you made a point to turn away each time. And much to Shinsou’s concern, he also caught onto the heavy bags afflicted beneath your eyes. You looked like you haven’t had much of an ounce of sleep, despite taking time off from classes to recover. It only seemed that you were only getting worse at that point, and he grew worried every second in front of you.
But before Shinsou could pry further, you hastily ended the exchange with a sputtered good night and retreated back to your dorm room, slamming the door shut as if to reinforce a barrier that would keep him away. The next thing he knew, he headed to sleep, and woke up seeing the color red.
Staring at the vacant desk instills something in him that makes the red glow brighter, consuming more of his grayscale almost angrily. He winces as the throb courses through his head with growing intensity.
“Shinsou, you alright?”
Aizawa directs his concern toward him in the middle of his lecture when he notices Shinsou shrink in his seat at the pain. From the very moment he turns to answer his teacher, the pulses bleeding into his head subside, and the fiery hues return to a tamer tinge.
He answers Aizawa with a small nod, though it isn’t enough to dispel the teacher’s doubt right away. Aizawa, in turn, raises a brow, discreetly gauging his student’s condition. Luckily for Shinsou, it isn’t long until he brushes it off and resumes the lecture, gathering the students’ attention again, aside from the boy on Shinsou’s right.
Kaminari flattens his hand next to his mouth, words coming out in a whisper only audible enough for his friend to hear, “Dude, I don’t think you’re okay… You looked like you were going through some severe migraine when I got into the classroom.”
“I told you, it’s nothing, okay?” Shinsou replies, not diverting his eyes from the front of the room and putting Kaminari’s concern to rest for now as he shrugs in return.
However, his words aren’t enough to impede his headaches from coming back during the day. They grow more potent than ever as the crimson ignites across his vision.
What the hell is going on? Shinsou questions at this point when Midnight, their instructor for today’s hero course, advises him to head to the nurse’s office after he stumbles across the training field one too many times to be healthy for him. Begrudgingly following her order, he lugs himself to Recovery Girl’s office, who advises him to have a seat before she assesses his condition.
“So, you’ve been having headaches, have you?” the old woman asks, voice coming out like sandpaper while she scans across a page on her clipboard. “Tell me, when did they start?”
Shinsou rubs the back of his neck. “Just this morning, when I woke up,” he answers, “and they’ve only been getting worse.” He leans forward on his elbows settled atop his thighs, grumbling under his breath over the mess of his day so far. The red surrounding him swells relentlessly in waves. He narrows his brows tightly at the vermillion adjoining his hands, delving into the crevices of his palms as they pulse like a heartbeat.
Recovery Girl hums between those thin, balmy lips of hers, gloved finger beneath her chin before she decides to hop off her seat and head toward the cabinets.
“Well, this isn’t a wound or physical injury of some sort, so I can’t use my quirk to heal you. However, I can prescribe you a drug used to relieve migraines if that’s fine.”
He nods and Recovery Girl rummages through the shelves and pulls out a transparent container. With her small steps slowly approaching toward him, Shinsou gets up to meet her in the middle, hand held out to retrieve the medicine.
“I also suggest you head back to your dorm for now and rest up. You’re in no condition to train at the moment.”
“Right, thanks,” Shinsou says, burying the container in the pocket of his pants. He gets up from his seat, steps proceeding to the exit of her office. When he makes it to the doorway, a thought finds its way at the forefront of his mind, and he pauses for a minuscule moment.
“Recovery Girl,” he decides to call out, head tilted in the small woman’s direction.
“Yes?”
“Has Y/n been seeing you recently? About her… unwellness?” He words carefully, unsure of how to put your condition to light when he was still kept in the dark from you.
Recovery Girl shows her confusion between the small, wrinkled features on her face. She shakes her head. “No, I haven’t heard or seen much of her recently. Why? Is something wrong?”
Shinsou’s lips purse together, an uneasy feeling creeping on him that the stain on his vision reacts to instantly. He feigns a stoic expression over the backlash not to worry the lady, his right hand clutching over the shape formed on his pocket from the container underneath.
“It’s fine. I’ll check on her when I get back to the dorms,” he tells her, and the old lady simply blinks, her aged, dull senses unaware.
“Very well. Make sure to get your rest and take your painkillers, alright?”
“Yeah, I know.”
With that, Shinsou makes his leave. Unusual to him, however, his steps begin to pick up for some reason at every stride down the hallways of the building. He’s not sure where this urgency is coming from, but he can’t find it within himself to stop moving, and in fact, quickens his pace until he’s making his way back to the Heights Alliance dormitories.
The gray in his eyes is now gone. Red is what consumes his sight, vividly turning every shade around him into crimson. Whatever crosses his path bleeds and quivers in jagged red edges, from wooden floorboards to the sunlight filtering through the windows. He’s not sure what this could mean, but the one thing Shinsou is certain about is that something is wrong. And he needs to go to you.
True to his word, the first thing he does is jab the button on the elevator to the building’s highest floor, walking out after his ascent with eyes aimed at your dorm room. What comes next is three firm knocks against the wood of your door, making a point to let his presence be known on the off chance you can’t hear him.
“Y/n?” he voices, your name echoing in the empty expanse of the hallway on his side, “It’s me, Shinsou. Please open up. I just want to check on you.”
