#and the adults who come to shop there always sound shocked when I say something that gives away how old I am

[skazoo]

still do.

↳ choi jongho x f!reader

he couldn't stop loving you, even if he tried. and he did try for some time. it just didn't work.

length. 3.7k

genre. exes (and friends) to lovers, fluff, crack and a sprinkle of inevitable angst (i'm sorry).

warnings/tags. language, mention of death, mention of illness of a loved one, implied depression, .

networks. @kflixnet k-labels

notes. hello with another "this was supposed to be just teeth rotting fluff but somehow turned a little depressing and angsty on its own, i swear i didn't touch anything" do we see a pattern here? bc i do. i offer this lil jongho fic after sm time of absolutely nothing but i've finished my exams literally the other day, (DURING PRIDE MONTH!?!?? unacceptable) hope you like it!!

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

it’s a well-known fact —to your friend group, to the employees of the cafè on the way to your apartment, to the old lady that sells flowers at the corner of the big building you work at— that choi jongho not only likes you but he’s irremediably and unequivocally in love with you.

and that is still not right because jongho doesn’t just love you, no, that would be too obvious, too easy. he still loves you. 

if he goes back enough in his memories, jongho could say he’s always loved you.

he’s never been one to believe in love at first sight so when wooyoung drunkenly introduced the two of you at his birthday party, and he found himself unable to breathe let alone speak a coherent sentence to you, he immediately panicked. was he having a heart attack? a stroke? he was healthy, an athlete! how could this be happening to him!? he even made his own doctor hate him with all the panicked questions he asked the poor man on the phone but apparently, all he needed to relatively calm down was wooyoung’s loud laugh as he told him that he simply had a crush on you.

did he have a crush on you? 

you, with your beautiful smile and melodic laugh and sparkling eyes and– okay, yeah. he did have a crush on you but who wouldn’t!?

strong argument indeed, he thought.

that fateful night was only the start of a happiness he didn’t know he was able to experience.

you became friends, then best friends, then something more and then you were kissing, sleeping, and cuddling in bed together, going on cute little dates, and showing more PDA jongho ever imagined doing. 

he thought you were happy with him. navigating life with the same confused curiosity all young adults seem to innately possess.

then something happened that he couldn’t have ever predicted. and not because he wasn’t paying attention to you or because he was slacking off with his boyfriend duties, no. it came as a complete shock to everyone —you included, in a sense— because the signs just weren’t there. 

out of the blue, without notice, you broke up with him. after a year and for reasons that are still beyond his comprehension.

questions thundered into his mind asking why you had come to the heartbreaking decision, why you had sent him a ‘we need to talk’ text at 2am in the morning, and why he’d later found you at the front door of his apartment with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, soft whimpers vaguely sounding like ‘sorry’ and ‘it’s not your fault’. 

if he thinks back to that night, jongho gets chills from how scared he was; holding your body to his chest, not knowing what to do or what to say, not knowing who hurt you or why you were hurting.

when he thinks back to that night —something he finds himself doing more often than his heart can take— jongho clearly remembers the silent promise he repeated in his head at least a thousand times after you went back to your apartment. a promise he’s set on keeping.

and it’s for that very promise that he now sits in the crowded cafe downtown, drinking an overrated caramel macchiato and hiding behind a book he has no interest in.

at least it’s what he tells himself. that he came to the same coffee shop you told him you’d be meeting your date at because that’s what friends do. he tells himself he’s wearing a mask and sunglasses inside because he can and will love you platonically if that’s what you need or want. jongho tells himself a lot of things and he hopes he’s strong enough to believe in them in a way that will make them reality sooner or later.

but it’s not like two booths away from him you’re faring any better.

are people outside your friend group really this boring and uninteresting? have men always been this arrogant and full of themselves? was your current ex-boyfriend the exception that proves the incredibly unfair rule? 

when you met jongho you knew you were lucky. hot college athlete with sarcasm to match yours and a badly concealed heart of pure gold? you knew you hit the jackpot. but you weren’t ready to realize that he really was one in a million men that actually put in the effort to go beyond the bare minimum.

why is it, though? 

the question threatens to break loose all the pent-up frustration this date is generously providing you with and you opt to ignore it and hide it in the back of your mind for another occasion. one that includes cheap wine, pizza, and an equally bewildered yunjin sitting on your couch with funny socks and mouth full.

for now, you only limit yourself to throwing a fake smile at the obnoxious man sitting in front of you who’s spent the entirety of this heinous date talking exclusively about himself and his crypto-currency business. 

he’s finishing what you think is a long rant about the stock market when he moves to get up.

you think you’re finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel but he just lets out an annoying chuckle and looks at you with his small and pig-like patronizing eyes. “don’t worry, love. i’m not leaving you i’m just going to ‘powder my nose’, how you girlies say.” he winks and you resist the urge to gag at how… slimy he looks and feels.

as soon as he’s out of sight you let yourself slump on the small table, groaning a bit as you do so.

what were you even thinking? you tell yourself that today is going to be a well-suffered lesson for your future self: no dates with people that quote elon musk as if he’s some kind of greek philosopher.

your hands reach for the phone in your bag on their own. the last message you received was a sarcastic ‘have fun’ from wooyoung in the group chat but other than that everything is quiet, seemingly wanting to punish you for going against your friends’ advice to bail on the guy as soon as you saw him treat the barista like shit.

under the group chat, jongho’s name glares at you. 

you would be lying if you said out loud that this date didn’t have the sole purpose of distracting you from the claustrophobic guilt you’re feeling lately. 

jongho had never really cried in front of you but you swear if you could you’d erase the image of his damp eyes looking at you with confusion on that ugly night. and if you have to be honest you’d erase the encouraging but strained smiles he gives you now that you’re back at being friends too, because they don’t do anything but make you feel a shittier person than you already think you are. but maybe you deserve it. maybe this is finally going to be the occasion in which you understand that your actions have consequences.

your fingers work quicker than your brain can catch up, and before you realize it, you open again the conversation with jongho that ended before you went out and start typing.

> you: wyd?

> jjong: you’re on a date

> jjong: focus

> you: what is this an exam?

> you: nevermind this was a bad idea…

> jjong: texting me or the date?

> you: shut up

> you: the date 

> jjong: aw i’m sorry i could have told you that like,, an hour ago

> jjong: oh wait 

> jjong: i did!

another groan leaves your lips, only this time laced with a small chuckle at his antics. you mark the message as seen and throw your phone back into the bag. 

you hope other people can't see how much you miss him.

while you’re too focused on burning holes in the bathroom door from how hard you’re staring at it, dreading the moment it will open to reveal your current problem, in the loud noise of the cafe you don’t hear the heavy stomps of someone approaching you from behind. 

only when you feel two warm hands plant themselves on your shoulders and you hear a familiar voice muttering to itself something that sounds like ‘found you’, you’re forced out of your angry trance state and you’re asked to quickly choose between either your fight or flight instincts. you throw a blind punch and the person creeping up on you folds into two.

but that’s on him because who creeps on someone sitting alone at a table and touches them without making themselves known? what happened to ‘hello, what a coincidence to see you here’? what happened to manners?

you snap your head to the figure behind you and you let your panic subside but your annoyance rises.

“how– what are you doing here!?” your words come out in a hiss that makes the old couple sitting in the booth behind you turn around and look at you with judgy eyes but that doesn’t affect jongho in the slightest.

“saving you? duh.”

“who asked you that?!”

“what– Y/N, you texted me even before you met the guy, may i add. and the message said: ‘please end my suffering.’ in my book that’s a cry for help!”

he’s right but you let out an affronted huff anyway. arms crossed and lips in a pout you know is childish. “whatever.”

you feel him staring at you with a raised eyebrow and a smug smirk that you, oh so badly want to wipe off his face. 

“what?” you spat. your tone more embarrassed than you’d like to let on.

“what, what?”

“what the fuck are you smiling for?”

he throws his arms in the air exasperatedly. “am i not allowed to be happy now?”

“of course you are, it’s just… you being happy,” you air-quote to punctuate your suspicions on his current joyous disposition. “usually means wooyoung fell or someone got hurt.”

he laughs. “do you think so lowly of me, Y/N?”

“shut up.” the napkin you’ve been fidgeting with because of the irrational panic rising in your guts is now messily crumpled on the table and you groan at the whole situation. head in your hands and eyes closed. you’re so bad at this.

what happened to moving on? what happened to leaving jongho alone because he doesn’t deserve someone treating him like shit? you broke up with him supposedly to save him, but, not even three months in, and now that your mind is clearer you think it’s okay to want him back? to feel full again every time you talk about the things you did together and bask in the silence that follows with a warm knowing smile? you think it’s good to let your eyes wander to his face when you know he’s not looking, falling in love all over again? to feel your face involuntary stretch into a smile every time you spot him waiting for you outside work?

whatever your fucking problem is, you’re scared that you’ll come to find out its only solution is the person you fought so hard to push away. because what if you managed to scare away the last source of happiness you had? it’s selfish, you know, but it’s also the only thing you can think about as he looms over you; body so dangerously close to yours that you can catch the flowery perfume he always wears.

you think he’s speaking to you because his big hand is outstretched in your direction and his eyes are looking at you expectantly, with a veiled urgency.

“sorry, what?”

“i said get up and let’s go.”

“go where exactly?”

he rolls his eyes and you keep to yourself the striking resemblance he has with a spoiled child right at this moment.

“c’mon, we’re living this tinder nightmare here.”

“oh, are we?” you ask equal parts amused and curious of where this little skit of his is going.

when his deadpan expression doesn’t shift into one of his gummy smiles at your slightly annoying antics you know something impulsive and possibly embarrassing is about to happen and you know you will be the only person who will have any sort of unnecessary remorse out of the two of you.

your hands fly to your parted mouth and you hiss at him again. “are you serious!?”

he smiles.

“jongho, no.”

jongho yes, the mischievous look he throws you seems to proudly announce. 

he checks the toilet door one last time before gently grabbing your arm and not-so-gently yanking you out of the booth. a surprised squeal leaves your mouth but not a word of protest is heard from you.

“oh my god, i’m really doing this.”

his eyes are set on the door and he speaks without looking at you. “doing what?” 

“leaving someone like that while they’re in the bathroom! that’s so… i don’t know jjong, that’s so rude!”

you see his shoulder shake and you know if he were to face you right now you’d see one of his shit-eating grins. what you can’t imagine is the softness in his eyes as you call him with your nickname for him. he missed it. he misses you. painfully, completely, constantly.

his wide strides are followed by your frantic steps as he maneuvers the two of you out of the door and into the busy downtown street.

“so what? do you wanna go back in there and risk being bored to death by a guy that’s not even a quarter of what you deserve?”

“wha– no! i just–”

“then why should you feel sorry for that sad excuse of a date, uh? like, really, he took you to the most overrated place he could think of, Y/N. he didn’t even know you don’t like coffee!”

you chuckle at the frown of deep offense that blooms on his face. his lips in an affronted pout. “but that’s what the date is for, jjong. he couldn’t have possibly known.”

he stops in his tracks when he’s far away enough from the crowd in line waiting to be granted entrance to the place you just left. 

“i do, though.” an imperceptible strain to his voice as his eyes search yours in a way that’s almost desperate. “i know you don’t like coffee and that you like to sleep on the right side of the bed and that you just have to sing that ridiculous song to tie your shoes because otherwise, for some inexplicable reason i still have to understand, you can’t.”

has the world around you stopped? your ears are ringing from the deafening silence and you feel like everyone around you has stopped breathing and is waiting for you to say something to the boy in front of you who stares you down in determined distress.

“i know you, Y/N.”

you know he deserves an explanation. him more than anyone in your life. him more than yourself, even. jongho with his proverbial patience that let you cry and consoled you the whole night even after you’d told him you were breaking up with him. jongho that didn’t push or torment you with questions the days after. jongho who accepted —maybe in pure and raw self-preservation— to go back to being just friends, with tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips because that’s what you’d told him you needed at that moment. his kindness that, more often than not, you’re convinced you don’t deserve.

“i know.” you close on yourself, your arms coming to hug you tight so that he can’t see the cracks that constantly try to spread over your skin. “i know you do.” an imperceptible whisper that threatens to drown in the buzz of the busy city around you.

“then why?” his eyes are pleading and his voice is quiet when he speaks again. 

“i know i should give you time and i know you’ll tell me one day but please–” he gulps down a lump that you know he’s had for at least three months. one of worry, confusion, and guilt. one you know you gave him.

“–please, give me something. anything.”

silence.

“Y/N, please say someth–”

“my mother was sick, jongho. she still is.” the line you’ve dreaded crossing for so long is no longer a line. the wall that’s been standing in between you and everyone else now has a hole in it. 

“i was out of my mind just from the news of her condition, i– i wasn’t well mentally and physically just from that and i saw time slip through my fingers, felt every single second like a punch to the guts. i threw away all the clocks in my mother’s house, i started sleeping on the floor outside her bedroom, i– the week i told you i was busy with deadlines, we were still together, remember?” he nods, small but it’s there.

 “i spent those days obsessing over something that was not yet real. my brother had to slip me sleeping pills to let me close my eyes for even a second.” your voice cracks because the guilt you get from just looking at jongho always has to be added to the guilt you feel when seonghwa kindly asks you how you’re doing lately.

“i-i was a mess just from that and i didn’t want you to be with me when what i was scared of was going to finally become a reality. i didn’t want you to see me like that because i didn’t think it was what you deserved. and you may be unable to understand and yell at me that it had to be your choice and not mine but i still don’t think that what i did was wrong, i’m sorry.”

the apology floats in the air between you. it’s not articulate or rich but it’s the only one you can get out at the moment.

“my psychologist says– he says i’m doing better now. we agree that the worst is over but there’s this…  unknown that hangs over my head and every second that passes i don’t know if this guillotine will cut my head off or miss me by a hair.”

he just looks at you with that unreadable expression that scares you.

“i didn’t– i don’t want to go back to when the worst wasn’t over and i’m scared that if i give myself back to you i will take you down with me one way or the other.”

you don’t know what you expect him to say or do after you just vomited everything you’re constantly trying to keep hidden, on him, but his loud silence is starting to feel too heavy, unsettling.

he doesn’t feel present, his eyes unfocused and unblinking. 

he shakes his head as if to wake up from a trance and looks at you with eyes too full of love. no pity in them and you want to thank him for it.

“ba– Y/N why didn’t you tell me?”

the simple question throws you off. 

why did you do the things you did? 

why does anyone do things?

you want to cry and tell him that not everything has an explanation. not a logical one anyways.

“i don’t know, okay! i wasn’t sure how you felt! god, i didn’t know how i felt and–”

“how could i have ever felt!? we were together for more than a year, Y/N. i loved you. i still do.”

“w-what?”

he lets out a chuckle that is not mocking or mean or condescending, not one you would’ve expected from anyone else. it’s kind and soft and a little bit amused, much to your irritation.  “do you find it surprising?” 

you open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it. 

“i am in love with you, have been since the moment i saw you at that stupid party and when you told me you had to break up with me i just– Y/N, i couldn’t let you go or stop loving you, even if i tried. and believe me, i did try for some time, but it just didn’t work.” 

with tears clouding your vision you’re surprised you manage to find the time or strength to tease him. “you tried?”

and apparently, it is those two words that make him break out of the containment chamber he’s forcing himself to be trapped in. he smashes through the protective glass in true jongho fashion. a well-placed punch and the chains that kept him away from you thinking that’s what you needed, dissolve into thin air as he closes the distance, messily rushing to you and caging you in a desperate hug that steals the air from your lungs. 

you feel his hands claw at the back of your shirt and it’s the heartbreaking and deep affection that allows you to accept that you’re not difficult and you will not be. not to him, not to the people that love you.

he buries his nose in your hair, breathing you in like he wants to absorb you forever, then everything that happens next goes naturally, smoothly, following a line that was always supposed to be the one and only.

it fits perfectly. when you kiss and it's like the universe, your friend group, the employees of the cafè on the way to your apartment, the old lady that sells flowers at the corner of the big building you work at, knew it was meant to be.

you both stand with your eyes closed, embracing each other.

he wants to be a person who deserves you and whom you deserve. jongho loves you and he wants to be there, picking up your pieces, putting you together like a puzzle, taking his time. 

you sniff, looking up at him with what you hope looks like a soft expression and not some sort of a pained smile. “hi.”

“hey.” he smiles back, thumbs caressing away stray tears.

“you know that i saw you sitting there the second i stepped foot into the coffee shop. 

“you did not.”

“you were reading the book upside-down.”

he blushes but his arms tightens around you.

“i was not.”

#jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #ateez x reader #k-labels #kflixnet #jongho #choi jongho #ateez jongho #ateez x you #ateez #ateez fic #ateez fluff

[thatunusualwriter]

𝙳𝙽𝙰 𝙸𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 (𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎)

Character pairing: (TMNT FF) Dark Leonardo/Leon x GN!Reader

Summary: If you had seen TMNT 2003, season 6 ep 23 and thought that some flavor was missing in it then we are on the same boat. Let me welcome you to a fan-made rewrite of that episode additioning a Reader as a savior of this story, enjoy your stay!

Warnings: hurt/comfort, injury

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.⛓💙🍊🗡️⛓.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

It becomes less shocking when Cody Jones becomes a center of a strife for the umpteenth time over a period of time when you get to know him, and his terrapin friends weren't really the start of Cody's magnetic misfortune that always finds him.

But before the turtles appeared and became caretakers who put the red-haired teen out of trouble there were other people, Serling, Starlee Hambrath and Y/N L/N, his 'supportive' uncle doesn't really count.

And when Cody's family friend, Y/N, happens to be around when on vacation, then they came to terms that as a second adult in Cody's life and as a friend they hold a certain responcibility that comes with involvement in Cody's troubles. After the fiasco on the Moon he and the turtles executed when Y/N wasn't around for a moment, they became extra sharp at observing so nothing would get past them again.

When Serling contacted Y/N there's a rule that had to be made not to bring them to the highest stress levels; first, make it clear that no one is hurt if that is the case, and then explain the situation. Y/N was just out shopping when the loyal robot caretaker made a call about a shooting and an ambush at the penthouse and they have a 'guest' who needs some painkillers that was out of stock at home, it took thirty minutes to get to the drug store and back to the O'Neil Penthouse but the ride up the elevator felt like it took an eternity while Y/N paced back and forth with the bags still hanging from their forearms.

The elevator's ring was almost deafening and Y/N barged through the metal door once it was open sufficiently.

A medbay isn't that far away, it has a straight hallway to be saved from trouble of getting through many doors and rooms to reach it. It wasn't long until Y/N could easily recognize the voices through the open, ring-shaped doorframe.

Even though they were ready to see who the guest is, someone Donatello described in awe briefly that Y/N's ears picked up on, they didn't expect to see this big, blue terrapin almost at the same height and size of Serling himself.

"— There's barely half-a-dozen minor differences between Leo's and that thing's DNA sequences."

Y/N almost missed what Donatello said as they kept staring at the unconscious guest on a medical bed that monitored the health, and judging by the force field around the blue terrapin it quite enough told them that they should be cautious.

"But Leo's Leo, and that's a mess." Raphael retorted soon after his brother's finished sentence, sounding grouchy.

With a deep breath, Y/N pushed themself off the frame and began to descend down the three stairs, waving at their friends. "Hey guys, I got the meds." after everyone greeted back in their own way, they went over to the turtle in purple. "So, how's he hanging?"

Donatello offered a brief polite smile their way before looking back at the red screen in front of him, resuming his attention at the medical and DNA reports with Y/N also looking at the text over his shoulder. "The Auto-docs will mend his wounds as best they can, then he'll need rest."

