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superhero--imagines · 3 years

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Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!/ Playlist Here!

* Alright so here are the facts as you know them

* Gojo’s a goddamn player and a homewrecker

* The boy probably has half of Tokyo after him

* Not that you can blame them, that pretty face had you fooled at first too

* The second fact, it that for whatever reason, Gojo Satoru has chosen to play house with a future hopeful sorcerer named Megumi Fushiguro

* Which, through forces outside your control, you have become involved with as well

* And the last fact, was that as soon as this no longer interested him or benefited him in any way, Gojo Satoru would abandon the situation entirely and act like it never happened

* So-

* “(Y/N/N), you look nice today, did you do something new with your hair?” Gojo sings

* - pray tell, why is the school prince is currently sitting on top of your desk, looking at you with those heart eyes

* “Oi what do you think you’re doing?” You ask, a vein threatening to pop on your forehead

* “I’m flirting with you~” he sings, only leaning closer with that all-too-pleased smile

* “I’m pretty sure this is bullying” you reply

* Ever since you’ve started pseudo-parenting Megumi and Tsumiki, Gojo’s been doing crap like this,

* Sometimes he tries to feed you at lunch,

* “Open wide (Y/N/N)~” He’ll sing as he holds out a piece of sushi towards you on some chopsticks

* Only for Megumi to eat it instead

* “Why do you look so sad papa, I thought you said I was your pride and joy”

* other times he’s holding doors open for you

* “Ah here let me-“

* You watch as he walks across from you and opens the door to a random void shrine

* You look at him before sighing and opening your own door to the library

* The other day you mentioned how you didn’t get to try the limited edition Sakura Pepsi and came back to your dorm with a bottle on your desk

* Which would be cute- if the bottle wasn’t half-empty with a note that he’d that said

* “Sorry, I got thirsty on the way back”

* Seriously he’s the worst- and yet,

* You turned away from Megumi and Gojo bickering, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered you were,

* you hid your laugh behind your hand as Gojo jogs to catch up with you, saying he was just trying to predict your needs-

* And you held the half-full bottle of Sakura Pepsi to your chest, keeping it on your window sill

* Because you love him-

* Even though you know he’s just doing all these things to entertain himself instead of out of genuine affection

* Even though these feeling will do nothing but hurt you

* You still love him

* He makes your life feel exciting and fun

* And more than that, underneath that moronic playboy exterior, is a gentle, lonely heart

* A heart that will run away as soon as it knows how you feel about it

* So you mask your budding feelings as best as you can

* Because the only thing you imagine is more painful than knowing your feelings won’t be returned-

* Is not having Gojo Satoru in your life at all

* So you do your best to pretend like nothing has changed

* You act just as indifferent as you always have-

* “Here-“ you push your dessert in Gojo’s direction. “You like sweets right?”

* His smile is so radiant you almost have to shield your eyes

* Well, mostly indifferent anyway

* Not that the self-absorbed moronic prince has seemed to notice anyway

* Too busy focusing on the scrumptious piece of cake in front of him

* Still Gojo isn’t one to be underestimated, he looks to you with a twinkle in his eyes

* “Let’s share it!”

* So far he’s tried twice to have an indirect kiss with you, and he’s missed twice

* He even threw away those chopsticks when Megumi ate that piece of sushi in frustration

* But you know what they say, third times the charm

* You look at Gojo with a raised eyebrow, gaze flicking between the cake and his face

* What, did he imbue some cursed energy so it would explode when you tried to take a bite

* “No thanks”

* Cue Gojo crying as he eats his cake

* He’s really been doing his best lately to earnestly pursue you

* But for some reason, you just don’t get it

* “I like you,” Gojo says as you’re walking side by side on your way back to the dorm after visiting Megumi

* You look back at him, and Gojo feels a blush start to fan across his face

* He finally did it! He finally confessed to you

* And his heart is drumming away in his chest

* You don’t seem to understand the monumental significance of what just occurred because what your mind heard was

* “I {really} like {teasing} you”

* You sigh, your heart skipped a beat, for a second you almost got your hopes up

* There’s no way lady killer Gojo Satoru would ever pick you to be one of his lovers, and if he did it would just be so you could be apart of his personal harem

* “Ok”

* And then you turn around and walk away

* Gojo can’t help but feel like this is retribution for all the times one of his romantic partners has said ‘I love you’

* And he responded with:

* “Why would you do that to yourself?”

* Or

* “Cool”

* At first he thinks it’s a straight-up rejection, but he figures out pretty fast that you just didn’t get it when you keep acting the same as you always have around him

* But don’t get it wrong babe, none of this deters Gojo in the slightest

* “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask

* You’re both in the library, but only one of you is actually studying

* Gojo’s been staring at you with an oddly fixated gaze

* Honestly it’s got you feeling an uncomfortable heat spreading from your face to your neck

* “I’m not giving up you know”

* Giving up on what?!?

* What’s going on right now!!?

* But Gojo doesn’t offer any more insight choosing instead to finally bother reading the book in his hands

* What a weird guy

* You look down to your own book

* You feel the heat linger on your face and neck

* It’s because he’s always saying crap like that, that you’ve caught feelings for him

* Well whatever, everything fades right? Eventually, Gojo will probably lose interest in you-

* He’s part of a clan do you imagine they’ll find a nice girl from a respectable family for him to marry

* They’ll probably have a few kids who’ll be next in line to succeed him

* And by then he’ll be in such a prominent position that you’ll never see him again

* He’ll just be a memory

* Some boy you had a youthful unrequited love with

* The thought makes your heart clench but-

* “It’s for the best,” you tell yourself

* You’re going in completely opposite directions in life, you couldn’t possibly home for anything more than what you have

* After all your luck probably ran out the second you saw his face

* The most beautiful man you’ll ever see

* “I bet he would be one of those handsome grandpas when he gets older” you snort

* The kind that charms and flirts with young men and women just because he knows the effect he has on them.

* You still can’t believe you fell in love with someone like that

* “What a pain” you mumble to yourself, falling back on your bed

* You feel uncertain, afraid of the future even.

* Maybe a snack will help

* It’s the middle of the night, way past the time you were supposed to go to bed when you see him in the kitchen

* Great the last person you wanted to run into

* He’s just standing there in front of the fridge with the door open

* He hasn’t even turned around to say hi or anything

* “Oi Baka prince if you leave the door open like that every-“

* You stop mid-word, you only need one look at his face to know something is wrong

* It’s not all that uncommon for him to do something like this-

* See the thing is, Gojo knows he’s strong enough that he will get to choose when he dies- he’s not bound by the same pain the other sorcerers are, but-

* Well, he’s still going to die

* No matter how much he thinks he’s like god, no matter how powerful he is,

* He’s still going to die

* And growing up with the power he’s had and the mindset that he’s the strongest

* The realization can be pretty crippling

* He so afraid of the uncertainty that brings that most times he can’t move

* The worst part is it’s never when he’s actively thinking about death, or even when he’s on the job

* It’s always at times like this when he’s just woken up and is oddly hungry and he’ll remember

* “Oh, I’m going to die aren’t I?”

* And then it’s like he’s frozen solid

* What is it he usually tells the victims that enter his domain?

* “Funny how when you can do everything, you find you can’t do anything”

* Usually he manages to unfreeze after some unspecified amount of time, getting through it on his own

* But this time, when he finally escapes from the domain of his inner mind he’s covered in a layer of sweat just like always-

* But he’s not sure why he sprawled across the floor

* Not until his head shifts a little, only to see your face looming over him

* Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg

* He’s resting his head in your lap!!!

* Honestly this has been a fantasy of his for a while, to have his head in your lap while looking at the cherry blossoms, and you feed him chocolates and a gentle wind caresses your face

* BUT NOT LIKE THIS

* “Feeling better?” You ask

* Gojo thinks he might combust, he moves to sit up but winces

* He’s got the worst headache, these little episodes of his do typically end with a migraine

* Your hand feels nice and cold as it rests against his forehead

* “Rest a little longer, we’re not in any hurry”

* Aaaaand now he’s screaming on the inside again

* “Sorry about this” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile

* It’s oddly endearing to see a shy Gojo Satoru

* “I bet your lovers would kill me if they saw knew you were showing me such a cute side” you’re half-joking when you say it, but you’re also half-serious

* It gives your Ego a little boost to know you’ve seen a side of him that most of his lovers probably haven’t

* You doubt the mighty Gojo Satoru ever allows himself to be this vulnerable, not even while he’s in the throes of passion

* So that same earnest look on his face startles you

* “I don’t have any other lovers”

* You snort

* “Sure, and I definitely didn’t steal Geto’s pudding that he was saving”

* “I’m being serious”

* Gojo sighs, here he is feeling awfully vulnerable and you still seem denser than a rock

* Do you think he would let anyone other than you see him like this

* “When are you going to realize that if it’s not you then it’s just no good?”

* Your heart is drumming in your ears, and you wonder if he can hear it

* Your mind is telling you to pull back, that this is way too good to be true, that this will only hurt you,

* You should get away while you still have a chance

* But instead something in you persists and you say:

* “Why do you think that is”

* Gojo’s hand reaches up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, those clear blue eyes looking straight into yours

* Your breath stutters in your chest

* You always have been weak for those eyes

* His pink lips curl up into a smile

* “Because I love you”

* And before you know what you’re doing your bending down, pressing your lips against his

* “I love you too”

Bonus:

* “You can see through it right?” You ask

* Gojo fidgets with the blindfold, honestly he was hoping for a much kinkier reason than replacing his scuffed sunglasses when you gave him the blindfold

* “It’s a little darker, but that’s not a bad thing.”

* His hair is out of his face too which is nice

* But-

* “What’s with the sudden gift?”

* It’s not exactly out of character for you to get the people you care about something, but this seems a little outside of your usual MO

* “I just felt like it” You mumble

* Now that his eyes are covered up you think he might attract a little less attention, and all his former flings probably won’t be able to recognize him

* Your eyes drift to his uniform, even in the gross pantsuit you can still tell he’s got a pretty nice body,

* But you’ll have to adjust

* Gojo sees right through your nonchalant answer, smiling that wolfish grin

* “Aw was my sweetie scared I was going to leave them?” He coos, moving ever so close

* You only turn away your face

* Gojo only grins wider

* “Honey~ you should know by now if it’s not you then I’m not interested” he sings in your ear

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru headcanon #gojo satoru reader insert #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen x reader #superhero--imagines

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pingutats · 3 years

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my dearest darling

in which you and harry spend a sunday morning having coffee & cake, and spontaneously decide to go engagement ring shopping together.

warnings: a little suggestive at the end. mostly just pure fluff!

word count: 3.4k

. . . . .

The little alleyway off the main street filled with café tables is a perfect place for you and Harry to sit unseen. In fact, in this little alcove, it’s easy to watch the world pass by the two of you. It’s a nice reprieve from the usual of the world watching Harry.

He’s wearing sunglasses anyway, just in case—despite the overcast weather.

You frown at him, resting your elbows on the table and lacing your fingers together to rest your chin on. “I really think that makes you more conspicuous.”

He scrunches up his nose. “Nah. Or at least, if people notice, they’re going to notice an odd bloke in sunnies, not me.”

“They’ll notice it’s you.”

He glances at the busy footpath. “‘S working so far, love.”

A young waitress rounds the corner from the cafe’s front entrance and sets your coffees down on the table. You move your elbows off the table politely to give her space.

“Thanks,” Harry says, reaching for his black coffee.

You smile at the waitress as you wrap your hands around the latte you ordered, warming up your freezing fingers. You notice the way she hesitates before she leaves, how she looks at Harry like she wants to say something before before quickly spinning on her heels and walking away. When she’s out of earshot, you look at Harry. “She knows.”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

The waitress reappears a minute later with the little cakes you ordered. This time, she’s braver. “I’m so sorry—are you Harry Styles?” she asks, saying his name in a voice that’s akin to a reverent whisper.

His eyes dart to you for a split second and he raises his eyebrow enough that only you’ll notice, conceding to you, then smiles at her. “Yeah, I am. Sorry, what’s your name?”

You watch him navigate the encounter easily, like you’ve watched so many times. The girl asks for a photo and he politely declines, explaining that he doesn’t want to draw attention, but offers to sign a napkin for her instead. He a short message (nice to meet you, all my love) to her and draws a couple hearts after he signs his name, then passes it to her with a sweetly genuine thanks her for her support.

“Oh my gosh, no, thank you,” she says earnestly. “It was so, so nice to meet you.” She glances at you, then, and her cheeks go even pinker. “Thanks,” she says again, and then she’s gone.

You let a giggle free at the awkward way his fans treat you, like they don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk to you as well, and how they struggle to find something to say to you anyway. Once it might have bothered you. It’s just amusing to you now. You raise your brows at Harry. “All your love?” you tease, quoting the message he wrote on the napkin. “Where’s my share?”

He pouts from behind his sunglasses. “Don’t be like that.”

You kick his shin gently underneath the table. “I’m kidding around. She was sweet. I like watching you do that, you’re so good at it.”

His foot swings around to trap your ankle between his. “Trying to play footsie at eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning? You little minx.”

You roll your eyes and wrench your foot free, rattling the table as you do so. He laughs—a sharp barking ha! that makes you smile through your embarrassment at causing a small commotion.

“Who’s conspicuous, sorry?” he asks.

You shake your head at him and stab your fork into your apple and cinnamon muffin. He keeps giggling as he slides his own plate with the carrot cake to his side of the table and picks up a fork himself.

“Mm, that’s good,” he says after he swallows his first bite. “Better than the one I make.”

“Well, baking isn’t known to be one of your talents.”

He claps a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.” He leans over the table and skewers a piece of your muffin on his fork, dodging your attempts to swat his hand away with great agility. He pops it in his mouth triumphantly, cocking his head like he’s challenging you.

In return, you steal a piece of his cake.

“That was a much larger piece than what I took,” he accuses.

You shrug.

His phone, face down on the table, dings. He glances up at you.

“Check it,” you tell him. You know he only has alerts on for his closest friends—otherwise his phone would be ringing all day long. “I don’t mind.”

He bites his lip apologetically and flips the phone over, reading it. “Oh, it’s Tom. Hang on a sec.” He starts typing back.

You crane your neck around to read the message—something about Tom being free at the end of July, and Harry is giving a thumbs-up to that.

“Where are you off to?” you ask.

“France, maybe,” he replies. You’re aware that discovering this kind of information so suddenly would be jarring for most couples, enough to even incite a fight—but you and Harry aren’t exactly a normal couple, and international trips are just part and parcel of your relationship. Hell, he goes on world tours for months at a time. You’re lucky, you suppose, that you function just as well long-distance as you do when you’re living together.

“Lads’ trip?”

He sends the message and clicks his phone off, leaning back in his chair. “Nah. Taking you to Paris and getting down on m’knee in front of the Eiffel Tower,” he says, nodding sagely.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, Tom’s there to get the photos.” He shovels a forkful of the cake into his mouth and then points his fork in the general direction of a street busker playing a violin across the road. He swallows. “And I’m getting that guy to play a little tune, for the atmosphere,” he adds.

You raise your brows. “Oh, you’ve got budget for this, then.”

He smiles. “Nothing but the best for my dearest darling.”

You snort.

He carefully cuts a piece of cake with the edge of his fork. “Nah, we’re thinking of doing a trip down to his friend’s studio in—somewhere in France, I can’t remember really. Friends and family welcome too, if you want to come. Apparently it’s a real nice place.” He eats his mouthful and then lifts his sunnies to look at you with clear eyes. “We are getting married, though. I mean that.”

Your cheeks threaten to burst from how badly you want to smile, but you force yourself to assume a serious face, just to humour him. “Of course we are.”

Despite the butterflies it inspires, this conversation isn’t new. You’ve been with Harry a couple of years now and you both know you’re on the same page when it comes to your shared future. There are no hard plans, but the direction is set. You’re getting there someday.

He puffs his cheeks out. “I feel like you aren’t taking this as seriously as I am.”

You sigh melodramatically. “Well, sweetheart, I haven’t seen a ring yet.”

“A ring? You should have asked,” he drawls, then suddenly sits up straight and points a finger at you. “Don’t take that as a challenge. I want to be the one to ask.”

You shrug. “Can’t make any promises.”

His arm shoots forward to grab at your hand and you almost laugh out loud at the puppy-eyes he’s making at you. “No, please, baby, I swear you can do everything else, but let me do the proposing bit.”

In your heart, you’re happy he’s so insistent, because this is exactly how you want it to be too. In your mind, though, you really enjoy tormenting him.

“I’ll think about it,” you concede, and he groans.

“I’m buying a ring soon as I can, just to lock it in,” he tells you as he destroys what’s left of his carrot cake.

Once you’ve finished and Harry’s gone up to pay for the coffee and cake (he also took a moment to lean over the counter to snap a group selfie with the waitress who served you earlier and a couple others too) you walk back up the street in the general direction of your car that’s parked a few blocks down. The weather is pleasant today and the sun is even peeking out from behind the clouds now, justifying his sunglasses.

Your mind starts to drift (his arm wrapped loosely around your waist anchors you to the real world) as you think about how nice it is to be with Harry, how you’ve learned to appreciate each physical moment you have with him because they are so precious. After the tours, the promotional trips, the film sets, and all the little things in between, you understand how to be with Harry. You know not everyone can handle a life like this, and you’re sure that if it wasn’t Harry whose return you awaited, you wouldn’t be able to either. But he always returns.

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a shop window, gazing in. You’re nearly yanked off your feet as you keep trying to walk with your arm around him—he’s so steady that he doesn’t budge. You stand next to him and look into what you realise is a jewellery store.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Huh?”

He looks down, his arm squeezing around your shoulder. “Said I’d get you a ring, didn’t I?”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “What, today?”

“‘M not asking. Just preparing.”

You raise your eyebrows up at him. “That is… that is really a technicality.”

“Humour me,” he says. “C’mon.” He shepherds you into the store, steering you by your shoulders.

It’s small and pretty in here, the air from the fans cool against your sun-warmed skin. There are hardly any other customers at the moment, so you have some kind of valuable privacy. There are a couple of glass counters that run along either side of the store with meticulously placed themed displays inside them. You gravitate immediately to the closest thing, a cluster of rough amethysts hanging from necklaces.

“Aren’t these so cute?” you comment to Harry.

His arms wrap around you from behind and you reach up to grasp onto his crossed forearms resting against your chest. “Oh, yeah, they are.”

You stay there looking at the necklaces for a little too long—it’s not like you’re really that fascinated by the jewels, but more that you’re just enjoying Harry’s head leaning over your shoulder and his chest pressed to your back as you stand there. When your gaze meanders along the counter and you see something new, though, you shake free of his grip and follow your whims.

This store isn’t labelled out front with a massive brand. You’re pretty sure it’s an independent jeweller, judging by the neat description cards that accompany each small collection, explaining the theme in a lively and personal manner. This is what makes you really fall in love with the place and feel sure that this is where you’ll find the perfect ring. You know Harry could afford any ring from any famous brand, the heaviest jewels imaginable, easily worthy of a feature article in Vogue magazine. He could probably organise to have a diamond dug up fresh specifically to go on your finger.

It’s the fact that Harry could give you anything in the world that makes you not want it at all. Special, to the two of you, isn’t something that you’ll find in wealth or the crowds that adore him.

It’s found in a day like this.

“Oh, my god, H, look at this one,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist and pulling him over.

He bends over the counter, his gaze following the line of your pointing finger. “Oh, that is pretty,” he says.

It’s a simple gold band with a small, neatly carved diamond fixed to it. It isn’t flashy at all, which is what drew you to it. You knew he’d like it too. Despite the decadence of his performances, he can be a different man behind closed doors and you love that part of him. The secret part, the one that only you know so well.

“I’m in love with it,” you tell him.

Harry nods. “Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

You never doubted that he would agree, but his assent sends a bolt of excitement up your spine. It’s all so real, suddenly, and you can’t wait to see him on his knee for you, to see that ring on your finger. You know your ring size off by heart (how could you not, being in a relationship with the jewellery connoisseur that Harry is), so there’ll be no need for you to try it on today. You’re left with only the raw anticipation of the day he’ll slide it onto your finger.

His hands come down to rest on your hips as you both stare at the ring. You imagine you can hear his heart, knowing that it’ll be beating erratically because his excitement must match yours—you know how he feels about the idea of marriage.

He spins you around to face him, leaving his hands on your hips. He looks at you very seriously. His sunglasses are resting on top of his head now, pushing back his curls and revealing his green eyes and furrowed brow to you.

“You know, if we’re seen buying an engagement ring…” he begins, trailing off. He shrugs. “Just want to think about that.”

You screw up your nose. “According to some magazines we got married last week, and also six months ago. Just being in here is probably going to spark something.” You glance behind you, as if you’ll see journalists scribbling away on their theories, then flatten your palms against his chest, smoothing out his shirt. “I’m happy to ignore it. I want to just do our thing, H.”

He nods, pursing his lips, and gradually the crease in his forehead disappears. “Okay. Good.” Twin smiles spread over your faces and you have the feeling of being two giddy kids, high-schoolers about to have their first kiss. Something new, unknown, exciting, that the two of you are going into together. His eyes are practically sparkling at you. If this was a cartoon, you think his pupils would be shaped like hearts right now. Something is starting to bud and you can feel it growing up inside you and between you, preparing to bloom.

“Alright,” you say, breaking the insulating silence to draw you both back to the real world.

He blinks a couple of times as if he’s just waking up. “Alright,” he echoes. “Let’s get it.”

He waves over a man drifting through the store in a neat suit and points at the ring. “Excuse me, can we please have a look at this one?”

The two of you watch the man unlock the cabinet and slide the plate of rings out, placing it on the counter. He picks up the one Harry pointed out. “It’s a lovely one, sir.”

“It is,” Harry says. His hand finds yours and squeezes your fingers. “What size is it?”

The man checks the price and tells you, and your mouth drops open. Surely there is something supernaturally perfect going on, because it’s exactly your size. You and Harry look at each other incredulously.

The man seems to notice your unspoken conversation, because he helpfully adds, “We can resize it if you need.”

Harry chuckles. “No, it’s perfect. I think…” he trails off, looking at you. “What do you think?”

You nod at him, grinning. You rub your thumb over the back of his palm as he tells the man, “Thank you. We’d like this one, please.”

You stand slightly behind him as he pays for it, flexing your hands and wringing them in front of you. You know it’s all in your head, but your left ring finger is tingling as if it senses that it’s missing a piece. You really just want to wear the ring at this minute, but when the man selling it to you offers, Harry shakes his head quickly.