There’s approximately three seconds of pause before Shinsou leans into the door, ear pressing against it to catch any sign of movements on the other side. He hears a rustle or two until it’s replaced by the padding of feet on the floor. Standing back, he prepares for the door to open as the golden doorknob rattles into a turn.
“Shinsou,” you greet quietly with the entrance’s slow swing, where he sees you peer at him from a crack between the door. Your tired eyes find him, and he immediately notes the bagginess still persisting underneath. They give his own dark eye bags a run for their money.
Though his edginess remains, the red dissipates back into grays, blacks, and whites. His head is now absent of those headaches that plagued him as he gazes through those muddy, monochromatic lenses again.
“What are you doing here? Isn’t class going on right now?”
“It is, but I was sent back,” Shinsou tells you, eyes never leaving yours as he observes you attentively. “wasn’t feeling well.”
You cross your arms on your chest, looking down while you squeeze a bit of your skin to busy your hands. There’s a significant silence between you two that Shinsou wishes didn’t drag on for so long. Before he can come up with anything to resolve the tension, you’re already a step ahead, beating him in breaking the silence.
“Well… if that’s all then I’m going to head back to my room,” you say. Your hand clutches the doorknob to pull it back in, but Shinsou’s quick to act.
“No, wait—!”
He braces his foot between the gap just in time to stop the door’s movement, the hinges creaking due to the sudden halt. Staring at him, you’re dazed by his actions as he pries the crack open further.
“Y/n, I know there’s something wrong,” he states, hoping his usual keen intuition is enough for you not question this. He doubts you’d believe him if he ever told you the very color red led him to this moment.
You deny his claims, fingers firm on the knob. “I told you yesterday that it was nothing.”
“No. You’re not alright, Y/n.” His calloused hands cup your face, tilting up to guide you to his eyes—eyes that appear just as gray to you as they are to him. You stare into them, unable to reply at how unyielding he is toward your condition.
Despite the homologous grayscale of colors, Shinsou can see it all. He sees the stress carried in your eyes, down to the tension in your face that tires from feigning smiles every day. He knows you’re hurting just keeping up the withering cracks of your fortitude. Yet you can’t stop yourself from picking up your porcelain again, trying to mend them with the cruddy glue that is your mentality. If you continue this, you’d surely fall apart into too many pieces to put back together.
“Please, talk to me. I’m worried about you.”
You have no idea how much those words have an effect on you. Not until you’re suddenly weeping in front of him, tears spilling down your eyes as your throat begins to sunder into sobs. All he can do is offer you the solace of his warm embrace as he tugs your arm so your form is drawn into his body. He feels the tears prickle into his shirt, wetness seeping into his skin, but he doesn’t care. Shinsou holds you in his arms and pats against your hair gently, treating you like you are delicate earthenware bound to break as you tremble.
“I-I’m just s-so tired, and stressed, and I-I don’t know w-what to do s-s-sometimes,” you sob between words, voice muffled into his chest. Shinsou hushes you softly, unwavering in warmth.
“It’s okay. I know. You can let it all out, I’m here for you,” he assures firmly. The two of you stay there in that position for some time, your cries isolated in the empty expanse of the hallway with the dormitory vacant except for yourselves. When they begin to die down, Shinsou perceives his vision changing again.
This time, what greets him is a muted blue. The shade is not far off from the steely grays he’s accustomed to, but distinguishable enough for him to notice the change. It’s a sad color that reminds him of tears and lonely clouds.
Shinsou glimpses down at you, your body finally still against him, yet he can tell your aches are far from healed.
You sniffle, backing away when you realize you’re still nuzzled into his chest, now stained with damp patches on his white button-up. He gives you your space, smoothing the strands of your hair one last time before he parts. Though he makes an effort to hold your hand as your other rubs the hot wetness away from your puffy eyes.
“You… alright?” he asks, lightly squeezing your fingertips. You don’t give him much, just a slow, descending nod that is enough for him to continue gingerly, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Your initial hesitance almost makes him retract his question, afraid that he may have poked further than was comfortable, but you mitigate that thought with another nod, allowing him inside your dorm room.
When your door clicks to a close, you lean against it and watch as the taller boy stands aimlessly in the middle of the room.
“Shinsou?” you call, and he perks up.
“Yeah?”
“How did you know... what was going on?” you ask, voice drawing out across your room quietly.
For once, Shinsou doesn’t have an answer. He stands there, silent, unable to approach your question with a clear response. But there’s a lingering voice in his head telling him that he knows what led him to you deep down.
The colors.
He realizes the red enveloping his vision this entire time was connected to you. From waking up, glimpsing at your desk, to mentioning any thought of you, the color only ever intensified. And it calmed down at the very moment you opened your door, turning blue from your sadness washing in waves before him.
Shinsou draws in a breath of air. He’s not sure how to relay this notion in any other way than the words that cross his mind.
I think you might be my soulmate.
His heart suddenly flutters at the mere inkling of the words spoken in his head. It sounds almost far-fetched, reminding him of romantic fairy tales narrated in storybooks. Still, he can’t conjure any other resolution than this—can’t find any explanation for these connections of colors that bind your consciousness to him.