"What?! A fifth turtle?!" Serling's nonchalant posture broke down, his optics nearly popping out, with tiredness as he began to hold his metal head. "Oh.. I need to sit down..." as soon as he was squatted Cody tried not to snicker at the robot's silly gloominess.

Raphael had something on his mind to say about that, and was quite ready to hurl himself bodily at their injured guest. "That thing can't stay here! He just tried to off us! Again!!"

The older terrapin in blue stopped him before he could make two steps forward, hand at Raphael's plastron. "What are we going to do? Drop him off at the hospital and tell everyone to watch their fingers and toes?"

"He's in a portable force field that the Hovershell would have a tough time busting through." Donatello took Leonardo's side when trying to reason with their hotheaded brother, who means well but sometimes lacks empathy. "We can keep him here safely until he's stable enough to move."

"And after he gets betta', then what?" Raphael grunted, staring daggers at his brother's doppleganger.

Awkwardly enough, everyone fell silent and avoided eye contact after sparing a glance Raphael's way.

"... Don't everyone answer all at once." Michelangelo butted in with his comedic wit, and Raphael might have hit his little brother like he almost always does if Y/N wouldn't be there.

The turtle in red got a slap on the head back every time he did it to Michelangelo and Y/N witnessed it, over the short stay in the future Raphael learned to watch his three-fingered hands in their presence.

Y/N let out a short laugh, trying to keep the mood tense-less. "Well, you could always let the guy go? Also, I think I need explanation on how this guy came to be- like, what's his name?"

"Isn't freak good enough name fo' this thing?" Raphael scoffed snarkily and didn't notice the not-so-subtle side-eye from Y/N.

Donatello took it upon himself to properly answer so their friend wouldn't be in the dark about this whole situation. Cody was most excited to tell Y/N about the part where he was saved by the blue turtle. His childish astonishment always makes them smile, it's good to see him being a kid that he is even with all that responcibility over O'Neil Tech.

Y/N kept their eyes on the unnamed turtle, a clone, the one who with other three clones ambushed the turtles for the third time and then he risked his life for Cody in one day, in a spawn of twenty-thirty minutes. It was suspicious, to say the least, but they should show some gratefullness towards the injured guest nonetheless. That's how Y/N feels.

The more they stared at the one-eyed terrapin, he began to look less like Leonardo in their eyes. He may be a clone, with some little differency of his DNA from the blue-masked turtle, but Y/N can see that this turtle is his own person(?) and shouldn't be treated no differently. Although Y/N can understand the incredulous caution that is controlled by fear from the others, they decided to try see for themself who this blue terrapin really is.

When Cody was sent to bed by Serling, Y/N walked to Donatello who is still by the Force Shield as an excuse to have a better look at the giant turtle.

He is, for the lack of better words, not that scary-looking as the others portrayed him to be. They wonders if he's blind on the left eye, a round metal device is in it's place instead. The mini doc bots scatter around the bulk of his body, that may indeed look intimidating to some, especially given his height. Noticing that his breathing is shallow and slow, and a lot of bandages are over his body and arms, the laser he was hit with must have been quite a sucker-punch of pain. The thought alone made Y/N slightly grimace and the turtle in purple noticed, of course.

"Nasty wounds." Y/N commented with affinity and Donatello hummed as an agreement. "I guess you guys will need all help there is with this guy, I will put my hand to the work, no problem."

Donatello blinked in genuine suprise, turning to face them. "But you don't have to, you're here on vacation to enjoy Cody before going back to the Moon."

Smiling back, Y/N gives his forearm a gentle pat. "I know."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Time flew by and day passed by day, until day fifth since their guest was hospitalized there arrived. When night coated upon New York, and the time approached at midnight, the blue turtle woke up with a startled gasp and immediately sat up, examining his hands.

"Hey, uh, guy?" Donatello called from the side uncertainly, waiting for him to look his way before continuing. He, his brothers and Y/N has been waiting for him to wake up for five days, many took shifts of keeping a watch over night until morning to feel more secure when having a clone of Leonardo over. They all were about to discuss who's up for a night shift until their guest finally regained consciousness, which was so sudden it slightly startled everyone.

"You've been unconscious for almost a week. How do you feel?" Donatello tried to sound genuine, even leaning in closer to the force field.

As expected, once their guest had a look around the unfamiliar enviroment and remembered the situation he's in, his perkiness turned into sour grumpiness. With crossed arms he made himself comfortable half-sitting on the bed and looking straight ahead, ignoring Donatello and his question with a light grunt.

Y/N looked over at Michelangelo that just came over with a tray that has food, medicine, and water. Leonardo at Michelangelo's left side had a remote ready.

"Here, um..." Leonardo slightly trailed off as he pressed and rotated some buttons until the tray began to levitate over to their imprisoned guest. "The force field is calibrated to accept that tray. Understand?"

"You're talking to him as if he's a pet..." Y/N sighed softly with a wry smile at the turtle in blue who only rubbed at his nape sheeplishly.

And, of course, Michelangelo couldn't help himself once more as soon as that tray entered the caged space; "Yum-yum's go innie, you, no come outy."

"Shut up!" the blue turtle growled, his raspy voice was dry and no doubt it was burning the inside of his throat. He was beyond agitated to be talked to like he's an idiot, and rightfully so. But he still caitiously leaned to the floating try, taking few, quick snifs while he scowled and glared at whatever his golden eye looked at.

"What's in it? Poison?"

"Poison? You think we'd save your life so we could feed you a ransid ham sandwich?" Leonardo almost sounded offended that his own clone would come to that conclusion when he should know him better than everyone.

"My brothers would." the blue turtle grunted and before anyone could pursue him into taking a bite he lifted his right arm, swapping the tray like a fly into the force shield that didn't let it pass through this time and everything fell to the floor. "Go stick it!"

Michelangelo covered his mouth with his hands and Y/N whinced at the sound of a broken plate.

"Oh, this is gonna be swell." Raphael rubbed at his head as he said it with utmost sarcasm.

And while Donatello tried to clean the mess with Michelangelo's help and Raphael observed like a hawk, Y/N walked to Leonardo and lightly brushed his hand to get his attention.

"I think you guys make him anxious." Y/N glanced over at the blue turtle that decided to turn his back on them all.

They looked back at the older turtle brother, who is still very much a teen kid to them.

"Let me handle it." they offered and Leonardo frowned slightly at the proposal. "I'll be careful. It's just food and medicine."

"I don't think this is- well... Safe."

With a sigh, Leonardo looked over at his unresponcive clone and at his brothers before looking back at his human friend, who has given him a little frowny expression instead of words that were not needed. He knows they'd keep asking with persuation until he'd have to give in. And he's certainly not ready to argue about anything today when he didn't get a wink of sleep from yesterday's night watch.

"Okay... Okay, go for it. But, really, be careful and don't get close." Leonardo rubbed at his tired eyes through his iconic blue mask, groaning with defeat.

Y/N beamed at him with a toothy smile and patted his shoulder. "Get some sleep, kiddo."

Nodding, the turtle in blue called his brothers and they followed after him with uncertainity but obeyed nonetheless.

Y/N was grateful for the silence after Michelangelo was pryed off of them when he tried to prolong their hug on his way out. Shaking their head and stiffling a giggle, and walking out of the Medbay to get some things.

The clone was left alone in the lighten room, the buzzing device of the force field was the only thing that broke the silence. And although he's glad to have shaken off the four turtles and the unfamiliar human, he indeed is thirsty and hungry and began to regret he didn't take that damned sandwich.

As some minutes passed, his beaten body began to ache all over that it was impossible to find the right laying position. He grunted and growled in frustration from the pain but as soon as he heard approaching footsteps he bit down on his tongue and stilled on his back. To be caught wiggling like a whiney street dog would be too embarrassing, it's bad enough he has to be locked up by his sworn enemies.

The blue turtle, however, didn't expect the human to be the one to come back, he rather expected it to be the red-haired boy.

He greeted them with a snarl, and observed them with squinted eye, when they looked at him.

Y/N expected nothing less, rather that they'd get yelled at, and although the tension began to make them more self-conscious about every movement they made because they were watched closely, they put on a brave face by smiling softly back at the terrapin.

"Sorry about those four, they can be... perky." apologetically chuckling from the sudden nervousness, Y/N re-arranged the things in their arms they got from the kitchen. They made their way to a table in medbay, that's right in front of the hospitalized terrapin where they put down the bread, butter, water bottle, a glass cup, and ham with an extra plate.

Registering that he's not answering, but still glaring while burning holes through them from all that staring, they understood that he may not be in the mood and they didn't want to push his buttons but when feeling a little awkward it's best to keep a conversation - even if one-sided - going. And Y/N is one of those who do just that instead of keeping their mouth shut.

"So— I don't know how you like your sandwich but I'll put more ham in it. Unless you do mind that, uh, hm..." their brows lightly furrowed as they mulled over something that invaded their mind in the middle of swapping some butter on the bread.

The blue turtle smelled a little fear from the human, and it was somewhat satisfying to know that, he watched now sat on the bed as they were making food that's apparently for him unless it's just a cruel taunting. But he saw nor smelled nothing fishy that could have poison.

"Say, I realized that I don't know your name, what are you called?" humming, Y/N finished the layer of butter on four bread slices and began to open the packs with ham.

Because Y/N didn't look this time they didn't notice the confused stupor the terrapin froze in.

A name? He is called many things, nasty names, but never have been given a name. Neither his brothers have names. Truthfully they never thought about getting one. They just call each other names like everyone does since their creation, they just went with that.

For once, that question made him feel... at unease.

"... I don't want to call out to you as; "hey, guy!" or "hey, man!" when speaking to you. It's just... not right. It's almost as if you're not a creature, but a thing." Y/N bit down on their lip as they perfectly placed four big slices on two breads before placing the untouched two slices at each bread, then they cut the two sandwiches in triangle shapes.

"Or if you just don't want me to know I can understand—"

"I have no name." the reply came out sharply.

Y/N was startled, still not used to the gruffness of his voice that always cut through the air with it's growling tone, that it almost made them spill the water over the glass. They were expecting to have just one-sided conversation because he looked uncomfortable with them there, this caught them off guard.

When they looked up at him, blinking, he just leaned back with crossed arms and glared down at them with disdain. "Monster or freak will suffice, or go ahead for something more creative, human."

Given the impression that he'd likey claw at them, if not worse, the idea if there wouldn't be the force field had Y/N shooketh. Oh, they had no doubt about that if he could, he would. This terrapin made it clear he's one hatefull fella and when someone feels cornered and/maybe injured they can become lethal and hostile, and sain person would rather keep their distance, this is no wild sewer kitten.

Y/N's question currently on their mind: is there a reason behind the spite? Normally, people, monsters and aliens alike have a reason caused by trauma or the way you're raised to be like this.

They did understood what their turtle friends had told them about the 'evil' clones and didn't took it lightly, but that's just one perspective to judge from, Y/N rather likes to have their own point of view on this from a first-hand experience when there's an opportunity. This blue turtle had yet to be scary to look frightening, so far he's rather intimidating and Y/N can't yet tell what exactly makes him tick so they would avoid that and avoid a tantrum — to put it lightheartedly.

With furrowed brows, they shook their head as if saying that what he said was silly and he returned that with his own frown. After Y/N filled the glass with water they put it on the tray next to the sandwich before roaming through the small packages to get his painkillers.

"Why would I do that?" they eventually asked and the turtle returned his gaze on their face, he couldn't respond because he had yet to come up with an answer. "You assumed that because I'm a human?" it may have, in honestly, made them sound a little offended.

Y/N put in some vitamin pills with the painkillers next to the glass of water before meeting his slightly distracted gaze. "Or is it because you were always treated like this and learned to accepted it?"

It was like a punch to the gut for the blue terrapin so he growled gutterly and turned his head to the side, refusing to respond and they didn't force him either.

"Sorry, sorry!" Y/N almost stuttered, they might have went too far. Perhaps it was unsensitive. "I didn't mean for it to sound so rude..... Sorry."

When it was silence that replyed to them, they picked up the tray and looked at the remote to the force field and immediately it dawned on them that they have no slightest clue about how it works. And Donatello might be asleep by now, Y/N would feel so bad and dumb to wake him up for such small inconvinience.

After spending a too much time figuring out which colorful button it is Y/N just pressed the one in the corner but instead of making the tray float and make the force field accept it instead the translucent, electric barriere dropped.

The futuristic technology isn't their strongest suit, they admitted they prefer things simple and almost retro, the only time they're hundred percent on Raphael's side is when he's on a hateful rampage about the tech...

Y/N paled when they first thought that they may have broke it and would have to wake up Donatello after all. But when the 'cage' activated once pressing the same button, weight fell from their chest and they confidently approached the blue turtle after the force field was deactivated once again.

He was a little weirded out by what they were doing the whole time that he couldn't help but stare and thought about calling them dumb.

And here they are. Face to face with no physical wall between them.

It's a little daunting that this creature is still towering over them even when hunched and sitting, and staring down at them. Y/N comes across very tall aliens every day so this is nothing unordinary. But this feels different. Somehow...

Ah, right, it's because they were told to keep their distance! But then again, they didn't actually promise Leonardo they'd do as he said but a part of Y/N still feels guilty, knowing how overprotective he can get.

Quirking their lips for the corners to lightly lift, Y/N presented him the tray proudly. As far as they know, they're an excellent cook and excells at home baking.

"Okay, Lee, you gotta get your pills first." when it was a heated growl that huffed into their face, they grounded their feet the best they can as they forced to lock gazes with him. "You'll feel better. It takes away the pain for some hours, you'll get a proper sleep. Also, no one will be in your personal bubble until you wake up." they went for the coddle tactic, it always works.

The blue terrapin, somewhat persued, took the medicine into his big right palm that has a darker pigment than the rest of his body, before registering their words.

Y/N was lifting the glass of water towards him before noticing he was looking at them with a frown that was far from sharp. "What?"

"Lee?"

With a soft flush in cheeks, they tried to fumble for sane words of an apology. They thought they offended him or something. "It just came out—!"

With a slight furrow of his bare brows and tilted head, he asked: "Why did you call me that?" it was almost chilling how calm and calculated he was now.

"I- uh! No... No reason, really... Just because." they muttered before hurriedly giving him the glass, and he understood the assignment.

After he drowned them down they put the trail on his lap and he began to gobble the bread like a starved man — which, starved, he probably was.

"Jesus, calm down! I'm not gonna steal it from ya." they couldn't help but laugh a little after the face he threw at them with a little rumbly growl, but surprisingly enough he ate slower.

After Y/N took another risk of leaving his side to drain the rest of the water bottle into the glass, they returned to exactly how they left him and he took the water greedily.

"Did you mind that?" Y/N gave him some time of quiet while he ate, but eventually asked right after swallowing the last bit of his third sandwich. "The nickname?"

"... Nickname?" he grunted with a mouthfull and watched with suprise as they sat down at the edge of the bed.

"Well, that's instead of a name..." Y/N hummed back, looking at their dangling feet and thought of how to keep a conversation going.

"I'll come up with other nicknames for you. Wanna hear them?"

The rumbly growl would have been a no but the slight nod that Y/N registered said otherwise. They took a mental note that he's one growl-y creature.

"Lee was one of those... Then I was going for Blue." when he said nothing but ate and grunted, Y/N continued. "There's also Leon... It's short for Leonid. It has a Russian origin, as far as I know." they looked back at him once noticing the way he perked up.

"But that's also a name they gave to a meteor shower, but it's called Leonids, it's around the Leo constellation. It happens around November, I think. And it's really, really pretty from the pictures and videos I have seen. But, sadly, they're also very rare."

"How rare?" the blue turtle wanted to kick himself to be this sincerely invested, and looked away from Y/N with a scoff.

He should be proud of himself to be showing interest that isn't forced, given what he has yet to do, but somehow this human had him hooked with the wonder of nature. Something you can barely spot in NYC, and especially when you live under cover you can't just go outside however you please, even though creatures and aliens are already walking among humans on earth for some years now.

Y/N watched him from his profile silently, smiling, before taking pity on him and stood up as they reached for the empty tray but they didn't register how stiff he became at their closeness. "They appear year but you need to have a good spot like somewhere far away from civilization to see it clearly in total darkness and, who knows, maybe we'll be able to see it this Autumn if we're lucky. I heard of some good spots in Europe where people go to watch the meteors nowdays."

The funny little plural pronoun they used in this sentence did such odd mess in the pit of his stomach, maybe something close to throwing up?

This unfamiliarity began to irk him.

Scoffing, and throwing the full piece of the sandwich, he nearly forgot about, into his mouth he made a lazy gutural growl. "I have no interest for such dumb things, travel especially!" he made himself comfortable on the bed and realized that no part of his broken body was aching. What a bliss.

Y/N looked at him knowingly over their shoulder, but said nothing.

When they walked back to the table to pick up the remote, they weren't feeling burning holes at the back of their skull for once, and it was nice. They turned the force field back on but when facing the blue terrapin they were met by the back of his dark shell. He fell asleep on his stomach, arms folded under his chin and softly snoring. After a good meal and comfy bed, he's out like a light. He looked almost too innocent now with how slightly curled up he is there.

"Like a baby..." Y/N chuckled to themself, turned off the lights and left the Medbay to clean the dirty dishes, they still can't let Serling do all the work around here, that poor, neat freak robot works himself up over the smallest things.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Morning, Leon!"

The big blue turtle, who had to look through the gap of his forearms that guarded his face from the sun, threw back a frown of confusion at the human who had joined them on the rooftop balcony. It's extra hot outside today.

"Y/N-san, it's almost past noon, you slept through the whole morning." an old rat softly chided Y/N without looking over at them, instead he continued to take care of his bonsai.

"Oh, yeah, heh! It happens sometimes... Are the plants doing well mr. Splinter?" they asked politely and passed by their injured guest over to the wise mutant rodent, observing the careful snips of scissors on the little tree branches and leaves with curiosity.

Splinter offered a small, quick smile. "Yes, and the garden looks way better than when we first came here. Some of these plants grow surprisingly quickly."

Y/N hummed, agreeing and looked towards the small but greener-than-before garden. "Let me help you." they walked over to the rest of the pots with bonsai trees before the humanoid rat could protest.

With a sigh, Splinter navigated them which pot they should pick up.

"Why do I have to be here?!" the blue terrapin made himself known to them once more, after being quiet all morning he decided to voice his irritation towards the blinding sun. He growled at the rat, quite sharp teeth bared, and used his palm to cast a shadow over his face.

"The air will do you well," Splinter replied with calmness, returning to care for his bonsai. "Not to mention the healing powers of nature."

"It stinks out here! Too bright!" he continued to complain, covering himself with his arms when trying to lay down on the side but the sun rays were everywhere. "Why didn't you let me rot?" he aggressively asked, springing back to sit up and glare at the rodent. "Too weak to stomach it when things get rough?!"

It sounded like he wanted to provoke a reaction, but he tried it on the wrong creature.

"Weak?" Splinter parroted, speaking just as calmly as before, as he made a perfected snip of an unruly branch before setting the gardening scissors down. "It requires no strength at all to destroy but creation, healing, that takes true might." he looked at him over before facing him with the little bonsai in his hands. "Would you prefered that we left you to perish?"

These questions are seriously getting on his nerves, it always hits a weak spot he didn't know he had.

Turning away from Splinter, who went to place the pot where it should be, he was rather met with a sight of Y/N who carried quite a big pot with its bonsai and it looked quite heavy. Although they sweated and had quite reddened cheeks, they showed no struggle as they carried it on the table where Splinter works on his plants one by one.