“I’ll hold onto it for now,” he says. He accepts the little box from the man and slips it into his pocket. “Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, sir. Enjoy it, and congratulations to the two of you.”

Harry snakes his arm around your waist as you walk back out to the street. His hips knock against you as he squeezes you into his side, and you can feel the little box in his pocket. You can’t help the grin that takes over your whole face. You worry you look like an idiot, smiling so widely at nothing, but when you glance up at Harry, he looks exactly the same.

Your car is parked down a quieter road and you get to relax a little once you’re away from the crowds of the main shopping strip. You can walk a little more slowly and Harry loosens up a bit. His hyper-vigilance starts to strip away. You can see the tension in his shoulders dissolving and here’s your Harry, emerging from his defensive layers. Most people wouldn’t notice this change, but you do. You feel how he adjusts the grip of his hand on your hip, how he leans into you a little more as you walk. In your closeness, you can smell his cologne and you think of how you watched him spray it on this morning—and how you’re going to be watching him do that for the rest of your lives.

He glances over his shoulder and you copy him. The narrow street behind you is empty, but you don’t get a moment to really register this before you feel his arms tighten around your waist and you’re swept off your feet for a second as he crashes his lips into yours.

You close your eyes, letting the kiss envelop all your senses. The sweetness of the cake’s icing lingering on his lips; his arms locked around your waist, holding you up; the rapid beating of your heart. He pulls away slowly and your eyes flutter open. His face is just inches from yours and he’s looking at you with such intensity you feel naked. Not for the first time, you’re in awe of how impossibly green his eyes are; you could make a palette from every forest in the world, and it wouldn’t hold a candle to what you see in front of you right now.

“Y/N,” he says. He cracks a grin. “I’m so fucking happy.”

Your reply is simply to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss. Your hand tangles in his hair and you feel his tongue running along your bottom lip before he pulls away again quickly.

“Fuck,” he says, sounding lost for breath. “Need to stop before I make a fool of m’self in public.” He even physically takes a step back from you, his eyes comically wide.

You giggle. Your gaze travels down his body and you notice the indent of the box in his pocket. “Is that a ring in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

He shakes his head at you. “You’ve gone all giddy. ‘M getting you home right now and then we’re celebrating properly.” He turns around and starts walking towards the car, his long legs carrying him faster than you can keep up.

Your stomach flutters imagining what his idea of celebrating might be. Suddenly, the only thing on your mind is getting back to your house as soon as humanly possible. You run after Harry, skipping around in front of him and jogging backwards as you waggle your fingers in his face. “So, when are you going to pop the question?” you ask.

“Oh, honey,” he says, patting his pocket with the ring. He grins. “It’s going to be when you least expect it, I’ll promise you that.”

. . . . .

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed—if you did, a reblog or a message is really encouraging and lovely for me to see!! the title is taken from the song by etta james.

this fic is the first part of a series called “here we are in heaven,” and i’m really really excited about it. you can read my earlier fic, at last!, if you want to see where this will end up, but there will be more parts to fill the in-between. plus blurbs and stuff! let’s chat about it!

my masterlist can be found here. have a beautiful day!

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #fiance harry #fic #here we are in heaven

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whisperlullaby · 3 years

Text

Walk Me Home

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader (AU kind of)

Warnings: Cursing, angst, drunk people, catcalling (bad catcalling), fluff

Word Count: 1288

Summary: You’re walking home and you realized you’re being followed. Your phone is dead and you’re pretty far away from home.

A/N: I wrote another thing! I hope you guys like it BIG THANK YOU to @river-soul for not only reading this through for me but for also giving me the idea for the ending. If I missed any warning tags let me know. I hope you enjoy!

“Shit” you muttered as you quickened your pace down the street. Your phone just died and you were still 12 blocks from your apartment. That's what you get for not upgrading your phone after it started refusing to hold a charge. It was 12 o'clock at night and traffic down these residential roads was almost non-existent. You kept your headphones in hoping to ward off any random people trying to talk to you. After about a block you noticed two men stumbling loudly behind you.

"Hey baby why don't you slow down and walk with us? Bet we could show you a real good time," one of men slurred.

Great. They were drunk and you were alone with a useless phone. If only you had enough money for a cab this wouldn't even be a problem. You ignored them and sped up to cross the street. They followed.

"Aw you're breaking our heart sexy. Come on. Just slow down."

Your heart was hammering in your chest. They were going to follow you home and you couldn't do anything about it. As you looked down the street you noticed how dark it was, every brownstone had their lights off. You started to feel nauseous and lightheaded. One street down. You crossed the road one more time and something bright caught your eye. Someone's light was on. Like a homing beacon you made your way over to the building and pressed the call button.

"Hello?" A low baratone voice came out of the box, and you let out a relieved sigh.

"Hey there stranger," you said with as much cheer as you could muster though your voice trembled. "Sorry I'm late I know I said I'd be by earlier but my shift ran over. I would have called but my phone died and before you say I told you so I know I should get a new one that actually stays charged. Lucky for me though I had these two guys escort me here for about two blocks."

Your voice was shot. You were shaking as you eyed the two men across the street listening in on your conversation. You closed your eyes and prayed that whoever this person was that they were your saving grace.

"Hey sugar I was waiting for you, give me a second I'll be right down."

You tried your best to control your unsteady breathing. In the moments it took for this mystery man to come down the two men had crossed the street. You could feel the tears threatening to spill over and the bile rising into your throat.

"Come on sweet cheeks we can take real good care of you. You don't have to be such a bitch." One of the men spat out at you.

Just then you heard the click of the door unlocking behind you and out stepped a tall handsome man. You thought you had woken him up since he was wearing a red unzipped hoodie and loose fitting navy blue joggers. Your eyes widened slightly at his bare chest. As you looked up to his face you saw his warm brown eyes looking down at you with worry. You let out a sigh when he put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him.

"Hey honey I was getting worried when I couldn't reach you.” The man glanced over at the two drunk guys with a look that could kill. “ These the guys who were helping you get here safely?"

"Yep these are the guys. You know how unsafe the streets can get at night." Your voice was cracking as you shook in the mans grasp.

"Hey we just wanted to have a little fun with the lady. No one got hurt." The shorter of the two men mumbled.

The man who's evening you interrupted straightened his back and pointed at the men. "You both should get out of here before someone does get hurt and I can guarantee it won't be anyone on this doorstep."

The men left in a huff. Once they were out of sight you turned to your unlikely hero causing his arm to drop from your shoulders.

"Thank you. They started shouting at me and I was so scared they were going to follow me all the way home. No one else had their light on and I panicked." You started crying and hugging yourself.

"Don't even worry about it sugar. I'm glad I had my light on. What's your name?" The man asked kindly.

"Y/N." you sniffled.

"Well Y/N, my name is Sam. Why don't I walk you home so you don't run into anymore trouble."

You looked at Sam hesitantly. You were grateful he scared your probable attackers away, but you didn't know him either. He could just want to follow you home too for all you knew, but his gentle smile and piercing gaze seemed to calm you down on an unconscious level.

"You seem pretty shaken up still and I'd hate to just leave you alone. I can call you a cab and wait with you until it comes if you would prefer?" Sam suggested earnestly.

"Oh I, um, I don't have enough money for a cab. It's why I was walking home in the first place." You looked down fidgeting with your hands.

"Let me pay for it for you. I would rather you get home safely than continue to wander the streets alone, especially after what already happened." Sam pleaded while placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Oh I couldn't do that. First taking your time, then your money? I'd feel like a thief." You chuckled humorlessly.

Sam took in a deep breath and sighed. "Well I could give you my number and you could pay me back whenever you could if that would make you feel better? I mean you already know where I live so might as well have my number too." He smirked.

You genuinely laughed and looked up at Sam's face, full of confidence and caring. He radiated such warmth that you found yourself agreeing to his offer of a cab and his number.

Sam pulled his phone out of the pocket of his joggers and called a cab for you. Then, he reached through the door for one of his business cards. You noticed that the logo was from the VA.

"You work at the VA?" You questioned.

"Yeah after I left active duty I came home wanting to support other veterans. Now I'm my own boss and I run a support group. I give my number out to the other people in the program in case they need someone to talk to." Sam responded with a reserved smile.

"Is that why you were up? Talking to one of the people from the support group?"

"Yeah some nights are harder for people than others and I just want to make sure people know they have someone to talk to who will listen." Sam stated holding your gaze.

You smiled. "Well I'm glad that you were up. I don't even want to think about what would have happened if you didn't play along."

"Like I said honey, I listen. I could tell something wasn't right and what kind of person would I be to leave you out there hanging? I haven't left anyone stranded before and I'm not about to start now," Sam stated confidently.

As the cab pulled up he offered you his arm which you accepted. What had started as a rough evening seemed to be looking up you thought, the twinkle in his dark brown eyes making you smile.

As Sam closed the cab door you waved goodbye through the window. Looking down at his business card you felt lucky to have met Sam Wilson.

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson au #sam wilson #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #marvel au #catcalling #sam is a hero #charge your phone

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tickle-bugs · 3 years

Text

One of a Kind

@amazingmsme I didn't want to post the thing you sent just because of the minor minor spoilers (I hate that we've lost a grip on spoiler culture on the internet so I am overcorrecting to keep my blog safe!) but what you sent was too goddamn cute. Have an unedited thing I wrote in one go. This takes place in the nebulous, non-existent gap between episode 5 and 6! I still haven't see the finale so....this is canon-adjacent-adjacent I guess. Enjoy!

Spoilers for the Loki series under the cut!

Cataloguing variants had always been time-consuming, but somehow Loki was making it take longer. Mobius knew that Loki should’ve gone through his stack already, especially with his reading speed, but he was just staring at one particular file and huffing at increasing volumes.

Alright, I’ll bite.

“I’d ask what you’re thinking about, but I know you’re gonna tell me.” Mobius thumbed through his file on another Loki, one who’d defected from Thanos in 2012 to join the Avengers. They’d pruned him pretty early. Mobius still regretted not being able to pick his brain for a little while longer.

“These other variants are incredible,” Loki scoffed.

“I agree.”

“I don’t understand it.” He stared at Mobius, brow furrowed, and alright, they clearly weren’t getting any more work done.

“Lokis tend to be extraordinary. It’s kinda a thing with you guys.” Mobius slid his files aside.

“Right, but in comparison, I am at the lower end of the bunch.” Loki frowned, gesturing as if this was a matter of grave importance.

“Okay, you lost me.” He folded his hands on the table and squinted at Loki.

“We have an alligator, an illusionist whose powers dwarfed my own, a child who killed Thor, a President--though I can’t fathom wanting to be a part of the American political system--and an enchantress. Those are the variants that we know about. So why am I here helping you?”

“You’re the best of the bunch.” The simplest and truest answer. Loki didn’t seem to buy it.

Mobius dragged his chair around the table and put it in front of Loki, effectively pinning him against the table--well, he could just stand up and walk away, but Mobius knew he wouldn’t. It was part of their thing.

“What are you doing?”

“Just gettin’ closer.” Mobius slotted his knees between Loki’s and pulled his chair as far in as it could go.

“I can see that. Why?”

“I just wanna be close to you, that’s all.” He gave his best convincing grin. Loki visibly softened.

“Loki, you are a genius with a good heart. You’re here because you are, at least in my book, a hero.” Mobius gave his knee a steady pat. Loki puffed with pride.

“Go on.”

“Wow, you are on a perfect swinging scale of narcissism. From self-deprecating to king of the world in no time flat.” Mobius laughed.

“Thank you.” Loki adjusted his tie, missing or ignoring everything but the word ‘perfect’. Mobius bit his lip on a chuckle--he really shouldn’t inflate an already dangerously-large ego, but Loki needed it, he thought. His confidence was all air, after all--smug posturing designed to fill the void of something genuine. Loki could use genuine, for a change.

He looked Loki up and down slowly, deliberately, and an absurd little idea took root in the back of his mind. It had worked in the Time Cell, so maybe...

“Why are you looking at me like that? Wh--Mobius. Mobius. Stop it.” Loki leaned back as much as he could. Mobius grinned and hovered his fingers just over Loki’s torso, dangerously close. Loki sucked in his stomach, looking frantically between Mobius’s hands and his face.

“This r-really isn’t necessary.” The wobbly smile on Loki’s lips told Mobius the exact opposite.

“Nervous giggler, huh?” Mobius twitched his fingers and Loki jumped.

“No.”

“Perfect! Then you’ll hear what I have to say.” Mobius set his fingers adrift, passing languidly over Loki’s spots but never landing anywhere.

“Sylvie’s my favorite because she’s wild and unpredictable. I can never quite figure out what’s goin’ on in that head of hers, regardless of her being a Loki, and it fascinates me. You know I love my puzzles, and cracking open her head like a walnut has been a real highlight of my career.” Mobius’s fingers over Loki’s knee got the first giggles to bubble out, sweet and fluttery, and it took all of his strength not to chase them down.

“But you? You’re incredible. Quick wit, a quicker knife hand, and a will to survive that I haven’t seen in--” Mobius whistled lowly-- “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. Plus, you’re pretty cute. Or, so I’ve heard.”

“You had me wrapped around your finger when we brought you in. I mean, you could talk a desert into bloomin’.” It was the first time in a few thousand Loki’s that he’d genuinely almost been fooled--something about this one, his Loki, just got to him in a way that the others never could.

“I still have you around my finger.” Loki’s smile and rosy cheeks ignited a gentle warmth in Mobius’s chest. Gentle, rolling chuckles flowed steadily from him, walls completely broken down, and if Mobius could keep one memory forever, it would be this.

“Oh, and that laugh. I’m almost jealous. Literal music to my ears. Y’know, the other Loki’s never laughed like this? It was always this fake, snooty chuckle that used to make my skin crawl.

“But not you. You’ve got this damn beautiful giggle. It’s like the old saying goes: every time a Loki laughs, a puppy is born. Or angels get their wings. A little bit of both.” Mobius let his fingers drift upwards to Loki’s ribs and he whined, pitching forward until his forehead hit Mobius’s chest.

“T-That’s not a thing.” The color on Loki’s face had matured into a wonderful shade of cherry, his voice pinching from the sheer volume of emotion--Mobius could actually see him working through it in real time. Another favorite thing that he could never express aloud--how earnestly and easily Loki wore his emotions.

“He speaks!” Mobius swooped his hands in, never touching but threatening, and Loki yelped around some more giggles.

“Stop it.” Loki swiped at his hands, but even at close range, he couldn’t coordinate enough to catch Mobius.

“You’re right, my bad. It’s rude to keep you waiting.”

“Wh--no, nonono, that’s definitely not what I meant--”

“You make it so easy for me,” Mobius sighed wistfully, seeking out Loki’s trick rib as easy as breathing. Loki shrieked, crumpling in Mobius’s arms, and Mobius held him as he deftly took him apart.

“You are a Loki, alright? There’s no doubt about that. But you’re you, and I like ya. Stop worryin’ about the others.” He wormed his fingers under Loki’s arms, then spidered across the backs of his ribs and up towards his shoulders.

“M-Mobius!”

“Excellent point. You also have me. That’s a pretty big deal--I’m one of a kind, y’know. Limited edition. So there’s that.” His hands found solace beneath Loki's jaw, pulling forth jumpy squeaks between...purrs? Huh. He made a note of it as he scribbled his fingers up Loki’s thigh, dodging swatting hands like a stubborn bug. Loki pulled his knee up to his chest, head tilted back in open-mouthed laughter, and Mobius followed him.

“Who’s got an ego now?” Loki smirked, eyes crinkled, and Mobius summoned his best dramatic gasp.

“You take that back!”

#my drabbles #marvel #loki #ticklish!loki #mobius m mobius #writing them as super affectionate but not having them kiss...schrodingers lokius #lokius is super cute though and im starting to get into it now! feel free to tag this as ship if you'd like but it isn't expressly romantic #but it could be if you squint #its just up to you to squint if you wanna see it #no proofreads no edits we die like overcaffeinated writers who are avoiding other tasks by writing #sorry for the abrupt end on this but it just felt right #edit: linked my other loki fic for context at a certain part....realized i referred to it on accident

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clarythericebot · 3 years

Text

potential internal conflicts/character arcs for nhie s2

(based on the table read, news, and things that i personally just want to see :P)

- Devi learning to see others as ends of themselves instead of means to an end. No-brainer that this is going to be a theme next season (especially with that pros and cons list of her love interest), but I’m so excited to see how the show’s going to handle it. As I rambled about on this post, one of Devi’s biggest developments as a character was to stop treating Ben as an extension of herself (either as boxing him into the role of Antagonist/Nemesis in her own narrative or as a hateful mirror that points out personal traits she dislikes) and as an actual person and friend, and it’s that which sparks the small epiphany of her feelings towards him. From the table read and the stills, though, it sounds like she might be putting him in a new, albeit prettier box: Love Interest. The same box that she puts in Paxton, who at this point also does have genuine feelings for Devi. She’s looking at them as experiences, not people, and it’s all going to inevitably blow up in her face.

- The Devi/Fabiola/Eleanor friendship changing somehow. I had this impression that all season 1, the three of them have been hanging on to a dynamic that just doesn’t work anymore, in light of Devi’s grief, Eleanor’s abandonment, and Fabiola’s identity conflict. While Devi is definitely in the wrong of blatantly choosing a guy’s inconvenience over her best friend’s weightier problems, I think the larger problem here is that they don’t seem to know how to be there for each other for difficulties larger than to do with school, although the care and concern is there. It actually takes a third party to push them towards solving the overarching issues in their friendship, and even then only briefly. I’d really like to see this explored as a conflict shared between the three of them, instead of it being sidelined completely as Devi being selfish.

- The narrative that Devi will tell Princeton + the parts of herself she’s willing to take to college. (These are technically two conflicts, but I feel like it would make sense to intertwine them, especially since they’ve already been intertwined in the Ganesh Puja episode.) Devi has expressed her intention about leaving her Indian-ness completely and utterly behind her, as well as all the other embarrassing and painful parts of her identity (her grief and her insecurities). She’s come to terms with her father’s death to an extent, but she doesn’t seem to have yet accepted how his death has shaped and marked her. I think this is going to extend with how she deals with her Indian identity, and perhaps how she deals with her relationships.

- The double-standard between Kamala and Devi. On one level I understand Nalini probably treats them different because of her differing relationships with them—one’s her niece that only came to live with them and the other is her only child, her whole family. On the other hand, from the narration Devi has never really experienced her mother expressing such a blatant double standard in favor of Kamala before (about her secret boyfriend); she fully believed her cousin would get into trouble. It never did get addressed.

- In the first season, we experienced how Kamala’s western ideals influenced the part of her life still infused with tradition (her relations to other Indian people and her arranged marriage). The still of Kamala in a labcoat makes me hopeful for the inverse this season: how Kamala’s arranged marriage and traditional ideals affect her career as a scientist.

- Paxton engaging in the fact that he likes someone who is smarter than him (at least in a bookish sense). I’ve never seen this conflict delved into before—most writers just ignore it, focusing on what the love interests have in common (and don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to Paxton engaging Devi in this way, either by trying new things or revealing some hobbies or interests we haven’t made privy to). This insecurity is so close to his chest, though, and as much as Devi seems to make a point not to make him feel bad about it, it would be fascinating friction since Devi is very rightfully proud of her intellectual prowess. I imagine this will only be accentuated with knowing that his competition for Devi’s affections is someone razor-edge smart.

- Ben’s anger, and it being dealt with in constructive and destructive ways. I think one of the (numerous) things that I love about Ben and Devi is that they have different approaches to their internal and external conflicts. Devi runs away internally, refusing to face grief and sadness, while she delves head-first into external situations (e.g. asking Paxton to have sex with her, going to a Model UN trip with absolutely no prep and being willing to steal alcohol, talking to her friend’s estranged mom in other to get back into said friend’s good graces). Ben, on the other hand, has remarkable emotional intelligence underneath his high school immaturity (he can read Devi beyond her words actions, he doesn’t deny the isolation and loneliness that he feels, he is prepared to be vulnerable in certain situations) but he doesn’t do anything about it (he stops himself from telling his parents how abandoned he feels, he gives in to his girlfriend essentially using him as a prop, he is ushered into dining in his nemesis’ house by her concerned mother). Then Devi kisses him, and suddenly he’s willing to put his eggs in one basket. He stands up to his parents and demands that they spend family dinner together—because of her, he claims. He breaks up with his girlfriend, finally admitting that what they had wasn’t real, and earnestly informing Devi that he thinks what they have is. “I’m all in,” he tells her, thus crushing my heart. Because what’s strongly being implied, at least by the first part of the first episode, is that Devi’s either going to choose Paxton or neither of them. I imagine that Ben, used to being abandoned time and time again, will not react well to that. (This is expanded in this really awesome meta by @catty-words). There’s potential for the show to frame this as sexist entitlement, but I’d like to hope that the creators will be more compassionate to Ben’s conflict, as they have been in the past. It would genuinely be hurtful for someone you’ve displayed a lot of vulnerability to suddenly turn tail and say it didn’t mean as much to her. My guess is that he’ll lock into their nemesis status quo from before and lean into it hard, and it will likely hurt him badly. What I’d also like to see, though, (if only to assuage my own heartbreak) is him taking steps to deal with this a little more constructively, in addition to the inevitable self-destruction. I’d love to see him get back in touch with his ride-or-die middle school friends or even make new ones. In fact, I suspect that’s who the character of Aneesa is going to be, regardless of whether she becomes a contender for his love interest.

Aneesa is described as someone whose confidence and radiance will pose an immediate threat to Devi. I doubt that means she’ll be another academic rival, at least not completely; Devi already has Ben for that. As for romantic rivalry, it is likely not going to be Paxton Aneesa will be paired with, since it’ll only be a rehash of Devi’s insecurities of Paxton liking ‘hotter’ girls like Zoe and vying for his attention. (There’s a possibility she and Paxton will have history together and that threatens Devi even if she’s already in a relationship with him, but for me, that’s a less interesting choice than letting Devi focus on the challenges that will be inherent with Paxton being her boyfriend.) I think Aneesa will be another mirror for Devi—who she could have been if she pursued friendship and openness and maybe even a relationship with Ben, and that’s likely going to make Devi bitterly jealous. If this results in friendship and openness and maybe even a relationship for Ben (a deeper, more genuine one than his previous), I’m completely here for it, even if I am still hoping for a Bevi endgame.