A small, inner part in him desires to blurt this out to you, let it be known of the fate stringing your pinkies together through the pigments painted on his canvas. But staring back into your swollen, tired eyes, he knows he can’t do that right now. What you need is for him to be by your side and help you recollect your thoughts. Learning about the possibility that you’re his soulmate is likely the last thing you want to hear in your condition.
He shakes his head, brows knitting together. “I’m not entirely sure about it myself,” he starts warily, coming closer to reach out for your hand again, “but all I know is that whatever happened led me here to you. Told me when you were at your weakest.” Shinsou twines your fingers together, lightly pulling you away from the door and toward the middle of the room. “And that was enough for me to come.”
When the comforting words depart his mouth, he swears that in an infinitesimal moment, those grays of his canvas spatter with droplets of color as he gazes down at you with only compassion in his eyes. That his black and white world transforms into that rumored paradise of beautiful hues for just a second until in the next blink, they’re gone.
He doesn’t know what to make of it, but it’s sufficient for him that whenever he glimmers into your eyes, colors are lying in wake underneath the monochrome. So he clutches your hand in his, allowing you to spill your thoughts out to relieve them off your shoulders as he hopes that one day, you and him can walk in tandem together into the color.
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makeste · 3 years
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BnHA Chapter 288: ZOOM AND ENHANCE
Previously on BnHA: Tomura, AFO, Deku, and Nana all met up inside of OFA and were all, “wow this is awkward.” AFO talked a whole bunch about vestiges before realizing that nobody cared (EXCEPT FOR ME. I CARED!!), and was then all “anyway so just to get everyone up to speed here, Tomura is Nana’s grandson.” OFA appeared and was all “what up bro I see you’re still a dick”, and then everyone stood around for a bit waging psychokinetic war on each other and blowing up on the ground and shit. This didn’t really accomplish anything, so AFO shifted gears and started trash talking Deku instead, because he’s a whiny little punkass loser who can’t admit when his brother has gotten the best of him yet again! OFA was all “anyways Deku rules and haters gonna hate, peace”, and then everyone wooshed back out of OFA and back into the real world, Deku with his quirk still intact. Meanwhile Gigantomachia and the LoV stampeded ever closer to the city, and Toga started monologuing in preparation for a seemingly inevitable battle with Ochako! And then the chapter basically just ended there lol.
Today on BnHA: Imagine you are Uraraka Ochako. And you’re out here doing what you do best, saving bitches and being a badass, when all of a sudden some old lady runs up to you and is all “PLEASE HELP ME, MY HUSBAND IS ASLEEP OR SOME SHIT, YOU KNOW US OLD PEOPLE, WE’RE SO FUCKING FEEBLE AND HAPLESS.” And so you’re all “OF COURSE” because you’re a good fucking person, and then she speeds off like she’s got fucking wheels and it’s like damn, grandma, were you in varsity track or what, and then OUT OF NOWHERE she just spontaneously turns into HIMIKO FUCKING TOGA. And she’s all naked and shit, and it’s like damn, Toga, where are your clothes, and she just giggles and ducks into a nearby building. And so you follow her for god knows what reason, and she fucking pounces on you and starts interrogating you in like the most seductive way possible, and you’re all wtf is this. Like, can you even imagine. Anyway so Ochako is having quite a day.
okay lol so I’ve gotta kind of rush through this since I’ve got other stuff I need to wrap up today as well, so! fingers crossed that we get a nice, simple chapter with no controversies or elaborate revelations or anything like that! just give me lots of stuff to mindlessly keysmash about, Horikoshi. I’m counting on you bro
lol what
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an actual fucking plane?? is that allowed?? how bizarrely normal. are we sure this plane does not shoot lasers or something or is powered by someone with like a fusion reactor quirk idk
and who tf is Takeo-san. some random guy Horikoshi is suddenly introducing after 300 chapters to come save everyone at the last minute? pretty sus. Horikoshi is this your self insert
GASP
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NO WAY THIS IS ALL MIGHT, RIGHT?? holy shit I swear to god if it’s All Might this lady needs to TURN THE FUCK AROUND RIGHT NOW. stop at McDonalds, order a black coffee for herself and only herself, and drive the rest of the way back home without so much as a bathroom break. there are certain prophecies which we don’t need to be tempting right now, okay people?? holy shit
(ETA: OR, here’s a thought, WHAT IF IT’S BEST JEANIST. hope springs eternal lmao. anyways though surely it’s not actually All Might. he can’t die yet, he’s got like 5 million secret things he needs to explain to Deku, and also Kacchan is unconscious and he can’t just SLEEP RIGHT THROUGH ALL MIGHT’S DEATH like come on.)