Y/N straightened their favorite shirt, and cleaned it from some dust and dirt at their chest, before looking up at their hospitalized guest that kept on trying to cover from the sun. With a slight jump in the step, they walked close to him until stopped by the translucent wall of a shield.

"So, how are you enjoying today, so far?" chuckling, they looked at him rolling about like a rowdy child ever-so-innocently, hands interwined behind them.

A growl bellowed from under the cover of muscular, blue arms with a tint of annoyment as he settled laying on his belly. And they couldn't help but take pity on him.

"... You thirsty, Leonid? It is too hot today, the sun may be good for your bones but it's important you drink plenty of water. I'll go grab a glass for ya."

"Hm?" he rumbled back but when he was about to look at them from under one of his arms, they weren't there. With a grunt, he covered the back of his head and nape with his big palm. Although the sun was fine at first on his skin, because he's not used to daylight, it began to burn on his scale-y skin. The big robot Serling was supposed to get him water, but something must have distract the robot nanny when he hadn't came back for quite a while.

But at last he had time to think, plot and schieme. But the name he was called again made his heart beat all funny.

A name that would belong to him, to make him feel a little more whole. A fallen meteor out of many from around a constellation which they were tributed to be named slightly similar after. An irony of what he really is; a clone of the real deal, a fraud that has been predestined to be impure.

Leonid... He does like how it sounds, especially the shorter version of it.

He, Leonid, among many other newfound feelings he still needs to decipher, finally felt like somebody.

* 6:30 pm *

Day had yet to come to an end, be replaced by the night and Y/N didn't mind they had to prepare dinner to their guest along with some meds for the second time. It's probably for the best, Leonid can barely stand the sight of Donatello playing a doctor at him and the longer all four stick in the same room as him that he can't leave there's a risk of a raging tantrum.

Leonid can't stand Raphael and his belittling and offencive remarks, but he feels the same towards Leonardo. At last Michelangelo and Donatello can approach just fine, if Mikey wouldn't talk all the time and Don wouldn't keep muttering his coded science discussion with himself. Y/N would take full care of Leonid would they know what to do when it came to broken bones and fractured spine and shell. But beggers can't be choosers, so he had to let Donatello be in his personal bubble.

Cody was about to get some snacks that his close friend, almost like an older sibling, sneaked in behind Serling's back the day they came over at the start of their vacation — two weeks ago.

Speak of the devil...

Young Cody Jones has yet to master his ninja stealth, when taking out some dorito chips from a lower cabinet Y/N suddenly appeared few feet away by his side, that wasn't hidden by the cabinet door.

Busted, red-haired thief grinned as innocently as possible when he stood up with the bag of chips behind his back. "Y/N! Hey, I thought you're still on the balcony with master Splinter and Leo's clone?"

Y/N looked away from Cody's hidden, folded arms and opened the fridge they stood next to. "Stealing my snacks again, little Jones?" they cooed tauntingly as they pulled a pot with leftover soup out of the fridge and onto the kitchen island.

"And I just came from there, I wanted to get Leon sunscreen but Serling and guys came to take him back to the Medbay. I decided to prepare Leon dinner, at last."

Cody seated himself at the other end of the kitchen desk, opened the doritos and watched them prepare the remaining soup and adding more flavor so it would taste better and not like old shoes. "He has a name?" he asked with curiosity.

Y/N with a ladle scooped every bit of the soup, bits of mushrooms, potatoes and meat included into a smaller pot. They smiled a little bashfully to themself and were glad that Cody was rather paying attention to the chips.

"Oh, yeah. It's Leonid, actually." at last they hoped he took the name, he actually didn't tell them not to call him that and he is one of those that voices something they don't like. If he won't own the name then Y/N will call him that as long as he'll be here, they refuse to call him 'a thing that's cloned from Leonardo' like others do.

"Oh, that's cool!" Cody enthusiastically chimed before stuffing his mouth.

"Did you thank him yet?"

Cody paused mid-chow before swallowing. "No... The guys don't want me to go near him."

Y/N faced Cody with a frown right after putting the pot on the stove to warm up the soup. "I see where guys are coming from— but he took a hit for you and almost died. He may be 'evil', as everyone keeps reminding us both, but that's no excuse to be ungreatful. Everyone deserves gratitude, even some bad guys — Darius doesn't count."

Cody hummed and looked up from staring inside the chips bag for a bit too long, cracking a little smile at the last humorous remark. "Even when he and his brothers attacked us?"

"Cody, just like I taught you, you are not forgiving him. You are thanking him for his willing aid, and sure - you let him in and it would be a good enough 'thank you', but there's no wrong in being humble and thank the fella directly."

As they looked at one another, holding their gazes, Y/N knew that they managed to get at last the thought that counts into his thick skull. Cody nodded, taking it to account and received a wide smile from Y/N and they walked up to him to pat the top of his crown.

"Remember, when you feel what you should do is right then don't be afraid to do it even if everyone would disagree."

Cody chuckled and leaned into the caressing. "I would like to be free-spirited just like you... But I feel like if there won't be someone to guide me, I would do something wrong."

Y/N's heart crumbled for the kid, their family. "You have to make mistakes to learn from them, how else can you progress further in life? You can't be afraid of making them, you'd just be stuck on the spot, and not always will be someone there to pick you up." sighing, they took Cody into their arms and he welcomed the embrace quickly.

"And there is no problem that my amazing, lil' Jones can't solve on his own." they cooed gently into his red locks and Cody smiled against their shoulder.

"Thanks...." he muttered before Y/N had to return to the pot and hummed a reply back at him, Cody left with his snack all the while thinking things through. His turtle friends - family - want the best for him and protect him, but Cody needs to become independent because, as Y/N said, they won't be here forever.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

* FOUR DAYS LATER, 12:03 pm *

It was quite late to be wandering about the Penthouse when everyone is asleep but Cody could hardly get a wink of peaceful slumber when he was bothered by his conscience, if he wouldn't do something about it he would end up without sleep that day.

But he took everything into consideration, to still be skeptical, while trying to the truth behind the heroic action Leonid pulled. He thought this all through for some time.

Raphael is the most cynical and Cody really wanted to dig more, not that he doesn't believe his family, and make his own opinion about their guest. Despite being told and coaxed into letting 'this thing' to be handled by his four terrapin friends.

He can't forever be told what to do! Doing this investigating made him feel a little more mature.

Y/N always taught him to be open minded and not to make hasty prejudices until knowing the whole context of a book — figuratively speaking.

The Medbay was almost empty, their injured guest seems to be fast asleep but from all that hrunting and squirming as he payed on his still healing shell Cody knew he's quite wide awake.

He knew that he shouldn't feel fear to go closer to Leon when the barrier is there to keep him in and the outside out, but he still had to muster up all courage he has to actually approach and talk.

Cody swallowed dryly and took a deep breath before he began to walk over to the force field to ask what has been bugging ever since the incident and only one creature in this Penthouse know the answer. "Why did you save me, I mean, you could have just not, you know?"

Leon, although awake, prerended he's unconscious. It was clear by the pointed silence that he intended to ignore the kid, pretend he isn't there, but he also knew the stalled chat was long overdue and he has to make some progress after being kept here for so long.

"Okay, forget it." Cody was ready to turn on his heel and return to his bedroom with defeat, and his head hung low.

"My fight isn't with you, it's with the four shellheads, then you went an' got in the way." Leon quickly blurted out before the boy could have left, but he refused to look at him as he grumbled and his hand flapped exaggeratedly high up while talking. And he didn't need to see to know that Cody didn't move an inch, neither left at all, but Leon could tell he was holding his breath to listen, and by smell he knew the kid was somewhat anxious.

Perhaps whatever Leon answers will be the key of the final decision, and if he were to answer right he could get closer to what he came for. Better play his cards right.

With a tired sigh, Leon opened his eye to stare down at his lap as his limb went limp by his side again. To be honest - which he hardly is - these questions about him are starting to be exhausting because he doesn't know the answer to them, but questioning his actions, that is easier to answer. Kind of like an answer he expected from day one and he studied the right answer. But every day it's something new, unexpected, new questions about whatever.

It just edges him more.

Being here actually made a mess of his brain, although he was prepared for whatever they got and was aware he can't crack under pressure, somehow they always poked under his shell even without intention.

"Look, I don't know, it just didn't seem right... Why I got asked so many questions!" Leon almost growled too loudly as he felt the need to be defensive and hide how confused he is himself and turned his shell at the boy to have the final say, which he achieved.

Cody, puzzled, went back to his room with a little more clearer mind and an idea.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Morning couldn't come sooner, everyone except Splinter and Serling - like any other morning - gathered in the big, open living room to discuss today's agenda that also regards their absent blue terrapin guest.

"It's been weeks!" Raphael began, jumping in on the chance of free space to discuss a matter important to him after all the ordeal of training schedule and whatnot. "We better start charging Mr. Happy rent if we're runnin' a hotel here."

Not one day passed that Raphael didn't bring this up, but it seemed that today he was extra pushy.

Donatello unintentionally mimicked Raphael's crossed arms while being next to him, and he sighed softly before adding: "His bandages come off tomorrow- a few tests and then he's outta here."

"Have you guys noticed...?" before Raphael could nudge further the matter of getting rid of Leo's clone, Cody stepped in a little closer after a brief glance at Y/N that sat between Michelangelo and Leonardo on the cough as if to gather some courage spiritually. "It's like... He seems to be struggling with something."

He looked at them all, arms open to get a sign if he may speak from his mind further and Leonardo did just that and lifted his chin towards his red-haired friend, even though Raphael wasn't happy with the way Cody started but said nothing.

"What are you getting at, Cody?" Leonardo asked eventually and leaned his elbows further into his lap, showing he's all ears.

"Well he did save my life," Cody, rubbing his head, began to feel a little shy considering what he's about to say may sound naive, but he finally gets a say in this matter. "I'm just wondering if we could help him not be so bad... in theory." he humbly smiled and lowered his head, keeping his gaze locked with the leader in blue.

And Donatello wasn't really opposed to the idea, on the contrary, he's glad someone brought it up. "Technically, Dark Leo does share significant genetic traits with our Leo. And the nature versus nurture debate raises some interesting possibilities."

Cody smiled at Donatello, as if thanking him for a slight support before looking at the others again beamingly. "Yeah! What if we stopped treating him like a monster and more like a regular guy, just like Y/N?"

Raphael looked startled and looked at every person in the room, back and forth before facing Leonardo completely and crouched down to seize his pointed gaze at the floor. "Okay.. When did this bus take a left into Crazy Town!? Leo, c'mon, you're not buyin' this are ya?!"

But by the silent and distant look from Leonardo, everyone knew his mind had already decided through Raphael's protests. Hook, line, and sinker...

Y/N smiled up at Cody and he mirrored it like a silent communication between the two, they couldn't be more proud of him.

That very same morning Leonid was brought to the dining room to have breakfast with them, but he had to promise he'd cause no trouble... which he did agreed to instead of behaving - by having table manners, which soon everyone dumbly realized that he has none. At last Y/N could say they aren't so put-off by it, but they were also the only one trying to teach some manners like one would to a toddler, like any patient parent and the guys enjoyed to watch that while Cody could almost say: "I been there and had my share of it, I know the routine, enjoy it buddy", with all the fond childhood memories.

Suprisingly, today Y/N also swapped seats with Michelangelo from the usual spot of being between him and Raphael to be at the edge and conveniently right next to Leonid. If Raphael noticed this and was rather unpleased then he kept it to himself. He and Y/N weren't the best of friends, he was usually scolded by them like some brat but he really didn't dislike them either. It was a bit complicated to put into words. But usually when they all dined together Raphael found their presence next to him... comforting(?).

Leonid wolfed down his food, almost taking a bite of the plate as well as it was held to his face. Cutlery be damned. Everyone knows pancakes are good but his enthusiasm by eating them made the pancakes look double delicious, maybe the messy eating of his can put people out of mood for food which is understandable.

Serling walks over to the table, setting down another portion of pancakes and fresh, hot biscuits along with a whipped cream tube and cocoa for Y/N.

Leonardo barely could get one slice of a warm pancake before it was snatched fight in front of him, no pancake was left, and the turtle in blue could only watch Leonid by his left side as he put the whole stack into his mouth.

The blue terrapin chewed just few, hasty times before swallowing and moving forward to the maple syrup that Michelangelo was just using, the movement almost costed Y/N nose because they are sitting between the two. Leonid squeezed the 'life' out of the bottle and used up every drop of the syrup before tossing the used bottle over the table where it bounced at lead two times, nearly bumped into Cody and everyone watched it fly. The other full plate of food was next, Raphael barely touched the crusty bread when all of it was snatched from the plate.

"An' t'ere go the biscuits..." the terrapin in red mask emphasized with repressed growl, staring right at their 'guest'.

"Have one of mine," Michelangelo exhaled into his palm, passing his one biscuit onto his brother's plate. "all of a sudden food doesn't have it's usual appeal..."

Leonid couldn't not hear that last part even through all his munching, shocked and even felt close to be offended by such words. How can one say that about food?! Something he and his brothers can't afford. It's so bad that they sometimes have to go great, morbid lengths to get something into their mouths and they're just glad that digesting raw meat causes no trouble.

"Where I live, you fight for food, eat what you can, when you can—" he suddenly towered over the youngest of the four green terrapins and his olive-coloured plastron made contact with Y/N's brow before they could lean back, it didn't hurt but it startled them. "Or you starve!" he exclaimed and then threw the last little bread into his mouth as he glared at poor Michelangelo like he was a kid that didn't know any better because he has a different, better life. The terrapin in orange mask leaned back in his seat as far as he could but also was too scared to move a muscle.

Being one of those few that always came to the youngest's aid, Y/N didn't sat by doing nothing this day either. Also it would calm the other three brothers and the rat father from feeling like Michelangelo is being threatened.

Minding the bandages, their spread palm placed gently on Leonid's upper chest, close where the edge of his plastron is (it would have been inappropriate to push a man's boobs, covered or not, they are not close friends - same goes to touching one's stomach if it can be avoided). Y/N was only afraid to push, not to cause him any pain and they were glad to hear his muffled gasp was far from pained. Leonid would have obliged by sitting back down but staring Michelangelo down felt like primal challenge of intimidation that has always been in him since his creation, not really a genetic perk from being made by Sh'Okanabo.

"Riiiiight..." Michelangelo weakly chuckled when holding Leonid's gaze without knowing the intention behind it or what is he trying to prove as he grasped the courage he has regained when his savior interfered between them, and slightly swapping the crumbs from his plastron.

"Well, here, looking out for one another is pretty much what we do." he grinned toothily, it was far from mocking or belittling, he was just proud to share the way his family is and the positivity thrown in Leonid's face made him befuddled and he backed off. "You know the golden rule- karma."

Although he was thinking things through, Leonid subconsciously noticed the warmth that left his chest and he didn't have time to be weirded out by it now. Blinking, his scoff was almost as if dismissing whatever Michelangelo said was nonesence so he decided to voice that opinion: "You're the dumb one, right. 'Cuz that's the stupidest thing I ever heard." he snatched another plate of food and didn't think one would reply as he began to wolf down the eggs and beacon.

Leonardo was the one who proved him otherwise, not letting the conversation to end there, pointing at him first to grasp his attention in the middle of eating. "And yet you're here in a posh New York penthouse enjoying a hot breakfast, because of something you did—" he gave Leonid another reality check to think about, something new that Leonardo noticed his clone doesn't like. He smiled knowingly, and leaned back with crossed arm behind his head as he played more on the strings of emotions. "Saving Cody. Still sounds stupid?"

The boy lifted his head from his plate where he was cutting his food just a second ago, he looked directly at the blue terrapin with a genuine smile.

He is being thanked? By his enemies? By the nice kid whose sadistic uncle is now an owner of his and his brothers?

Leonid was cornered now by his own emotions that had instantly bloomed when Cody's kind eyes of emerald color landed on him. The food in his mouth began to taste bile, but not necesarrily because of the food itself, it even smells poison-free and he has an excelent nose at scents.

This gratefulness doesn't seem right. He shouldn't be thanked and feel this way. Everything was going according to plan, the only thing that's rauining it is him and his inner turmoil.

Is this... Is this guilt?

For a moment he wondered what he should do. What is expected from him to do.

Frankly, nothing should be expected from him, he had already done enough to save a life. Everything is fine, Leonid is aware of the situation he put himself into, but perhaps his will wasn't strong enough to jump into lion's den.

When the four brothers that are binded to him with DNA shown barely any compassion, it were these two humans that shown kindness and patience with the likes of him. It actually made Leonid believe he deserves any of this.

A hope he would be freed...

But subconsciously remembering his three brothers and the last bitter imagine of Darius Dun coiled at his heart like a barbed wire.

Finally grasping a grip over the cruel reality check after staring at the fried egg long enough, Leonid spat out the unchewed beacon back at the plate before sliding all of it over to Leonardo's plate.

"How's this?" Leonid ever-so-innocently grinned, it's not like he tried to put effort into practicing what Michelangelo tried to enlighten him about. But at last he'd get a kick of seeing his clone grossed out.

"... Thanks." although shocked and disgusted, Leonardo didn't have it in him to be anything but polite.

While everyone looked away from repulsion, Michelangelo silently made fun of his oldest brother and Leonid relieved his stomach by the loudest belch that echoed in the room after he was finished. Y/N was glad they had enough pancakes to eat before the blue terrapin was invading everyone's plates.

Leonid had made a mess all over the table and all over his mouth as well, taking out a paper napkin from the pocket, Y/N stood up to reach the big turtle and wipe his face. Y/N considered having a ladder at hand for once if they'd ever need to reach this mountain of a male again, but their laziness didn't agree with that thought - would have been easier if he laid down, no? Hah! As if this big, blue terrapin would allow himself to be this mellow for them.

Y/N, while in their own little head space, didn't even bother to took into consideration Leonid could attack them for being in his personal space, truth be told they forgot he's dangerous because these few days they felt that he was anything but threatening. He was acting 'savage' at times yet he wasn't hurting anybody, and he had opportunities to do so, something this minor was overlooked by the four brothers because they might have felt secure that the blue turtle is intimidated enough not to try anything. They also immensely ignored any disagreements the four brothers had been having against the way they didn't keep safe distance, even if there always was the translucent shield between them.

Leonid was quick to school his body into stillness, over his stay and interaction with Y/N he noticed they became more bold with subtle touches such as this. The first time was when they checked if he has fever and they were very careful about it, also asking him first before touching his forehead. This whole thing was so odd but... not unwelcome. The gestures always made him feel that damn tickling in his stomach that he soon didn't mind much. Leonid actually looked forward to being touched now, and he was content when it was something quick and sweet, nothing too lingering that would be troublesome to his sensations.

Raphael scoffed at the baby-ing that's happening right now in front of them all, he earned a soft kick from Donatello to his shin because he was mumbling things under his breath without realizing.

The plates and cups were cleaned first by Serling along with wiping the crumbs and drops on the table away, Y/N battled with the sticky syrup on Leonids cheeks and nose in the mean time while giggling at the dismorphed faces they made his face pull and although annoyed he let them enjoy it all the while grunting with low growls. Only this once he'll allow it.

When Y/N finished wiping Leonid's face, both finally but also sadly for him, Serling took him back to the Medbay where he would rest before getting checked up on again. Everyone watched from in front of the open dining room as Leonid was being escorted with handcuffs that were for safety measures. Y/N at the meeting in the morning demanded he wouldn't have them during breakfast but couldn't talk them out of it when he was being taken back even though he was inside the force field.

Leonardo, from in front of the group, faced his brothers when his clone was out of sight. "Well?"

"Too early to say." Donatello was quick to reply.