(Low-key theorizing that Ben's smiling at Aneesa here, btw)

#clary scribbles #nhie meta #ben gross #devi vishwakumar #devi x ben #nalini vishwakumar #kamala nandiawada #paxton hall yoshida #never have i ever

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wrienne · 3 years

Text

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 10: His Ring

Namjoon and Seokjin’s eyes widened, though you got no reaction from Yoongi. He was like an ominous presence, sitting at an angle you could only watch him through your peripheral view as you stared down at your hands.

“How?” asked Namjoon. “And how do you know that?”

“Yes, isn’t amnesia both incurable and irreversible?” wondered Hoseok. "That's what the doctor told us."

“Starting with that...”

While explaining what you and Kim Sejin had spoken about that morning and the battle plan you had organized all day during school, all six of them were quiet. You finished with, “...I figured I could grab some of his clothes as well as hear your ideas about my plan.”

“It sounds like some kind of movie plot,” said Seokjin dubiously.

“Exactly what I told your manager,” you said and smiled half-heartedly. “But this is the only option we have. I, for one, refuse to let Jungkook lose all that he’s fought for. What all of you have fought for.”

“Even if it’s a slight chance, there’s still a possibility,” said Namjoon in agreement.

“What would you have us do, then?” asked Jimin.

“If you could write down a list, just as I have,” you said as you showed them your scribbles, “I’d have something more recent to go on from. I have never been very close to him, especially since his debut, so your input would help tremendously.”

“Why help him then?” Taehyung regarded you warily. His hard expression had gradually morphed into one of focus and attentiveness, but now you saw it teetering. Would he flare up again? “What do you have to gain?”

“Would you stop it?” Hoseok gave Taehyung a harsh glare, which made Namjoon and Seokjin look curiously at him. Hoseok pointed at Taehyung. “This one almost lost it downstairs, blaming Jungkook’s accident on (Y/N). Taehyung, you coming at her doesn’t exactly help the situation.”

“Hyung,” said Taehyung coolly. “Everyone with half a brain understands that she and Jungkook parted on unfriendly terms. Have you ever heard him curse like that - especially to a girl who is supposed to be a ‘family friend’? And he wouldn’t speak to anyone at all until Sejin-manager had taken us to the bar. She made him drink and run out on the street.”

“He’s halfway right,” said Seokjin as he scrutinized you. “I’ve never seen our Jungkook that mad.”

“Exactly,” said Taehyung triumphantly. “So you better tell us the truth: what do you have to gain from Jungkook?”

“Nothing,” you said earnestly, then fumbled as you tried to structure the rest of your reply. Technically, you had absolutely nothing to gain from Jeon Jungkook’s potential recovery and reascent to the music industry’s top. Meanwhile, it would take you more than three months of hard work and utter, genuine dedication to even have a shot at getting him to Japan. It could all just prove to be a waste of time. Minutes, hours, days, weeks better spent on you and yourself. Not to mention, that bastard had been unfaithful to you for who knows how long, in addition to having treated you sometimes like air, sometimes like dirt and sometimes like you were his worst enemy in the world.

But still. Still. You couldn’t abandon Jeon Jungkook in his time of need.

“It doesn’t make sense,” said Taehyung and crossed his arms over his chest. “Jungkook told me you disliked each other, and that you couldn’t stand him. So why?”

“I just…”

You grasped after the right words. Your mind was muddled, however, so you had no choice but to simply follow the second voice-in-command: your heart.

“If you were me,” you began carefully, “would you have allowed the son of your parents’ best friend to forget his childhood dream? I’ve known Jungkook all of my life - we’ve grown up together, spent every holiday with one another and celebrated everything from birth, life and death side by side. He was horrible most of the time, I’ll say that, but he was there for me when others weren’t. You might believe my family fortunes and good name generated friends wherever I went, but no. It didn’t. I’ve been on my own pretty much all my life.”

You hadn’t meant for the conversation to suddenly turn so personal, but there you sat, pouring your heart out to six strangers. Perhaps that’s what made therapy so popular. People listening to other people’s problems.

You took a deep breath. “When my grandparents died, Jungkook was the first one to each of their funerals. When I was about ten or so and fell down a cliff during a hike with our parents and broke my collarbone, Jungkook was the one who found me and dragged me back to camp. He practically saved my life. Now, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have been able to look myself in the mirror if I just left him the way he is now, especially when I have a chance to help.”

No matter his betrayal.

“I have no clue what Jungkook told you about me, but I would never premeditate hurting or upsetting or exploiting him in any way.” You cleared your throat, grimacing as your windpipe had tightened with every word you said. “Now yesterday was the first time I saw you guys on stage. And though I possess no particular experience in show business or even an ounce of musical talent, I saw--no, felt that he belonged up there. Still - and I haven't told you all - would you have left him if you were me? Abandoned him for old grudges?”

You hadn’t noticed how hard you were clutching your hands together. Not until you felt the odd, ticklish sensation signifying a lack of blood and circulation did you realize that your knuckles and fingers had whitened. You loosened up and caught Taehyung’s eyes.

“No,” he said, immediately casting down his focus. “I guess not.”

“What we spoke of is private,” you said quietly, feeling your chest constrict in pain at the memory. “It is something I can never disclose. But the conversation wasn’t of a threatening or hostile nature, and if I knew he would run out drunkenly on a street because of my decision, I would have never made it. I would never, ever wish Jungkook harmed.”

No one spoke. Taehyung didn’t raise his gaze.

You sniffled. Hoseok quickly came back from the hallway with some tissues and handed you them. You wiped your eyes and were relieved to find the tissue only slightly damp. You weren’t bawling, at least, though the mere presence of tears made you frown - you didn’t exactly have something to cry for. You weren’t somber or filled with grief at the memory of your grandparents' funerals. However, you were extremely tired and weary after last night’s escapade to the hospital. And your conversation with your parents hadn’t exactly done much to brighten up your mood.

You almost chuckled. You were used to calling Jungkook stupid, but who was the bigger fool, really?

Considering how the next three months would progress, it was ironic, it truly was.

“What should we do?” asked Hoseok finally, breaking the silence.

“Let’s split up into groups,” said Namjoon after said someone’s stomach grumbled. “Jin-hyung and I will get to cooking since it’s our turn anyway. The rest of you can start with a list each.”

“What are we even supposed to write?” Jimin scratched the back of his head.

“It might be a bit personal,” you told him, “but it probably has to be in order for it to be memorable. Just write down anything you might have done with Jungkook that you feel affected your relationship in any major way.”

“Write down anything that you imagine Jungkook might have remembered up until the accident,” added Namjoon and slowly stood. “Like the time we went bungee jumping or traveled to Northern Europe.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you said.

“And you’re going to do what with this information?” wondered Seokjin, standing also. “Isn’t it better if we just meet up with him and tell him all of this? Try to remind him while face-to-face?”

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t say he’s scared of you. But he doesn’t trust anyone and might straight-up refuse to listen to any of you. And even if some of you manage to convince him to hear you out, what if it turns out he doesn’t remember? That might make you frustrated at him or just left feeling needlessly hurt. Furthermore, I don’t want to stress him out any more than he already is. Imagine, it must be like waking up from a five or so year long dreamless sleep for him and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with the eager input from six or so people telling him he knows them the way he did.”

“Okay,” said Jimin with a nod. “Who has some pen and paper?”

“I do,” said Hoseok, then disappeared into one of the rooms. He came out with a notebook and tore out a page for everyone except you, Seokjin and Namjoon, then returned with an equal number of pens.

Namjoon and Seokjin headed into the kitchen while Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok eventually started discussing what would count as a “memorable memory”. Yoongi quietly pondered his sheet of paper, his dark gaze fixed upon the clean slate while he tapped his pen against the table surface.

He briefly found your eyes but said nothing.

Swallowing hard, you carefully unzipped your jacket and hung it over your chair as well as placed your duffel bag underneath your chair. Feeling uncomfortable just sitting there, you rose while putting up your hair with a hair tie and poked your head into the kitchen.

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

Seokjin was instructing Namjoon when he stopped and looked at you over the latter’s shoulder. “No, we’ll be alright. You can just sit with the others.”

You wouldn’t have minded just sitting and watching them if not for Yoongi’s watchful eyes. But since you couldn’t exactly say that, you smiled sheepishly. “I’m sort of not used being around so many guys.”

“No male cousins or siblings?”

“None.” Your smile fell a bit. “It’s a small family.”

“How long are you staying?” asked Namjoon. He had begun washing vegetables in the sink.

“Oh, not very long,” you said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude for any longer than dinner. And I told Jungkook I’d be back at six.”

Seokjin and Namjoon looked at each other hesitantly. The latter shrugged, and Seokjin found your gaze again.

“Would you mind setting the table, then?” he asked.

About half an hour later, all seven of you were busy eating homemade tteokbokki and bought gimbap. They asked you about you and Jungkook, how long you had known each other, what school you went to, and so on. The lists had been compiled into one master list, courtesy of Namjoon, who had wanted to organize all of their ideas into relevant categories, like years, members and places. You hadn’t even been aware of how hungry you had been until then and ate quicker than everyone else. Or well, almost.

“It’s almost six o’clock,” said Min Yoongi as he stood. “Come, (Y/N). Someone’s got to show her to Jungkook’s things and Namjoon is still eating,” he explained at everyone’s confused frown.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten.”

You rose and began carrying your dishes to the kitchen when Jimin stopped you. “Let it be,” he said. “I’ll take care of it. You better get back to Jungkook.”

“Thank you,” you said, then looked at everyone seated at the table. For once, Taehyung didn’t look at you with poorly disguised fury. “Thank you for the food, and for your help. I really appreciate it, and I know Jungkook would as well.”

“We’ll finish the last of the master list meanwhile,” said Hoseok as you bent to pick up your duffel bag. “Try to steal some of Namjoon’s stuff. He has way too many clothes that fall underneath the ‘hobo’ category.”

“It’s ‘boho’ I tell you,” mumbled Namjoon as he covered his mouth with his hand. “It’s a popular fashion style overseas.”

“That might be, but you make it ‘hobo’.”

Namjoon sighed as the others laughed.

You smiled at Hoseok, who returned the gesture, then turned anxiously toward Yoongi. He gestured for you to come and you followed him into the same room Namjoon and Seokjin had exited from. The bedroom was small, with only barely enough space for two single beds, a wardrobe, a tall mirror and a desk with a lamp, but surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the apartment.

Yoongi closed the door shut after you, then led you to the swelling wardrobe, which almost reached from the floor to the ceiling. He opened the wardrobe doors and pointed in a general area of blacks, jeans and whites. There was a surplus of beanies, mouth masks and brand underwear as well.

“That half is Jungkook’s,” said Yoongi as he opened the wardrobe doors and pointed in a general area. “Though some of his clothes might be in the washing machine or drying.”

“I think he can manage with this,” you said as you began placing one item after another into your duffel bag.

You didn’t know exactly how much you needed to grab, but when you considered the bleak possibility that Jungkook might not ever return to the apartment again, you decided to take everything of his at least in the wardrobe. While initially conscientious - you knew how prim Jungkook could be with his things - you took it slow, placing clothes like Tetris. Then, realizing it would take hours, you just shoveled as much as you could into the bag.

You tried to ignore the pair of slim dark eyes silently watching your every move.

“Is there anything else of his in here?” you asked Yoongi when you were finished. The duffel bag actually looked like a body bag now, but would still have some room left over for a phone charger or a headset or so.

“He has a laptop and some gadgets he carries in a small bag.”

It didn’t take you long to find the computer and you carefully placed it inside a computer bag marked “JK”. You found chargers, a mouse and a headset inside the bag first, though, which you poured into the duffel bag instead. When you were finished, however, and started toward the door, Yoongi stopped you.

You frowned and tried not to sound frightened, but felt your heartbeats surge into a gallop. “Hey, what--”

And you stopped so abruptly you almost choked on your words. You had wondered where Jungkook’s engagement band was, ever since you saw its obviously vacant place on his finger the evening before. But now you knew.

Held between his index finger and thumb, Min Yoongi raised the promise ring your parents had given Jungkook, its circular, golden shape familiar to you. His expression didn't change, nor did his voice.

“At which point of the dinner were you going to tell us about your and Jungkook’s engagement?”

#MCAF #wrienne #ao3 #bts fanfiction #bts x reader

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 3 years

Text

Spotlight: A Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Ch 3

Word Count 5,033

The first leg of the tour in the USA and Canada was complete and the next stop was Europe. Y/N had avoided Colson as much as possible and they had one or two brief run-ins but there were always people around. She had stayed at the penthouse with the others until they left for London.

So many times he had tried to call her, to talk to her, to try and get her attention but he always got cold feet. He had tried to get Jax to go and speak to her on his behalf, threatened him even but Jax wouldn't budge.

"She's a good girl and you're not worthy of her yet.. Leave her be." Jax said, causing him to become more frustrated.

"I always get what I want and I want Y/N. I'm going to get her with or without your help." He vowed.

"Why do you want her Colson? So you can hurt her? To ruin her? Just to stroke your ego?" Jax challenged. "Why would you want to pursue her when you have no good intentions towards her? You know you will go back to your old ways once you get what you want from her and ruin her for the next guy!"

"She's different from all the other girls I've been with.. I don't know okay??! I know I can't be faithful but I just want her!" He pulled his hair in frustration. "It may be for selfish reasons but -"

"Then what Colson?! After you promised to keep your distance you do a 360 and your hormones are taking over as usual." Jax bellowed, as he came face to face with Colson.

Daring him to say the wrong thing. He was ready for anything at this point. He couldn't understand why Colson would want to ruin a sweet, innocent girl like Y/N. Colson would never change for her-for anyone for that matter. It would take a miracle for that to happen.

Colson stared at him with his icy blue eyes and walked towards the window. He couldn't explain it but he wanted Y/N like he never wanted anyone before. Maybe it was in the way she looked at him, her melodic laughter, her natural beauty or her child like innocence. He couldn't quite place his finger on it but all he knew was that he had to have her. He was tired of being with shallow-minded, pea-brained girls that just wanted him for his fame and fortune-for his body. Y/N was just content with cuddling and talking or just sitting in a comfortable silence. He had never been with a woman that just wanted him for just him. They always had some hidden agenda-their career, money, sex-but Y/N had never exploited their relationship for personal gain.

From the first time he laid his eyes on her something inside him shifted. He had offered to drive her home although he knew that Jax was waiting outside. She was a mystery to him and he wanted to spend more time with her to try and unravel it. He had made sure to keep the music low so that they could talk-once again in his life he wanted to just talk to another person with no hidden motives.

"So tell me about yourself Bambi?" He had asked with genuine interest.

"Ummm..there's nothing much to tell." She twisted her fingers on nervously in her lap. She was shy. He decided there and then he would help her to break her out of her shell. He wanted to know everything about her but the ride was so short. There wasn't enough time.

"Then tell me a little?" He urged on.

"I-I..I'm a student at-uh- Cleveland State University..and I-want to major in music." She stumbled over her words and it made her even more appealing to him. Her long lashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked rapidly.

"My Dad-he died..three years ago and I live with my Mom."She said out of breath.

"Sorry..about your Dad. Mine is as good as dead." He frowned deeply. "But-your Mom? She's cool?"

"Yes-she's the best." She still wouldn't look at him and he wanted her to. More than anything he wanted to look into those big brown eyes.

He had pulled up outside her house and as she made a jump out he thought quickly.

"Hey, smile." He said as he put up his phone and snapped a selfie. It took her completely by surprise and she looked like a frightened deer in the photo.

"Let's try again?" She relaxed slightly and the next photo was definitely a Kodak moment.

"Do I make you uncomfortable??" His hand tightened on the steering wheel as he stole a glance at her. She was standing outside the car and boring a hole into the ground with her eyes.

"Yes." She squeaked. .

"Then we're going to have to do something about that Bambi." He chuckled as he stepped on the accelerator and turned up the music. She was going to be a challenge and Colson Baker always loved a challenge.

"Byron." He spoke through the phone. "I've changed my mind..I need you to set up that thing with Y/F/N Y/L/N."

"Sure thing Colson. I'm on it." Byron replied.

"One more thing-as soon as we get to London, make sure Y/N and I live separately from the rest. You think you can manage that?" It was more like an order and not a question.

"Consider it done." Byron said.

"Thanks Byron." He cut the call and smiled to himself. His plan was starting to come together. Byron could convince an Eskimo to by an ice-machine. Y/N wouldn't be able to say no once he worked his magic on her.

Colson went to take a shower with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He was Colson-fuckin'-Baker after all. No one could say no to him.

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

When they arrived in London their luggage was taken care of as usual and they were ushered to the waiting limo. By this time everyone was suffering from a mixture jet-lag, exhaustion, hangover and a dash of homesickness.

"Hey guys! Great to see you again." Byron was waiting to meet them outside. "I see you're all tired and stuff so I've instructed the driver to take you straight to Eaton Place. You will be staying at that penthouse for the next three days-then we leave for Paris. However, Colson will not be joining you this time he will be living at an undisclosed location-for security reasons."

"Any questions? Great. Go home and rest guys tonight will be a busy night." He turned to face Y/J. "Miss Y/L/N, you have to come with me. We have that meeting remember? This way please."

"Oh yeah, sure." Y/N turned to Ashleigh. "I'll see you later."

"Good luck. Call me okay?" They embraced quickly before Y/N went after Byron.

Not wasting a single minute, Byron dove right into it as soon as the car started moving.

"Y/N, you already know what this is about right? We spoke about it before and also last night on the phone." Byron asked.

"Yes but I'm not sure it's a good idea.." She said skeptically.

"I don't want to insult you-but what if I threw in some money to make it worth your while? Name your price."

"What? No! What do you take me for?" She cried out.

"Okay. Okay. Calm down," He raised both his hands. "What about an internship and a guaranteed job at XX Entertainment once you graduate? Sounds good huh?"

"Byron, I don't want to feel like you've bought me..Whatever job or post I get, I want to earn it. Not to get it because.." She felt so dirty right now and insulted. Was Colson behind this? She couldn't help but wonder if he was the one that put Byron up to this.

"Okay let's do this your way." He sighed and massaged his temple. "What't it going to take for you to go along with our plan? If not money then..should I appeal to your humanity?"

"Look..it's fine I will help-"

"Yes!" He threw his fist in the air in triumph.

"But on my own terms." She said firmly.

"Whatever you want Y/N. Name it and it's yours." Byron looked at her earnestly.

"I will only agree to this if you will allow me to call it off anytime." She swallowed hard.

"What? What do you mean?" Byron asked, confused.

"If I feel it's becoming to much for me to handle then I will pull the plug on this..thing-anytime-without notice. Any questions? Great." She opened the door and jumped out without waiting for a response.

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

The penthouse One Hyde Park in London was were Colson and Y/N would be co-habitating. Only she wasn't aware of this yet. She thought they were just coming here for a meeting to finalize their "deal", although she didn't want anything out of it. The house was a contemporary and modern property, sitting on over an acre with a large garden, set back, screened and secluded with automatic solid sliding gates. It had a roof terrace and jacuzzi. 5 bedrooms that overlooked the garden, 4 bathrooms, 4 reception rooms. The servants quarters were on the first floor along with a stunning spiral wine cellar. The property had under floor-heating, surround sound and electronic sliding curtains.

"Wow!" Was all Y/N could say as she twirled around the house in awe. Jax showed her to her room and turned to leave.

"Wait...am I going to be staying here? Where's everyone else?" She asked.

"I'm sure Byron will fill you in soon." Jax responded.

"Oh." Her face fell.

"Don't worry about your luggage Miss Y/L/N. I will send someone with it shortly." Jax assured Y/N. "Welcome to Colson's humble abode."

She felt like Belle in Beauty and the Beast at this precise moment. Surrounded by so much luxury and yet she felt so unhappy. She kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto the bed, where she fell into a fitful sleep.

Meanwhile Colson was pacing up and down his bedroom floor, trying to think of how to approach Y/N. He had never had to make a move on a girl, it was always the other way round. He was clueless when it came to girls.

"Byron! Jax! Get in here." He hollered as he leaned over the banister.

They came up to his room promptly and sat on the chaise lounge waiting for him to speak first. He was in a plain white t-shirt and sweat pants but still looked like he stepped out of a magazine. He sat at the edge of the bed and looked on them.

"Byron, any progress with OGB?" They had labeled it Operation Get Bambi.

"She's on board." He pursed his lips into a thin line.

"But..? He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"She wants it on her own terms..which she will discuss with you. But she's taking a nap now." He bounced his knee.

"Cool. I can handle that." He pushed his hair back and let out a sigh of relief.

He never expected her to agree but then again Byron could be very persuasive. He wondered what Byron had offered her in exchange for her help. She never struck him as a girl that could be bought but maybe he was wrong-maybe everyone had a price. His heart sank the more he thought about it. She was probably just like the rest he thought.

"So why the long face? I thought you would be glad-" Byron stated.

"How much?" He gulped and stared at the floor, not meeting Byron's eyes.

"She doesn't want anything. I offered her-" Byron sat forward and tried to explain.

"What??" He looked up in surprise, his blue eyes startled.

"I could have offered her all the money in the world but she would have still turned me down." He said dryly.

"That's my girl!" Jax grinned widely as he clapped his hands dramatically.

"Shut up Jax." Colson scowled but inwardly he was just about to burst with happiness. So he was right about her after all. He didn't know why but, he felt relieved beyond comprehension.

"Now you can see that I was right about her." Jax shot back.

"Whatever-is everything set for the concert tonight? What time is sound check?" His heart was racing at the thought of seeing her again, that she was under the same roof, sound asleep in the next room.

"Yes but I'm about to head over to Wembley Stadium now to check if everything is in order..so if there's nothing else..?" He stood up and straightened his suit.

"Nah, that will be all." He said with a wave of his hand. "Jax you can stay."

"Still up for the after party?" Byron asked as he stood at the door. They always had one after every concert at a five star hotel, but only the who's who of show business in the city were invited. It was strictly by invitation.

"What else do I have to live for?" Colson rolled his eyes. "But I'll just make a brief appearance for an hour or so, I really need to rest."

"See you in a bit." Byron saluted and left.

"So what's your game plan?" Jax pursed his lips.

"I thought maybe you could help me with that?" For once he looked uncertain. Jax's heart melted.

"If and a big if- if we going to do this then you going to have to change Colson. Otherwise I won't be a part of it." Jax said with seriousness written all over his face.