oh look more heroes all lining up to be slaughtered by Machia
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real talk, at this point their priority should just be evacuating any citizens in Machia’s path, and then getting the fuck out of his way. none of them stand a chance in hell at stopping him and they know it. the body count is already high enough as it is. regroup and live to fight another day, people
anyway, so Machia is apparently plowing through cities at 100km per hour. that... actually might not be fast enough. Gunga and Jakku were 80km apart, so at that rate it would take him nearly an hour to reach Tomura. that fight’s gonna be long done by the time they get there. huh
okay these guys are saying he’s going to reach them in about 8 minutes. ?? so are you telling me Tomura and Deku and the rest have been fighting for like 40 minutes already?? lmao Gran probably bled to death half an hour ago at this rate. Horikoshi please explain yourself. some of us spent our entire childhoods doodling comics instead of paying attention in math and science AND IT SHOWS
anyway so this is all very bad and this guy is really rubbing it in just how bad it is
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I mean... yeah. obviously the villains are still to blame at the core of it all, but yeah. feels like you all could have planned a hell of a lot better for this. you knew there was the risk of Tomura waking up, and you knew there was also the risk of Gigantomachia waking up as well. and you pretty much had no contingency plan at all huh. society is really gonna be in shambles after this
lmao look at this shit. Machia is so big at this point that it looks like they’re having a picnic in the middle of some desert somewhere. at what point does it cease being a guy’s back and start being its own zip code
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even has its own wifi. amazing
oh shit Compress apparently spotted someone and he’s asking Skeptic to “zoom and enhance” like it’s CS fucking I. that’s not how it works Compress you fucking boomer
anyway so OF COURSE,
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was there a reason you needed to zoom in on them, other than to trigger Toga?? some people just want to watch the world burn
so Toga is now GEARIN’ UP!!
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that honestly is so fucking handy. over at U.A. they have to carry their gear in briefcases like scrubs. does Compress actually have the best quirk in the world?? it flies under the radar so well that I always forget about it, but like WHAT CAN’T IT DO though, y’know??
WELL WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN MY DUDE
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“oh hey is that the U.A. kids? Skeptic could you please zoom in on them for absolutely no reason? OH MY GOD TOGA IS RUNNING OFF TO FIGHT THEM, OH MY GOD WHO COULD HAVE FORESEEN, OH MY GOD”
now he’s all “DABI PLEASE DO SOMETHING” but Dabi is all “DABI DON’T CARE”
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Dabi don’t care about NOTHING OR NO ONE!! Dabi don’t got time for this
lmao I literally forgot that Spinner was even there, shit
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so are you gonna go with her then or not? because I got news for you dude, it doesn’t matter how heartwarming your speech is, nothing can stop this girl now that she’s gone full distracted boyfriend meme
AW BUT IT REALLY IS HEARTWARMING THOUGH
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Spinner is the glue keeping this dysfunctional Addams family together honestly. too bad he couldn’t stop Compress from OPENING HIS BIG DUMB MOUTH ah well
lmao but he’s letting her go anyway though
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Spinner for new LoV President. all in favor??
ANYWAYS LOL THIS IS BAD
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“ACCELERATE EVACUATIONS” LOL WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO OCHAKO HE’S MOVING AT 100KM AN HOUR AND HE’S LIKE FUCKING GODZILLA SIZED FKJLK
“PLEASE RUN OUTSIDE OF THE VILLAIN’S PERIPHERY” well thank fucking god the people have you guys to guide them what would they even do without you lklkhlkds
NO HORIKOSHI DON’T YOU DARE
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IF YOU HURT MY GIRL FROPPY I SWEAR TO GOD!! LEAVE HER ALONE YOU BRIGAND
OH THANK GOD
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“sorry for SAVING YOUR LIFE” smh. anyway so how fucking badass is Ochako though?? can we just talk about this. THE GIRL POWER ARC STRIKES AGAIN hot damn
(ETA: and btw, seeing as Iida is nowhere to be found, I’d say odds are pretty good that they did in fact send him to go warn the Endeavorsquad of Gigantomachia’s imminent arrival. godspeed Iida! they need all the help they can get right now honestly.)
EXCUSE ME BUT ARE YOU TOGA
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IS THIS TOGA. THIS IS DEFINITELY TOGA OMG
“I IMMEDIATELY TRUST YOU AND I WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH” noooo Ochako nooooo
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damn Toga you really drained some poor old lady’s blood just so you could pull this kind of sneaky shit. I forgot how much I loved you
ohhhh lol so it’s her “husband” that is Takeo-san lol
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THE BETTER TO LURE YOU INTO A TRAP MY DEAR
lmao Ochako you rube
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now you’ve done it Toga. there is nothing Ochako loves more than a good old fashioned Old People Romance. DID YOU KNOW SHE HAS SEEN THE NOTEBOOK LIKE FIFTY TIMES. AND NO MATTER WHAT, IT ALWAYS GETS HER AT THE END. meanwhile I just want to watch a movie where James Marsden actually gets the girl for once but we all know that will never happen
OH MY
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ngl this page would be like a thousand times better if Ochako was still blushing omg. did I ship this before?? I honestly can’t remember but I sure as fuck ship it now goddammit
(ETA: pretty sure I shipped it back during the Forest arc too but I don’t have time to check right now lol. but Toga is just so horny on main for everyone, all the time, and so like, it’s hard not to ship it.)