"He's a lot less... scary than I thought he'd be." Michelangelo shared his oppinion, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Guys!" Raphael barked, irritated as he stepped forward from the back. "Reality check— he's evil. Give this guy an inch, he'll take a spleen! I ain’t buyin' it!!" he yelled loud enough, making sure it echoes and is well heard to the big terrapin.

"Well, he maybe wouldn't be evil if folks would treat him like he's no different!" Y/N raised their voice enough to startle the turtle in the red mask. Huffing, and shaking their head with disappointment souring their face, Y/N turned on their heel to walk off. "We, unlike you, are just being grateful, Raph, it's not like we're giving him the penthouse."

"Oh, really?! With th'a way yer motherin' him I'd beg to differ!" for Raphael's chastising Y/N would be quick to be twice as mean but decided it's not worth it with this knuckle-head.

"Whoa, dude, chill." Michelangelo rested his three-fingered-hand on his agitated brother's shoulder. "It's not like we weren't the victims of this treatment from momma Y/N either. That's just how they are—"

"Yeah, well that thing doesn't deserve it! We let him live, that's good enough of a payback after everything he and those other freaks put us through!" tearing his shoulder from his brother's touch as if burned, he left as well, having the last word.

* LATER *

When lunch time was over that day, Cody wraped up his training fast and with Michelangelo they went to collect Y/N from the rooftop garden for the purpose to lift their spirits after this morning. They proposed a card game, the rummy, under the condition that the turtle in orange can use a calculator for the adding of numbers. But Y/N had another idea that took a little persuation on Michelangelo from both them and Cody.

"If you want to use the calculator for the game, then he can play." is what they said.

Pure, mean chantage. But Michelangelo really wanted an upper hand with the calculator if he is to play against the gambling fanatic Y/N — and Cody must have been infected from them too, because the two are eager to win and Cody isn't usually contestant. Michelangelo just tagged along because he can't stand boredom.

They went to get Leonid into their little group, behind the other terrapin brother's backs and with Serling's help to transport him to the lower floors where is a room mix of a library and gaming place, not big amd open but not small either. It used to be Cody's bedroom.

Leonid wasn't told what they're going to do other than saying they're going to the fun room and didn't want him to be all alone, as Cody said. But Michelangelo joked that he'd like to have someone close to his kin by his side when he's about to play with the beasts. But Leonid wasn't about to be forced to play with them or anything, if he wished he could just take a nap on the sofa in there, they promised him snacks and will give him different drinks Leonid hadn't tried yet. The last bit was what had him perked, he can't say no to food!

"Games?" Leonid rumbled as he sat down on the sofa with a window behind it, the only source that allowed natural light in the room. He didn't question the fact they let him out of the force field and the sarcastic robot left, but he was cuffed.

Michelangelo moved a coffee table closer to the sofa and sat cross-legged at a pillow on the rug floor, opposite Leonid. "We agreed on a card game for now, who knows, maybe we'll try other games."

"If you'd like to join the game then we'd be more than happy if you did." Cody chirped with excitement and bravely sat down next to the blue turtle.

Y/N grinned while shuffling the cards and sat on a pillow on the ground as well, on the other side of Leonid, maybe a bit too close by his feet. "You can watch or rest, Serling will bring the snacks soon."

"I'll just... watch." Leonid grunted and paid attention to the complicated shuffling of a card deck, when from the split pile of cards Michelangelo searched for a joker card but got none, Y/N began to give them each twelve cards.

Cody cringed as he was putting his cards together in hand. "No luck for me today, I guess..."

"Don't lose hope, junior. There are good cards in the pack, you just gotta get to them." Y/N hummed, although looking very pleased with their cards.

Michelangelo wasn't shy to share the information of his fortunate cards he's about to play with. "I can't relate, guys, my card deck is looking pretty good I might just close the game in your face right now."

"Which is why we're not gonna let you win." Y/N scoffed at the young turtle but it wasn't heated but playful, something Leonid had realized after Michelangelo replyed with his own playfulness.

"Hah! Bold of you guys to assume I'd let any of you win!" Cody grinned at them and leaned back to be sure none of these would peak at his cards, Michelangelo likes to cheat when it comes to these games.

"You saying that with that God-awful card deck? I'll make you eat those words up, chump." giggling impishly, Y/N watched what kind of cards the two are throwing out and Cody's would have been enough for them to get rid of some cards. "Ah, what's the count?"

"Forty-two, like always?" Cody hummed.

"Nope, let's go fifty-one this time!" Michelangelo grinned from behind his deck.

"That confident, Mikey?" the boy snorted softly.

"Awe, just let him. That way his fall will be greatly amusing." Y/N smirked getting rid of a Queen card, a high card, and Michelangelo's snarky surface cracked a little.

Leonid was greatly confused because these three were just threatening and insulting each other but differently. Very different from how he and his brothers attack each other, verbally and physically. The threatening didn't feel threatening. But why? Everyone wants to be the winner, then why not go great lengths to win? For the life of him, he can't understand them sometimes.

After five minutes, when Serling gave them the - mostly healthy - snacks and drinks, and left them be for the rest of the day only because he has chores to finish, the game went on and they all had yet to reach the right number to start getting rid of the cards. Leonid had caught up with most of how the game goes but has yet to understand the goal.

Comfortably laying on his side while munching on some chips with paprika taste, he observed as Michelangelo did a double take on the calculator, counting, but with frustration he gave up one card.

As soon as Y/N took a card from the deck, their eyes looked almost like shining stars as they meaned at their cards, Cody immediately registered the slight shift of change on their face and groaned longly: "Noooo..."

"Huh?! Huh?!! No! Don't you dare!" Michelangelo belowed and leaned to Y/N, thinking the 'intimidation' would stop them.

With a wide, toothy grin, Y/N began laying some pairs of cards. High cards and one pair with a joker, the smaller pair was of small numbers but they reached a little over fifty-one in count. And two cards were left in their hand.

"A-HA!! We're finally getting somewhere!" Y/N cheered and reordered the remaining cards in hand before getting rid of one. They basked in the small, sadistic victory of getting their opponents withered for being the first one to lay down some good sets of cards.

"Man, I guess I won't get a win this week." Cody sighed at his cards after pulling a card from the deck and dispossed of it just as quickly, but still tried to smile not to damper his friends' spirits.

"Give it time..." Y/N reached over Leon's face, almost bumping his muzzle, to pat Cody's knee to keep the boy enthusiastic.

Michelangelo, after picking the card from the dispossed deck and double checking on the calculator, began to lay down some sets of his own but still had five cards left after. "Yeah, take as much time you need, so I can win!" he used his 'evil' laugh while wiggling on his spot with excitement, fist pumping in the air.

Y/N retreated their hand, but not fully until stealing some chips from Leonid's bowl. The blue terrapin was ready to growl, to guard his food, but Y/N forced the chip against his gritted, slightly sharper teeth. Leonid, startled, relaxed his lips around the treat before accepting it into his mouth. His growl was just a rumbly hum and watched Y/N take another chip for themself, he hadn't the time to react defensively and let it slide. Cody took the chance of their guest paying attention to Y/N to steal some chips for himself too, and grabbed a handfull.

"Do you like the chips... Leon?" Cody asked before stuffing his mouth. He tried not to be too obvious with how he's getting the hang of the new way the blue terrapin is called. The boy feels ashamed that it's a bit of a struggle, being used to call him either a clone or a thing had became a terrible habbit he hopes to get rid of.

Leonid chewed slowly, trying to map and memorize the taste and texture that he now knows he isn't so fond of, before he swallowed so he could answer. "I don't mind it..."

"Dude!" Michelangelo gasped, looking up from his cards as he nearly let go of them. "The chips are, like, one of the best snacks in the world! How can you not like it?"

"It's too dry." the blue turtle shrugged and briefly wondered why the orange-masked turtle made a big deal out of it. "But has good crunch."

"You don't have to eat it if you don't like it." Y/N chuckled softly and looked up at Leonid, just now realizing how close his head is to them, the poor terrapin barely fit on the sofa and almost his whole upper body hanged over the mattress' edge, with one elbow on the floor helped him with balance.

Refuse food? Not eat when you have the chance? Not take a bite of an edible thing when having it at grasp felt like irreverence against food. Even if the edable thing would taste horrendously neither he or his brothers couldn't afford not to eat when finally getting their hands on something. And what if it's the only food he will have today? They all simply could let him starve till tomorrow and then hand him over to the Beast Keepers. It could be the his last meal. Leonid doesn't trust them enough to be certain they wouldn't let him starve, but maybe the humans wouldn't allow it...

"Serling also brought tangerines, it's a sweet fruit, try that." handing Leonid a plate of the little orange, half-moon fruit slices and handing the bowl to Michelangelo, Y/N waited for their guest to take a slice to know if it is to his liking.

Leonid sniffed the fruit slice before putting it into his mouth, as soon as his fangs popped it a sweet juice rushed all over his mouth and the tangerine wasn't that hard to chow or swallow. After the sugary breakfast he's now certain that it's sweets he's more fond of and chewy things are second favorite.

He grunted and took more tangerine slices and Y/N pleased by their fulfillment of having their guest pleased finally continued the rummy.

When Cody was hanging on a slimmer of hope was when the luck finally came to him. He got a joker and was able to finally let out some sets from his hand and reach the right count even with those 'garbage' sets. Now he's the only one with one card in hand and it gave him a higher chance at winning. The boy was exhilarated by the turn of events.

Michelangelo added a king into Cody's set but that's as far as he could go, after getting rid of a card he looked at Y/N as if expecting them to end and win the game.

It was the opposite, actually. After a lot of thinking when drawing a new card and looking over the sets of others laid on the table, Y/N kept the card and got rid of a different one. Still having two cards at hand.

The boys eyed them with suspicion when all they did was twitch a corner of their mouth into a tiny smirk, but they didn't know Y/N faked that smugness.

Leonid became intruiged by the way they're against each other during the game, the switch of theirs to disconnected from preoccupying when something outside the game has to be addressed had left him impressed. Their attitudes change from win-obsessed to normal individuals without much difficulty, with Michelangelo it's a bit questionable but he was somewhat 'tame' when they had a small pause because of the chips.

Cody took a card from the deck, by sheer luck, and got an ace of diamonds that one of Y/N's sets needed. He wasted no time adding the card with suffocated excitement and the card at hand was slapped picture-down on the disposable deck.

"YES!! I WON!!" Cody cheered, jumping up to his feet to zoom around the room while Michelangelo drowned in his lost but Y/N applaused for the boy's win.

"Ugh, let's play Racing and Betting instead, yea?" pouting, the turtle in the orange mask stood up and went to look for the board game somewhere on the shelfs next to the door, Cody went to help him with the search.

The two cards that Y/N held before adding them on the card piles to start cleaning up didn't escape Leonid's sharp eyes, he leaned closer to them before interrogating: "You gave up your win. Why?"

Y/N was a bit startled of the whispery, growl right next to their ear as they were putting the whole card deck away into its box. They blinked at him owlishly, not prepared for their guest's interest. Also, they didn't took into consideration that he might not know of these small, silly sacrifices one does for the other.

"It made Cody happy, didn't it?" they asked as if pointing out the most obvious thing, their brow arched up.

Leonid tilted his head with a sigh that blew hot breath into their face, not understanding where they're going with that. "But you aren't, 'cause you lost."

Oh... Oh, now they understand. Y/N smiled slightly. "Joy is not permanent when you do something for yourself, but for others."

"That's....." licking his lips, his gaze casted down as he tried to remember the right word to use.

"Stupid?"

"Hrmm... Weird. Yer weird."

Leonid met Y/N's gaze again when their lashes fluttered almost as if suprised. Then Y/N huffed a chuckle.

"I hear that often..." they grin toothily, around their eyes was a little wrinkle from the squinting.

Leonid thought it's a bit odd that they're amused instead of being offended and his stomach did a weird flip feeling, but it's actually nice not to deal with a miffy human.

Michelangelo slammed onto the clear table a green box with a cover of horse racers for the dramatic effect of disturbing those two, he was satisfied by seeing those two startled, before finally letting Cody to prepare the game. This play was a little longer and time-killing, Leonid ended up either napping or watching while snacking before they ended it with the last horse bought and with no hurry they all ate the dinner there. Leonid was taken to his 'bed' right after that.

Some might say that in the blue terrapin's position they wouldn't be bored and he might not argue but there were some moments that were.... nice. It was also peaceful. Falling asleep that night was without pain, no meds required, and he was content even with what will come tomorrow noon.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

At eight a.m. Leonid was woken up by Donatello, the purple-masked terrapin, for an early check-up and getting rid of his bandages for good after nearly a month. Leonid was still too sleepy to put up any trouble for the small turtle who was more than happy by that coincidence, they were done before Leonid could rub off the little bit of sleep left in his eye.

A light breakfast was served per Donatello's orders, Y/N put together a toast, fried eggs and a glass full of lemonade. It is light enough for the big test, right?

Michelangelo joined them with his bread and jam he stole from the kitchen while Serling was preparing the usual Tuesday breakfast for everyone. Leaning onto Y/N's side, folded, green arm at their shoulder he watched midst finishing his breakfast how his older brother played a doctor at their guest while he himself tried to eat without interruptions. Donatello only wanted to prepare Leonid for the upcoming challenge which would determine if his health got better or worse, also as any doctor would, the turtle in purple gave him further warnings of how and about what he should be careful in the future since Leonid barely made it out alive a month back.

Leonid's answers were a series of grunts, huffs, and almost unnoticable growls but Donatello became hardly bothered when such a thing was replaying every time, since day one. He accepted that this is perhaps how Leo's clone is telling him that he doesn't want him near, Donatello's presence could make him uncomfortable and the small terrapin didn't wish to push his luck of walking off bruise-less. What he did notice is that the clone was more cooperative and less aggressive when Y/N was near, which is why despite others' disagreements he kept Y/N near whenever he was caring for their guest.

"Dude, aren't you excided? You're gonna be able to kick our shells again!" Michelangelo grinned widely, mouth full and nothing but crumbs on his cheeks was left.

"Don't tempt him." Y/N tsked softly, head shaking and Donatello at his table in the corner did the same with a sigh.

Snorting uncharmingly, the terrapin in orange walked up to the small table next to the medical bed and with a graceful jump he sat atop of it. "I'm just sharing his thoughts outloud, he's very shy~"

Leonid spared him a side-eye, chowing on his egg that he put on the last toast.

"Keep it up, and you may end up on top of the hit list, Mikey." Donatello retorted his chirp from his spot. Like any other morning, he worked on his stuff with his morning coffee. Michelangelo gasped, his hand flew up to hold his heart for his brother's cruel words crushed it.

A little smile betrayed the frown Y/N tried to keep on their lips, the back of their hand hid their mouth and let out a soft giggle.

"Okay, you diva, clean up Lee's plate, it might just save your life. If only for a few minutes." Y/N smirked playfully and walked over to sit by Leonid's feet, their legs swaying back and forth over the edge. Enjoying the moment without that annoying force field that was always between them.

After more of Michelangelo's dramatic antics, he did took the plate and the empty glass and walked off to clean it in the kitchen. Donatello was deep in concentration of his work, whatever it is he's working on.

"So..." Y/N began, open palms squished in between their thighs. They waited for Leonid to get comfortable, laying on his side and facing them with a folded hand under a pillow he laid his head on. "Are you? Excited, I mean."

Leonid was silent for a minute, thinking and his gaze travelled all around their face. He grunted with a shrug of his shoulder. "I'd be an idiot to think they would let me go with a wave an' a smile... They're gonna throw me to Peacekeepers. Can't let a freak roam free out there." his answer was bitter, he looked away to get away from their saddened expression.

"I'm sure they will do the right thing. You have a family to go to." Y/N tried to coax him into a positive space.

"Family? Why would that be the reason?" Leonid looked back at them with a frown.

"Your brothers— family is important in your life, they are the number one on the list of responsibilities." they answered just as quickly. "They need you, I'm sure you need them just as much. It has been a month, I take you haven't been apart for this long? They must be worried."

Leonid bit down with his fang on his blue lip before his gaze distanced. "They don't need me." he sharply hissed.

This was quite a weak spot they decided to poke.

Y/N didn't take that for an answer. "You can't know that for sure."

"Neither do you!" Leonid growled back at them immediately, nearly sitting up. Seeing he had them startled and (surely) afraid he settled down again, refusing to speak another word and Y/N understood he closed himself off again and they felt bad for being the cause of that when they were doing so well with opening up.

Y/N opened and closed their mouth for a few times, thinking of ways how to apologize with the presence of Donatello's awareness weighting them.

"It was wrong of me to assume." they finally said with their gaze casted down. "I just remembered something similar to your case... The last time my mom was at a hospital for a long damn time, it was very serious, I was freaking out. I was studying abroad and couldn't just up and go. When I got to the hospital I was nearly walking through walls to find her... Scared some poor half to death souls too because I was fuming." they let out a weak chuckle at the recalled memory. "I may have selfishly projected my own experience onto you. I'm sorry."

When Y/N looked back at Leonid to find him giving them full attention. "... Why were you angry?" he finally asked, the silence persuade him to want to know more.

Y/N looked ahead them, staring at the wall as they thought of a right answer as their tights squeezed at their folded hands. "I was angry, sad, worried... Everyone does that when they feel helpless, that they can't help those we love even with the slightest bit of pain they're in because you want to protect them the more you care about them. And I, like so many others, took my frustration on those who were around me.. doesn't justify what I'd done and said to those people, though, it wasn't their fault."

Leonid stared at them with the slightest frown of both ambivalence but also a bit of understandment. He got what Y/N tried to explain through their story, yet he can't recall if he ever felt such anger.

Sure, he is angry almost all the time, and he witnessed his brothers getting beat many of times by many foes, but did he even once felt such anger? Perhaps, when Darius Dun was taking his anger out on them, that dark and twisted feeling inside of him might have been just that kind of rage...

A warm, small hand landed on his, barely covering all three of his knuckles. It grounded him.

Y/N scooted closer to his upper body to reach his arm and hold it. The gesture of comfort was still an oddity to him. "Leonid..."

He met their eyes and bravely held his ground not to look away, not when their tone was laced with shyness. But why the diffidence? Did they want to ask something?

"Did you..." enjoyed your stay here? And my company? I think you look happier, are you?

No, no, Y/N couldn't bring themself to ask that. Although the curiosity is eating at them and tomorrow morning Leonid will surely be released from this bed and this Penthouse, and they will never see each other again, they also feared the answer. It's a simple question of a host but her words didn't want to articulate. How embarrassing!

"D-did you enjoy your breakfast? I made it, but I still don't know your tastes so— was it okay?"

If Leonid detected that there was more than that, he chose not to point it out.

He thought it over, again aware of the taste left in his mouth. It really was delicious but maybe it would have been his yellow little brother that would absolutely love it.

"Yeah." he eventually nodded idly. "Was just fine to me. It's food, that's good enough."

Y/N exhaled a dry chuckle at that, smiling. "I asked about your preffered taste in food. So I can do your last breakfast the way you'd like."

For some reason, he did not want to hear that, something in his stomach flipped. Leonid can't wait to get his time in custody over with, but...

Enormous, blue hand gripped gently back at the small fingers in his palm almost instinctively. "... Sweeter food. I think I like that kind." his answer was reluctant with a huff.

It was enough for Y/N and they smiled beamingly, one of those smiles that had his ribcage tighten and made it harder to breathe.

It was noon when Leonardo showed up, no words were needed to let them know why he's there. Donatello, expecting him anytime soon, already put the force field up and Y/N had to sat on a chair next to it to keep talking with Leonid. Y/N stood beside the two green, terrapin brothers while Donatello programmed the field to be mobile around their guest's movements to a certain extend. Leonid stretched his muscular arms above his head, joints popped, and he was ready to go.