"Yeah, yeah spare me the lecture Jax." He gave himself a face-palm.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, I'm being very serious right now." Jax said.

"Jax nothing in life is guaranteed man. People make up to break up and so on. You need to chill out man." Colson replied.

"Look I'm not expecting you to marry Y/N, ride off into the sunset, have adorable twin babies and live happily ever after. But if you don't have good intentions then let's drop it. You can have any girl you want Colson. Young and old, short or tall, they're yours for the taking. Just don't go and ruin an innocent girl just for kicks. That's just plain downright cruel."

"Why do you care so much anyway?? You don't even know her man!" Colson burst out.

"That doesn't make it right. You know what forget it. I'm out." Jax stood up but Colson pulled him back.

"Listen Jax, don't get your knickers in a twist..I hear you man. Now let's discuss this like adults? How do I get my girl?" Colson cocked his head to the side and smiled.

"Thought you would never ask." Jaxs' face broke into a grin as he sat down again.

Y/N's phone was vibrating somewhere on the bed and she finally heard it.

"Hello." She said, half awake.

"Hi sweetie. Sorry did I wake you?" Mrs Y/M/L/N asked.

"Hi Mom," She propped a pillow behind her back, "Don't worry I'm awake now. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I just miss you that's all." She said wistfully.

"I miss you too Mom." All of a sudden she broke down and started crying. She was overwhelmed by a cocktail of feelings right now and she couldn't keep the tears back any longer. Hearing her mother's voice made her homesick and emotional.

"Hey honey? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Ye-yes." She tried to compose herself. "I guess I'm just tired. Haven't slept properly you know.." She sniffled.

"I thought you were having a great time? Did something happen? Is it Colson?" Her mother rained questions Y/N couldn't quite answer herself.

"No-yes I am Mom. It's been great. Colson's been great Mom." She reached out for a Kleenex and wiped her face and nose. There was a soft knock on the door and she asked her mother to hold.

"Come in." Y/N called out and immediately regretted it. Well kind off..

"Hey-is this a bad time? You're crying? Why? Is it me? Did I do this??" He rushed to her side and held her at arms length.

"No-wait.." She held up a finger to her lips. "Mom, can I call you back? Colson is here."

"Put him on the phone. I need to have a word with him." She demanded. Y/N was sure Colson heard that and her fears were confirmed when he held out his hand for the phone. She looked at him hesitantly then handed it over to him with resigned sigh.

"Hi Mrs Y/M/L/N. Colson Baker here." He turned on the Baker charm and there was no female on planet earth that was immune to it, so far anyway.

"Oh hi there-um-Colson." Y/N imagined her Mom fluffing her hair like she usually did. She had already fallen for the trap.

"I just wanted to thank you personally for allowing Y/N to come on this tour. She is such a breath of fresh air. You raised her well." He smiled at Y/N as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Oh thank you Colson. You don't have to say that." Mrs Y/M/L/N gushed.

"Anyway we got to run now, I promised to take Y/N for lunch and I'm a man of my word." Y/N gasped and he turned his back on her to keep from laughing.

"Really?? You don't have to! Surely you're too busy for that?" She asked.

"Anything for my Bambi." He said sweetly.

"Awww you even have a cute pet name for her?? You know they used to call her that in kindergarten?" She laughed.

"Really?? Why don't you tell me all about it when we visit this weekend?" He turned to face Y/N, her mouth almost hit the ground.

"You're coming over? Y/N didn't say.."

"It was a surprise but now it's out there." He shrugged.

"Okay let me not keep you then. See you then." He rang off.

"Explain Baker." Y/N crossed her arms and pushed her tongue in her cheek.

"Can we eat first sweets? I'm starved." He said with exaggeration. "Can we call a truce? No more mind games. No more ping-pong with feelings and let's learn how to communicate okay?" He held out his hand and she shook it. He would have preferred them to seal it with a kiss but he didn't want to get ahead of himself.

"So we're good?" He asked.

"Yes." She said with a smile.

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

Colson was lying on his bed but for the life of him he couldn't fall asleep. It was 3:00 am. He had sang his heart out at the concert, stayed very briefly at the after party and tried to get drunk but failed. Women had tried to entice him but he just wasn't interested. He kept his eyes on his prize all night. He even got jealous when a dark-haired guy approached her and engaged her in conversation. She seemed taken with him-they laughed, they smiled and even flirted. The guy kept her entertained most of the night and he saw them dance a couple of times. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore he walked over and cut in. After the dance he faked a headache and asked Y/N if they could go home.

"Bambi? Can I come in?" Colson knocked softly on the door and got no response. He had a serious case of insomnia and this was his only remedy. All the alcohol that he had didn't seem to do the trick, even some stronger stuff-he was wide awake.

Colson opened Y/N's door slowly and found her fast asleep on top of the covers, her long legs overlapping each other and her flat stomach exposed. She was in shorts and a sports bra, her smooth, milky skin glistening in the moonlight, her hair fanned all over her pillow and her face looked so serene. He sat on the edge of the bed and lightly traced his fingers across her stomach and then up to her face. If it were possible, he could sit here and just watch her sleep all night but she would freak out when she woke up and found him staring at her.

Common sense told him to leave the room but he found himself jumping on the bed and snuggling behind her. Taking in her scent, nuzzling her neck and just reveling in being close to her. She was completely out because she never once moved. He gave a contented sigh as he put his arms around her and fell asleep almost immediately..

Y/N woke up an hour later feeling thirsty and tried to move but she was firmly secured in a grip. She woke up with a start and turned to see Colson sleeping like a baby. Just watching him sleep made her heart melt into a puddle. Her hand reached out on its own accord, to stroke his hair and his beautiful face.

A smile lit her face as she reached out for the glass of water on the nightstand. Colson Baker was lying in her bed in his bare necessities. He was right here with her and not some floozy or flavor of the night. This was the stuff dreams were made of. Her heart fluttered as she took in the sight before her again as she assumed her position once more. Their bodies fit so perfectly together when they were like this, if only it could apply in every area of their relationship. That's if you could even call it that. But a girl could only hope...

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

"Y/N!" Ashleigh barged into the room, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry-I didn't know-sorry!" She covered her face and quickly backed out. The said couple were deep in sleep and were oblivious to the intrusion, fortunately for Ashleigh.

"There is such a thing as knocking you know?" Jax stood at the foot of the stairs, with his hands behind his back, as she descended in a hurry.

"I didn't know-" She said, her face beet red.

"You should learn to expect the unexpected when it comes to those two." Jax said with a knowing look. He had learned that the hard way.

"I didn't expect them to be..you know..Gosh I wish I could unsee that!" She covered her face, trying to hide her embarrassment.

She didn't anticipate walking into Y/N's room to find her and Colson half-naked and glued to each others bodies. After all how could Y/N get with him after everything he had done to her? She just couldn't understand it. But then again this was Colson Baker and he was beyond irresistible. I mean who could say no to that hot body? If Ashleigh was in the same position then they definitely were not going to be sleeping.

"May I interest you in breakfast per chance?" Jax asked as he led her to the sitting room, drawing her out of her nasty thoughts. "What brings you here so early anyway?"

"It's way after 9 Jax." She flopped onto the couch. "I need to talk to Y/N..about something.."

"Well, you just have to wait or come back later?" Jax suggested. "When ever they sleep together they have been known to wake up way past noon..and we had a pretty late night coupled with the heavy hangover.." He perched on the armrest.

"What do you mean "when they sleep together?" She looked at him suspiciously.

"I think I've already said too much-breakfast?" He stood hastily and retreated to the kitchen.

"I think I'm going to go then!" She shouted after him and followed him to the kitchen.

"Slow your roll there little lady. I'm sure they will be up and about in no time." He said. "What would you like the chef to prepare for you?"

"An omelette and toast-he can be creative but I don't eat mushroom." She slid onto the stool by the kitchen island.

Y/N began to stir when she heard a murmuring of voices coming from downstairs. She tried to turn but Colson's arms-and legs were tightly wrapped around her. Why would anyone want to ever wake up from this, she thought as she tried to sleep again but Colson had other plans.

"Good morning sweets." He said, his voice still husky.

"Hey." She said nervously as his arms tightened around her waist

"I could get used to this." He buried his face into her hair and groaned.

"What? Waking up in someone else's bed?" She turned onto her back and faced him.

"Your bed you mean?" He smiled and pushed her messy hair back so he could look at her face. Never had he wanted the female specie as much as he wanted her right now. Never had he slept in a bed with a woman and just traded war stories. He knew that if he made a move she would comply but he couldn't. There was more to him agreeing to keep from jumping her bones but she was clueless, and he hoped it stayed that way until he had dealt with the issue. He would take that secret with him to the grave.

"No ping-pong remember?" She was saying to him. Maybe dreams do come true, she thought. Maybe he was really into her? But then again there was no telling with Colson Baker. He was just to complex and she didn't have the energy to try and figure him out.

"Yeah, yeah I get it but-I think we've already crossed that line Bambi.." He looked pointedly at their tangled limbs. Not to mention her undergarments left very little to the imagination. She looked at their entwined bodies and fell silent for a moment. They were in quite a predicament-it was clear as the light of day.

"Well..you decided to invite yourself into my bed Baker. After you promised to keep your distance." She said in defense mode.

"..and you were purring like a contented cat next to me. You never really put up any form of resistance sweets." His blue eyes twinkled like the sea when they were hit with the rays of the sun. The liquid courage had worn off and both of them were now completely aware of their actions. She felt her cheeks redden as she looked at Colson's inviting body . Fortunately, Y/N's phone broke the awkward moment.

"Hey Mom." Nice save Mrs Y/M/L/N.

"Hey sweetie. I'm sorry to disturb you but the press has been camped outside my house for two days now and-"

"What do they want? Why didn't you say something?" She sat up and Colson looked at her with concern.

"I'm sorry sweetie I just didn't want to worry you. Plus they have been blowing up my phone and my practice has been overwhelmed. I know I'm a good therapist but this has just been ridiculous. I have had people make appointments just so they can ask me questions about your relationship with Colson. Even your friends Liv and Lisa are being stalked-it's a nightmare. Urrgh.." She screamed in frustration.

"I'm so sorry Mom. This is all my fault. How can I fix it?" Y/N said with determination.

"No, no honey, don't do anything hasty. I think I'll just take a well needed vacation to Bora Bora or something and I think I have a conference coming soon-" She sighed.

"Should I come with you? I can-"

"No. You stay put. Besides, that will do more harm than good." She murmured.

"So what can I do?" Y/N raked her hair with her fingers. Colson motioned for her to hand over the phone and she gave it to him.

"Mrs Y/M/L/N. I'm sorry to hear about your little inconvenience but not to worry I got it handled." Colson said confidently. Y/N looked at him in disbelief-who did he think he was? Ethan Hunt?

"Oh really?" Mrs Y/M/L/N was equally shocked.

"I'll get my team to come and get you out of there and set you up in a place where you will be secured and- where you can enjoy your privacy once again." He assured her.

"Oh no Colson, you don't have to do that sweetie." She protested.

"I want to. Please let me? It would mean so much to me." The Baker Charm was turned on.

"Okay sure." Mrs Y/M/L/N caved in.

"Great." His face lit up. "One of my assistants will be in touch shortly."

"Am I still going to see you guys on the weekend?" She asked.

"Yes. We will be there sooner actually." Colson confirmed.

"I can't wait." She squealed in delight.

"Okay speak soon." Colson rang off.

"Colson Baker did you just lie to my mother?" Y/N said in bewilderment. There was no way they would go back to Ohio and back again to Paris in time for his show.

"FYI sweets my Paris Show has been cancelled because of the bombing at Ariana Grande's concert. I'm not taking any chances and my security team has advised against it. So..we can fly to Minnesota then straight to Norway after the weekend. Easy." He gestured with his hands.

"You're too sweet. I could kiss you right now." Y/N said without thinking.

"Then what's stopping you sweets?" He leveled his face with hers.

"I- we-can't." She hopped of the bed and grabbed a robe. "So what you got planned for today?" His heart sagged, he expected her to be all over him. Most girls would have jumped at the opportunity-but not Y/N.

"Pack your bags Bambi. We're going to Ohio." He said as he left the room, his shoulders sagged. She really wanted to kiss him but she wanted to tread carefully. Things between them were complicated enough.

Tagged: @kellysimagines

#machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly imagine #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #fan fiction

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yutaya · 3 years

Text

Iron Fist Week Day 7: minor character/missing scene

Albert is a man. A man... with a van.

He's proud of his van. Sure it was a bitch and a half to get certified and sometimes trying to drive three freaking blocks in this city when he's having a bad enough day can threaten to put his blood pressure through the roof, but he's ground out an honest living for himself with it. That's no mean feat, in this neighborhood.

Plus, Al likes his job. It involves a lot of visiting every nook and cranny of the area, meeting loads of people at varying levels of talkative - it's a job that requires someone personable, and Al doesn't think it's too immodest to say that he fits the bill.

Staring down a fully loaded armoire, though, Al can admit to himself that there are times he's less fond of this job than others.

By the time he's got the thing down on the sidewalk, doors and drawers bound shut and with an initial layer of wrapping to protect it from pedestrian traffic while he sets up the loader, Al has mentally added two upticks to his pain-in-the-ass fee.

"Woah, can I help you with that?"

Al pauses in his transferring long enough to take a look at who's spoken. It's a white guy, 20s, a little scruffy but looks comfortable, and, most importantly, seems genuine.

Al smiles at him. "I appreciate the offer, but these need to be moved in a specific way to prevent scuffing."

"Oh." Al goes back to loading the armoire. "...Would you show me?" Al pauses again. Looks back at the guy. "I'm Danny, by the way," he adds, and smiles beatifically.

Al blinks up at the sky. Had the sun shone more brightly for a second, there? He turns back to wrapping the furniture with blankets and bungee cords. "You need to move a lot of furniture, Danny?" he asks while he works. Engaging in friendly conversation with strangers is second nature to him, at this point.

Danny, who has the courtesy to remain standing out on the street behind the van as they talk, bounces a little as he replies. "Yes, actually! My girlfriend and I have been redoing her apartment."

"Wow, big project. Hey, if you guys need stuff moved around, I've got you covered. Back and forth from the storage unit, delivering your new stuff from the store, bringing your old stuff wherever it's going... My rates are fair and, as you can see, I'd actually take care of your things." He pats the carefully cushioned furniture from his current job in indication.

Danny laughs a little, looking at it. "At least that isn't a piano, right?"

"Hey man, pianos have wheels. I can walk them right up the ramp."

Danny eyes the ramp Al uses with the handtrucks. "Isn't it too skinny?"

Al laughs again. "What kind of piano are you picturing, a grand?" As if anyone who owned one of those would be hiring Al to move it. As if anyone who owned one of those would be living in this area at all.

Danny shrugs, unbothered. "I haven't seen one since I was a kid. Maybe it seemed bigger back then." A beat passes, and then Danny continues talking, the oversharing sort of babble symptomatic of the sleep-deprived. "Anyway, we'll definitely call you for help with our stuff. And you can show me all the right ways to handle everything! I'm probably going to be doing a lot of rearranging furniture and stuff since Colleen is out at Bayard all the time now; she keeps talking about helping the community during the daytime - Colleen's my girlfriend, she's the best - and, I mean, she's right, of course, plus, we just got back to the city and I am not used to not having to do something -" he cuts himself off, lighting up. "Hey, could I get a job with you?"

Al startles. He can usually recognize when someone's coming at that angle. Granted, they usually don't seem to stumble into it by mistake.

"The shop down the street is hiring," he offers. "On the corner."

"Thanks! I'd like to work for this business, though."

Al pauses. Revaluates "Danny". There are only so many reasons someone would be looking for a moving job specifically, and in this neighborhood, the most likely scenario is one that Al has been very carefully steering clear of for 30 years.

"I appreciate the interest," he repeats cautiously, "but we're a small business. I'm afraid we don't really have the means to hire right now." It's a bit of a risk, revealing a vulnerability like that. Luckily, Albert is overstating it a bit; it won't be that easy for any of the triads to put financial pressure on him, and, well. He's stubborn. He swore a long time ago that he wouldn't go there.

"Oh, that's not a problem!" Danny says brightly. "You wouldn't need to pay me. I'm more looking for the experience, you know? I've never had a normal job, and Colleen thinks it'll be good for us to start over."

The alarm bell clanging in Al's head rises to a shriek, then falters. If this is a ploy, it is astoundingly poorly executed. If this guy is in with any sort of organized crime, he can't be more than a fledgling recruit. Al feels a moral obligation to try and steer him better, even if his self preservation instincts disagree.

"Look," Al says, watching Danny's face carefully. "I'm running an honest business, here. I'm not interested in having our name attached to anything. And, if I could offer you a word of advice?" Danny, who mostly just looks confused, nods. "Don't go saying that stuff about working for free. Depending who hears it, that's a good way to end up either severely taken advantage of, or in a coffin. Anyone you might be trying that hard to get a resource for won't be happy about you overplaying your hand."

Danny still looks confused. Al mimes swinging a hatchet. Danny's eyes go wide with clarity.

"I'm not with the triads," he says disconcertingly earnestly. "I'm the Iron Fist. I'm sworn to defend the city from people like them."

...Ok.

Well, at least this is an interesting conversation.

"If you're not with the triads, why do you want this job?"

"I guess I'm looking for something new. For fifteen years, I had one purpose. Now, it's done. Now, I need to build a new life, and..." His voice dips in a certain way with the next words, a way that makes Al's stomach sink with the familiarity of it. "...keep a promise to a friend."

Al looks at Danny, a pit in his stomach and memories in his heart. Resignation settles underneath his skin.

"You have a résumé?" he asks. At least Danny doesn't seem inclined to just throw things around, like some other shipping companies that Al could name. Royal Al Moving provides quality for its clients, thank you very much.

"I don't think so. What is that, equipment? I could buy some."

Al stares at him. He'd been expecting either an agreement to email or bring by a copy later, or a conversation along the lines of 'do I really need one?' followed by a verbal listing off of previous work or even just ability.

"Do you have any previous experience?" Al tries again. "Had any jobs before?"

"Yeah, I have," Danny says, and doesn't elaborate.

White people.

"What about ID?" Al asks, despite knowing full well he'll probably pretend not to notice if anything seems off about it.

Danny laughs a bit, seemingly unphased by his own complete lack of knowledge regarding ordinary job application/interview etiquette whatsoever. "Oh, I definitely have that. Had to fight really hard for it, too. It was almost all gone, but once everything got sorted out, we made, like, 10 new copies of everything." Danny pats around at his pockets, not appearing to notice Al's incredulous expression. "I don't have any of those with me right now, but... Ah ha!" He pulls something out triumphantly. "Business cards! I'm pretty sure my brother thought I was just going to destroy them, but my friend Jeri said it's important to always have one. It might have gone through the laundry, though, sorry."

Assuming this day can't get any weirder, like a fool, Al takes the card.

Even worn and slightly crumpled, the obnoxiously expensive quality of the original card is still clear. There's embossing and gold foil, for god's sake. The Rand Enterprises logo glints up at him almost mockingly even as the three dimensional lines of the border rise and fall under his thumb. Either seems unnecessary and frankly tone deaf for a Humanitarian Aid company, let alone both. Then again, maybe they reserve this version of the card for the executive level, those who hobnob among the elite, who need to make a certain type of impression on the too rich in order to convince them to donate well.

Because that's another thing this card reads, right there in plain English: a 9pt bold 'Daniel Rand', and under that, 'CEO'.

'What,' a little voice in Al's head wails semi-hysterically, 'the fuck?'

"Is this a joke?" Al asks out loud, vaguely surprised by how calm he sounds given the way the voice inside his head might be having a meltdown. "Am I on Candid Camera?"

But, no, wasn't he just thinking that this card is way too expensive - and thus definitely too expensive to be a prop?

"Hey, I know that one!" Danny Rand says cheerfully. "Joy and I used to watch it together!"

'Joy,' the voice in Al's head supplies. 'Joy Meachum.

'Well, at least this explains why he said he doesn't need money.

'Wait, why is he looking for a job in the first place? Is he not CEO? Did they kick him out or something? Did they disown him for wearing a hoodie with holes in it? Is that what he meant earlier when he said the thing he was doing before is over now?'

Al has never felt more rueful that he doesn't pay much attention to celebrity news.

"So," Al tries to find a way to word this that isn't 'have you been cut off or what?' "Why is Danny Rand looking for a job here?"

By "here", Al means a lot of things. This type of neighborhood, in general. Chinatown, out of all of them. At a low-wage position in a manual labor business with very little room for growth, if they're really getting into it.

"I like your name," Danny replies. It's far from the kind of answer that Al was expecting, but he finds himself unperturbed. Maybe he's hit a point where nothing is surprising anymore. "It reminds me of a friend. He was more of a Big Al than a Royal one, but I saw your logo and it seemed right."

(Al still pays Danny, because he refuses to be a shady business and because if he's finally getting around to setting up an employee system, he's needs to make it one that will work for anyone he might hire in the future, too. They won't all be Danny Rand. Danny keeps finding ways to immediately give it back, because he's literally a billionaire.)

#here it is like an entire week late #it took so long to write and i still kind of hate it but whatever #ironfistweek #iron fist #danny rand #fanfic #?#my stuff #the immortal iron fist #the internet is for fanfiction #colleen and misty's days still to come #they're just gonna be gifsets tho so~

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feymaid · 3 years

Text

Hey guys! I wrote this a million years ago to fill the angst hole in my heart over what happened at the Lazaret and the drama of it all especially during Lucio’s route. With that being said, please read at your own risk since this deals with some heavy stuff from my apprentice’s past as well as the scary emotions that come after discovering the guy you’ve been actively flirting with indirectly killed you and your loved ones. :D

TW: *abuse. blood. death*

She’s shaking. It is only when they reach the shoreline that she takes a deep breath and gives herself a brief embrace. It takes everything in her not to jump into the boat and start paddling away on her own. She can’t do that. She steadies her body as she moves a foot into the boat. She hesitates and retracts her step. She needs to wait for him. The sun begins to set and darkness slowly creeps over the island, the dead trees above their heads cast spindly shadows on their faces. She had barely spoken to him since they had arrived at the Lazaret and she doesn’t know if she would ever be able to find her voice to express what she was feeling. Every time she thinks she can form words, her bottom lip starts to tremble and it takes all her strength to not start crying.