so now Toga is running off all flirtatiously and Ochako is barreling after her lol
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plot twist, Takeo-san is actually in there. and he has NO IDEA what’s going on. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WIFE. WHY IS THERE A GIANT MOLE MAN BURROWING THROUGH THE CITY
Ochako why on earth would you follow Toga into this dark creepy house where she could spring at you from any angle out of nowhere. just go back outside and float up over it until you have a high enough vantage point to see all the exits and just wait for her to come out
Toga says she wanted to talk to Tsuyu-chan as well, but let’s be real, you and her don’t have the same kind of electrically charged kismesis energy that you’ve got going on with Ochako though
LMAO DEKU NOWHERE IS SAFE
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getting dragged like a fucking wedding train and he’s not even there to defend himself, shit
blah blah blah just ask her your question already Toga
MY WORD
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would someone please inform Toga that this manga is only rated PG-13
so now Ochako is all “seriously Toga wtf”
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you see that’s what I wanted to know too, lol. I really like that the characters actually think about these things and ask these kind of questions. that’s exactly the contrast between the heroes and the villains right there. the villains care about each other, they’ll give each other heartwarming speeches to please come back alive, and yet they’re utterly indifferent to the thousands of people being killed as they demolish their way through city after city. meanwhile by contrast Ochako’s first thought upon being erotically waylaid by her sexy knife-wielding archnemesis is “but what about that poor old lady is she all right.” just completely opposite energies, almost to a hilarious degree. like maybe Ochako actually should worry about herself just a little bit more lol but heroes gonna hero
and so now what, Toga!! you’re gonna pout about it?? like she’s betrayed you somehow?
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anyway so that’s the end of the chapter! and I’ll just come right out and say that I’m hoping that this fight ends up being something where Toga maybe starts to see things just a little bit more from Ochako’s point of view, and not the other way around, because otherwise I’ll be a little frustrated, ngl. the manga has done an excellent job of making the villains likeable and relatable and getting us to sympathize with them up till this point, but at some point it’s got to start refuting some of these arguments and making it clear that the villains do not actually have any kind of moral high ground here
and also! I really like Toga and would like her to have some kind of redemption arc! but as of now that’s looking to be really difficult if not impossible to pull off, because Toga hasn’t exactly shown a whole lot of remorse for anything she’s done so far, you know? because she doesn’t see it as bad in any way; to her it’s just her way of expressing love, and being true to who she is. but being true to yourself really should NOT involve, you know, MURDER, and so yeah. it’s a problem lmao
but who knows! maybe this battle with Ochako will be the start of something which eventually leads to some sort of change within her! I have absolutely no idea how that could play out tbh, but even so I can hope! either that or she will double down on the whole “villains are victims and heroes are apathetic cruel hypocrites” ideology and decide she wants to kill Ochako and Izuku for breaking her heart, in which case I will be very sad, but I guess if that’s the way Horikoshi’s gonna play it it is what it is!
and lastly, so is this going to be like the final battle between them or something?? surely not, right? like this is just round 2 of 3. well at any rate, it’s sure going to be interesting
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Text
Out Of Time ~ 120
MASTERLIST
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< previous chapter
Word Count: 1,700ish
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When Bucky woke up, it took him a minute to realize what was happening. Once he realized that him and Y/N were cuddled close with his arm slung over her waist, he knew he should move. But he didn’t right away. He had always imagined this, back before his fall from the train. Bucky had imagined waking up with Y/N in his arms… well, now arm… so many times and it was finally here. But he didn’t want to push. 
He could tell there was still something she was hiding, something that was weighing her down that she had yet to talk about. So he would wait, until the time was right. He would wait however long it took to make Y/N his again. Because she was worth it.
~~~
Y/N woke up to an empty bed. She wasn’t all that surprised. She had basically forced Bucky to sleep in the same bad as her. For comfort. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. She wasn’t in the right mind set for a relationship. Even the thought of one made her feel bad. Pushing herself to sit up, Bucky walked into the room.
“Morning, sleepy head,” he greeted. “You sleep okay?”
“Much better,” she replied. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
Y/N laughed as she got out of bed. “You really shouldn’t say that, I just might show up here every night.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Bucky thought, and she heard it. She pushed it away, ignoring it. 
“I think I’m going to head back to the palace,” she stated, standing up. “Thanks again for letting me intrude.”
“You could never intrude.”
The two made eye contact. They silently studied each other. 
“I… I should go…” Y/N whispered, not actually making a move to go.
“You really don’t have to,” he replied quietly. He tentatively took a step forward. “You could stay. I could make breakfast. We could sit under our tree and talk.”
“Our tree?”
“Sorry, it just—“
“No. That’s okay…” A small smile formed on her face. “I like it.”
“Really?” 
He stepped closer and when she didn’t make a move to leave, he took another step. He was now toe to toe with Y/N, looking at her with those eyes she fell in love with all those years ago. Bucky took a leap of faith, bringing his hand up to brush his fingers against her cheek. Y/N took a sharp inhale but still made no move to go.
“You were the first memories that came back,” he whispered, hand still against her cheek. “I still don’t have everything. But I have you.”
Y/N met his gaze, eyes tearing up. “Bucky… I…” Her head shook slightly. “I’m not the same person.”
“Neither am I.”
“Bucky, I…” She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
And then she slipped through an open portal behind her. Leaving Bucky standing in his bedroom, hand still up where her cheek once was.
~~~
Y/N spent the whole day locked away in her room. She cried, screamed, threw things, and tried to reach out to the Soul Stone. She didn’t know what was happening anymore, what she was going to do, how she could continue to live like this. To live without making a choice, live with hurting those she cared about. Live with the knowledge of a painful future looming over her.