All four of them walked through the hallways and took an elevator to one of the lowest floors. The Holo dojo. A turtle shell-like room built for the turtles to have their battle practice in, it provides a realistic battle simulation. This is where they held their health test for the clone and everyone else waited for them there already.

The metal machine looked like it belong to a gym, it was one of those where you sat and push at the bar above to workout your back muscles and arms, but in this case Leonid will be pushing it up above his head as far as he can.

"All right, here we are." Donatello annanounced as soon as the big metal doors hissed open, allowing them to enter, they stopped not that far from the machine. "Last stop before a clean bill of health. Your wounds are almost completely healed, I just want to test a few vitals and then—"

"Out of your cage and in to the Peacekeepers'." Leonid cut in almost a little too aggressively, he glared daggers at the two small turtles in front of him.

It left Donatello a little speachless, unsure how to answer even though he was there when his brother's clone and Y/N held a discussion about it not that long ago.

"Um... Let's just get through the test." Leonardo didn't want any awkward silence to stall them, and clearly avoided answering what is quite a very important to-be-fate of their guest. He and Donatello lead Leonid a little closer to the machine and Y/N joined Cody by their right side and far from Raphael who was leaning against the wall, they still hadn't talked since that one breakfast fiasco.

Although the slightest of Y/N's departure had left Leonid at unease he didn't let it show, and it's not like they were leaving, Y/N promised to stay until the very end of this test.

Donatello stood beside the machine, a remote in hand. "Push on the bar as hard as you can, but if anything really hurts just stop."

"Yeah, then we'll draw yous a nice bubble bath and get you a massage." Raphael drew out with dry sarcasm, his hand made a squeezing gesture like that of a shoulder massage.

Although Leonid shouldn't expect anything different from the turtle in the red mask, his prodding was not what he thought he'd do. He reciprocated Raphael's mocking with a scowl over his wide shoulder.

Y/N spared the terrapin in red a frown, Cody was just unsure how to react but he too thought it was a little odd. What irked Y/N the most that even the brothers or master Splinter, although confused, hadn't said a word back. Something like "shut up, Raph" would just be enough and it's not that hard to say. But Y/N knew that if they were the one to say that then the two would end up arguing, and then would be asked to leave which is something they can't allow to happen.

"Okay, so," Donatello cleared his throat and got Leonid's attention again. "You'll sit here but I have to drop the force field, can I do that?" he asked, and deep down he knew for certain that Leo's clone wouldn't try anything.

Leonid nodded without hesitation with a soft humph, as odd as it may be an attack is not on his mind right now and if his brothers were there they might think of him as a fool.

Leonardo was already ready and on alert, hand gripping at the hilt of one of his swords at his shell.

The force field went offline and it was clear in the air that only very few were worried now that he was free and in full health.

For a second he lifted his giant arms to look at his hands. Pushing the bar is easy as cake, but he's subconsciously aware that his ribs may till hurt like hell.

Here goes nothing...

With gritted teeth and a growled grunt Leonid sat down inside the machine, gripped the metal bar above his head and began to push.

The sudden weight his lazied muscles had to lift was uncomfortable, it burned from the inside a bit as he tried to stretch straight up his arms midst pushing, and his lower ribs on the right side were aching but it wasn't painful yet.

At any other time this would have been a piece of cake, but now Leonid's breaking a little sweat. It agitated him to look so weak in front of his enemies, his clone, the boy, and Y/N...

Donatello watched the raising numbers on the remote's screen, Michelangelo sneaking up closer behind him to have a look because he was curious to a fault. The turtle in purple rubbed one of his three fingers over his chin as he calculated inside his brain, thinking the situation over.

"By this time I expect more muscle strength." Donatello looked from his screen at Leonid to observe closely. "The mass is there but we may have to hold him a few more weeks just to make sure."

"Maybe we should change his diapers too." Raphael's snide remark was so sudden and unexpected that it brought back Leonid from his thoughts, he looked over with a startling gasp at the smaller terrapin that approached and he could feel his elbows momentarily buckle. "And how about a bottle while we're at it?"

Cody immediately grasped onto Y/N's arm with a slight tug as he watched the scene unravel, a silent plea for them to do something because he didn't like where this is going, that feeling was mutual on Y/N's side too.

Raphael went past his younger brother and his twin, right over to the machine and the blue turtle that is inside it, as if suddenly charged up with the pent-up emotions he had been bottling under his shell this whole time.

As soon as Michelangelo slowly backed up to Cody it was Y/N who took his empty spot by Donatello. Ready to interfere if no one else will, it just seemed like everyone was curious where this will lead to and what is Raphael's intent.

"SHUT UP!" Leonid growled as he snapped his desperate order as soon as Raphael got too close to his liking, he had to look away and squeeze his eye shut.

This made Raphael want to poke even deeper. "I mean, how old are you anyway? Just a few weeks out of the test tube? Then we shouldn't push the widdle guy so hard!" he gesgured at the clone and looked back at others, as if wanting allies on his side.

No matter how much Leonid wanted his brain to focus on the heavy weights to lift the small terrapin's mocking voice kept drilling into his ear, the helplessness and vulnerability he was cornered into felt unfair, making the rage slowly bubble up to the surface. The machine slowly and unnoticingly at first began to creak and groan.

And to mention his creation out of everything, something he tries to forcefully forget every night when falling asleep, to forget the pain and how afraid he felt.

But here is Raphael, spitting that into his face again, he doesn't even know what he's talking about! He wasn't there! He wasn't a damn lab rat to be made into a slave, nor his brothers!

Leonid didn't ask to be made! He didn't ask to be cloned!

Y/N finally snapped, having enough of him trying to ridicule their guest, this was down right cruel. "Raphael!"

"Raph! What are you doing?!" Leonardo shook off his stunned expression, although it still held some puzzlement under that strict frown.

A guttural, almost animalistic roar along with creaking metal shocked everyone. With groans and growls that wavered because of the struggle, Leonid began to push the bar harder, higher, and past it's limit quite quickly as he tried to let out his anger that began to pressure his shoulders and squeeze at his lungs — begging for it to be let out. It blinded him and with no care that the machine began to break down in a series of creaks and cracks and whipped electricity that buzzed and nipped down the bones of his hands, he kept pushing.

Donatello didn't like the sound of the alarm on his remote and he quickly pressed few buttons, to foresee the damage and see the health results. "He's definitely feeling better...!" he sounded alarmed, anxiety crawling up at his lungs for he didn't know what to do with that giant of a turtle that ignored his surroundings and really wouldn't listen to reason but the machine is not going to hold much longer if he keeps this up.

"Hah!" Raphael shouted with triumph, pointing at the clone with accusation before turning it into a pumping fist. "I knew you were fakin'! Playing possum so you can jump as later!"

Y/N inhaled sharply, trying to get every last bit of courage in their lungs as they stalked towards Raphael, grabbed him by his muscular shoulder with no care if their nails dug into the skin or the armor and turned him around, yelling into his face. "Enough! Stop it! You're worse than—"

They couldn't even finish their sentence when with Leonid's last cry of anger the machine blew up in a thick black smoke, whipping both Y/N and Raphael away onto the ground while others ducked down to avoid such fate.

Although it knocked the air out of their lungs, Y/N was alerted enough to see a metal, ripped piece of the machine incoming at abnormal speed. They quickly pushed at Raphael's chest by repelling from their kneeling by their toes to quickly close the gap, he fell onto his shell.

A burning, sharp pain ripped across Y/N's upper back and it felt like as if their bones were tingling. In their heroic attempt, they put themselves in danger and took the hit. But it was better than Raphael being headless!

Y/N yelled with bursting tears in their eyes, body curling forward and their forehead hit harshly against the cold floor once they fell.

They couldn't notice the falling metal collum of the machine, detaching from the whole thing, right at their curled and trembling form. But Leonid did. And in just a nick of time, with something squeezing painfully at his heart and his guts in a twist but the general pain as if numbed, he jumped onto his feet and in one wide jump closer he punched the heavy metal away with his left forearm that was supported by the grip of his right hand for a better strong-arm.

The threat was effectively disposed of and Y/N was partly unharmed. Leonid couldn't understand it but such sight in front of him made him feel..... so many things he couldn't name but knew were very negative, but there was also this strange relief.

Without a thought he fell on his knee and leaned to Y/N's curled body, their soft sniffles had his heart hurting. The back of their shirt stared to get soaked with their own blood. The metal panel wasn't that sharp to leave behind a clean cut.

He wanted to put his hand on their shoulder, comfort them the same way they did once when he was in pain and the meds hadn't yet kicked off.

But his hesitancy stopped him.

Maybe he would have done bigger damage than help.

The familiar anger surged through him again and he aimed it at the turtle by his left. Leonid, wouldn't he had a second for recollection, would have tackled Raphael while he was still down on the ground but he just towered over him with a rumbling, teeth-baring growl full of hate until the force field surrounded him again and Raphael was shielded from his wrath. And Leonid was grateful, he would have thorn the small turtle to pieces.

When Leonid pushed himself to stand, glaring down at Raphael with resentment, from the corner of his peripheral he saw Y/N being treated by Donatello with Cody by their other side as they tried to kneel up. And Leonid was really... really glad that they're alive. But he wasn't done with Raphael yet, and his other two brothers by his side aren't going to stop him.

"Think you're pretty smart. Think you figured me out." Leonid spat as he leaned just an inch over the sitting turtle, his wide and pent up shoulders casting a shadow over Raphael and he was clearly uncomfortable even though he tried to hide it behind his glare. "You don't understand anything about me!"

Raphael couldn't move a muscle, his brain didn't will it as he stared up at the blue clone that just saved his friend's life without hesitation and now he felt like he must be gaslit into thinking he's the bad guy here, he didn't like it but he had no words on his dry tongue to grasp.

"But it doesn't matter," Leonid's tone was a manifestation of defeat itself, his deep and growelly voice turned ever-so-slightly softer. "I'm just a monster." looking away, with his last words he walked back to the broken machine, just enough away from them to have a room to breathe without raising a suspicion that he's trying to escape.

Leonid just can't understand what came over him. It was none of his business if their human friend would've ended up squashed but his body acted faster than he expected. He could have wrung Raphael's neck before the shield came back online, but he couldn’t make himself to do it. Why? Had the month that he spent here made him go soft? Especially towards his enemies? He has a purpose being here and it would have been "two birds by one stone" situation. Perhaps it's better he didn't took the opportunity or he would have been way far away from the goal he's nearing.

But is Y/N really okay?

Closed fist collided against the already-broken-enough machine with a repressed growl in his throat. The tense pressure didn't go away. In fact, it got worse.

"Stupid human!" Leonid growelled those words with no spite and as silently as he could.

Y/N got themself hurt and now they're paying for the foolishness. But maybe if he hadn't lost his self-control in the first place...

Thinking of them in pain, curled up and bleeding had him more on edge. And why?! He's a sadist at heart! He should be laughing at their agony! Why is it just making him angry instead?! Is it because deep down, no matter how much he tried to deny that feeling, his consciousness had him in a turmoil of guilt?

There was always someone to blame.

He is to blame.

That's how he feels and thinks it's the most logical explanation.

It's his fault that Y/N ended up wounded. That his naive foolishness of letting them close enough to have his emotions affected like this, that he cares, now he has to deal with this blame of himself.

He hates it! He doesn't want to feel this way! Life was much simpler before he came here, before he met Y/N!

It's his own fault that he got himself into this, he detests—

A sudden approaching presence had Leonid look over his shoulder, startled. The turtle from whom's DNA he was cloned from stood behind him with an unreadable expression, but his katanas weren't drawn. But the clone didn't know what to expect now, he'd quite messed up.

Leonardo, with a simple order to his clone, took him back to the medbay and fortunately Leonid didn't had to see Raphael's face on the way back since everyone left before those two did.

Donatello and Cody were in the Medbay already, backs to the entrance, but the only thing that grabbed Leonid's attention like a stop sign was a long, open gash over Y/N's shoulder blades. The terrapin in purple already had it cleaned and was beginning to stitch it up, Cody held onto a little tray with doctor's instruments and the other hand was gripped by Y/N's trembling hand.

"You coming?"

Leonardo's voice grounded Leonid once again. He didn't even notice he stood like a statue at the open door and stared a little too long at Y/N's bare back, his clone patiently waited for him.

With a gruff grunt he descended down the stairs and automatically walked over to his bed to sit down while facing the big window, keeping his gaze at his two-toed feet. Leonardo used the remote to keep the force field in place so he wouldn't be able to roam around again before he joined the three, wanting to inspect the damage himself to have some sort of piece at heart, he was worried sick.

"Will you be alright?" the older turtle brother asked as soon as he walked over the desk to be face to face with his friend, hand gently placed at their knee.

Y/N was squeezing onti their shirt they held by one hand to cover their front for decency, avoiding being naked as a wee baby, fingers ticking at every prickle of the needle. They were grateful that Donatello went slow. Looking up at the blue masked terrapin, tugging on a lopsided smile was a failed attempt to soothe his worry. "Other than sleeping on my stomach for some time, and not to mention it will be itching like hell soon enough, I'll live."

Everyone actually appreciated that silly attempt of a joke, but it didn't sweeten Leonardo's distress that much. "Y/N..."

"I'm the one getting needled through, let me ease up or it will take the whole house to restrain me." they sighed with a little distress and discomfort, wiggling on the spot for a bit.

Leonardo's grip slightly tightened before his big thumb rubbed gently over their knee. "Alright, alright. But if it gets worse we will drop you off at a hospital, whether you like it or not."

"RogeEEEE—!!?" Y/N nearly jumped from their skin as the next stab of the needle was a bit too painful for them, their grip on Cody's hand tightened roughly and Leonardo put both hands on each of their knees to hold them down. "Ow! Ow! Ow...!" their yell became a whimper.

"Almost done." Donatello muttered, concentrated on his work.

"You're doing great, Y/N!" Cody tried to encourage them, voice slightly pitched for his hand still throbbed with slight stinging pain from Y/N's hold.

Although trying to keep good on his silent promise to himself, Leonid had to look over, Y/N's distress put him on edge and he felt... helpless.

And it made him all the more angrier.

It proved all the more that he became pathetically soft for worrying so much, but because of Y/N's personal story from earlier he at last had a clue about those emotions he's feeling and, partly, why.

Leonid looked out the window stubbornly, even had to force his muscles into obedience to turn his shell on them again.

"Ahh, tell me it was the last stab?" Y/N whined.

"You're making Donnie sound like a murderer." Cody chuckled wholeheartedly, rubbing his thumb over their knuckles, and it made Leonardo break into a soft smile.

"Oh, come on you guys, I'm not that twisted." Donatello tutted playfully, grinning slightly.

"Not yet anywa-AUCH!! Damn!!" Y/N yelped, little tears stinging the corner of their eyes. Thankfully, it was the last stitch, they registered it by the snap of the thread being cut.

"Sorry," Donatello murmured softly, placing the needle and scissors back on the tray Cody held. "I will have to bandage you to make sure you won't move, rip, or irritate the stitching. I think you two should leave, I can do this by myself."

"Right." Leonardo curtly nodded and patted Y/N's crown affectionately. "Come on Cody, let's check on others."

And by others, he meant Raphael.

After they left and it was certain they wouldn't return, Donatello picked out a roll of bandages from the small kit and Y/N already waited with their shirt on their lap and lifted arms from their sides.

Donatello tried to make it quick for their sake, but wasn't any less effective with his work.

"Man, was it always this cold in here?" Y/N weakly chuckled, watching goosebumps awaken and little hairs stand on their arms.

"Hmm, there's an open window in the hallway, the cold air could be coming from there." Donatello answered casually, the cold didn't really bother him since it wasn't freezing but perhaps this was a hint that Y/N wanted to have some privacy with Leonid for the last time. He didn't question it.

When Y/N's back was bandaged and some painkillers were handed over to them, Donatello left and they put their shirt back on carefully, any straining movement pulled at the stitching and was near painful. With an inhale of bravery, Y/N walked over to their quest, facing his dark-blue shell that has four sharp spikes growing from the edge of it, two each by the sides of his head. They added a certain charm to his look, Y/N did not stare at them all the time — nope. Not at all wondering if a minimal contact with the pointed end is sharp enough to make one bleed, noooo....

"Heya, Lee, thanks for that quick save. You didn't get hurt too, did you?" Y/N interwined their fingers, hands resting against their lower navel.

Leonid debated with himself what is the better option; talk or be silent. If he were to chose latter option it wouldn't make them leave, he's sure of that. But what is he to make out of their chirpful tone? He just saw that painful wound. That flesh-thorn, raw, nasty wound that was fatefully inflicted because of his temper.

But a human can't take such an injury this well, they're too fragile... That's the impression he got since the day he held one by their throat. Y/N may yet change another one of his views on life, a different perspective he hadn't experienced in his quick-birthed life with twisted views from the very origin of Sh'Okanabo's DNA.

"Why did you take th' hit?" Leonid forced himself to ask, teeth bared and rumbly voice low.

The question got Y/N slightly confused. Didn't they just talk about it this morning? But the fact he began talking back they didn't want to stall with an answer. "Raph can be a jerk at times but he's family. I'd risk my life even if it was someone else in his place."

Something twisted and flipped his gut. He did not like that answer. Y/N is way too kind, especially to those like Raphael, and it is why they get hurt the most!

"You could've been the headless one!" finally looking over his shoulder at them, voice raised a notch as his brows pinched into a frown lines on his forehead.

Without a bat of an eye, they answered; "I know. But it didn't happen."

Leonid was on his feet within seconds, irked, wide shoulders squared up and almost hitting into the force field that is in his way, preventing him from touching Y/N — not that he was about to hurt them but automatically he wanted to put his hands on their shoulder and kneel down to stare at them eye-to-eyes.

"You're so stupid!" he growled down at them but there was no heat of resentment behind those words. It was worry.

Y/N smiled sardonically for a second. Then they nodded before meeting his gaze just as sharply, yet gently at the same time while they came up with another creative comeback. "Yeah, maybe even insane, but I would do it again... Even for you."

Taken aback, Leonid straightened with a strangled inhale, golden eye wide open as he was fighting his speachlessness. "... Tch! Oh, please...!"

Y/N jumped into his retort before he could continue. "You saved me. And I owe you one! Besides, it's the least I can do for a friend. If you'd ever need help with something, feel welcome to ask me anytime."

"No... No, I won't! Because we. will. never. meet again after this. We are not friends! Freaks and humans don't do the pitiable bonding thing." Leonid argued back stubbornly with an echoing growl, hitting lightly the side of his fist against the transparent shield not to cause an alarm and leaned against that forearm.

Y/N watched his frown twist deeper, taut mouth exposing a half of front fangs. They took a step closer to the shield instead backing away like any other logical person would. "Why do you say that—"

"Look at me! You ain't blind not to see what's wrong with all- all this!!" Leonid leashed out, the raw rumble of his growl must have vibrated through the ground because Y/N could feel it their bones. It was a very odd tingling in a sense that it didn't made them feel any close to uncomfortable, quite the opposite. But the blue terrapin, unfocused on things around him as he kept on ranting, didn't even notice the slightest change of their demeanor.

Y/N watched his big hand gestues, flapping up and down by his plastron's chest of unnatural color close to a lime's peel, it was quite a contrast against the blue of his skin, the purple armor and the small pop of red here and there but it complimented his honey-colored eye.

"The only reason I helped was 'cuz I didn't wanna take th' damn blame, those small runts would have thrown it at me, but it looks like I'm still at fault even after saving your necks!— Guess where I'll be going? To jail! For the rest of my life, like any other freak! So, yea, you are welcome, Y/N!"