In that moment, Pocus had never looked so small, or so far away. Even when they’d been in the palace, even then, she had been close. Bright, full of life and burning. But here? With her trembling fingers, her expression void of emotion? The way she curls in on herself? The sorrow that fills her stomach makes her want to vomit.

For the first time since they had met, Lucio was silent. She had walked off ahead of him before he probably had processed what was going on. He was only a few strides behind her but even he seemed to know better to keep his distance. She didn’t break her eye contact with the ocean even as she felt his presence stop just behind her. She waited for him to move towards the boat. They would be silent and never speak of this again. He would take her home and she would never seek him out. It would be easy and she would forget this. She would forget him.

Instead there is a pause. When he doesn’t move to help her push their boat from the sand her blood runs cold. She can’t hear the sound of the waves crashing over the blood rushing through her ears, the pounding of her erratic heart. She can feel his eyes on the back of her neck and she shudders. She keeps herself in a tight ball, but turns her body to face him and lifts her chin to look at him for the first time.

Lucio stands with his hands crossed in front of him, his metal fingers nervously drumming against the hem of his sleeve. His white collared shirt is stained with the ashes of the island and she has to fight to keep her eyes on him. The ashes of his own destruction. She swallows back the lump in her throat. Despite it all, he holds himself high, a painful smile plastered on his face. His hair is messier than she is used too and he keeps running his fingers through it, trying to hold in his unease. His eyes betray him, holding a pain she can’t quite place. She waits for him to move, instead he speaks.

“Pocus...what you saw back there was not what it looks like. Er... I didn’t ever mean for it to go this far. You were an unfortunate result of my mistakes…” His eyes look everywhere but her face. He scratches the back of his neck and rocks back and forth on his heels. “I really didn’t mean for you to get hurt in this.”

She says nothing in response. She doesn’t know what he wants her to say.

He squirms at her silence. Her eyebrows furrow in disgust and she turns away again. He immediately breaks. “Pocus what can I say to make it better? I’m sorry alright?! I really didn’t mean for you to d-”

“Don’t,” she says and the ocean is loud enough to swallow her words. The sun hasn’t yet set over the horizon and the ruby sky is just bright enough for him to see her mouth form the single word. He cannot hear how her voice shakes, or how there is doubt and fear and a terrible tremor tied in a large knot in her throat.

He pauses but he is as unshakable as she is shaken. He gently grabs her wrist and her breath catches. She rips her hand away.

“Touch me again and you’ll be sorry,” she says, loud enough this time. He hears everything in her voice now. He doesn’t reach for her, but she can see that he wants to.

“Why would I be sorry?” he asks.

Her throat feels raw, her voice threatening to break. “You know why,” she says.

He considers her for a moment before stepping closer. She reacts with a step back, almost tripping in the sand, almost reaching for him to steady her. “I know you’re upset with what we saw back there but that’s all in the past!” He says. She shakes her head as he speaks. His voice rises and tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. “Pocus you know that I care about you! Why would I do this all on purpose to hurt you? I only want to make you happy!”

Her chest heaves and she bites down on her lips to hold back a sob. She shakes her head again. His hands hang empty in the air, waiting for her to take them.

She makes no move towards him.

The ocean breeze makes her skirt flutter, her hair sticking to the tears that start to spill. She wants to say, “I can’t let myself forgive you because I wouldn’t forgive myself.” Instead, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and tries not to feel the knot tighten in her throat.

“You knew.” She chokes out her words. “Y-you knew about this. You lied to me….about everything.” She hugs her body to keep herself grounded.

Lucio’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Lied? I never lied! I feared that if I told you that you would hate me like everyone else! I was going to tell you eventually!”

Like everyone else.

She groans and buries her face in her hands. “I’m such a fool! I played right into your game! It was always your plan to use me for your own benefit!”

“No! I never wanted you to feel that way! Pocus I care-”

“You’re a liar!” She sobs. She backs away even further from him. “You killed everyone I ever loved! You killed me! How could you possibly hope to gain anything from me after what you have done?!”

Thoughts tumble, her stomach rolls, guilt along with the satisfying bit of relief of admittance floods through her. His fault. His presence had brought the plague. The hurt on Lucio’s face still comes as a shock to her even though she means to hurt him. After a moment he speaks again, his voice hoarse.

“What do I have to do?”

“Take me home.” She pleads earnestly.

“No, Pocus wait! ” He strides towards her, nearly closing the distance between them and she flinches but can’t walk further away for the risk of walking into the water.

“Pocus there has to be a way to prove that I am sorry. We haven’t known each other that long but I swear, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are too precious for me to lose.” His eyes are genuine, his plea desperate. She tries to ignore the ache in her heart at his words but can’t deny the truth behind them. It only makes it harder.

“Don’t say that Lucio.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist. “Please stop. Stop breaking my heart. I-I can’t take it.”

“I-... You said before...y-you said that you liked me. Did you mean it?”

“Stop. Stop trying to take more from me.”

“Pocus, darling I only want to show you how sorry I am!”

“Lucio, whatever you think we had is finished! You can’t expect forgiveness in this!”

“Pocus, you can’t push me away forever. You know that we can’t give up on this!”

He reaches for her hands again and she snaps.

“I told you not to touch me!”

Something in him breaks too.

“You are determined to hate me!” He hisses, his demeanor shifts and his eyes darken. “Asra has too much of a hold on you for you to form your own opinions! You are right, you are a fool!” He is so close. He is too close. Terror shoots through her like a bolt of ice.

The next thing she knows is the feeling of the sharp contact of his cheekbones against her hand. She watches his head snap to the side.

Her heart is beating so fast that she can’t breathe.

Her vision goes white.

Rikard’s lips curl in disgust. Her husband turns to face her and spits out blood. He had tried to touch her. He had tried to kiss her. She had slapped him. Hard. He wipes his bloodied hand on his suit jacket. She kneels on the ground before him, pathetic and weak, and trembling. She holds her hands to her chest as she slowly turns her gaze upwards, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. The strike is swift. Stinging against her cheek, promising to bloom a sickly deep purple like the rest that litter her body. “Never raise your eyes to me,” he tells her. “You will learn your proper place wife.” He spits out the last word like it’s poison. “Stand up,”Rikard demands. She does as he asks. Her legs will not be steady, one of them is hopelessly infected, the metal shackle cuts deeply into her thigh. Her spine will not straighten. The ache, the pain, the hurt, the agony and the misery. Shoulders hunched, staring at her own feet as she sways. There’s fog in her eyes, spinning in her head. She staggers as she struggles to stay upright. He sharply pushes against the bent line of her back and she hears her bones scream in resistance. “Stand up.” Parts of her flicker, a trickle of blood falls into her blackened eye.

She blinks and Lucio is in front of her again. She sees the bright pink flood his cheeks and the tear trickle down his jaw. She’s trembling and waits in fear of his retaliation, frozen in place. He slowly angles his face back towards her. He sniffs and wipes his nose. She drew blood. Regret surges through her.

“I-I.” She stammers through her tears. “I didn’t-”

“I’ll take you home.” He whispers. He walks away from her and heads towards the boat.

She stands staring at the sand. Her chest heaves, her fingers clench and unclench. She keeps her eyes on the ground as she slowly trails after him. He’d finished untying the boat. His eyes look everywhere but her and she does the same as she braces the sides of the boat. They find opposite seats from each other and she hugs her knees to her chest.

A long, tortuous period of quiet passes, the waves have calmed and Pocus trails a finger in the water, her reflection staring sadly back at her. It’s a lie. Those memories of her life before don’t belong to her but a tragic force of a woman by which she clings to. She isn’t real. But Lucio is. She winces as she slowly angles her face towards him. Her eyes are still puffy from crying and she must look as exhausted as she feels by the way her body aches. “Does... it still hurt?”

Lucio flinches and tenderly rubs his cheek. “Um... It’s fine.”

She wipes her face with her hands and sighs into her palms.

“I’m sorry.” She says, her voice slightly muffled.

“ I’m sorry too.”

“I know.”

#have fun with my shitty writing ya'll!#there's more where that came from i just dont wanna post in a heap lol #my writing #pocus #lucio #count lucio #pocus x lucio #mc x lucio #apprentice x lucio #fan apprentice #arcana fic #tw: abuse #tw blood #tw death #the arcana #the arcana game

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read into Me Chapter 4: North and South

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 4,753

Warnings: Swearing, bullying, i reference the plot of Wuthering Heights and that has some icky stuff in it idk what to tag that though

Author’s Note: How’re you guys liking the series so far? I’m really enjoying it, I’d love to hear what you guys think, good or bad! Also, is over 4k too much for you guys? I used to strive to hit that mark when I first started but the fandom’s changed so much, I feel like an old fart lmao

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @unusuallchild @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995 @asharpkniffe @a-big-ball-of-idk @mochminnie @used-avocado @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie

You didn’t hear from Steve after that, save for him returning your essay with minimal markings and a graded ‘A’ on the top. He’d gone back to his people as quickly as he’d left them, letting Vicki talk his ear off from across the aisle. You didn’t mind too much, her voice was grating on the ear, but her hair was pretty and she actually seemed to ask him questions. You didn’t know why it mattered to you that she seemed genuinely interested in Steve, but you decided that he deserved someone who cared enough to know him. Everyone deserved someone who cared enough to know them. Tina just talked about herself for the whole class when everyone was supposed to be discussing the book at hand, Wuthering Heights, and it got very annoying. You just filled out your discussion questions and did your best to be invisible. No one seemed to notice except for Mr. Lawrence, who’d scolded you twice now for not participating in group discussions.

“I know that you know this stuff, but I can’t give you participation points if you don’t participate with others.” He handed you back your discussion sheet for chapter four. You’d gotten everything right; Mr. Lawrence was lobbing low balls at the class to try to get them to read the book. You didn’t change your tune; you didn’t want to talk to your peers. It didn’t matter anyway, no matter what you said to them you’d still write down the same answers and get the same grade.

You didn’t hear much about your failings to participate after he handed back your first essays. You weren’t surprised that you’d gotten a low ‘A’ on the paper; you hadn’t tried that hard on it. You noted that he’d given you a good grade on your editing, which Mr. Lawrence noted on the page that he could count it for your participation for the class, since you did so well with it. You couldn’t complain because it was a decent way to pass.

When the bell rang, you made your usual break for it, excited to be on your free period and free to sit in the sun for the afternoon. Tracy Lords was in Samantha’s gym class and with the weather so lovely they’d do class outside, giving you a chance to work on front profiles with her flat, pretty features.

Steve was dreading getting his paper back. He didn’t trust himself to get a decent grade and even with your help he was certain he’d pull above a ‘D’. Mr. Lawrence always handed out pairs face down, so no one got their grades till they were ready to flip over the page. This was the moment that he always dreaded. He found that it was easiest to rip it off like a Band-Aid, just flip it and see so it can be over. He never read comments, he just needed to know if he failed, but the bright red writing on the top of the page caught his eye immediately-‘I’m impressed, Mr. Harrington’ with a 81 percent seeping through to the back of the page. He stared at the grade until the bell rang, unsure if it was even real, if he was even awake. Once he woke up from his beautiful dream, he knew he had one thing to do.

He burst in the hallway like a golden retriever out an open gate, searching for you without really knowing where to begin. He spotted you at your locker. “Y/N!” he called. You flinched, your shoulders hunching into your neck. You could feel people looking at you, which turned you beet red, almost purple, from embarrassment. You didn’t move from your space, hoping that the tile under you would pull back into a trap door and make you disappear from the scene. It didn’t, of course, and Steve found you quickly.

“Look at this!” he held up his paper to you, beaming like a child. You looked at the paper slowly, taking in the grade and the note at the top of the page, then his face.

“Oh…that’s great.” You said, unsure how to really respond. How was supposed to respond to someone else’s B?

Steve didn’t take in your uncertainty, continuing on “Thank you,” he said earnestly, lowering his voice to add “This is probably the best grade I’ve ever gotten in that class.”

“I’m glad I could help.” You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in how you’d helped him out. Usually, the only people around that you could help was your grandparents with chores or Samantha with getting out of her house for an afternoon and while you enjoyed helping them out, you didn’t get the same joy from it, having done it for so long. Helping Steve made you feel full in a way.

Tommy Hanson had been trying to call the new kid, Billy, over to him when he saw the whole scene go down. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. There was a hierarchy to Hawkins, rules to follow until you graduated and either solidified your choices or moved the hell out. Steve was popular, the home town hero, the sports star. That kind of power was not something to throw away on a little nobody. Tommy wished he could be that popular, to have that sort of accessibility and he got close when he kept his friends in the right station. Steve had already fucked up once, that little Nancy Wheeler bitch had already demoted him from sex god to weepy heartbroken sad boy, but that was still working for him. And he needed his backup plan to still be cool.

Tommy stalked up to Steve, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Hey, dude, come over here, Stefanie Tomlinson’s panties are showing, you’ve gotta see this shit.” He whispered at him, loud enough to make you cringe and look away, turning back to your books and the stickers on your locker door.

“Dude, don’t be gross.” Steve said, turning his attention back to you “Like I said, thanks for the help.” Tommy kept trying to pull him away, but Steve was taller than him and harder to move around.

“Yeah, like I said, no biggie.” You kept your gaze firmly locked on your locker door. You refused to be mocked by Tommy Hanson. He practically pulled Steve away from you, looking you over with a sneer as they walked off. Tommy didn’t like you, which you already knew. It wasn’t easy for him to hide his hatred in a small town. You didn’t know why, but he’d always been like this, ever since you were kids. He used to push you into the mud and chase you off the swings in elementary school. Since you’d grown up, his cruelty had mostly subsided, but the animosity remained, especially after your mother had threatened his family with albeit an unrelated law suit, which succeeded in getting the whole family away from yours. That was the last helpful thing your mother had done for you.

Tommy kept his arm locked around his friend’s shoulders, escorting him away from potential social suicide. Steve held up his arms in defeat, laughing all the way. “Come on dude, she’s not anything to waste your time on.” Tommy said in a voice loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough to seem like a whisper.

You shrunk in place, unable to pull your eyes away from the scene, a silent plea echoing in your mind for him to look back if he wasn’t a dick head like Tommy, left unspoken but felt in the depths of your soul. You didn’t know why it hurt you as badly as it had; you knew in your head that he no better than his friends. But your heart had hoped that he was different, that he could be better than him. You turned away before it hurt too badly, collecting your books in your arms and rushing off towards your spare period, hoping to find a bit of quiet to recover from what you’d just experienced.

Steve turned back to see you walking away, his laughter dying in his throat, what Tommy said bouncing around his mind. As soon as Tommy released him, he smacked the freckle faced boy hard in the ribs. “Can you try to not be a dick for five minutes?” he asked, getting a laugh out of Carol, who’d been filing her nails without much interest in the whole thing.

“What? Who gives a shit about her?” Tommy asked, doubling back with his hand on his chest.

“She’s a nice girl, dude, don’t be an asshole.” Steve replied sternly. That piqued Carol’s attention. She turned up from her chipped red nails to look Steve over with a discerning eye.

“Oh god, don’t tell me that you’re trying to bring in another Wheeler type chick into this.” She groaned, brushing away a strand of red hair from her cheek.

“Jesus Christ…” Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose “I don’t know what Nance did to you, but you need to calm down on that crap.”

“But you’re not dating her, right?” Tommy asked.

“Dude, all she did was help me with an assignment, that’s all.” Steve groaned. He felt like a dick, being so dismissive of you, he did like you, but he didn’t really even know you and neither did his friends. He didn’t like anyone assuming who he was or wasn’t with, and yet he still felt like a shithead. He didn’t know why but he did.

When you came home from school, your grandmother was waiting for you by the front door, red plaid kitchen rag draped on her shoulder, apron hanging low on her hips. “Your mother called when you were at school, wanted to see how you were.” She said, wiping her hands on the apron. She shook her head, obviously annoyed at the thought of her absent daughter.

“What’d you tell her?” you asked, kicking off your sneakers and putting them back onto the rack. You didn’t hide your distaste in your mother’s asking about you.

“That you were at school and to call back for you later. She told me to tell you that she’d be back in June and that she was bringing back someone special.” Your grandmother replied, turning back into the kitchen to return to whatever she was making. Your grandfather was passed out on the couch, his snores emanating from the living room almost comforting to you as you trekked up the stairs. You knew that your mother wouldn’t call again for you. She could never remember to call you at a time when you might be at home. She certainly wouldn’t be able to remember to call back.

Before you could even set your bag down, the phone on your desk blared from your desk. Samantha was at soccer practise, so you didn’t believe it was for you, but with your grandmother busy in the kitchen and your grandfather passed out, you grabbed the phone, asking “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Steve,” from his own room, Steve had thought about talking to you again for most of the day, but he’d only found the confidence what the day was over and he was home, where he didn’t have to look at you to speak to you. “I’m sorry if Tommy was weird to you today, he’s an idiot.”

You frowned, brow furrowing “It’s cool, no worries…” you replied. You didn’t feel like explaining how you already knew how much of an idiot he was.

“Yeah, so I was kind of wondering…if you’re not busy…would you mind maybe helping me with the readings? I don’t get this shit at all.” He chuckled awkwardly. In truth he’d had no plan to actually read the novel they’d been assigned, that’s what Cliff’s Notes was for, but he wanted to be around you more, so if homework was a reason to get to be around, then he’d actually read.

“Um…sure, I guess I could.” You didn’t really know what the right answer was for you. You weren’t sure that you trusted him, especially after what had happened that afternoon with Tommy, but your gut told you to say yes.

“Great! What’re you doing right now? Could you meet me somewhere, the reading for the tenth chapter is due tomorrow and I don’t even know what’s happening.” He felt a tad desperate, which was not a feeling he was used to around girls.

“I mean…where would you wanna meet?” anxiety was creeping up the back of your neck. You tried to wipe it away like sweat, but it was stuck to your brainstem.

“You could come over to my place or like I could meet you at the library or something.” Steve didn’t exactly have an answer to that one, he wasn’t even sure he’d get this far. He looked around his messy room, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

You didn’t exactly want to be in his house, but you didn’t have a car and it would take you forever to walk back into town to get to the public library. With a heavy heart, you accepted your unfortunate fate. “I could come over to your place.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut. You hoped that he wasn’t going to take that the wrong way.

“Yeah?” Steve hoped the panic wasn’t evident in his voice. His mother was still out of town and his father spent more time at his office in Carmel then he spent at home as it was. He’d let the mess pile up a bit and he didn’t want to look disgusting.

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to sound casual, but your blood had run cold and your hands had gone clammy. You gripped the receiver far too tightly, your eyes shifting around your room.

“Alright, cool, yeah cool…” Steve said, trying to sound casual “How long do you think it would take to get here?”

“I mean…you still drive the rust coloured BMW, right?” you asked, pulling your curtains back to peer out your window.

“Yeah?” Steve asked.

“I can see your house from my window, I’ll be there in like a minute.” You said.

Steve’s head turned upward, looking around worriedly. He bid his goodbyes quickly, turning his full attention to his messy bed and dirty floor, trying to get every pair of boxers laying on the floor into a basket. He hadn’t expected you to agree to come to his house, and his stomach churned at the idea of freaking you out. He didn’t want to scare you away because he was messy and gross.

You felt as if you’d swallowed your tongue. You rushed for the door, uttering a quick goodbye to your grandparents and pulling your backpack straps tight on your back. It was only five feet away. Five feet. Cross the street and up the driveway and you’re there. You took in a deep breath through your nose and took the first tripping step down your driveway, your body not co-operating with your mind and trying to escape where you were trying to bring it. You needed to calm down, your palms were starting to sweat and your knees had turned to Jell-O. You stopped in the middle of the empty street, huffing out another breath, trying to remind yourself that nothing could hurt you over there. That you could handle anything thrown at you.

Somehow, you made it to the front door without blacking out. You went to knock on the door, but it opened before you made contact. Steve looked frazzled, his hair flopping into his eyes, his expression panicked. “You’re here!” he said, his body blocking the doorframe.

“Am I not supposed to be?” you asked, your hand coming to clutch the top of your opposite arm.

“Nah, nah you are I just-never mind. I’m going crazy I think, come on in.” Steve stuttered, moving his arm out of the way, letting you inside. He didn’t know why he was nervous, he was never nervous to have a girl over. But you weren’t like the usual girls he would invite to hang out by his pool.

You stepped into his house cautiously, entering the dark space like it was a well-preserved colonial mansion. The Harrington household was cold. Everything was navy blue, steely grey, and white. He’d left the lights off in the entryway and the kitchen, although the lights above the grey brick fireplace were on, three white pot lights lighting the whole space. It made his house look ominous. Nobody was around either, you knew that Steve was an only child, but in your house your grandparents were always milling around; sound and voices were everywhere. Steve’s house was silent. The white vertical blinds were left open, and you could see the pool outside, which hadn’t been cleaned yet that day. The carpeting throughout the downstairs muffled your footsteps, adding to the eerie silence. Overall, the house looked expensive. They had all the latest technology and aesthetically the house was very stylish, it made you want to not touch anything in fear of breaking something. You shivered involuntarily, letting your eyes wander around the house, taking in the massive TV and the matching stereo. All his money didn’t make the space feel like home.

“My stuff’s just upstairs.” Steve pointed a thumb up the stairwell by the front door. You hadn’t realized that you’d wandered out of the foyer and into his house. You swallowed, nodding hard and bounding up the steps ahead of him. You noticed that there weren’t any photographs around the house. That felt a bit homier to you; your grandmother kept most of the photos in intricate albums, only keeping a singular family photograph on the mantle of the white tiled fireplace. That felt a bit right to you, that it really was a home and not a showcase home.

Steve’s bedroom was also blue and dark. His walls were dark blue plaid, with matching curtains. The colour was only broken up by a few posters and a floating bookshelf, which held a couple small trophies and a couple books held between black metal bookstands. His bedspread was a navy quilt, and his desk was dark wood and heavy looking. The signs of childhood were clear in the plaid wallpaper and curtains, clearly still remaining from a younger life. But beyond it, the room lacked a bit of personality. The only signs of life were the full laundry hamper and the papers on his desk. Everything else in the room could be in anyone’s room. It looked like a guest room or a hotel room. You dropped your bag on the grey carpeting, unsure where to put yourself in the space. Steve was much more casual, pulling out his desk chair and taking a seat, gesturing for you to sit across from him on the bed. You did so, sitting gingerly on the wrinkled bedspread. It was strange to sit on a boy’s bed, much less it be Steve Harrington’s bed.