She was exhausted by the time night was upon Wakanda. But she also couldn’t sleep. Her mind was spinning, turning with everything that was weighing her down. With tears slowly slipping down her face, Y/N appeared outside Bucky’s small house. She looked around to see him standing beneath the large tree near his house. Their tree. He was leaning against it, looking away from her at the large moon. Y/N quietly came up behind him.
“I was pregnant,” Y/N whispered, shakily. 
Bucky spun around. He wasn’t expecting her back here after her leaving this morning, especially so soon. He didn’t make a move to go closer, scared that she’d run off again.
She took a shaking breath before continuing, “When the Accords went down, I was pregnant.”
“Was?” Bucky repeated.
Y/N bit her lip and nodded, unable to look Bucky in the eyes. “Yeah… I found out the day the team was brought the Accords. I didn’t immediately tell anyone because of that.”
“In Siberia… you were sweating and trembling…”
“I was having a miscarriage… Tony found me in the quinjet. After you had told me to leave. I could’t make it further than the quinjet because of it.”
“You were throwing up… the baby…”
“The baby didn’t appreciate me using my powers.”
“Did… did anyone know?”
“Clint and Nat found out because they’re master assassins… no one else knew. Not Steve. Not Tony… I disappeared after they confirmed the death of my child. I couldn’t— I…. I couldn’t face Tony. They guilt he would have for the death of the baby… I couldn’t deal with that and my own guilt…. Cause it was no ones fault but my own.”
“No,” Bucky stepped forward, shaking his head. “It’s not all on you. It was the stress of the situation.”
“But it is…. If I just would have said something—“
“I would have still been framed and Stark and Steve still would have been at each other’s throats. You have to know that.”
“It hurts… all the time… when I saw you for the first time since Siberia… I was reminded that I should be holding my baby in my arms. That’s one of the reasons I quickly disappeared. I can’t—“ Y/N’s voice broke and she looked away. “I’m struggling to live with it.”
“I get it.” Bucky watched as Y/N still wouldn’t look at him as she struggled to hold back her emotions. “Y/N… look at me.” She responded with clenching her eyes shut. “Please, doll…” She still made no move to. With a small sigh, Bucky brought his hand up to her chin and gently moved it so that she was facing him. “I get it. I struggle every day with the pain that I have caused… If anyone understands, it me… Y/N, please look at me.” She slowly opened her tear filled eyes to look at his caring, loving ones. “Nothing that happened was your fault. And nothing that happened could make me stop loving you. I’m from Brooklyn, doll. Always have been, always will.”
“Bucky…” she whimpered. “I-I—“
“I know you’re not in that place right now. But that’s okay. I’m willing to wait because you’re worth it.” Bucky carefully cupped her cheek. “You’ve always been worth it to me,” he whispered, resting his forehead against it.
Getting caught in her whirlwind of emotions, Y/N pressed her lips against his. Bucky willingly welcomed it. He had kissed her on the quinjet in Siberia, so it hadn’t been as long as it had been since their last kiss. But this was something else. He could feel all her sadness she was pouring into it, feel the tears running down her cheeks. The more sadness she poured in, the more love he did. He didn’t want her to feel the way she did. She didn’t deserve it.
When the kiss broke, their foreheads went back to resting against each other and Bucky’s hand brushed away the tears spilling from her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have—“
“Sshhh,” he cooed. “It’s okay.” 
He wrapped his arm around her, holding Y/N as close to his chest as he could. She let the dam break into Bucky’s chest. She had been holding onto to so much, for so long, it was about time to let all her emotions out. He stood there, holding her, until her sobs turned into small whimpers. 
Bucky could tell that she was tired, but without his other arm, it would be hard for him to carry her into the house. So instead, he brought the two of them down onto the ground. He thanked himself for leaving the blanket out from yesterday. Y/N was curled up against his chest as Bucky put the blanket around them. She fell asleep with her head on his chest. He stayed awake longer, not waiting this moment to end.
~~~
Y/N woke up first. It took her a minute to realize that she was wrapped up in a blanket with Bucky, underneath the tree. She watched him sleep for a moment, honestly surprised with how peaceful he looked. His long hair was falling into his face. She carefully moved it behind his ear.
She was deeply confused. Y/N knew she shouldn’t have kissed him. But she was caught up in so many emotions, she couldn’t help herself. She let out a small sigh, realizing that she was playing with both his and Tony’s emotions.
Tony. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in months. She hoped that he was still searching for her but, at the same time, wished that he had moved on with someone better. Someone he deserved.
“What ya thinkin’ about, doll?” Bucky asked softly, opening his eyes.
“Just… how stupid I am,” she responded.
“Oh?”
“I… I have to go…”
“Why?” He sat up straighter, taking her with him. 
“Because…. I… I have to do something.”
“What do you have to do that you can’t do here?”
“It’s… it’s complicated… I’ll be back though. I promise.”
“How long?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know… how ever long it takes?”
Bucky studied Y/N. He knew that look in her eye too well, there was no changing her mind now. Only being supportive.
“Okay then.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Just stay safe.”
“Always.”
“Can I at least make you breakfast before you go?”