It felt like he has a baggage of emotions he had no clue what to do with, they could tell that he needs to let it out. Leonid was always the one who did the listening, now it was Y/N's turn.

"I-I don't care about you one bit! Because if I would— I would be the stupid, insane fool just like ya are for wanting to befriend a monster itself!!" there was something that wavered his tone, it wasn't anger, no matter how furious he tried to look.

Y/N gave him all the room he needed, they to each and every word his heavy heart spilled. Once he caught a breather after letting out out, Leonid was suprised with himself and hopelessly stared at Y/N as if he would have the confirmation that he either went insane or them confessing to not paying attention, a part of him didn't mind if it would be the second option.

But by the look of it they hang onto every world. "Shit."

Letting the silence settle for a little longer, Y/N swept their observant gaze over his face, maybe waiting if he would wish to continue amd what is it he fears to hear.

Leonid's attention dropped onto Y/N's lips that opened ever-so-slightly and with a gentle inhale the air filled their lungs and it felt like a preparation for another word that would punch out his own breath, leave him dizzy, and his heart will yearn to understand another new thing that he'd learned.

It makes him feel like a fool.

"Well... Well, I guess, it's a good thing you're no monster. They aren't capable of feeling, or just barely have one or two emotions." Y/N susurrated, trying to put them in a more lighthearted mood while not dismissing his feelings. They lifted their right hand and placed their palm on the transparent shield.

Leonid's face softened at the slight droop of sadness in their voice but looking at the welcoming openess of their hand had his limp left arm rise and his own three-fingered was invited to be placed over Y/N's. Although the force field was cold, and had an odd buzz sensation to the touch, he could feel the heat of their human skin that spread through him. He wished he felt that warmth the first thing he was let out of the lab tube, and for the rest of his days.

"... I wasn't born, I was made. So how can ya say I'm nothing close to a freak?" Leonid exhaled a little defeatedly, his forehead made a contact against the shield, bringing him that much close to them.

Without noticing, Y/N was a step closer to the force field too, staring at their hands and the contrast of how his is thrice the size. "You are still a living being before anything else. You deserve to be treated like anyone else, same goes to your family and I feel ashamed I can't do much with how others treat you with caution..."

There was a pang at his heart because of her genuineness, exhaling though his bared fangs and half-open lips softly created a fog puffle right in front of him.

Leonid blinked to consciousness from the staring before using his forearm to rest his forehead on instead on the harsh surface.

He opened his mouth, prepared to tell them they don't have to feel that way, that it didn't matter to him, that he didn't care but it would have only been half of a truth.

Y/N beat him to ask their question that had plagued their thoughts right after that accident at the Holo Dojo. "Why do you hate yourself so much...?"

Leonid didn't know how to answer that, nor if he should answer at all. "I just do" answer doesn't feel enough of a reason now that he had it on the tip of his tongue. He has so many reasons but it's hard for him to word, he didn't know how, and if Y/N takes everything to heart wouldn't it burden them unnecessarily?

Y/N watched him close his eye tightly, a deep frown pinched between his brows, his thin blue lips pinched is and they worried Leonid is forcing himself to answer when he doesn't want to.

"Don't- don't answer if you don't wanna. No one has the answer right away either, don't worry about it." Y/N softly tried to reassure him, tilting their chin just an inch away from the cold force field but subconsciousness denyed its presence there for a second. "And you still have time to learn about yourself, don't forget that." they offered him a smile.

Leonid looked back at them, holding in breath without realizing as he let the words sink in before he slowly exhaled, tension leaving his body and suddenly he felt a little tired. Their words were somewhat comforting.

Y/N took the time to discreetly jawn into their palm. The painkillers seem to have finally kicked in.

"Go rest..." Leonid gravelly voice had a softer tone, it was pleasing to listen to.

They stared at him before eventually nodding. "Alright, but right back at ya. I will prepare you the breakfast I promised, tomorrow." Y/N's smile was big and reached their tired eyes.

Leonid let out a small, throaty chuckle at which Y/N's eyes sparkled with glee once registering that sound. His responce was a nod with a rumbly hum. Their refreshing kindness always left him wonderstruck.

Forcing themself to push away from the force field but Y/N kept on looking up at Leonid with a graceful, yet a little silly, toothy smile. It was... the most adorable look he'd ever recieved in his life.

Y/N waved one last time by the doorway and Leonid watched them disappear into the hallway, straining his ears until he couldn't hear the sound of their feet on the polished stone floor then letting out a long sigh before sitting back down on his temporary bed and looked forward for another home-made, warm breakfast.

Leonid just didn't know that fate that night had other plans for him and he'd have to leave with his brothers' help without a proper goodbye to Y/N and the food they'd work hard on to make just for him.

Perhaps in the distant future, he would be able to visit the O'niel Penthouse with his brothers as guests and not enemies but not now when he still has to deal with Darius Dun's abuse. But not for long, he had enough to be treated like trash and witness his brothers getting bruised by that disgusting human male that like a coward uses a big metal suit to dominate over them. Soon that man won't even know what hit him and then Leonid and his brothers would be free.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #dark leonardo #dark leo #Leonid #tmnt x reader #tmnt fast forward #teenage mutant ninja turtles fast forward #reposting is so much pain you guys X'D

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 5a

*Warning Adult Content*

Come Over - Part 1

- Everett -

Everett has only left the house once in the past week and that was to go grocery shopping with his parents.

Things have been pretty quiet ever since The Incident that happened at Club Inferno.

Almost too quiet.

Though that hasn't stopped Everett from annoying Knox to no end.

He's texted the grumpy biker every single day since being back home, half of his messages being chaotic memes and the other half telling Knox what was going on around the neighborhood, which wasn't much.

"You're no fun at all," Everett mutters to himself after receiving another lame reply from Knox.

The guy isn't very talkative, his responses mainly being one to two word replies.

"Dickhead probably doesn't even appreciate the daily updates I've been sending him. I should stop wasting my time."

"On what?" Gary, Everett's father, asks after entering the living room.

He sinks into his favorite chair and begins flicking through the channels on TV, eventually stopping on a soap opera.

"You're not having boy troubles again, are you?"

"Something like that," Everett mumbles.

He slips his cell phone into his pocket and then stretches out on the couch, staring out the living room window while wondering what he'd be doing right now if his life hadn't imploded a week ago.

"Hey, dad. Can I ask you something personal?" Gary chuckles.

"Depends. How personal are we getting?"

"It's about death," Everett clarifies.

"Are you afraid to die?"

"Oh, uh..."

Gary takes his time while thinking about his answer.

The question doesn't come as a shock because Everett has always been a little eccentric.

"No, I'm not afraid to die. I've done all I wanted to do on this earth, and the thought of being reunited with your mother... well, I'm looking forward to seeing her again."

"Yeah, I miss her, too."

"Do you think she'd hate me for entertaining Sarah?"

Everett shakes his head, smiling.

"She wouldn't have wanted you to be alone and miserable down here. I know I definitely didn't want that for you."

"I couldn't tell back then," Gary laughs.

He's a short, chubby man with popping joints and a kind heart.

The type to give you the clothes off his back if asked nicely.

The only thing Everett received from his father was his chocolate eyes.

Gary often jokes that Everett's height and good looks come solely from Maxine, his biological mother.

When she passed away, she didn't go alone.

She took pieces of them with her, too.

"I'm sorry I was an asshole and gave you such a hard time at the beginning about dating again," Everett says. "Sarah's honestly a cool chick. I really like her."

"She likes you too and so does little Emily."

Gary smiles.

He lowers the volume on the television when his show goes to a commercial break.

"What's got you thinking about death, son? Is there something going on that I need to know about? You know you can tell me anything."

Everett sits upright and sighs, his eyes lingering on the copper flooring.

"There's so much senseless violence happening all over the world. It makes me wonder when my luck will run out and who's victim I'll become..."

"Everett, what is..."

The sound of the doorbell going off disrupts the conversation.

Gary tries to keep it going but Everett brushes him off to answer the door.

For a split second, the image of a tall and brooding man with enthralling grey eyes pops into Everett's head.

It's replaced in a flash after he opens the door to see Alissa and Michael standing on the other side, both of them looking upset.

"What are you guys doing here?" Everett asks, nervously shifting on his feet.

"I told you we could hang out next weekend, remember? Right now I'm busy with..."

"Keeping us in the dark?" Alissa interrupts.

Everett blinks, playing confused.

"I caught a biker circling my block today. I don't know how long he's been doing it but today I caught him in the act. When I stopped him and threatened that I would call the cops unless he left for good, he told me he was looking after me because you had requested it." Everett swallows hard.

"I, um..."

"Same guy has been lurking around my place as well," Michael adds.

"What's going on, Everett? Does this have something to do with Shaun? And why have you been ignoring us in the group chat? You've been acting weird ever since the shooting, man."

"Which is completely understandable considering Shaun meant something to you."

Alissa places a hand on Everett's arm and squeezes gently.

"Whatever is going on, whatever it is you're going through right now, you don't have to do it alone. We're your best friends, Everett. Ride or fucking die. So, what's up?"

"Everything."

Everett rubs at his throbbing temples, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Let's talk about this in my room. I don't want my dad to hear anything."

Michael holds a hand out in front of them.

"Lead the way." 

Everett feels heavier with each step that he takes.

His thoughts are spiraling and his chest is tight with anxiety.

He's been avoiding meeting with his friends in person for a good reason.

Telling them the truth about what happened to him after he fled Club Inferno will only drag them further into the hot mess he's in.

Then again, they might be safer knowing what it is they're up against rather than not. Hopefully, with Knox's help, he will.

"Alissa, that biker wasn't lying. He's watching after you two because I asked for it," Everett starts.

He settles at the head of his bed while Alissa and Michael sit at the foot.

"I can't say too much but before Shaun was shot and killed, he got into a fight with a member of a rival gang. That's what started everything... and I was right there to witness it all."

"Shit, man. That's intense," Michael says. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Why didn't you tell us this before, Everett?" Alissa asks, her expression pained.

"We could've been by your side. You didn't have to process that trauma alone."

"That's the thing. I wasn't alone," Everett whispers, his mind drifting back to Knox.

"Shaun's rival is The Fallen Angels, and they're who took me in afterward. At first, they wanted to know if I had any dirt on Shaun and his MC. When I convinced them I didn't, they let me stay the night at their clubhouse. Long story short, they offered me protection against Shaun's crew, The Jackals, until their beef ends."

"Why, though?" Alissa asks.

"What reason would Shaun's people have to come after you? I can't think of one. I mean, it's not like you set him up to get killed that night. Sounds to me like that fight is to blame, plus whoever shot him, not you."

"That's true," Michael says.

"But Everett just said he was right there to witness the fight and the shooting. I don't know shit about MCs but I bet The Jackals will want to hear the story from Everett's point of view. Problem is that they can't because he's currently being guarded by their enemy, which isn't a good look at all."

"I know. This is why I don't want to be seen hanging out with you guys in public, because then The Jackals might try to come after you to get to me," Everett explains.

"If I could go back in time, I never would've given Shaun my number. God rest his soul, wherever the fuck is but I wish we had never met."

Alissa shakes her head in disbelief, her brown skin looking paler.

"This is crazy. I can't believe we're in the middle of a gang war between two rivaling MCs. What fucking Wattpad novel did we trip and fall into? Because I want out."

"Let's try to stay positive."

Michael pats at her leg, but Everett doesn't miss the panicked look in his eyes.

"Everett's new friends are going to protect us."

"Are these the same friends responsible for putting Shaun six feet under?" Alissa questions, staring at Everett.

"You saw the shooter, right?"

Everett huffs, frustrated that he can't reveal everything.

"Yes but I can't say who..."

"You don't have to give a name. I know it's one of The Fallen Angels," Alissa interrupts.

"They're offering protection in exchange for you keeping your mouth shut, aren't they? Why else would they willingly put their lives on the line to look after three nobodies? Fuck, dude. I don't like this at all. We should go to the police instead..."

"No," Everett immediately shuts her down. "The Jackals could have them in their back pocket. I hate it to say it but we can't trust anyone right now. No one outside of The Fallen Angels. I've heard things about them, so I know they're more than capable of keeping us safe. Try not to worry too much, okay?"

Alissa scoffs.

"I don't understand how you're so calm about this. TMI, but it legit feels like I'm about to shit myself right now."

"For our sake, please keep it inside." Michael laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm not trying to live the rest of my life with that image burned into my head." 

Movement by the door captures everyone's attention.

A familiar face comes into view, one that sets Everett's insides on fire and not in a good way.

"If you both want to stay alive, I highly suggest you listen to your friend Everett," Finn smirks.

[castle-dominion]

5x5 probable cause

plot heavy one, idk if I want to watch it rn. Maybe I'll use the extra 20 minutes I won, even tho the dvd set is due soon.

(also just remembered a song: hey dom hey what show me how you buffalo I'll show you how I buffalo with my hands up high & my feet down low, this is how I buffalo buff-alo bu buff-alo, buff-alo, buf buff alo hey next person)

Ok so I did indeed spend some of my minutes reading a fic idea to my brother for his opinion bc he's smart but he gave no thoughts.

Why wouldn't tess pick up the mail? She's dead that's why Oh no blood oh it's still dripping Oh yo that is gross af

lmao castle comes out with a sword Oh yeah. College. Laundry. Oh yeah. College. Visiting home & eating food. RC: what abt your laundry? My lil bro: What about your lung water? love how the guitar sound plays while he toys with the orange juice

Lanie won't sleep for weeks? doctor parish? who works with the dead? who has been to countless murder scenes? probs more than a hundred even Would you need a second person to help you put up the body

it WAS the roommate!

Why is ryan standing facing more to castle than the murder board? ig bc castle is speaking but... Make a copy of the symbol & run it through the internet

saturday, what day is it today? I like how the body is not super fresh like it usually is drugged? yep I was right!

ryan's outfit ooh so so nice. It is nicely woven & I might grab a pic. surgically wiped?

RC: Jewelry. I never would've thought of that. [for the crime finger prints] KB: I guess I'll have to remind you when my birthday's coming up. [telling rick to think of that in a different context] Esposito looks nice & all but he is just wearing a tshirt

Yeah, ok, tons of ppl forget to wipe their fingerprints off the outside of the apartment they just murdered in.

Lol he IS in the system, he has been arrested too much

Interesting editing & stuff. v nice. oh right, dun dun dun it's castle & all that csu got them first? I mean good... they always mess up the crime scenes

I had smth to say but forgot it bc I am not pausing the ep as much as I have in the past. espt has his gun

Not that you KNOW of first name? JE: Contaminated crime scene is not a joke. I'll square this away with CSU. You watch your hands next time, okay?

Looks enough like Someone We Know... Ok but isn't the juvvie file sealed until they actually commit a crime as an adult? This guy has not been proven to have done any crimes yet

Hm. Man has curlier hair than I expected. friday morning, friday evening... Hm I like his shirt. Kind of pink but faint squares patterned on it.

True, he would probably not be flustered

Ah good, they have a diagram of the sigil thing

KB: A diamond earring? KR: We found it in the couch. CSU couldn't pull a print off it, but you see the design? That's custom - Erica Courtney. JE: And you know this how? KR: I recognized it from when Jenny and I went ring shopping. [Esposito gives Ryan a teasingly dubious look.] KR: Anyway,

Looks like Someone We Know you can't see the hair colour there bro. Also othe nose is too long

first names & stuff.

*closes the door after becks leaves but before espt can, right in front of his face* Javi, there's something you need to know

Cut to the shock at finding out abt their relationship He looks ahocked af lmao Normally I'd be happy for them! Also neat to see his financials. Mostly car & cab stuff. A radio donation tho which sounds fun. So many first names this episode

Did I throw a party & forget again? XD At least he is seeing the warrant The way he waited for her to say who bought it for her implies he didn't know LT holding him back THE MUSIC WHEN HER EYES GO TO HIM DANG

If the killer was THAT meticulous, then he would not have left evidence like that in his own apartment

Find evidence. That is your job

When you look through castle's phone records we know well you only learned of it this day my dude reminds me of the "we're detectives" 'called your dad' scene

Yeah. Gates is probs the best for this interrogation His scalp moved lol RC: I'm flattered but it wasn't me! castle it is not best to point fingers away from yourself for the sake of getting them away from you. I mean it is, it is important that they investigate all avenues, but still. How does a burner cell send a messag efrom tess's phone? Paid companion is a nice way to put it

Girl you can check his word count, teachers use that technology to check how students are doing tests. It shows when the changed were made.

love martha's gloves the music is great saying "nobody could have gotten in" is not helpful

Remember back in like s2 or smth when becks said "don't worry castle I'd break you out" it was the galaxy of greg episode, the prison break episode yeah 3x5

the same way as tessa's? But the affair? Seriously? That was included in the details? Oof the music

sitting on the floor hhhh crying hhhhhhhhhhhh maybe he was already writing the dry run & killed her in strangling passion & then he used the written murder (which he as not planning on committing) to hide it & deleted the file to hide that fact

like a little boy so scared sdjdskhfjsh sad sad sad "fun?"

Oooh nice angle babes!

FREAKIN J ROOK? I DID NOT GET A CHANCE TO SEE THAT THE FIRST TIME HOLY CROWS 3XK??? but i don't think human noses can tho... do you legit prefer to go by 3xk? not the triple killer not jerry tyson not any other names you had? (btw, marcus gates killed two women & attempted killing another, NOT jerry tyson. I don't think we have actually seen 3xk kill anyone on the show yet. (I noticed that she was strangled with a scarf or rope when dr parish mentioned it earlier this episode but I didn't want to spoil it)

Yeah he really is thorough isn't he He's right, I did think that while he strangled her she is not blonde. Yeah was the writing style castle's? He already said that he prefers 3xk, ricky four years in prison. He was going to pin it on marcus gates, give his brother the surgery, & marcus would go to prison & then he could go killing again. That was his vanishing act. I thought u said u could smell fear not taste it I can see that. Destroy.. ..you,, better than kill not the daughter, not the making love, this is freaking horrifying, & I kind of love it lies of a desperate man, esp one who writes fiction Wait so you WILL kill him? or get him killed? Look into the guys he hired then! Look into the hitmen! lil bro: Scratch him! Get his DNA under your nails!

I wonder how ryan is reacting to this. castle's blue eyes are colourless in this lighting, I love it.

3xk targeted women to kill, he is not killing castle tho Ooh I always like ryan's square patterned shirts

"not at this time" is a great response

Been to central as a cop or as a prisoner esposito? & I like beckett's turtleneck too

I think Dever's acting is the only thing here,

who the heck is "jav"? That's like if a "P.J." was to go by "Peej" or "P" when PJ is already a nickname for peter jacob or paul james or whatever. lil bro: jav you found any evidence yet?

Oh wait... she is not thinking of holding's security for keeping him, she is thinking of it for breaking him out!! WHO got out of holding? Tyson? No, when? Wasn't it the CIA guy who also took a body? gates was like "how did he walk out the front door?" When was tyson ever in holding? He appeared in 3x6, then his gun in 4x14, & now in 5x5, but he was never in holding. 4x15 pandora thomas gage left holding. OH WAIT TYSON DID IT NOW, TODAY I love him too <3 <3 <3

castle still making jokes That flashback <3 Velasquez & LT! We know both their names! Oof he's just walking thry there, everyone sees him, look at that, also look at those boobs on that man. OH NO WHO TOOK HIM!?!?!?

OH NO 3XK KILLED HIM He IS well connected, he is well connected, has resources, & knows procedure, you're correct So what's our next *turns & becks is gone* ...Move?