“Alright, um…where to begin?” you asked, more to yourself than him. “I guess we should go over what happened in the chapter, yeah?”

“Yeah sure…” Steve replied, picking up his copy of the novel, flipping it open to the chapter. “Uh…so the main chick is in love with Heath and she loves him and they all live happily ever after?”

“That’s…not the plot of either this chapter or the novel.” You said slowly, not looking down to flip your own copy of the book to the marked chapter.

“I mean…that’s what I got from the Kate Bush song.” Steve muttered awkwardly.

“So, you haven’t read the book? Like nothing at all?” you asked. Steve shook his head. “Cliff’s Notes then?” you guessed, looking back to the shelf to see a few of the black and yellow striped covers of the versions of Little Women, Robinson Crusoe, and King Lear. You’d used the reference guides yourself, albeit not as a replacement for the novels themselves.

“You got me…” Steve muttered. He felt like an idiot. It had only taken a minute for him to get caught in his fib.

“Then what’d you need me for?” you replied, setting your book down on the bed next to you, looking him over carefully. Cliff’s Notes would cover everything he needed, they’d answer the questions for him.

“Look…I’m shit at this stuff. I don’t get it. I don’t get why we’re reading this, the book is so boring, even the notes are boring!” he groaned.

“The book is shit.” You replied, deadpan. “Mr. Lawrence is having us read it because it’s one of like three books the county mandates that we read and they gave us Robinson Crusoe last year.”

“What am I supposed to get from it then if he doesn’t even like it?” Steve chuckled, turning to address you fully.

“Well…it’s a tortured love story.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You pressed on “Catherine and Heathcliff are in love, but because Heathcliff’s of a lower station than her, they can never be together. And even though Catherine marries someone else she can’t bear life without him.”

“Aren’t they like siblings or something?” Steve’s lip curled upwards in a disgusted expression.

“Adopted siblings and if Emily Bronte doesn’t think it’s weird then we have to ignore it.” You explained with a shrug. You leaned back on your palms, kicking your feet casually. With the windows open, his room was warm and sunny. It faced the woods behind his side of the road, and they looked beautiful from up near the treetops. You’d heard the rumours of Jonathan Byers taking photos of little Nancy Wheeler on the same bed you sat on from the woods. It made you feel icky at the time and uncomfortable now. You didn’t like the idea that anyone could be watching you.

“Then what is Kate Bush singing about? She makes it sound like they get together.” Steve asked. He watched you with a careful eye, his nerves making it hard to even try to catch your eye. You seemed happy, calmer too, and your hair was catching the sunlight from his window, making a pretty crown of light around your head.

“I mean…Catherine dies trying to return to Heathcliff across the moors, Kate Bush is like being her ghost, trying to come back to her love from beyond the grave.” You said simply. Steve pulled out his notebook, the questions written out in wide, square letters. He quickly began scribbling down what you’d said. He pulled out his copy of the Cliff’s Notes and flipped to chapter ten, filling out the questions. You wondered if you should stay or go, but Steve’s profile was partially shaded by the angle he sat at, and the way his jaw jutted out made him look like the statue of David. You slowly pulled out your sketchbook and flipped to a new page. Graphite in hand, you slowly began drawing out his sharp, angular jaw and strong neck.

“So, when did you find the time to read the whole book?” he asked; only briefly looking up from his notes to look at you. Your hair was still pulled up in the bun you’d put it in that morning and your gaze was focused on whatever was behind that heavy looking spiral bound pad.

“It was on, like, the seventh grade summer reading list.” You replied, not looking up. You could feel his eyes on you and the copy of lips weren’t matching the real life counterpart. You pulled your lip between your teeth, using your thumb to blend out a thin line.

“You remembered all that from middle school?” Steve asked.

“Well…I mean the book is kind of weird. Like, it doesn’t make sense, the narrator keeps changing and the speaker isn’t always made known. It was really hard to read, but the story itself was pretty run of the mill. I don’t really get why we have to read it at all…” You explained quietly, switching to a piece of charcoal to add thin, textured lines to the lower lip.

“It’s really shit, eh?” Steve chuckled, turning his attention back to the thin book. “Who’s Isabella again?”

“It is crap. And Isabella’s Catherine’s sister-in-law. She has a crush on Heathcliff, you can write on that, that’s revealed in this chapter.” You explained. You didn’t blame Steve for not understanding the book, you absolutely hated the book when you read it the first time and it was by no means an easy read.

“She’s in love with him, but he’s in love with Catherine?” Steve was scribbling fast, writing down whatever you said.

“Yes and Catherine’s in love with Heathcliff but married Mr. Linton for status.” You replied. Steve and you worked in silence for awhile. Mr. Lawrence expected answers in full sentences and provide reasoning for everything you sourced. Meanwhile, you set a high standard for your art. While you didn’t expect perfection from yourself, you wanted to try to do good work, even just for yourself.

You’d never drawn Steve Harrington before. You’d done pictures of tons of your classmates, Steve just never seemed like someone who needed to be drawn. He had tons of people looking at him and praising him all the time, to his face and behind his back. He seemed like a little celebrity in Hawkins, but sitting on his head, with the sun hitting half of his face and making pretty shadows in the hollows of his face, you saw the small beauty in his features. You knew that he was attractive, that was a universal truth, but now sat on his bed alone in his room, you understood that he really was beautiful. Maybe not on the inside, you didn’t know if he was a truly good person, but on the outside he was golden. Your hands demanded to recreate his features. You felt as though you were carving one of Greek gods of Hawkins high, the best of the town’s beauty.

Steve finished his work soon after and looked to you with a lopsided grin. “I say, and you can totally disagree, that we work better together than apart.” He said triumphantly, jabbing the cap onto his pen.

You looked up with a smirk from your drawing. It was nearly done and you weren’t mad at the work either. It certainly looked like Steve and the shadows were intriguing. It would’ve made a better painting, but the little sketch was nothing to sneeze at. “I mean, you certainly do.” You replied easily. Steve chuckled, you weren’t wrong; he knew that you were much smarter than him.

“But sure, if you need the help then I’ll help. No big deal.” The words left your mouth before you’d thought them through. But they were true. Despite not knowing him, despite being freaked out by every phone call and conversation, you found yourself still coming back. Your mind was pulled in two very different directions, between adrenaline laced panic that made your hands go clammy and shake and genuine curiosity and intrigue.

Steve couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. He was certain that you’d already on the porch steps, running towards your house as fast as you could. Something in his gut told him not to expect anything. But you agreed. He broke into a lopsided grin, brushing a piece of long brown hair out of his eyes. “Cool, yeah, that’d be great! So, I’ll call you?” he asked tentatively, trying to still give you an out to his own request.

“You already know the number.” You smirked, a yellow sticky note catching your eye. You could see your name and number written in Steve’s wide handwriting stuck to the wall in front of his desk. It made you smile, the small detail of him even looking you up made you laugh. You’d been across the street from him your whole life, but him trying to find you made you strangely happy. You gathered up your things quickly, heading back across the street as another car came into his driveway, an immaculately made up woman in the front seat. She didn’t look you in the face as you passed, focusing on the opening garage door in front of her. You made a mad dash for your house. Everything felt…calm. Strangely calm. You didn’t know if you liked it.

181 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 08

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 3.9k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Yet another chapter for us all! :D I hope you’re still enjoying it and you like the new banner! This is what he looks like in this fic obviously, just with tattoos and a lip ring. Please reblog if you enjoyed and leave me comments, feedback and asks! It helps to fuel my inspiration for this to know you all love it too!

; Flower Masterpost

The bar in front of you looks ever so slightly dinghy, but you can’t tell if that’s an actual thing or if you’re just stereotyping it. This was the bar that Hoseok and his friends frequented often, a rock bar apparently.

It sounded like everything you hated but you knew he loved it given all the stories he’d told you over the last month of the mischief they all got up to. Apparently when you added alcohol into their strange friendship, it resulted in pure chaos. Part of you wanted to see it, but the overwhelming part of you was terrified.

You’d never been in a situation like this before. Previous partners had been in college, where you already knew their friends. This was new territory, terrifying territory. When you walked through that door, you were going to be meeting Hoseok and his closest friends for the first time.

It made you want to be sick. They probably had expectations on you. There was no way he hadn’t talked about you to them...or what if hadn’t? What if you were a complete surprise to them? What if he’d spouted so much crap and they were disappointed when they meet you? Thought he could do better? What if they hated you? Publicly ignored you or insulted you.

Not that you think Hoseok would let them.

You’d both been dating now just over a month and you were pretty sure that he was the kind of person who wouldn’t accept someone being mean to you. But friends were important, right? If Chungha and Soyeon both expressly disapproved of Hoseok then you doubted that you’d have stayed with him.

What if they told him that they didn’t like you? Would he leave you?

You’re so busy catastrophizing just outside of the door that you don’t notice when someone comes out of it, the music from inside loud enough to be heard when the door is open but not deafening. A hand pressing on your arm gently makes you jump, eyes widening as you look up into the face of Hoseok.

“You’ve gotta stop jumping like this. I’m worried you’ll give yourself a heart attack. Anyway, any reason you’re out here instead of coming inside? Like the smell of piss and weed or something?” Your nose wrinkles at that, acknowledging the disgusting smell that you’d been trying not to think about and he laughs.

“I was...coming. I just…” You struggle to get the words out, shrugging rather limply and he sighs softly. Hoseok had been trying to encourage to meet his friends now for a week, his texts saying that tonight was happening and he’d really, really love it if you came. It was a good sign that he wanted you to meet them, you knew that, but your very nature recoiled away from socialising with large amounts of people.

And that was to say nothing about being out on a weeknight, your body screaming to just go home and relax on the couch with Netflix. Or the fact that you were going to be the centre of attention.

Just the thought made you seize up in anxiety, body going cold while your breath came a little faster. Hoseok seems to tell that your mood has changed and he shifts around in front of you, cupping your face in his hands while his thumbs gently stroke at your cheeks.

“Hey...hey. What’s wrong? Tell me. Is it this? You don’t have to, I won’t be mad. Swear. I’ll call a taxi for you and you can go home if you want.” He’s looking at you earnestly, his eyes scanning over your face to track every micro expression and you feel his genuine care. The girls were right in that you’d found a good one here.

“No, no. I don’t...I just...it’s a lot. I don’t...I,” Wiping at your mouth, you look up at the sky and try hard not to start hyperventilating or something. “What if they don’t like me? And everyone’s going to be staring at me and judging me and I hate when I’m the centre of-”

“Hey...it’s okay. We’ll...I’ll make sure that they don’t make you feel uncomfortable okay? They’re good people. And they’ll like you. You’re hard not to like. Just...be yourself.” The smile on his face is reassuring but you can still feel the anxiety bubbling deeply within.

“Myself is someone with social anxiety who talks about useless crap and blurts out overly sarcastic comments. I’d rather be someone else.” You look away at that, brows rising for a moment while your lips turn down. The sound of Hoseok sighing fills your eyes and you feel bad for whining at him, knowing that he’d only know you a month and he was already having to put up your stream of negativity.

“I don’t. I like you. The useless crap is interesting and the sarcastic comments are hilarious. I want to introduce my friends to you...my girlfriend. Not some other girl, okay? Do you want to go in or…?” He points at the door, smiling at you and you just nod, eyes wide as a warmth blossoms from deep within.

He called you his girlfriend.

The pleased shock of what he’d called you wears off quickly as he moves along the sticky floor to the booth where his friends are all sat. It’s dim inside, the overhanging lights dull while the neon green and pink of the beer logos behind the bar contrast vibrantly. A whole multitude of spirits and other forms of alcohol sit on the space below them along with various whiskeys on the optics, just waiting for someone to order them.

Hoseok glances over at a platinum blonde haired girl behind the bar, her arms and neck covered with even more tattoos than Hoseok, before he raised a hand and pointed to you. “Can you bring a Coke please?” The girl nods and reaches for a fresh glass from above but you don’t get to pay anymore attention as Hoseok’s hand presses against your lower back once more.

It’s easy to tell where his friends are. The place isn’t too big and there isn't a huge amount of people here, only a few booths filled up. But his friends are loud, talking at incredible volumes and laughing even louder than that. You know it’s them because he’s leading you directly to them, the pressure from his hand a little stronger as you hesitate.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, quickly pressing a kiss to your temple and you heat up at the public display of affection. Yet despite the embarrassment that rolls through you, there’s an equal amount of reassurance that you feel at his presence.

The noise quietens down when you both walk up, seven interested faces glancing you up and down before looking over at Hoseok. They all look a bit squashed into the booth and Hoseok grabs two chairs from a nearby empty table, quickly ushering you into one.

“Okay so, well...errr…” He sounds a little nervous and you realise with a start that he probably is as nervous as you are. These are his friends after all, you have no doubt that he wants them to like you while also hoping that you’ll like them. He quickly introduces each person, pointing to each one and you follow along, giving shy smiles to each one as they smile in return or wave.

“And...well...this is Y/N. If anyone says anything mean then I will feed you a rotten egg. I have one in my fridge that I need to throw out, so it can happen.” Hoseok threatens lightly, his smile light but you can sense an edge behind it too. No one says anything in response to that and he shuffles a tiny bit closer, his arm moving to rest on the back of your chair.

“Err...hi.” It’s all you can get out, your body tensing from their attention. You think frantically for something else to say, desperately hoping that someone else will take up the mantle for you and thankfully, Jimin’s fiancée Eden does.

“What do you do then? Anything interesting?” The question makes you glance down at your hands, their carefully painted nails playing with the zip on your bag as you swallow.

“I’m just an admin assistant for a wholesaler. Nothing interesting.” She nods at that with a laugh, rolling her eyes and leaning back into her partner. His hair isn’t pink anymore, but instead a deep black that makes him look appallingly attractive.

Actually they all look attractive and you want to point an accusatory finger at Hoseok, wondering how on earth he managed to find six other men who looked like they modelled for high fashion brands at the weekend. Nothing to boost your self confidence than having seven guys prettier than you around you.

“God, I feel you. I’m convinced there’s no such thing as hell otherwise my life would not be as shit as it is. I’m a receptionist at a doctor’s clinic, which would be fine if it wasn’t for the fact that patients are not only dumb as fuck but also some of the rudest people out there. Like...I get you’re in pain and hurting but there’s no need to be an ass, you know?” You find yourself smiling with a nod, her open nature and friendliness calling out to you.

“You think that’s bad? Try having to deal with people who need legal representation when you know they’re the scum of the earth. God, I wish I’d chosen something boring to specialise in, like property law. Law and Order makes it look really interesting but it’s really not, it’s just stress and boring research.” Namjoon’s the one who says that, his hair blonde and shaved pretty short on the sides.

He has a kind face, you decide, as you watch him laugh over something Jungkook says, the man next to him. Deep dimples spot his cheeks when he smiles and you can easily see why he ended up being the first to not only marry but also have a child.

His wife is apparently still in the end stages of pregnancy, hence why she’s not here tonight. As nice as the extra female company would have been, you’re sure she’s probably curled up at home. Part of you wishes you were curled up at home too.

“Friends, friends...I have two words for you all...customer...service.” Taehyung, a ridiculously attractive man who you think actually should have a career as a model instead of a customer service representative, says with raised brows, hands lifting into the air as he shrugs. His eyes are barely visible beneath the tousled, curled black hair he’s sporting.

Hisses and winces of sympathy erupt from everyone, including you, before the conversation carries on further. Nothing else leaves you because you can’t think of anything to talk about so you simply listen. No one notices the quietness that you fall into as they continue to talk, their friendships allowing them to chat easily and quickly through numerous topics that you don’t particularly understand.

You’re good at disappearing into the background of people, vanishing from conversations and simply watching them happen around you. It was a lot easier than trying to figure out how to talk without sounding like an idiot, which was a regular occurrence for you.

But after ten minutes of it, apart from a thank you to the bartender who brings you your drink, Hoseok evidently takes notice. He leans close to you, lips brushing against your ear and you shiver ever so slightly as his warm breath tickles the fine hairs as he speaks in a low voice to you.

“Is everything okay? You’ve gone quiet.” You look at him with wide eyes, shrugging slightly as you curl into yourself a little more. He frowns in response, lips pursing slightly and causing his lip ring to jut out funnily as he contemplates your response.

But he doesn’t say anything vocally, instead just moves his arm to wrap around your shoulders and tug you a little closer. He’s delightfully warm against you and the now familiar smell of peppermint and sandalwood envelops you as he does so. You have no idea what cologne he uses but it smells amazing, and there’s nothing better than a nice smelling guy sometimes.

“Hoseok told us about your first date by the way, I’m not surprised he couldn’t get out of an escape room.” Jimin pipes up suddenly, a mischievous look on his face as Hoseok stiffens next to you in outrage. He’s sputtering for a reply and you can’t help but smile, ducking your head down and shrugging.

“Don’t be too mean, I also couldn’t get us out.” You admit quietly, a meek look on your face as they all laugh. Taehyung pointed at Jungkook with an incredulous look, eyes widening as he accuses the post-grad student.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing, the last time we did one of those you broke the fucking door. Got banned from the damn place after having to pay to have it fixed.” Everyone looks at Jungkook in amusement at that, an oddly fond expression woven into them as he begins to protest his innocence immediately.

“I didn’t break it! I just...tried opening it. And it did.” He gestures, shoulders slumping as he slides down the seat ever so slightly, his bottom lip sticking out in an adorable pout. From what you’ve learnt from Hoseok, Jungkook is most definitely the baby of the group. Not because he acts like a child, but because he’s the youngest and the others all treat him like a little brother.

“You. Kicked. The. Door. The fuck did you think was gonna happen?”

“Everyone said that doesn’t work in real life! I thought I’d just kick it and nothing would happen, maybe make my foot hurt or something. Felt cool though, like I was in a crime show.” Namjoon sighs deeply at that, rubbing his hand over his eyes with a weariness you get the feeling he experiences more often than not with these guys.

“Yeah, if you wanted to be in Brooklyn 99 and not Criminal Minds.” The words are filled with more than a little sarcasm from Taehyung who crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly making you realise how broad he is. It’s not helped when you find yourself assessing them all and realising that while Taehyung and Seokjin are both incredibly wide, Yoongi and Jimin appear to be almost petite with how slender they are.

“Well I may have sucked ass, and perhaps we would die if we ended up in a horror situation which required us to solve our way out of a room, but I didn’t break anything. And the rest of the date went fine, thank you very much.” Hoseok leans back in his chair, a smirk on his face as he looks smugly at them all.

And you can’t help it, you just cannot help yourself.

“Except for when you told me about that girl throwing up on your dick.”

Immediately he looks at you in betrayal, jaw dropping open and letting you see that he’s changed his tongue piercing for a black ball instead of silver. But you can’t help but smile and giggle his brows furrowed in disbelief, the noise increased in volume when he starts to tickle you playfully.

“I told you that in confidence!”

“No you didn’t, you said it in the middle of a restaurant on a first date! That’s like...the least confidential thing ever. You may as well have hired a skywriter to write it out or something.” You wriggle away from his fingers, pushing at his hands to try and avoid them.

Hoseok pauses, lips pursing together as he looks you over before he sneers. It’s not a mean face, you can see the joy in his eyes and part of you feels relief rush through you that you haven't offended him. “Maybe so.”

“A girl threw up on your dick?” Jungkook asks, his face a complete picture of disgust. On the contrary, Jimin just shrugs before waving a hand airily.

“Hey man, you do you. If that’s what gets you off then that’s what gets you off. This is a non-judgemental place.” He said serenely, causing Eden to turn and look at him with a raised brow.

“You get turned on at egg-laying dildos. In fact...you told me that you wanted to try role playing as Thanos the other night.” That stuns everyone into silence, a slight look of judgement on everyone’s face as they look at the smaller man. He maintains a perfectly blank face before shrugging.

“I will admit that maybe my sexual practices aren’t your normal ones…”

The conversation spirals after that, becoming one of intense discussions about sexual preferences, kinks and even fetishes. Some of the things said make you heat up from curiosity but most of them are because of pure embarrassment. They laugh and joke about things that you’ve never heard anyone joking about before and you find that you don’t have anything to add.

Not that you’re sure you want to have anything to add. You do find out though that Hoseok has been much more adventurous in bed than you given some of the stories both he and the others tell. Apparently a few of them had lived together in college and they’d had a truly wild time during those years.

It was certainly amusing though and you found that you quite liked just listening to them talk, absorbing their stories and disseminating the intense history between them all. The easy way they slipped into each others conversations made their long friendships obvious and you felt a pang of longing for something like this.

There was no doubt that Chungha and Soyeon were the same with you, but you’d never seen it like this on such a large scale with this many friends.

After a while though, you feel your inner tolerance for social situations rapidly depleting and a swirl of anxiety runs through you as you realise that it’s already nearing 9pm. You still have to get home, a thirty minute taxi ride away, and then shower for the next day. Your bed is calling you more than ever and you fidget for a few minutes, wondering how to politely tell Hoseok that you wanted to leave.

Leaving social events was never easy for you because you always felt like you were going to let people down or have them judge you. But you were tired, your eyes beginning to droop as your energy levels fell and the makeup on them pulled them down. The warmth of Hoseok against you wasn’t helping either, the desire to curl up into him and sleep so strong.

You don’t realise that you’ve drifted off for a few minutes, head resting against Hoseok’s shoulder as one hand lays on his thigh. Not until he gently jerks you awake, your eyes widening as you blink rapidly to try and move through the fog of sleep.

“Hey...you wanna go home? I’ll call a taxi for you.” A murmur of protest leaves you, a new anxiety at letting him down burning at you but he shakes his head with a sweet smile. Pressing his lips to your forehead, he grabs his phone and opens the Uber app. “It’s okay, honestly. I know you’re tired by now and I’d rather you go now than stay out and be even more tired.”

You can’t find it in yourself to complain any further, just laying your head back down on his shoulder and trying your hardest to stay awake. It was hard though, and you wondered what his friends thought seeing you like this. A benefit to being so drained of energy though was that you didn’t particularly care what they thought of you right now. You just wanted to go home and go to bed.

“Come on, it’s here,” Hoseok whispered, shifting you until you got up out of the uncomfortable wooden seat, stretching out with a quiet groan. “I’m just gonna take her to the taxi.”

“Bye, it was nice meeting you.” You say, your voice incredibly soft but all of them give you a smile in response as they give their goodbyes as well. Hoseok takes your hand, entangling your fingers, before gently pulling you back through the bar to the door. The waiting Uber is parked at the side of the road, waiting for you to get in and Hoseok walks over, opening the door.