“No. I need to get going.” She stood up, with him following. “I promise I’ll be back soon.” She kissed his cheek before disappearing through a portal.
next chapter >
THIS IS NOT HER CHOICE!!! LITERALLY, SHE WILL NOT MAKE HER OFFICIAL CHOICE UNTIL LIKE ENDGAME! I’M DRAGGING IT OUT AND GIVING BOTH SIDES SOME HOPE!
NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.
If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.
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rouiyan · 3 years
Text
𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘗𝘌𝘕𝘌𝘋 𝘜𝘕𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘗𝘌𝘕𝘌𝘋 [ 𝘯.𝘫𝘮 ]
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synopsis — five times jaemin thinks about texting you. 
✧ na jaemin x (fem.) reader. high school au. 
✧ genres : fluff to angst. word count : 2.1k ✧ disclaimers : implications of underage drinking ✧ original request.
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yes, your earphones weren't plugged in all the way in and your music had practically echoed through the entire study hall. and yes, you'd alerted all the students who weren't already listening to their own music and also the supervisor on shift, an uptight middle-aged man who never paid much attention but also handed out detentions and punishments alike without much thought. and although you ended up on cleaning duty later that day, all jaemin wanted to tell you was that really, there was no need to be embarrassed.
as if you alone aren't enough of a thought, the prospects of talking to you have been looming over and in his head ever since he'd heard the specific song that you'd accidentally blasted. i like you by niki (you have taste). he guesses this is what other people are talking about when they tell of how 'just some person' they've been eyeing becomes a crush. for him though, it's predicated off the basis that you and him have a similar music taste, from what little he knows.
jaemin's leg is bouncing erratically, much to the dismay of the other high school students that occupy the same table at the library. to further their dismay, it's nothing that can be helped because his mind is off elsewhere and his fingers are tapping just as fast across the bottom half of his phone screen, drafting text after text that he knows he doesn't have the heart to send. it goes a little something like this:
hi! i'm na jaemin from your homeroom class and i got your number from the class group chat so i hope that's fine with you haha i was wondering if you wanted to be friends?
too wordy, unsure, unlike him. backspace.
hello this is jaemin from your homeroom. i noticed that we listen to the same music and would like to be friends.
too bland, sounds like a homeroom teacher rather than a classmate, what's with the punctuation? backspace.
hi this is na jaemin, let's talk!
not bad, straight to the point but why does he sound so overly enthusiastic? i mean, he is very enthusiastic indeed but he really needn't come off as so. backspace.
hi this is jaemin, i wanna get to kn—
jaemin shoves his phone under the left flap of his world history textbook, his posture shoots upright, and his fingers dart for the blue pen he'd set down over an hour ago in retaliation to the mountains of homework he'd yet to embark upon. swallowing thickly, he looks to his right to see that you are now advancing towards him— no, the seat besides him.
seeing as he's already looking at you, you don't bother to ask the person on the other side. "is this seat taken?" jaemin shakes his head fervently and gestures accordingly, "it's all yours."
his eyes are zeroed in on the textbook in front of him, he swears. it's just that his peripheral vision is so very aware of your presence that he can't help but notice you go through each of your mechanical pencils to find that none of them have lead in them, your pencil case as a whole included. jaemin rummages around his own and holds out one for you. taking a glance over at your relief-laden smile, he thinks he likes you a little more. you take it from him and turn it over in your hand, once, twice, inspecting the pretty pink before remarking under your breath, "thank you."
his peripheral vision has given way to his actual streamline of sight when he notes that you're left-handed. jaemin's right-handed. and when the two of you bury your heads in your respective textbooks, pencils running across notebook pages to document terms and dates you know you won't remember, your elbows bump and nudge every once in a while, getting to know each other.
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it's an exam session, and though jaemin has been accompanying you in the library after school almost every day of the week, he can't seem to understand a single question on the paper. the sounds of a classroom full of students and their pens circling and filling in answers is enough to get him to halt his attempts at milking whatever's left in his brain in favor of giving up. setting his pen down, jaemin sits back in his seat, letting his eyes roam.
his eyes land on your hunched figure not a second later and he thinks oh, that's right. two seats ahead and diagonal to the right, you're focused as ever, the pretty pink mechanical pencil and some eraser exchanging spots in your left hand every other second as you rethink and rethink your answers. that's right. that's why i could never focus on studying.
jaemin fully relents a few minutes later as he stands resolutely to turn in his paper at the front of the room with only about two thirds filled and two thirds of that having been guessed. the teacher gives him a rather unimpressed look as he sets it on the stand but he regrets nothing because as he's making his way back to his seat, you've glanced up in time to catch his gaze and you've unmistakably blushed, head ducking down. but even that isn't enough to conceal the smile that lifts the corner of your lips.
minutes later and the bell has rung, the teacher struggles to yell over all the clambering students to turn in their papers and most of the students themselves are found rushing to the cafeteria to catch the bagels before they run out of stock. jaemin had thought to linger back for a bit, not wanting to be caught within the throng of his antsy peers. he's glad he's done just that because right there on your desk, you've left your wallet.
he fishes out his phone for he's finally landed a solid reason to talk to you outside of your daily study sessions. like déjà vu, jaemin's back at square one:
hi! this is jaemin, you left your wallet in the classroom. wondering if you need it?
well of course you need it, you've run off to the cafeteria. he sounds asinine for pointing out the obvious. backspace.
hey this is jaemin! i saw that you left your wallet in the classroom.. just a heads up :)
the weird creepy smile stares back at him. a hurried backspace.
hi, it's jaemin, your wallet's in the classroom if you're looking for it—
backspace. backspace. backspace. jaemin shoves his phone back into his pocket, standing abruptly in the empty classroom, feet crossing the distance between your desk and his in three lengthened steps. wallet in hand, he thinks of how dumb he'd have been to send a text when he could give it to you in person, when he can talk to you instead. jaemin runs.