Like ryan pretending to be a kid in the library in kick the ballistics man still needs to change his look the less you know DEFINITELY the better

Right! He really is the son of a broadway star

Wow lol weirdos there

wow it IS richard castle See? I said the nose is not right

I have not paused enough & I keep not writing things down but I am running out of my allotted time. Anyway I remember what I forgot: ryan doesn't get a lot of screen time, he is wading thru paperwork, he is messed up with this case, he is hurt & angry & doing everything he can to help castle & get 3xk.

looks "a bit" like the show's producer? yeah no

becks maybe don't reveal that you're with a fugitive...

lmao french serial killer Most ppl don't use initials. Calls them "kev" & "espo" & a little earlier "jav" <3

It is not going to be a person it will be a rotating fan or smth wearing their vests but not castle lol remember when ben conrad who wasn't ben conrad shot someone & then disappeared into the closet or smth? What if 3xk did that & he's still here?

Why is castle still here?

He should become a murder mystery writer then, if he likes the pageantry of killing but death only takes a moment.

VG: For this, at least. There's still the matter of your escape from custody. I like gates' looks right now. rly pretty, nice hair, nice red coat girl he escaped before, I'm sure he can do it again.

This is NOT just a place for a stationary conversation for the point of an interesting director's/writer's choice

running em off the bridge? Haven't we seen that already?

He fell back & she kept shooting, which, good, double tap, but she has decently good aim Is that blood on his face? WHERE did he throw away the gun? don't telegraph your location idiot

that is a lot of bubbling water

IT IS ALREADY DAYTIME & THEY HAVEN'T CHANGED?

just like james gillies. He is NOT that careless you are correct. But then why was he meticulous enough in other places? Because either way he would win? either castle dies & beckett lives knowing he was innocent, or castle escapes but 3xk fakes his death?

Just like derrick storm! It has to be public & it has to be final

For now

Ooh interesting outro music! I freaking love it! I should grab my fiddle! Holy moly! They wree right when they wrote this, it can be groovy spy music, it can be sexy 40s music, it can be silly little silly guy music, it can be tragic romantic music... It is a good little riff

Ok now that was incredible. I also wish we got more ryan time in this ep but they couldn't include it bc if they did they would have to include more of him to explain & resolve it. Or you know, maybe I'll be forced to write an episode tag fanfic.

I got off at 15.30, perfect timing!

but now I've spent a whole hour working on a fanfic with my little bro. a casefic dw.

#castle 5x5 #castle 5x5 spoilers #plot heavy #castle 5x5 quote #castle s5 spoilers #the third 3xk episode

[frenchtoastie]

I feel like every time I go to work I have a personal crisis about feeling like I don’t look my age

#as in I look too young #like I see high schoolers come to the register and the way they talk to me it’s obvious they perceive me as the same age as them #and so many of the high schoolers look older than I am these days??? #and the adults who come to shop there always sound shocked when I say something that gives away how old I am #like they’ll have questions about stuff + then I give them rlly insightful info about different products (I work @ a craft store btw) #and they’re like ‘oh? this is really helpful? you know a lot about this?’ #and I have to be like ‘haha yea I have a bachelors degree in design with an emphasis on graphic design and fashion/costuming’ #so many people have asked me when I was going to graduate and they meant high school but then I have to tell them uhhhh actually I graduated #college a bit ago and going to be 23 in a couple months #I look so young and no one takes me seriously until they find out how old I am and what ive done already #but by the time they find out it’s after I’ve told them everything they need to know and they’re done talking w me now #and then of course there are the times when I get gross comments when someone hits on me #it’s always been middle aged men who put an emphasis on me being young and cute #one guy once told me he was hitting on me because I looked like I could be the age of a daughter to him #and there was some dad who had a middle school age daughter shopping in the store and this dad was standing like right there in earshot #and I just like froze up while this old guy was telling me all these rlly gross things and I couldn’t make myself say anything #I was desperate for the parent to like maybe speak up but nothing #so I just finished the transaction silently while I felt so gross #i always think about that time; it makes my stomach so sick #anyway I know I have this crisis like once a month so sorry for everyone who’s seen me have this crisis before #it’s just #it never leaves me alone

[lily-blue]

13 reasons why | reason no.1: it has a warm-hearted owner

☆ characters: coffee shop owner!seungcheol & best friend!you (Hoyeon - ‘95 liner) ☆ genre: coffee shop au, best friends to lovers au, fluff ☆ summary: your love for each other with Seungcheol comes so naturally, it’s like it’s been there from the beginning ☆ words: 6,7k ☆ massive thank you: to @dat-town​ for proofreading this chapter ♥ as always, your comments totally made my day! ☆ dedicated to: @starry-hannie​ ♥ because i read it somewhere that you’d choose him as your husband from the band and well, this is the softest story i have ever written 👉👈

➼ chapter index

You had first met Choi Seungcheol in your fourth semester in Korea University, during your shared Professional Communications seminar where people from different majors could have learned how to sound more appealing and intelligent than they actually were during business meetings and investor parties. However, you two hadn’t spoken more than a few polite words until one Wednesday morning, after your presentation on the cultural differences in different business etiquettes, professor Im had completely destroyed you with his cross-questions in front of the entire class, and the boy had come to your rescue. According to his confession on the end of exam week party, where you two had drunk to not failing the seminar in spite of Seungcheol’s bravado - the boy had outright called the man out on his disgusting comments on your “charming body language” and “pretty mouth” -, he couldn’t have borne to watch your trembling hands a moment longer once you had tried to hide them behind your back and he had just needed to do something. A couple of drinks in yourself, Seungcheol’s slurred words and dopey smile had urged you to hug him tightly for being such an amazing person and so you had done so until he had blacked out on your shoulder in the middle of a crowded kitchen.

Although that night you yourself hadn’t been quite sober, either, somehow you had taken Seungcheol back to the three-bedroom apartment that he had shared with his two best friends and even stayed for the rest of the night courtesy of Yoon Jeonghan who had been a master manipulator in an innocent-looking body (and who had later on become one of your closest friends, but that was another origin story). 

Admittedly, you had thought that your friendship with Seungcheol would expire after a semester or two like how it had already happened in many cases when you had befriended someone in class, but it hadn’t. It had only grown stronger over the years, more accepting and more understanding in a way that it was almost intimate. It had survived not only your final year at KU or the one after graduation when you had been struggling to find a job, but it was still going strong to this day regardless of your capital letter Adult responsibilities.

After you got your first big project at the HR company where you were working full time for over two years, you were a little worried that you wouldn’t have enough energy to meet your friends as frequently as you were used to, but apparently the saying that one could always find time for things that mattered was very much true in your case. Also, your heart kept rejecting the word “no” when it came to Seoungcheol. Like how it did when the man woke you up on a fine Saturday morning and dragged you out of your home with the promise of a fulfilling breakfast, so that you helped him choose the perfect building for his own business: a coffee shop downtown of all things.

Even during the most draining exam periods in university, you had always rejected the idea of drinking coffee. Seungcheol knew this. Even Jeonghan and Joshua kept this in mind. But for some reason, your best friend still asked for your thoughts on the tiniest and most crucial details whenever he felt conflicted or was in need of a different perspective while building his own business. You were beyond shocked when he told you that he wanted you to be present when he signed the lease agreement - because seriously, you had passed your Introduction to Law class with a C while Jeonghan had literally majored in law and worked for one of the most successful firms in the country since he had managed to get himself an internship at said company -, but you went with him nonetheless because you wanted to support him and give him everything he needed. If he had felt like he would have rather had you by his side instead of someone who could have looked for flaws in the contract, who were you to deny him your endless faith in his capabilities?

His best friend. A cheerleader. A shoulder to cry on and a buddy to drink the night away with. You were many things for Seungcheol. Four weeks before the grand opening, you were an interior designer who spent every minute of her free time shopping for food-safe paint, cheap but quality porcelain, oversized coffee bean stickers and furniture sets online. Because you both wanted Coffee Carat to have a cosy and homey vibe while you also decided to not throw your money out the window just to have professional help. You were hard-working people with a precise work ethic. You could make it work in the harder but financially more pleasing way until you were there for each other to light up the mood with dad jokes and comforting hugs. Sure, Jeonghan and Joshua never failed to give you those glances when you crashed at theirs, eye bags prominent and limbs too sore to move, but you didn’t give them the time of day. You genuinely wished to see Seungcheol’s business thrive. It was his dream, after all, and his happiness was yours.

On the weekend when you agreed on turning the shop’s walls in different shades of beige and brown, you cut a few hours off your beauty sleep and woke up super early to have enough time for a quick visit to the bubble tea and coffee shop on the other side of the park where Seungcheol’s was located. Their baked goods weren’t as delicious as those heavenly custards, pies and cupcakes you had taste-tasted on Wednesday at the guys’ place, but they were strong on teas and tea biscuits which you both liked, so you weren’t complaining.

‘Yah! You’re supporting our future rivals, you realise this, right?’ A very tired-looking and disoriented Seungcheol screamed at you even before he reached the front door of the shop, his index finger accusingly pointing at the bag in your hands and the printed logo of Freefall, the youthful shop of your so-called enemy.

You rolled your eyes upon seeing his exaggerated frown and watched as he took his keys out of his jacket’s pocket then pushed it into the lock. From this angle and with your knowledge about him as a person, he looked more tired than annoyed, but you still added:

‘No. I’m supporting you because I know 6:30 is early for you, too, without caffeine,’ you said with a soft smile, putting emphasis on your own approach before you nodded your head as a sign of silent thank you when he tugged on the door handle and opened it for you. It was such a Seungcheol thing to do: holding the door for you when most people around you would have just entered first without thinking too much into the situation or of the person behind them.

‘Still…’ he grumbled and showed his keys back into his jacket’s pocket as he followed you inside the shop.

You were happy to see that he had already moved the new tables and chairs in the middle of the customer area and covered them with those transparent covers you had ordered last week. Not that you hadn’t prepared yourself for the draining preparations mentally, but this sight gave you more energy to start your busy day.

‘It’s still warm. Will you really not have it?’ You asked him from above your shoulder with your gaze settled on the backpack in his hands and the printed tee that he held out for you. It was a university tee way too big for your figure, but something you wouldn’t have to be too careful with during the painting. His thoughtfulness, like always, came both as a surprise and a constant in your life.

You turned around and walked up to Seungcheol, meeting him halfway because even when it was about a five-step-long distance, he never made you make all the effort on your own. The textile was surprisingly soft against your skin when he handed it to you.

‘Classic latte without extra sugar?’ He asked, eyeing the devilious bag with a pinch of doubt and hesitance in his chocolate brown orbs as if you hadn’t known his morning coffee by heart or you had been just like his flatmates who liked playing tricks on him regardless of time and location. Despite your own playful moments, you would have never pranked him when he was so sleepy and vulnerable. Not to mention that there were only four weeks left before the grand opening. That fact alone should have given him a free pass from everyone for the rest of the month because you all knew how stressed out he must have been behind his composed mask.

‘Would I dare feed you with anything else in the morning?’ The question fell from your lips playfully while you threw the tee over your shoulder and took his drink out of the bag with its secure holder. Feeling how full it was, you resisted the childish urge to shake it in front of Seungcheol’s face just to tease because you didn’t intend to accidentally pour its content all over yourself and the floor. A voice inside your head - alarmingly akin to Yoon Jeonghan’s pitched tone - told you that if that had happened, you wouldn’t have heard the end of it. ‘I also got us biscuits,’ you singsonged, excited to try the new items on Freefall’s menu since they had looked good when the owner’s granddaughter presented them to you, telling you about their flavours and the original receipt she had experienced with.

‘That, too? The betrayal!’ He sighed, earning another eye roll from you, an even less serious one this time. He was so dramatic.

‘I got them for free,’ you pointed out without going into too much detail about your friendly conversation with Eunseo who was two years younger than you two and a phenomenon to be around. Admittedly, it wasn’t the first time you had been in their shop, but you genuinely saw nothing wrong with slowly becoming their regular because they had tea and tea biscuits while Coffee Carat wouldn’t. And you loved those.

Deep down, you knew Seungcheol saw nothing wrong with it, either. And even if he had seen them as his future rival for real, he would have never tried to control you and from where you got your snacks and drinks.

‘Seungcheol… Cheolie~’ you pouted at him and batted your eyelashes with a piece of pink biscuit in your hand. It was strawberry flavoured and you bit into it with an exaggerated hum. It tasted so much better than their pies, their talent in baking these types of desserts was beyond you. ‘Look at it this way,’ you started with your mouth full. ‘If I got us more free biscuits from Eunseo, sooner or later, they would go bankrupt.’

The scoff that left Seungcheol’s mouth was airy which meant that he was fighting a laugh. It made you feel proud that despite your ridiculous attempt at acting cute, his spirit was lifted because of it even before the first sip of his latte.

‘Am I forgiven?’ You asked with a shiteating grin plastered on your face that only grew wider when Seungcheol clicked his tongue and shushed you away, rose tinted cheeks reassuring you that he wasn’t angry with you (and most probably had never been).

So you decided to go easy on him and instead of calling him out on his flustered appearance, you encouraged him to start drinking before the beverage could have gotten cold and took off your own jacket and knitted sweater, so that you could put on his oversized tee, right atop of your tight crop top.

By the time you got to start carrying the heavy paint buckets and painting tools out from the storage room, Seungcheol’s paper cup was empty and his energy level was reaching new highs which could only mean one thing: another long day at the coffee shop with hard work and bad jokes. But you it was okay, because regardless of the possible threat of paint in your hair and on your skin - or the soreness in your arms -, you wouldn’t have spent your weekend in any other way so close to the grand opening.

No matter how good (so good!) chilling at home sounded in theory.

Despite your eagerness to be there for Seungcheol through hell and high water - or maybe because of this mindset -, by the time there was only one week left until the grand opening, you started to feel drained even after the least tiring activities. It was hard to balance your new project, all those new responsibilities and your constant presence at Coffee Carat, but how could you not rush to the shop right after you sent the last email for the day when Mingyu’s texts made it obvious that your moral support was once again needed?

gyu 🧁: “at this point he’ll change the whole menu pls ㅠㅠ” gyu 🧁: “we’re here since seven” gyu 🧁: “i’m so tired i’m so tired i’m so tired ㅠㅠ” you: “omw” gyu 🧁: “yes!! thank you, noona!!”

The shop was half an hour from your workplace in good traffic, but it was already 6PM, so it took you almost twice as long to get there; hair dishevelled and cheeks rosy from the bare minimum of running. Still, Mingyu looked at you as though he had seen someone ethereal while your best friend was simply confused because you weren’t a part of their Coffee Carat group chat (only the CC family one) and he was sure that the photo he had taken of the massive amount of baked goods in front of him had been sent to only the former.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t happy to see you, though. His smile might have been tired and faint, but it was an attempt at one of those that was reserved solely for you.

Reciprocating his smile, you walked up to the boys and took a seat on the table next to Cheol and from across Mingyu. The sight of the table between them, full of cupcakes, pies and what not, was genuinely concerning and mouth-watering at the same time. Yet, you couldn’t stop wondering what could have been so wrong with them if your best friend wanted to change the whole menu so close to the finish line. They smelled so delicious.

‘What’s with this?’ You mouthed to the baker with furrowed eyebrows and he gave you a sad shrug in exchange, clearly lacking the answer. His pouty lips made you want to pout, too, but you knew that being sad together wouldn’t have solved the problem. 

So you put your bag on the floor in the base of your chair, got rid of your jacket and leaned your head on Seouncheol’s shoulder, stealing a peek at the paper in front of him. It was the same menu you had helped them come up with weeks ago, but it was also full of crossed words that you couldn’t make out.

You decided to deal with the dead end later and reached out for the closest cupcake which was still lukewarm to the touch. You took a bigger bite from it, knowing that Mingyu was an excellent baker, hence it couldn’t have been that bad, and your faith in the younger got paid off. It was soft and tasted like dark chocolate, but it also had something sweeter on the inside that melted on your tongue.

‘Hm, it’s delicious,’ you murmured between two bites, too content with the taste to raise your voice or take a break to form your opinion in an eloquent way. Seeing the younger’s proud puppy smile, you were sure that in the heavy silence of the shop, both boys could hear you clearly.

‘And we named it mint choco cupcake,’ Seungcheol groaned, the sound irritated and pained. It made your shoulders tense and urged you to lift your head from his shoulder so that you could look at his face from another angle. You didn’t like the furrow between his eyebrows, nor the way his fingers turned pale around the edges of the paper. ‘Why are we so bad at this, hah? No one wants lame cupcakes anymore,’ his real concerns fell from his lips a little easier now that you were there.

Seungcheol’s head fell forwards and his forehead met the firm surface of the table with a loud thud. You exchanged a worried glance with Mingyu, then put the half-finished cupcake next to the rest and turned towards your best friend with your entire body. 

‘Oh, come on! It’s not that bad. It’s a mint choco cupcake,’ you said with your hand on his nape. You wanted to massage the knots away from his neck and lighten his mood along the way with your carefree tone, but he seemingly didn’t have any of it that afternoon. He kept groaning and mumbling under his nose as though that could have magically solved all of his problems.

It was rare that Seungcheol chose complaining instead of working on a problem, so you knew that he must have felt really stressed and somewhat resigned because of the names they had failed to turn more fun with Mingyu. But lucky for him, you were the queen of puns and lame jokes and you also knew how to handle him when he was acting like this without getting upset with his attitude. You were indeed the best person the baker could have called for help.

‘Okay, okay. Then, what about… Refreshmint?’ You threw in your idea after a moment of silence, earning a grin from Mingyu. Not taking your hand off Seungcheol’s neck, you looked at the sweets on the table and pointed at another cupcake with your other one. ‘Oh! And you could call the strawberry one Berry Tasty.’

Your tinkling chuckle filled the atmosphere until you felt the boy moving under your slightly sweaty palm and it died in your throat upon meeting his eyes. He didn’t look annoyed nor did he look mad. But you couldn’t have helped but fidgeted while he was staring into your soul.

It wasn’t unheard of the two of you to hug each other. Ever since you had gotten closer, you had shared many different types of hugs with Cheol from comforting ones through tipsy ones to desperate, “I don’t want to let go of you” types. Therefore, when your best friend suddenly leaned in and wrapped his muscular hands around you, you welcomed the quickening pace of your heart with familiarity. You patted his head and raked your fingers through his hair when it became obvious that he needed a bit of time to speak his mind.

Despite the long days behind your back and the tiredness in your bones, you didn’t rush him. Not even when Mingyu gave you the glance, his eyes shifting from your face to Seungcheol’s figure over and over again as an attempt to urge you to push him. You knew that pushing him would have done more harm than good even if he might have talked to you if you had told him that you were tired. It had been your decision to come here, making him feel bad because of this would have been unfair and low of you (and of anyone else). After all, it was common knowledge by then for the employees of Coffee Carat that you would have rather skipped a few hours of chilling around at home than put extra burden on Seungcheol’s shoulders.

‘I hate these so much,’ your best friend mumbled against your chest before he pulled away and looked you in the eyes. ‘But for some reason, they’re working.’

The laughter that escaped your throat was amused. The kind that left your shoulder shaking without control and your head fell backwards just a little. It didn’t take too long, only a few passing seconds, but that didn’t take away its genuinity.

‘Leave it to Choi Seungcheol to make you feel appreciated,’ you said with a smile while you lifted your hands to your cheeks and wiped away your stray tears.

‘I appreciate you,’ he claimed confidently, still so close that his face was barely a few inches from yours. Only then you realised that he had never stopped hugging you and that if he had leaned a tad bit closer, you could have felt his breath fanning over your chin. Oh damn. Your heart hadn’t beaten this fast since his last birthday party, when he had missed your cheek after he had opened your gift and kissed your neck instead.