Before you get in though, you wrap your arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. “Do you think it went okay?”

Your words are a little muffled but he hears them anyway, the street is pretty quiet except for the idling engine of the car. His hand rubs along your back slowly and you lean a tiny bit back, looking up at him in the crappy lighting.

“I think it went good. Don’t worry about it, honestly. Anyway...text me when you get home so I know you’re safe, okay?” You nod, feeling a little like you’re being instructed by a parent but it makes you feel warm and good at his concern. “Good. I’ll text you good night.”

With that, he gives you a sweet kiss goodnight, nothing intense or passionate. Just...nice, a goodbye kiss. And once he’s done, despite the flurry of butterflies you still feel when he kisses you, you get into the taxi and smile at him as he closes the door and watches as the car drives off.

Hoseok heads back into the bar once he can’t see the Uber anymore, excited happiness buzzing through him. He really did think it had gone well tonight; both on your side and his friends side. Even though he’d prewarned them that you were pretty shy and awkward, they’d been very respectful in a way that had surprised him.

Sitting back on his chair, he leans forward and grabs his beer, taking a deep swig before placing it back down. Everyone is sat staring at him, each with a differing expression on their face and he knows what they’re all waiting for.

Sighing deeply, he shrugs and lifts his hands up. “Well?”

“Where did you find that church mouse?” Jimin asks, his brows rising incredibly high. A few of the other chuckle, lips turning up as they nod and Hoseok feels defensiveness rising in him.

“She’s not that bad. Just...quiet. I told you she was.” He’s about to say more but Namjoon holds up a hand, calming down the atmosphere immediately.

“She was nice Hoseok. A little nicer than we’re used to with you I think. But that’s good, don’t get offended!” He says when Hoseok’s face turns outraged. “I think she’ll be good for you. You seem very relaxed with her.”

“I think you’re cute together,” Eden pipes up with a grin. “The shy girl and the loud, tattooed guy. Like one of those romance books or a fanfic.”

Hoseok frowns slightly, running his tongue over his lip ring. “Is that good?”

“Yes. She’s living the dream, that’s all I’ll say.”

853 notes · View notes

tellywoodtrash · 3 years

Text

immj2 27+28.11.20 lbs

27.11.20

lmao i was gonna get suuuuuuper mad at kabir for being in her room but then he’s like:

“hi.”

....................... and i instantly snorted happily. vishal is realllllllllly just so likable that i just can’t with him anymore. i love when adorable marshmallows like him and shrenu play evil. you just cannot fucking hate them!

blah blah humaara kamra, mera kamra nonsense.

shaadi ka joda gift. with that tackyyyyyyyyyyyyassss KABIR KI RIDDHIMA written on it. main marr jaooon par kabhi bhi aisa kuch na pehnoon, no matter how much i love the guy.

“kuch hi derr mein tum VANSH ki riddhima se, KABIR ki riddhima ho jaogi.” coz even in 2020, women are nothing but chattel to be passed on from one man to another.

riddhima is thinking fat chance, bitch.

telling him she’ll never wear red for him, coz “laal pyaar ka rang hota hai, aur main sirf ek insaan se pyaar karti hoon, aur woh hai vansh.”

“toh yeh bhi vansh ke paise se hi liya hai.” lmaooooooooo

ghani beizzati by saying she’s already bought a joda for herself, a white one. which honestly looks muchhhhhhhhhh nicer than the red one acc. to me but ok.

vansh checking his account balance and seeing that there’s charges for two wholeass designer jodas bought for a shaadi that’s not even gonna happen:

anyway kabir’s like ok who cares, colour doesn’t matter, shaadi toh tumhari honi hai mujhse blah blah.

kabir doesn’t like mandap setup. coz all white. and apparently aryan was in charge of it? coz he’s getting dragged by the collar for it.

good. i don’t feel any sympathy.

ishani is like dekh liya nateeeja iss loserrrrrrrr ki khushaamad karne ka? when has vansh ever treated you like this no matter how mad he’s gotten at you? he always protected you.

behen kyun bhains ke aage been bajaa rahi ho? yeh manhoos baaz nahi aana.

ishani flounced away and aryan’s now vowing revenge against kabir. abbe yaar, tera list toh kabhi khata hi nahi hota.

why the fuck are these ppl soooooooooo dressed up for a wedding they don’t even want to participate in? itna toh main apni genuine shaadi ke liye naa sajjjjjjoon.

suddenly ishani is allllll about bado ka sammaaan and parampara, pratishthaaaaa, anushaasan and all. lmao ok?????

tod di choodi uski kalaayi par. jaisa bhai, waisiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii hi behen.

shaadi mubarak indeed. lol.

riddhima’s calling vihaan and freakingout ki woh paise leke bhaag gaya. you are so fucking stupid sis, why would you give him that much fucking money BEFORE HE EVEN SHOWED THE FUCK UP??????????

“tum thodi weird nahi ho????” bhai obvious sawaal naa pooch.

anyway he’s like calm yo tits, untwist your panties, i’ll get there on time.

kabir instead of fixing his maatam waala mandap is back skulking around vihaan’s container box house. ladki ko shaadi karni bhi nahi hai and she’s sitting there ready from 3 hours before, aur yeh, jissko shaadi ki utaavli chadhi thi, is out doing randomassssss jasoosi, coz that’s the priority rn. sounds legit.

VIHAAN THE DUMBASS TOOK OFF THE CCTV CAMERA AND PACKED IT. GOD YOU’RE ALLLLLLLLLLL FUCKING AQAL KE DUSHMAN IN THIS SHOW.

kabir sneaking in with gunnnnnnn.

how the fuck am i supposed to take him seriously with these bachchon waale sports shoes?!!?!?!? GIVE THE MAN HIS COMBAT BOOTS BACK SO HELP ME GODDDDDD

he’s peeking in the door and making some threatening statements about oh ho yeh hai tumhara plan, main sab khatammmmm kar doonga and all, but we never see wtf he’s looking at and this show is fulllllllllllll of red herrings, so........ idc.

riddhima putting on previous mangalsutra for this wedding and..... guts toh hai bandi main. badiii dheent hai.

mummy coming and saying blah blah usse utaar do this is your new mangalsutra and lmaoooooooooooooo

this is the tackiest fucking shit i’ve ever seen in my life. what’s with their obsession of putting their name on everything!?!!!?!!? what are you, an eight grader?!?!!?!?

anyway, bored with this ainvayi ki dhamki waala scene, fwding.

blah blah 2 ghante mein kaunsa chamatkaar hona hai and all......... WHY ARE YOU PPL SO DAMN OVERCONFIDENT????

meanwhile kabir is back and now harassing dadi. KISI KO TOH AKELA CHOD DE.

actually, lmao, i’d love to see him go try this shit on ishani and angre. it would be fucking glooooooooooorious lololololol.

anyway, he wants dadi’s aashirwaad in the form of vansh’s saafa (pagdi/turban). ABBE YAAAAAAAAAAR. USKE UNDERWEAR DRAWER SE JAAKE USKI CHADDI BHI LEKE PEHEN. ITNAAAAAAAAA WANNABE VILLAIN MAINE AAJ TAK NAHI DEKHA. HADHHHHHHH HAI.

chikni chupdi baatein ki i’m just trying to be the son vansh was to this house. if i wear his saafa, it’s like uski aashirwaad aur duaein meri saath hongi.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PICTURE VANSH’S FACE IS LITERALLY LIKE

anyway dadi is like really really fucking hurt by this and my god i wanna fucking murder kabir.

she’s literally telling him to pick anything else, it’s vansh’s nishaani and he’s like aap sab ke paas koi na koi nishaani hai, mere paas apne bhai ki koiiiiiiiii nishaani nahi hai blah blah and oh my god, this is truly the most villainous thing kabir has done, being thisssssss fucking emotionally manipulative. the absolute fuckkkkkkkk.

ugh anyway long story short. baandh diya dadi ne ukso saafa. bloody nonsense.

poor dadi phoot phoot ki ro rahi hai ki she’s losing vansh bit by bit. awwwww man it’s genuinely heartbreaking.

riddhima has witnessed this and is about to fuckkkkkk shit up lolll.

lmaoooooooooooo dayum.

wtf is your problem, i’m marrying you, why are you torturing the fam like this blah blah. kabir like physical, emotional, moral sabbbbbbbbbbb tarah se tod ke rakh doonga inn sabko and ugh god i just really fucking hate him.

but damn he just looks really good in this sherwani and hair all mussed up.

anyway he’s doing some real messed-up, genocidal dictator kinda talk and phew. is just askinggggggggg to be murdered.

and then lmao he abruptly switched to “bohut khoobsurat lag rahi ho tum; time kya ho raha hai???? ooooooh ek ghanta baaki hai.” and i legittttttt lol’d at the way he delivered it. I HATE VISHAL FOR NOT LETTING ME HATE KABIR IN PEACEEEEEEEEE.

riddhima panic-calling vihaan, wants to go check on him. mummy ne pakad liya, room mein badh kar diya coz K told her to handle riddhima’s bhagodi dulhan ways.

great. riddhima’s having a breakdown.

motivational call from the choti sarrdaarni. she kinda just looks like a tall baby shivangi joshi had with aditi dev sharma????

le, doosre show waale heroine ko bhi pata hai kabir kameena hai, iss show mein 3 episode pehle pata chala issko.

ok is the choti sarrdaarni delusional and having a make-believe phone call with the protagonist of her favt tv show IMMJ, coz she knows waaaaay more details than even the people in this house know about the plot and what went down. she’s talking about how vansh aakhri pal tak ladta raha and riddhima’s like huh, news to me, i just got there in time to see him spout some ghatiya shayari and then throw himself off a cliff.

anyway riddhima seems to have gotten strength from this deranged phone call, so............. good for her, i guess.

———————————————————————

28.11.20

next ep just abruptly started with kabir and mummy in riddhima’s room threatening her and i just.......... dude, whatever. i’m just gonna skim through this ep coz i know it’s just filler shit till literally the last 1 minute.

OK HE’S MANHANDLING HER AGAIN AND FUCKKKKKKKKKKK

dang helly looked evennnnnnnn younger in the first eps. legit baby face. at least now they’ve aged her up a lil with the makeup and styling.

he’s saying don’t bother waiting, no one is gonna come. OH BOY. VIHAAN ARE YOU OK????? ARE YOU OK??????? ARE YOU OK VIHAAN?!?!?!?!?

cue riddhima’s panic attack.

lmao kabir telling mummy ki iss shaadi mein ab koi speedbreaker nahi hai lol. heavy foreshadowing that ab se everything that can go wrong is definitely gonna go wrong.

suddenly at the speed of light kabir is back at the container home in his sherwani and saafa and holding vihaan at gunpoint????

oh. sapna tha riddhima ka. ouff. this stupid show has tooooo fucking many dream sequences.

someone give this bitch a klonopin coz watching her is making my anxiety shoot up.

mummy comes into room 2 min later and sees riddhima sleeping ghoongattttt and all. SURE. NOT SUS AT ALL THAT A BRIDE DYING OF ANXIETY WOULD TAKE A NAP 30 MIN BEFORE THE CEREMONY IN FULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OUTFIT. TOTALLY A THING THAT HAPPENS.

DUDE SHE PULLED A NURSE WAALI HARKAT AGAIN. LMAOOOOOOOOO. KISKO SULAAAAAKE AAYI HAI TU, AAFAT?!?!?!!?

askdjasldkjlsakdjlaskjdlaskjdlaskjdlkas. ALSO THE FACT THAT MUMMY RECOGNIZED HER FROM HER PRESS ON NAILS. LMAOOOOOOOOOO I CAN’T EVEN WITH THIS SHOW.

LMAO RIDDHIMA YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR

lol mummy has to call and give bad news to kabir. and i am sad we didn’t get to see his volcanic reaction, which no doubt would have been epicccccccccccc.

10 MINUTES TO THE CEREMONY. VR MANSION IS 20 MIN AWAY FROM THE CONTAINER HOUSE (AS STATED BY V BEFORE) AND THIS SIS IS...........

RE DEVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

she finally got in and the whole place is empty. he practically lives in a storage unit, you telling me he went and moved his stuff to a whole different storage unit?????

new freakout within the pre-existing panic attack: kabir ne vihaan ko saaf kar diya ya vihaan paise leke bhaag gaya??

cut to fb: riddhima asking V all earnestly ki tum dhoka toh nahi doge na????

HIS ASS ACTUALLY SAID, LEMME TELL YOU A FACT ABOUT ME: I LOVE MY MOM. I SWEAR ON HER I WON’T BETRAY YOU.

AND SHE STILL DIDN’T GET THAT HE’S VANSH. MY GODDDDDDDD.

she’s like nope vihaan gave mummy promise so he won’t give dhoka. ah yes, the most sacred and inviolable of promises.

toh bacha alternative ki kabir has vihaan. 4th simultaneous panic attack in a panic attack. someone sedate this bitch.

aaaaaaaaaand kabir has sent a video of a bomb in VR mansion below the mandap. great.

and now he’s calling to say ki get your ass back home or imma scramble these eggheads called the raisinghanias.

lmao the bomb is counting forwards instead of backwards????

mummy saying MY BETA SMAAAAAARTEST. haan, tha..... kisi zamaane mein. ab nihaayati bewakoof ho gaya hai.

lmao kabir accosted a passing by angre and is like you need to be loyal to me as you were to vansh and lol angre’s like saaf saaf shabdon mein, fuckkkkkkk off.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO KABIR WENT TO HURL THE NAARIYAL AT ANGRE’S RETREATING HEAD HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA MAN HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO HATE HIM HE’S SO FUCKING HILARIOUS

lmao he goes to phodofy naariyal and:

abhi bappa ko huullllllllll de raha hai. overconfidence ki hadh toh dekho.

riddhima is back and hunting for the bomb and kabir comes bouncing the fake bomb around and she’s legit like TUMNE MUJHSE JHOOOOOT BOLA?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!? lol bitch, seriously???? because he’s been the paragon of truth and virtue up until this moment??????

“apna hulia sudhaar ke aao. 5 min mein mrs. kabir banne waali ho. thoda standard toh match karo.” lmaooooo the sasss and disdaaaaaain he said that withhhhhh. boy knows he’s looking damn good today.

anyway blah blah shaadi has started. dadi is sad af. to the point where ishani is looking really concerned. i really love this soft ishani.

“kaash samay ka paiyya ulta ghoom jaaye aur mera vansh wapis aa jaaye mere paas.”

dadi, shoulda asked for world peace instead. just the one wish you had and you wasted it on getting your hellion pota back.

some more in-room threatening of riddhima by mummy. while riddhima is throwing out last minute prayers to bappa and vihaan ki bas just do something and stop this whole shitshow.

vihaan ka toh pata nahi, the shady fuck, but bappa like:

i gotchu girl.

bhaari bhaari flashback waali walk down the stairs.

HE EVEN SAID THE MAA LINE AS VIHAAN IN THE VANSH VOICE. SHE GOTTA BE SOOOOO FUCKING STUPID MY GODDDDDDD.

ouffffff so much time wasteeeeeeeeeee.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand....................

watch that he was wearing while falling off the cliff? ✅✅✅

wedding ring that was not found on the dead body????? ✅✅✅

“YEH SHAADI NAHI HO SAKTI” booooooooming across the whole damn neighbourhood in the fakest deep voice everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr???? ✅✅✅

———————————————————————

precap:

haan yeh sab toh theek hai.............. 😕😕😕

par asli sexxxxxxxxx waali chemistry idhar hai!!!!!!!! UNFFFFFF. 🤩🤩🤩

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

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angstysebfan · 4 years

Text

Was It A Mistake? Part 3

Pairings: Bucky x reader (previously), Bucky x Nat,

Summary: You and Bucky used to date, but decided you were better off as friends. Now Bucky is interested in Natasha, your best friend. Was it a mistake to break up?

You lay on your stomach, sobbing. This isn’t how you wanted to confront them. Would Bucky believe you? Natasha is a trained assassin. Lying in what she does. It makes you angry, which causes your sobs to be harder.

Suddenly there is a knock on your door. You try your best to calm your breathing, as you cautiously walk to the door. You hear the muffled voice of Steve. “Y/N? Can you let me in?”

Tears continue to fall down your face. “I’m not really in the mood Steve.” You say in a shaky voice. “Y/N, please. I know what is going on, and I want to help.” You freeze for a moment, then slowly open your door. Steve looks at you with sympathy. Before you can say something, Steve wraps you in his arms and closes the door behind him with his foot.

You allow yourself to sob again into Steve’s chest. Steve rubs his hand up and down your back, whispering “it’s okay, you’re okay” in your ear. You start to calm down and pull out of Steve arms, walking toward your bed. Steve follows you and sits beside you against your headboard with his arm around your shoulders.

“Thanks Steve.” you say sniffing. Steve pulls you closer and kisses your head. “You know I’m always here for you.” He says. “I heard what happened in the common room.” You look away embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to confront her out in the open, but I just got so angry.” you say, tears threatening again. Steve shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, especially when you’re right, about everything.” You look at Steve surprised.

“How do you know I am right?” You ask. Steve gives you a small smile and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Well I remember when you spoke to me about Bucky becoming distant, and you didn’t know why. Then the other day when I was talking to Bucky, he told me someone told him you wanted to break up with him, which is why I have a feeling, you are right and it was Nat.”

You look down at your lap and shake your head sadly. “He won’t believe me. He has fallen for her. He took her to our place. He doesn’t care about me anymore.” You sniff again as the tears start to fall again. “I... I don’t know if I can stay here with them, Steve. All I want to do is kill her, and it kills me to see him. My heart is so broken, and seeing him everyday makes it break more.”

Steve looks at you for a moment. “Well, I mean I don’t want you to leave. I want to help you convince Bucky of the truth, but it’s up to you. Regardless, I am going to show Bucky what Nat is doing. And I want to know what is up with her messing with my best friend!” You look at him.

“I don’t know what to do. But I know I need some space, at least for a few days to gather my thoughts.” You say. Steve smiles and kisses your forehead. “I know where you can stay, and I’ll be the only one who knows where you are. While you’re there, I will start coming up with a plan.”

You hug Steve. “Thank you Stevie. You have always been a great friend.” He laughs. “Ehh... just call me your brother.” He says as he holds you.

Bucky is pacing in his room. It’s been 3 days since the confrontation in the common room and he is still so confused. The things you said really threw him for a loop. Is it true that you didn’t want to break up with him. Did Nat lie, just so you would break up with him? Why? Nat seemed so genuine when she spoke to him, and held him while he cried every night for weeks.

Bucky hasn’t been able to sleep since that day. Between being even more confused, and the fact that he hasn’t seen you since. He walks past your room, hoping to see you, but he never sees you. He is too scared to knock, because he knows you are mad at him too. He was so stupid to take Nat to your place. He knew it was sacred, but he wasn’t thinking.

The look in your eyes when you saw the bag in Nat’s hand was heartbreaking. He never wanted to see you so devastated. He wanted to hold you in his arms and let you cry. But you were also angry, at him. He doesn’t blame you, but it kills him. He at least had you as a friend, but now he doesn’t have you at all. He is miserable without you. He needs you to live, no matter how he can get you.

He needed to fix this, that he knew. He didn’t know where to start. His bedroom door opens to reveal Nat leaning against the frame with a small smirk. “Hey handsome.” She says in a sultry voice. He looked at Nat, with wary eyes. “Hi.” He says, defeated. He walks over and sits at the edge of his bed. Nat comes into the room and sits next to him.

“What’s wrong? You have barely spoken to me in days. We went from hot and heavy to ice cold.” Nat says concern and frustration in her voice. Bucky looks at her, searching for the answers he is desperate to find. “I... I just need time to think, about everything. Something is not adding up.” Nat sighs and stands in front of Bucky with her hands on her hips.

“What don’t you understand? Do you believe her, the girl who broke your heart over me? The girl who picked up the pieces and has made you happy?” Nat says frustrated. “I mean, I don’t understand! What spell does she have you under? Why do you believe her and not me!?” She yells.

Bucky is taken aback. Suddenly instead of feeling helpless and confused, he feels angry and attacked. He slowly stands, towering over Nat, glaring. “I have every right to be confused. Don’t you dare attack her character or me! I did not say I didn’t believe you, I am trying to figure it out! Why won’t you give me time!?” Bucky yells.

Nat’s face turns red with anger. “Because she is trying to break us apart! Don’t you get it? She is jealous that you want me! She broke you! I fixed you! You should side with me! I am your girlfriend! I love you!” She screams! Bucky’s face goes from anger to shocked.

“You love me?” He asks in a whisper. Nat nods. “Yes, Bucky I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. These past few months being close to you, and the last few weeks of us dating have been so special to me.” Nat says through tears.

She walks up, still crying and pulls Bucky into a hug. She starts sobbing into his shoulder. She kept repeating “I love you so much” through her sobs. Bucky wraps his arms lightly around her. All that’s going through his mind is, this isn’t right. He needs to speak to you.

The next day Bucky walks up to your door with determination. He knocks softly and waits. No answer. He knocks again, louder. Again no answer. “Y/N? It’s me, Bucky. Can we talk, please?”

There is no answer. Bucky tries his luck and tests the doorknob, which is not locked. He opens the door slowly. “I’m coming in.” He calls into the room. When walks in he sees your made bed, and all the lights off. He checks the bathroom, which is empty, and all your toiletries are gone. He looks next to your bed and sees that your phone charger is gone. Your laptop is gone, your duffel bag is gone from your closet. You’re gone.

He runs from the room and runs into Steve in the hall. “Woah, Buck! What’s going on?” Bucky grabs Steve by the shoulders. “Y/N is gone! She left! I didn’t get to talk to her! What if she is hurt, or she never comes back?” Bucky is panicing.

“Buck, calm down! You are going to give yourself a panic attack.” Steve says calmly. Buck shakes his head. “How can you be so calm!? Y/N is missing!” Bucky shouts. Steve grabs Bucky and pulls him into his room.

“Y/N is not missing. She needed some space so she can breath. I know where she is, and she is fine. She will be back in a few days.” Bucky looks at Steve in disbelief. He takes a deep breath.

“You know where she is?” He asks, out of breath. Steve nods. “Okay. Uh... can you tell me? I need to talk to her.” Steve looks at Bucky with sympathy. “Sorry pal, no can do.” Bucky straightens and glares at his friend.