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there must be more to it, he thinks. how did he not know you were friends with jeno? maybe your parents are friends or older siblings or maybe you're distantly connected to him. jaemin hopes that's the case but he also doubts it with how his best friend's invited you to sit at their lunch table. there must be more to it.
jeno has you sitting at the end of the table because you're left-handed, and he's sat himself at the only other seat beside you. jaemin knows that too, that you're left-handed. insecurity seeps into his demeanor. you're sitting across from him but you've yet to spare him more than a greeting. and then lunch is over and you part ways with jeno right by your side, odd since you share your class with him and not jeno, odd since you hate being late for class. jaemin knows that much with how you arrive five minutes before each period. he knows because he's the only one that does it too.
there's one minute until class starts when he's reached the classroom, having been ambling aimlessly for the most part of the five minute passing period. jaemin has yet to shrug off his backpack, head down and eyes trained on his phone screen. the feeling is almost too familiar.
y/n you're gonna be late, class is starting soon!
he can't bring himself to send it. backspace.
y/n where are you? 
backspace.
y/n are you with jeno—
with ten seconds to spare, the door is swung open and there you are, hands on the door frame to keep you upright, panting but also smiling. smiling as if you liked being late. as if you didn't mind being late if you could walk jeno to his own class.
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the clock on his nightstand blares 4:28AM. jaemin isn't pleased. he should be after staying up all night to text you, but he isn't. then again, how could he be pleased after he mustered up his courage to text you first, to actually hold a conversation with you, only to be plagued by a measly text his best friend had sent. a single text, buried among hundred of others in the neverending hellhole of a group chat. jeno had only said this: guys i asked her to the dance today. and jaemin wonders why no one else but him paid any mind to it. he wished someone would, any one of them, because he couldn't bear to ask who the 'her' was.
there's a loosening knot in his stomach that grows and grows in pain as it unfurls, a slow sort of pain that trickles when an inkling settles into reality. he clicks on his phone screen once again, just to stare at the goodnight! you'd last sent, funny since it was well into the morning by then. jaemin finds it hard to comprehend how it could have come to this. how is it that he becomes friends with you right when given a reason not to be?
he knows there's no point in it but it feels like a ritual at this point. typing, deleting, drafting undoing.
did jeno ask you to the dance today?
backspace.
did you say yes?
backspace.
do you like jeno?
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he supposes he could've come up with a better excuse other than 'having a sore throat,' but the boys will take anything with the state they're in, readying themselves to sneak in a night's worth of alcohol to a high school dance. the group chat stopped blowing up his phone a while back, probably because they've all arrived at the venue. jaemin can only imagine how he'd be feeling if he were there right now.
seat pulled back to the farthest setting and feet hiked up on the dashboard, jaemin sees himself in the setting sun before him. his clean cut tux fits just fine, hair styled just the way the article on 'trendy do's for young men' had instructed. if he'd bought a corsage for his date, it would match the pretty pink of his tie. but he doesn't have a date, never asked, was too late to ask, didn't have the gut to ask. is it really his fault though? he loosens the tie. he doesn't know.
but like the setting sun, jaemin finds solace in hiding under the cover of night. he sits there, shifting his feet every once in a while, until the sun is gone and with it, his carefully constructed composure. perhaps he would have been better off going because then he would have a reason to hold back his tears; he'd be granted the opportunity to wash them out with some fancy wine from chenle's cellar. if he went, he could see you without having to wonder how you look tonight, what color dress you're wearing, if you've let your hair down or tied it back. he wouldn't have to wonder like how he's wondering now.
jaemin's at a loss of what he should be regretting or what he should be glad for. the lines blur in between and they smother what he thinks he knows and what he doesn't until his thoughts bleed into a disarray of sobs that has him choking in the driver's seat of his car, in the driveway of his house, in the dim light of a streetlamp, in the dark. it's the first time that a friday night meets tears.
he knows he'll have to stay off social media for the time being, he knows that he'll have to keep up this act of 'being sick' for a little longer, or however long it takes to be able look jeno straight in the eye and feel anything but guilt. he thinks it's quite mocking to have him fall for someone just as fast as he's forced to fall out. laughable even, but perhaps his folly lies in how he'd never think of 'stealing his best friend's girl.' he knows he'd feel worse.
so jaemin does what he can in the limbo of retrospection. he does what he knows.
you can keep the pencil.
send.
you like it more than i do.
send.
and i like you more than you like it.
backspace.
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copyright © 2021 rouiyan all rights reserved.
✧ end note — hope you liked it b <3 i forgot to bump up the opacity on the dividers so they look kinda awkward haha. also to anyone who still has an unfulfilled request, i swear to god i’m writing them, some things just come a lot easier than others heh. have a good day everyone !!
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