“Why not?” Bucky asks, trying to keep his emotions in check. “She wants to be alone. I promised her no one would bother her. I am the only one who knows where she is.” Bucky couldn’t help the jealousy he felt in his chest. When did they get so close? Steve was his best friend, he wouldn’t dare make a move on you. is this how you felt about him and Nat?

“Why do you know where she is? Is there something going on between you guys? Is she trying o get back at me for dating Nat?” Bucky says earnestly. Steve looks at him like he grew 3 heads.

“Are you serious? You know she would never do that, and I wouldn’t either. She is like a sister to me. She loves you, jerk!” Steve scolds. Bucky nods, he knows he is being stupid. He looks at Steve again sadly. “I don’t know what to do. Nat is making me feel all confused. She told me she has been in love with me for a long time. What if what Y/N said is true? How will she ever forgive me?” Bucky is starting to get emotional.

Steve pats him on the shoulder. “Buck, Y/N loves you. Yes, she is mad, and I am not saying she will forgive you right away, but... you and Y/N? You’re endgame. You both know it. Nat...” Steve trails off not knowing if he should say anything. Bucky looks at him. “Nat what?” Steve shakes his head. “I’ve been compiling conversations through FRIDAY, so Y/N and I can prove to you the truth.”

Bucky stares at Steve, at a loss for words. “So Y/N was telling the truth? Nat has been manipulating me? She planned this whole thing to break us up? Why?” Steve shrugs. “I don’t know pal. I mean, maybe she really does love you, but she didn’t know how to go about it. I’m not defending her actions, but maybe she felt desperate.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to think, or how to feel. The words going through his mind are betrayal, manipulated, liar. No matter the reason, Nat destroyed his relationship with the love of his life. Now he has to try and fix it. He looks at Steve again.

“Show me what you found. Then, help me get my girl back.”

Part 2 Part 4

I honestly did not mean for this to become such a series, but I have to say I am enjoying it! I would another part or 2 to wrap it up. Stay tuned!

Taglist: @bloodyproudpotterhead, @iamvalentinaconstanza, @ilovesupersoldiers, @broco8

#bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x natasha

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bgharison · 4 years

Text

Nincompoop -- an H50 Fix-it coda 10.22

Prompt from @rijariz

So I really want Danny to say "I told you not to make me come looking for you, you stubborn Ass. But before we go back I have some conditions. No exes, no mysteries, and no more 3 letter agencies please!!!"

Thanks for the prompt!! This was written kind of quickly, un-beta’d, and I might polish it later, but I hope it does service to your wonderful idea. I ended up splitting up Danny’s dialogue, but I think it worked. :-)

***

“Danny,” Steve sighed, closing his eyes and gripping the phone tight. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“I almost didn’t answer; I didn’t recognize this number,” Danny said. “Not that I mind -- texting is fun and all, but yeah, it’s . . . it’s good to hear your voice, too. This your new number? The team will want --”

“I’m calling from a payphone. It’s -- “ he stopped. “I started thinking, maybe I shouldn’t keep in touch.”

Danny was silent. Steve could feel the hurt and betrayal from thousands of miles away.

“We still don’t know if the threat is over, there could be more . . . I can’t do this, Danny, I can’t keep putting people I love in danger.”

“Steven. Don’t do this. You plunge yourself into that hole of guilt . . . you go too deep, there’s no coming back.”

Now Steve fell silent. He had promised to come back, but maybe it was safer if he didn’t.

“Steve? Steven!”

“I love you, Danny. Take good care of Eddie for me.” He hung up the phone before he could change his mind; before his emotions betrayed him.

Danny slowly thumbed the call off his phone screen, then pulled up another contact and pressed call.

“Yeah, Catherine? I’m gonna need Steve’s location. It’s time to bring our boy home.”

*******

Danny pulled the scarf up around his neck, hunched against the wind and a few determined pellets of freezing rain, as he made his way to the rental car building. The inconveniences of flying in to a small airport, he supposed.

The Jeep he’d requested was fueled up and ready for him. He tossed his bag into the passenger seat as he climbed in, wincing a bit. He hadn’t been back to driving for very long, and the flight had already stiffened his healing muscles. At least the bruising was completely gone. It had been weeks before Tani could look at him without tears.

The freezing rain quickly gave over to snow, making the drive even more peaceful. He thought nothing of the conditions. Montana snow was still easier than Jersey ice.

He wasn’t surprised to see Steve on the porch as he pulled up to Joe’s ranch. He wondered if there was ever -- would ever -- be a time that Steve wasn’t hyper-aware of his surroundings. He wondered the same for himself, now, as he pulled himself carefully, stiffly, out of the driver’s seat.

"I told you not to make me come looking for you, you stubborn ass."

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d look for me here,” Steve said, pulling a blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“Yeah, for someone who needed to get away from memories . . . you picked a weird place for that,” Danny said. He studied Steve, taking in his appearance. His cheeks looked a bit pinched under his thick, soft beard, but his beard was trimmed, his eyes clear. Danny had seen worse. He snorted as he took in Steve’s bare feet.

“Must be slipping if you could track me,” Steve said. “Or was it a lucky guess?”

“You gonna let me come in, or you gonna get frostbite on your toes?”

Steve smiled at him then, genuine and full of affection. Danny felt relief wash over him.

“Get in here, Danno.” Steve held his arms open, and in a few steps, Danny felt himself wrapped tight, cocooned with Steve in the warmth of the blanket.

******

“I can’t believe you low-jacked me,” Steve said, but he was grinning.

“Catherine said she’d tag the one thing you’d never ditch.”

“My Sig?”

“The picture of Grace and Charlie, actually,” Danny said. He raised his eyes to look into Steve’s.

Steve’s breath caught. “I love them. That’s why I can’t come back, Danny. She knew, she knew exactly how to get to me, how to hurt me the most -- I almost lost you. What if it’s not over? Hell, what if someone else I took down decides to come after me? What if they go after the kids?” He stood up abruptly and walked to the fireplace. Resting his hand on the mantel, he turned his back to Danny.

Steve flinched when Danny rested a hand on his back. “Turn around and look at me,” Danny said softly.

Steve turned, reluctantly, and even with his head ducked down, Danny could see tears threatening to well over.

“Steve. You remember the last time I got shot? Did that have anything to do with you?”

Steve shook his head.

“No. That was one of my old cases. That guy could have decided to go after the kids. Thank God he didn’t. But Petterson did, remember? He took Gracie. You’re not the only one who’s made enemies in their line of work, Steven. I have, too. Your dad did. Your mom. And Joe. But you have something they didn’t, Steve, you have a family. An ohana. You taught me that -- you gave me that. And now, instead of turning to that family for comfort -- comfort we all needed -- you ran.”

“I’m exhausted, Danny, like never before. I thought, getting away, getting some space, would . . . and then I almost lost you, because of a vendetta against me and I thought -- I wanted to get as far away as I could, before anyone else got hurt. I didn’t want to risk hurting the team any more by staying.”

“You hurt us by leaving,” Danny said softly. “You hurt me, leaving.”

“Danny, I’m so sorry,” Steve said. “I should have been there for you.”

“Did leaving help? Has some space and distance helped you, Steve?”

Steve shook his head, the tears finally spilling over. “No,” he rasped. “God, no.”

Danny pulled him into his arms, Steve tucking his face into his uninjured shoulder. Danny could feel a few hot tears splash onto his neck.

“You needed a vacation and instead chose an exile,” Danny said, rubbing Steve’s back. “Nincompoop.”

Steve chuckled and held Danny tighter.

“I’m pretty sure we’re both exhausted,” Danny said. “Come on, let’s get some rest. Then we’ll talk.”

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to follow Steve down the hall and into the bedroom he was using. Steve shucked off his jeans and pulled on a pair of soft, faded flannel pants.

“My bag’s still in the Jeep,” Danny said, but he was already unbuttoning his jeans and flannel shirt. Steve reached into a drawer and pulled out a similar pair of flannel pants and tossed them to Danny. It was easy enough for him to shed his jeans, but he winced as he tried to ease his arms out of his shirt.

“Let me help,” Steve murmured. He gently, carefully slipped the shirt off Danny’s broad shoulders and tossed it aside. His fingers traced carefully over Danny’s black t-shirt, where he knew the bullet wound was, feeling the small bandage still present. “It’s healing?”

“Yeah, Steve. It’s healing just fine.” Danny pulled on the flannel pants, shooting a glare at Steve’s smirk when he rolled the hem up. “Shut up and gimme some socks, would’ja?”

The bed was soft, the fluffy quilts just the right weight, and Steve’s shoulder the perfect fit. This was different than sharing the bed in DC. There was no hesitancy, no caution. DC had been about efficiency and Steve’s raw anguish. This . . . this was mutual exhaustion and mutual comfort.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Steve said, rubbing his fingers absently over Danny’s bicep. “You were already living in my house, this should have happened a while ago.”

“Well. Technically, nothing’s happened yet,” Danny said. He thought they were on the same page, done with fighting this thing between them, but what if --

His thought was cut off by Steve leaning up and over, pressing his lips to Danny’s in a soft, sweet, lingering kiss.

“There. Now, technically something has happened.”

“Can I hope for more to happen?” Danny asked. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face if he tried, but Steve looked solemn.

“If you can forgive me,” he said quietly. “And if you can’t, I’ll understand.”

“Goof,” Danny said, wrapping his hand around the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss, one that was not quite as soft, or sweet. “Steve. I do forgive you. Yeah, it hurt but . . . I know you were trying to do what you needed to do, to protect us. But next time, listen, hunh? When you get wrapped up inside your head and feel like you need to run, listen when I ask you to stay, yeah?”

*****

Danny woke slowly, the smell of coffee and bacon drifting in from the kitchen. He sat up in bed, stretching out his stiff shoulder, and stopped in surprise at the sight of Steve’s bag, open and mostly packed at the end of the bed. He slipped out of bed and padded toward the kitchen, careful not to trip on the too-long pajama pants.

“Babe?”

Steve grinned and poured a second mug of coffee, holding it out to Danny.

Danny accepted it and took a grateful sip. “Your bag is almost packed.”

“Good work, detective.”

“You thinking of running away some more?”

“Thinking of running home,” Steve said slowly. “With you. For good -- no running; not me, not you.”

Danny pretended to think it over. “Okay. But before we go back I have some conditions.”

“Okay,” Steve said cautiously.

“No exes, no mysteries and no more 3 letter agencies please!!!"

“Danny, you have to know, Catherine wasn’t --” Steve started earnestly.

Danny held up a hand to interrupt him. “Babe, I know. I, ah, might have been the one to suggest Catherine get you through the first leg of your little expedition. She told me, it’s not that way between the two of you . . . explained it when we were talking about putting that locator on you. I don’t just mean Catherine. No more Lyns, or Ambers, or Brookes . . . no more half-assed attempts to convince ourselves that there’s anyone else for us but each other.”

Steve nodded enthusiastically.

“And for the love of God, Steven -- I don’t care who comes with an envelope or a message from the beyond -- no more. Stop letting your past hurt you. You’re not responsible for the choices of your parents. You don’t owe them anything. You don’t owe the CIA or the NSA or any other alphabet a damn thing.” Danny didn’t try to keep the anger out of his voice.

“The Navy?” Steve asked quietly.

Danny heart skipped a beat. “You’d give it up?”

“For you.”

“Babe. Asking you not to love the Navy, to cut yourself off from your fellow sailors . . . God, your brothers . . . no. No way. But no crazy stunts! No more jumping in with Junior on crazy missions!”

“I’ll ask you first, I promise,” Steve said, grinning.

“Ask -- first -- no, no, Steven, that is not --” Danny stopped, narrowing his eyes at Steve. “You’re joking.”

Steve shrugged. “Mostly.” He turned back to the stove and cracked some eggs into a skillet.

“So?” Danny asked. Steve looked back at him over his shoulder.

“So, what?”

“So, do you agree to my conditions?”

“Yes, Danny,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I agree to your terms, I accept your conditions, nag, nag -- here. Eat your breakfast. We need to get to the airport, catch the next plane out.”

Danny took a bite of perfect scrambled eggs and moaned softly. Steve raised his eyebrows and gave him a heated glance.

“I never even got my bag out of the car,” Danny said.

“Well, that’s gonna make packing real easy for you, buddy.”

“Or . . . you did, at one point, want to get away. Get some space. Clear your head.” Danny gestured around the ranch house, the wide porch, and the peaceful scenery around them. “You could still do that.”

Steve put his plate down across from Danny’s with a thunk. “I thought you wanted me to come home.”

“Oh, I do. Absolutely. But . . . we’re here already. We both could use some time away, some time to rest, and heal . . . together. Don’t you think?”

Steve nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice, Danny.”

Danny grinned back at him. “And, you know, we can see if . . . maybe that something more we mentioned will happen.”

Steve stood up quickly.

“Ste -- where you going?” Danny waved his fork at Steve’s still full plate.

“I’m getting your bag out of the car and calling Catherine to say thank you,” Steve said.

“Nincompoop!” Danny called after him.

“Your nincompoop,” Steve yelled back over his shoulder.

Danny shook his head in resignation. Steve still didn’t have socks on.

#H50FixIt #coda 10.22 #mcdanno #mostly fluff #prompted ficlet

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millennialfangirl · 4 years

Text

Wherever You Will Go (post AoS Dousy Fic)

Fandom: Agents of Shield Pairing: Daisy x Daniel Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 1,717

Summary:

What kind of present time is the team returning to after their hard fought battle against the Chronicoms? Will Daisy get her happy ending? If Daniel has anything to say about it, he'll always find his way back to her. Is there someone out there who can bring him back to her?

(entirely inspired by the song "Wherever You Will Go," by The Calling.

A/N:

Whooo boy yall. I heard this song the other day and was just struck with inspiration for Dousy.

It's also my attempt at an endgame fix-it fic of sorts regarding plotholes and the lack of Phil Coulson and Daisy Johnson in the MCU, and aos/endgame fusion if you will.

This is a multi-chap with it all plotted out, and several chapters drafted. Non-beta-ed, we die as men.

I hope you'll join me for the ride!

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1:

For a moment, silence rings throughout the Zephyr.

Daisy slumps against the wall, exhausted. The adrenaline from the final fight against Malick and the Chronicoms is starting to dissipate.

“The Zephyr is stable. Anyone still standing, make your way to the bridge for a headcount,” Mack’s voice booms through the stillness.

Somehow she finds the strength to make it through the corridors, the desire to see her team and make sure Daniel is safe, the only thing keeping her going. Finally, she turns the last corner and sees Coulson first.

He turns in time to see her as she half hugs, half collapses in his arms.

“Whoa, whoa, I got you.”

“Did we win?”

“Yea, we won. You can rest now,” he says leading her to one of the bench seats.

Then she’s pushing against him, fighting against his hold.

“No, where’s Sousa? Did he make it?”

“I’m right here,” he affirms from behind her.

Daisy feels a wave of relief at hearing his voice. She turns and finds him looking at her with a similar look of relief.

Without thinking about the consequences or who is watching, they step toward each other, and Daisy immediately pulls him down for a kiss. He wraps his arms around her without thinking, supporting as much of her weight as he can. The kiss is life affirming and celebratory, but there’s a desperation underneath, both of them scared that the fight’s not really over, that any minute now one of them will disappear.

“Ay Dios Mio,” Yo-yo grumbles as she passes them.

They pull apart, faint blushes covering their cheeks. It only lasts a minute before Daisy’s putting nearly all of her weight on Daniel. In an instant, he lifts her into his arms and carries her over to the seats. He carefully sits down with her, and her head immediately finds his chest.

“I told you so,” Mack rubs in Yo-yo’s face.

One by one, the rest of the team filters in. Injuries are assessed and hugs are shared.

Coulson and Mack quietly discuss their next steps.

“Everyone needs a break, and a really good night of sleep,” Mack suggests.

“Agreed. Fortunately for us, we have all the time we need here in the temporal zone. Let them rest, eat. We can regroup in 12 hours,” Coulson tells him.

Mack gives the order to everyone, and the team scatters.

***

Daniel carefully settles Daisy onto the bed of her bunk. Methodically, he takes off her boots, and then her gauntlets. He gently sits next to her on the bed, and softly moves hair out of her bruised face. Even with the dark purple spots and cuts, she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Heyya, Danny-boy,” she says sleepily with a half smile.

He laughs out loud and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“Back atcha, Quake.”

She turns her head into her pillow and groans in embarrassment. She’s never going to forgive Mack.

“You need to get some rest,” he prods.

“You know, I’d normally fight you on that, but I kind of feel like I was hit by a truck.”

“You never have to pretend you’re okay with me,” he tells her earnestly, rubbing his hands up and down her arm soothingly.

“Then can I ask you to stay? I don’t want to be alone.”

“Thank God. I don’t want to leave your side,” he answers, already sliding his shoes off and propping himself up against the headboard beside her.

“You should lay down and get some sleep too,” she insists.

“I will. I just want to watch over you for a little while.”

Daisy blushes, but curls herself around him and lays her head on his lap. He automatically starts running his fingers through her hair.

“I thought you would have had enough of that by now,” she mumbles.

“Never enough,” he says softly. “Now get some sleep.”

His gentle touch and comforting embrace lulls her to sleep within minutes.

***

Daisy wakes to the smell of eggs and bacon wafting through the Zephyr. She also can’t help but notice a warm body wrapped around her. Her suspicions are confirmed when she opens her eyes and all she can see is the blue of Daniel’s shirt. That damn shirt.

Her head is tucked under his chin, and her arms are curled up between them. She’s using one of his arms as a pillow, while his other one is holding her close. She recognizes the intimacy of the moment, how they somehow jumped a million steps, but it feels right.

“Good morning,” she hears his deep voice mumble against her hair.

“Possibly the best one since 1931.”

She nuzzles further into him, and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Definitely the best,” he confirms.

“As much as I would like to stay here and fall right back to sleep, I’m starving, and I can smell Coulson cooking breakfast.”

“Oh no, I better get out of your way before you quake me,” he mocks.

“The square has jokes, huh?”

“A few.”

He’s blushing when he leans over to kiss her softly. Her hand finds a home in his hair, and she kisses him back. His hand starts gliding up and down her spine, and without thinking, she gives more over to the kiss. She nibbles his lip, and he moans, causing her to stop, but he follows her quickly with his tongue, surprising her. From there, it’s a blur, both of them becoming heated. His fingertips are just grazing her stomach under her tank top when a loud knocking interrupts them.

“Daisy...Coulson has food ready. C’mon before it gets cold,” Jemma informs her from behind the door. She’s quiet for a moment before continuing. “And bring Sousa with you.”

Both of them are catching their breaths as they stare at each other, not flushed with embarrassment, but longing.

“That wasn’t funny,” Daisy says staring up at him with emotion.

“No. It wasn’t funny at all,” he replies, voice thick with the same emotion. He caresses her cheek softly. “Let’s get you some food.”

Daisy agrees and lets him pull her out of bed. They decide to part ways to freshen up and change clothes before facing the new day.

***

Everyone is gathered around the common area near the small kitchen galley. Daisy can hear the laughter as she comes down the hall from her bunk. It looks like she’s the last to arrive as she spots Daniel sitting at the table. On the opposite side, she catches the tail end of Mack’s story that has them all giggling.

“And then she did a full on superhero landing, right in front of hundreds of people, live on t.v.”

“She totally outed herself as Quake,” Jemma says, leaning over to show Daniel a picture on her phone.

He’s laughing along with everyone else when she clears her throat and makes her presence known.

“I see how it’s gonna be. Should I bring up the Jasper Sitwell incident?” she threatens while leaning against the cabinets.

Jemma jerks her phone away. “Oh, don’t be a spoil sport.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Tremors, we started off by telling him about how you saved our lives that day.”

Daisy grumbles as she starts to pour some coffee. “So what other dirty laundry have you aired, Mack Hammer?”

“Well, I have seen the,” Daniel pauses and looks to Jemma, “what did you call it? The goth phase?”

“Jemma!” Daisy shrieks.

“I’m sorry! We got carried away telling stories.”

“I think my favorite hair is the purple streak,” Daniel adds.

Daisy just face-palms.

“Okay, okay. Sousa, I’ve been dying to ask you for some SSR stories,” Coulson intervenes.

Daniel dives into a hilarious anecdote about Howard Stark and one of his inventions. As Daisy prepares her plate and sits down next to Daniel, she soaks in the peacefulness. From there, the conversation flows from one war story to another, some hilarious, some sad.

Long after their plates are emptied, they’re still going at it.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute...Thor’s real?” Daniel asks, shocked.

All of the girls nod and sigh, and Jemma pipes up, “I think I’ve got a picture!”

Jemma immediately pulls up a photo to show Daniel.

“You sure did find that awfully fast,” Fitz grumbles.

Daniel looks and his eyebrows raise. “That's...impressive.”

Daisy nearly chokes on her cold coffee, Daniel’s word choice reminding her of their conversation in the time loop. Yo-yo and May try to lean over and catch a glimpse too.

“Oh, jeez. C’mon guys. He’s not that dreamy,” Coulson whines.

“As much as I would love this particular conversation to continue, we do have some difficult things to talk about, like when we’re going home?” Jemma suggests as she puts her phone away. Everyone chimes in as they all start discussing problems back home.

“Hold on, hold on,” Coulson butts in. “Maybe we shouldn’t rush. You all deserve to have a break, and we have plenty of food. We all need to heal. We don’t know what we’ll be going home to.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. We really have all the time in the world here,” Fitz responds.

The conversation drifts from there, everyone sharing the various things they’re looking forward to doing when they get home. Discreetly, Daniel takes Daisy's hand under the table.

Not discreetly enough that May and Coulson both don’t notice. Coulson leans into May as they continue to watch their friends, family really, talk about happier things.

“He’s good for her,” he says with a hint of remorse.

“He is. I can feel his affection for her. It’s genuine,” May observes.

Coulson goes silent as he watches on.

“It’s more than you just wanting the team to have a break, isn’t it, Phil. What aren’t you saying?” May asks looking at him stoically.

Coulson sighs and rubs his hand down his face.

“You know how I had to go into the time stream to destroy it...well I saw a lot of future timelines. They all had one thing in common,” he says before pausing and looking at Sousa grinning from ear to ear at Daisy.

“Daniel Sousa has to go back to 1955, or else he’ll cease to exist.”

****

Thanks for reading! Comments are treasured!!!

#dousy #daisy x daniel #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #agents of shield #aos #aos/endgame fusion #daisysous #daisy x sousa #my fic

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