‘I know,’ you reassured him after a hopefully not so visible gulp. The warm smile you offered him and his determined focus on your eyes should have done the trick and concealed your sudden self-consciousness. But if it hadn’t, you decided to move forwards from that moment as though it hadn’t pushed your heart into a critical condition. Since it really wasn’t anything new. ‘I was just messing with you,’ you said, darting your tongue out like a child until Mingyu cleared his throat from across the table and tilted his head towards the light brown clock on the wall. Oh! Since when time flew so fast?

Knowing that the boys had started the day at the shop around seven, you ruffled Seungcheol’s hair with an affectionate smile and asked him to give you the list that he had been crumpling unintentionally. It wasn’t easy to come up with creative names for every item, but when a few of the guys came over for their share of promised free food and you presented your ideas for them, you were certain that you were doing great because neither Minghao or Jihoon showed distaste towards them. And you had named your white chocolate-orange balls Unstoppaballs, for goodness’ sake.

It was nearing 10PM when you finally deemed your list finished and let go of Seungcheol’s hand on your knee so that you could have stood up from your chair and stretched your sore limbs a little. Since coffee wouldn’t be the only beverage that Coffee Carat would serve for their customers, you walked up to the counter with the goal to find one of the fruit-flavoured syrups that were perfect for lemonades. And while you found the strawberry one without any trouble - although it was on a higher shelf -, you couldn’t prepare a glass for yourself in peace because Jeonghan chose this exact moment to join you with his characteristic, lopsided smile.

‘So…’ he started, elbows resting atop of the counter while you took a second glass off the shelf and filled it with sparkling water. It wasn’t how you usually made lemonades, but this was an equally good albeit faster version without fruit slices and other fancy stuff. You gave Jeonghan a look, telling him to spill the beans or shut up altogether, because you weren’t in the mood for his games. Luckily, he knew you long enough and well enough to understand the message without actual words and so he said: ‘About Cheol and you… When will one of you finally confess?’

If you wanted to be a hundred percent honest, you had seen this question coming. Because as far as you were concerned, Jeonghan might have had an ongoing bet with the fourth member of your infamous quartet regarding your relationship status with Seungcheol. And why wouldn’t he have had one? The three of you had had one, too, when Joshua had been together with his last girlfriend and you had been able to eat out for free for a whole week courtesy of the boys when the girl had broken up with the guy due to their different needs in a relationship. To put it simply: she had found Joshua’s endless love to give her overwhelming because she was too fixated on being an independent woman in a rather extreme way. She couldn’t have accepted a gift from a man to save her life.

The only answer you gave your friend was a shrug as you paid special attention to mixing his drink. You liked seeing him riled up because of human stupidity way too much to give in too easily. Not to mention that he deserved the torture. He had eaten your spring rolls last week when you had saved them on purpose for the morning and had had the nerves to blame it on Kkuma.

‘If this is your way of telling me “we are just friends, Hanie” so help me God, I’ll find a way to screw up your mornings for a whole month if not two,’ he claimed with a displeased scoff, rolling his eyes at you when you placed the strawberry lemonade in front of him.

‘But we are friends, Hanie,’ you said with a pout, coaxing a dramatic sigh out of your friend who clearly wasn’t having it. Too bad. Because you loved it when he was sulking. He looked so adorable then and to be fair, amongst a couple of your friends, you would have also done a lot of things for him when he was acting this way (a lot more than you would have done seeing his aegyo). It was a weakness he didn’t need to know about or exploit when he was already a master manipulator.

You watched him take a few sips of his drink and drank some from your own glass, missing the frozen berries that you usually threw in the sparkling water when you were mixing the same, fake lemonade at the guys’ place. Seungcheol was so good at grocery shopping. Somehow, when it was his turn to fill the empty shelves, they always had everything in their kitchen that you craved.

Smiling at the thought, you walked around the counter and stopped in front of Jeonghan. You put one of your elbows on the firm, wooden surface before you looked up at him with a smile in the corner of your mouth.

‘Not that I owe you an answer, but I’m planning to ask him out after the grand opening. He’s too stressed with the preparations, now isn’t an ideal timing,’ you explained quietly, knowing well that in your expanded friend group, keeping secrets was close to impossible. These boys walked in on everyone without knocking as though they owned every apartment at least one of you lived in, a few of them eavesdropped on anyone and everyone who could form coherent sentences and another handful of them had a bigger urge to spread rumours than any neighbourhood ahjumma you had encountered in your life.

‘It seemed pretty ideal to me in our last year of uni, too. Or when you two went on a vacation without us. Or when you and Seungcheol took off the same week from work last summer just to not do anything under the same roof for days,’ he listed a few “perfect opportunities” you could have grabbed, but honestly, at that time, none of these had felt ideal. And great timing was crucial in delivering a successful confession. One could have had the greatest speech of the century, the most romantic setting and the prettiest dress on, if their timing was bad, it could have blown into their face. And you had been too big of a mess in senior year to let that happen. For the other two mentioned occasions, you had good reasons, too. It was just that… at the moment, bearing your friend’s piercing gaze, it was mentally draining to recall them.

‘I’m a different person now,’ you retorted easily, willing yourself to not blink or look away first. You couldn’t lose against him. No. You would have rather let your eyes become the next Sahara or your tears roll down your cheeks than blink first.

‘Who is a different person now?’ The question came from your right, the familiarity of the voice forcing you to snap your head towards its owner. Freaking Choi Seungcheol and your trained brain that always reacted to his presence.

‘Me,’ you said with a smug grin, overconfidence radiating from your body - a clear attempt to keep the boys’ attention on you and avoid Jeonghan’s knowing glances for as long as it was humanly possible.

If someone had walked in on your trio and asked which of these two made you frown more, you couldn’t have chosen from Jeonghan’s scoff and Seunhcheol’s obnoxious laughter easily. They were both annoying.

‘No, you’re not,’ your best friend said once he calmed down and wiped away his nonexistent tears. You finished your drink in one go and rolled your eyes when he reached out for your hand, fingers sliding in between yours with ease. ‘Come on! I’ll take you home,’ he said as he tugged on your arm gently to pull you further from Jeonghan who quickly opened his mouth to complain, claiming that he was the one who lived with Seungcheol, so he should have been the one who got that offer.

You didn’t waste your energy pointing out that he had his own car parked in front of the café or that he should have hurried up before Seungcheol locked him inside the building like how he had accidentally done so with Mingyu during their lunch break two weeks ago when the younger had been in the storage room, organising the ingredients in peace with airpods in his ears. You had never gotten so many missed calls within twenty minutes than that afternoon.

The morning of the grand opening was a bit more hectic than either of you had predicted, but it was a mess in the most positive way of the word. Or so you thought based on the growing number of customers until your gaze landed on a panicky Seungcheol who stormed into the storage room as soon as he marched behind the counter. Worried, you followed him without thinking or caring about the fact that you weren’t allowed to enter the employees only areas when the coffee shop was open. So what if someone had seen you without at least wearing an apron? Your best friend needed you.

The first thing you noticed when you closed the door behind your back was that it was really quiet inside compared to the chaos on the other side. Then, your gaze fell on Seungcheol who was leaning his forehead against one of the metal shelves full of extra plates and glasses and you forgot about everything else. He looked so small despite his height, so vulnerable with his head hanging low between his shoulders that you didn’t hesitate to walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso.

You could feel his muscle tense and calm under your touch in a matter of seconds and you smiled without realising when he untied your hands and intertwined your fingers with his, pulling you even closer to his back even though that wasn’t quite possible.

‘I’m okay,’ he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. You were aware that he used this tone to reassure you that he was indeed alright, but you also knew that this didn’t always mean that he was. Which made you a tad bit more worried than you wanted to show.

‘I know you are,’ you replied in the same, calming voice nevertheless, because he didn’t have to worry about you, too, on top of everything else. 

‘There are more people out there than I expected,’ he admitted after a couple of heartbeats, his fingers playing with the silver rings on yours. Smiling like a fool, you wondered whether it was intentional when he slid his own on your thumb, securing it in its base without keeping up with the restless fidgeting.

‘Which is good,’ you claimed, slowly pulling away and turning him around so that you could take his face into your hands. You wanted to be able to look him in the eyes and see that he understood what you were saying when you repeated: ‘It’s a good thing.’

As though he forgot how to blink, he stared at you with shimmering eyes before he slowly nodded and said the same.

‘It’s a good thing.’

A part of you wondered whether this was another perfect opportunity that you refused to live with, but quickly dismissed the idea because clearly, just because the moment was ideal, the situation itself was off. Seungcheol had to go back to work and cheer his employees on while assisting them. It wasn’t a good time for throwing out big words in the open. It wasn’t a good time for I love yous.

‘You’ve got this,’ you said instead and he once again accepted your encouraging words with a nod and a grateful smile.

However, this time, before he walked away and left you alone with your thoughts, he leaned forwards and pressed his lips against your forehead briefly. He kissed you with such ease as though it would have been the most natural thing to do and you were just standing there like a statue until Minghao came in for extra cutleries and shoved out of his way with his shoulder in a hurry.

Dazed, you apologised and walked back to your table in the customer area.

Just like how you promised yourself, you stayed at the customer area for the rest of the day and made yourself busy by finding different ways to support your friends. You consumed as many glasses of lemonade as many flavours of pies they sold which was a lot. Then, you used the coffee shop’s special hashtag under each one of your photos that you uploaded for social media (and made Hansol upload for social media since out of everyone in your close friend group he had the most followers). You had a suspicion that the huge number of customers in the morning and after 6PM was his meme page’s doing, but you never really questioned him. Partly, because your knowledge wasn’t that advanced about Instagram and he was too humble to admit that he had this much influence, so you would have needed that extra grasp to make him talk. Mostly, because he was more silent while he was waiting for the closing time with you than he usually was and you didn’t want to push him too much.

Taking advantage of the fast wifi, you proposed a two-player game on your phones with Sol to kill some time and while you won only three times out of a dozen (unbelievable!), seeing him smile made you happy.

And your happiness just grew when the younger boy put his phone on the table and pointed at the front door with his index finger, signalling you that Seungcheol was about to turn around the OPEN sign that hung on the glass. You didn’t hesitate. You stood up from your chair and rushed to the counter to make a classic latte without extra sugar like how you had planned since you had been left in the storage room and for once, you couldn’t have been more grateful for Seungkwan’s tendency to not mind his own business. Because the blonde boy was so much better at using the super professional and super huge coffee machine than you.

After a rushed thank you and a hug that earned you an eye roll from the younger, you walked up to your best friend with a proud smile and held out the pleasantly hot beverage for him.

‘Congratulations, boss! I’ve never seen a more successful grand opening,’ you claimed even before he took the latte from you with his own, tired smile plastered on his face.

You watched as he collapsed on the nearest empty chair with a sigh and followed him, taking a seat right next to him.

‘Have you ever been to any grand opening?’ Seungcheol asked with a raised brow, eyeing you with suspicion. Since in the meantime, he also lifted his cup in front of his lips, for a split second, you weren’t sure whether he doubted your words or your coffee making ability more. Not that either of those would have been groundless of him. He knew you too well.

‘No,’ you admitted with a shrug, knowing that this didn’t make your compliment less sincere. You were happy for him. He could see it written all over your face. It was in your eyes, in your body posture. He couldn’t have missed it even if the two of you had been strangers, let alone with his capability to read you like you were an open book.

Seungcheol’s amused chuckle filled your senses and you watched him with heart eyes as he finally took a tentative sip from his favourite latte. Honestly, his surprise would have been slightly offensive if you hadn’t been aware that on your worst days, you could mess up even that instant coffee that the guys had in their kitchen. So you put up with his reaction and let him take your hand in his empty one with that giddy smile of his that was so him, your whole chest felt warmer when you saw it.

‘Delicious,’ he said, sipping on it diligently while his thumb drew small circles and eights on the back of your hand, once again creating the perfect moment, the perfect opportunity. It was time to confess to Seungcheol how you loved him more than a best friend. How you would have whined a lot more if it had been Jeonghan (or anyone else in your friend group, really, expect for the babies) whom you had helped out during the preparations. It was time and yet you said:

‘That only means, you don’t have to fire Seungkwan on his first day.’

You wanted to be angry at yourself for letting the moment pass again, but you were still there with Seungcheol and you still had time so you weren’t. For now, you simply enjoyed the boy’s attention on you and that small smile that seemed to sit permanently in the corner of his mouth. You hadn’t lost a single thing. In fact, you had so much. So why would you have felt anything other than contentment at a moment so cosy and homey?

‘I couldn’t have done this without you,’ Seungcheol’s statement broke the fleeting silence and you put your other hand atop of his and squeezed it with a fond smile.

‘Nah, I’m sure you’d have managed. I just made it more fun,’ you claimed confidently, but he shook his head. And as he stared right into your soul with his chocolate brown orbs, when your heart got filled with the familiar warmth, you once again wondered whether this was it. After all, he was looking at you as though you put all the stars in the sky. He cared for you, he loved you, he hugged you better when you were in need of a shoulder to lean on. You knew that you were more important to him than to lose you over a confession and he knew that you felt the same. There wasn’t a single scenario in which a confession would have destroyed what you two had.

‘I love you.’

It took you a few breathless moments to realise that it wasn’t your voice that echoed off the walls, but when you did, you couldn’t not smile like a fool. Because that was what you were. A fool for not beating him to it when you had loved him for so long. Maybe, you truly haven’t changed since uni.

‘Tsk, I was just about to confess, you know?’ You asked with a pout, making him smile a bit wider as well. ‘I love you, too.’

You weren’t entirely sure what you had expected from this moment or what had made you drag it out this much, but as you intertwined your fingers with Seungcheol’s, you didn’t mind the lack of groundbreaking gestures. Because now you had him in another way, too. You could love him in another way, too. And that was more than enough.

➼ next reason

#seventeen scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #scoups #ssbyme #coffee shop au #best friends to lovers #fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen series

[1kook]

new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k 

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming. 

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education). 

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way. 

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms. 

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries. 

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable. 

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows. 

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.” 

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum. 

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close. 

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed. 

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin. 

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone. 

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress. 

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt. 

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite. 

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up. 

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks. 

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.  

It’s your turn to mope. 

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand. 

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses. 

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh. 

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels. 

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad. 

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“ 

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down. 

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome. 

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities. 

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about. 

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest. 

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover. 

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.” 

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee. 

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite. 

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now. 

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.” 

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold. 

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes. 

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon. 

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her. 

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown. 

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead. 

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear. 

It’s the hardest thing about parenting. 

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is. 

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show. 

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.” 

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years. 

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight. 

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now. 

A second later, “lemme join.” 

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick. 

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface 

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions. 

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit. 

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky. 

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home. 

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts. 

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now. 

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back. 

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice. 

Then, and apparently, now. 

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck. 

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together. 

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper. 

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt. 

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time. 

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips. 

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you. 

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long. 

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body. 

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him. 

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this. 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line. 

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could. 

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you. 

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist. 

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore? 

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.  

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?” 

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.  

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it. 

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you. 

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.  

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat. 

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt. 

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time. 

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.” 

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully. 

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole. 

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything. 

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure. 

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone. 

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped. 

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas. 

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever. 

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling. 

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence. 

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out. 

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach. 

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys. 

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever. 

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.  

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.” 

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.  

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer. 

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off. 

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again. 

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific. 

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position. 

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds. 

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him. 

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt. 

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip. 

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh. 

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you. 

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace. 

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out. 

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you. 

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones. 

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year. 

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace. 

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—” 

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well. 

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway. 

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy. 

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news. 

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you. 

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #namjoon fic #kim namjoon fic #knj fic #bts fic #bts smut #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader smut #mine

[agapaic]

[19 days] whiplash [ch. 365 after-shot]

The shop will be closing soon. He’s seen an attendant wandering around, who will probably ask him to leave in the next five minutes. There’s no one else here. His clothes are vivid against the neon glow of the tanks. The fish cast strange shadows on his shirt, living out a second life on his skin.

They swim in half-circles before sharply changing direction, never touching the glass. He wonders if they know it’s there, as if they can sense some immovable wall that holds them back.

He’s not getting deep about this. He could contemplate, quite extensively, about how their freedom must be bought by some higher power, and they would really only go from one tank to the next, slightly bigger, slightly richer. It’s all fake shit, and he remembers that in some ways he’s got it better than an animal. He can, at least, run away. Maybe he won’t get far. Just to the edges of the city villages where he’ll get a job earning less than before and lose his place in school.

Guan Shan puts a finger on the glass in front of him. There’s a label in the corner, peeling away from the glass. Veiltail goldfish. They have wispy, membrane-like tails. He could put his hand on the other side and see all the way through. Guan Shan watches the only black fish in the tank move placidly through the water.

Beneath the label, a smaller one: Black moor. For a minute he considers tugging the label off and putting it in his pocket, a little secret. He remembers that would be stealing, in some way, and someone in the shop would have to go to the effort of printing and laminating and reapplying the label just for one fish.

Guan Shan turns away.

He wanders for a few more minutes. He’s aware of his reflection in the glass. He worries about how long the attendant will let him stay there, and the thought that they will make him leave makes him feel slightly sick. He likes it here—the quiet, the muted hum of the tanks, the strange lights. They make him feel somewhere else.

His mother is working the night shift and won’t be home until just before he’s meant to go to school the next morning. They’ll have long enough together that he could tell her he got fired from the shop, but not long enough that he could reasonably pretend to have forgotten as he tugs on his uniform and slips out the front door.

She won’t be mad—she never is.

She can’t take on another shift.

Mentally, he has started taking stock. His Xbox is a few years old, but he’ll get something for it. He has a stack of old music magazines from his dad that could catch the eye of a collector. His computer, maybe.

The earrings.

His stomach twists.

Really, it’s not much. It’ll earn them a month, which could be just long enough for him to get another job, but what’s the likelihood of that in a city where most kids are just trying to bulk their CV’s for their college applications. Besides, his grades speak for themselves. He got lucky with the shop, and lightning doesn’t strike twice.

‘Hey, kid. We’re closing soon, so unless you wanna buy something…’

Guan Shan nods. His shoulders round.

For no logical reason, he says: ‘Can I take a goldfish?’

‘Sure. The black moor? Saw you had your eye on that one.’

‘No, one of the others.’

The attendant comes up next to him. ‘Just the one? They don’t like being on their own, you know.’

He presses his jaw tightly. A small sound comes out of him. He looks at the price tag and is somehow shocked and saddened to see the figure so low.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘The black one, too, I guess.’

He pays, then leaves. It’s late enough that the streets are quieter than he expected. He’s usually home by now, his shift over, reheating leftovers while he works on his homework. He stands there while the shop attendant locks up behind him, holding the plastic bag with two fish in his hand. He feels stupid. Behind his eyes, he can feel a sort of stinging sensation.

He has the unnameable urge to grab one of the passing strangers and tell them how he’s feeling, what has happened, what could happen. On some level he knows that everyone has their own problems, and he’s not the type of person to overstep his bounds. Instead, he watches them pass, and after a few more minutes he goes to the nearest subway station and gets the train home.

/

He had half expected He Tian to find him on the street. He’d imagined it, He Tian catching his arm as he wandered from store to store, deliberating at large windows with thin mannequins and expensive jewellery without price tags. There is a part of him that’s disappointed that it didn’t play out like this, a part of him that is even angrier to find He Tian sitting in the stairwell of his apartment when he eventually does get home.

It’s close to midnight, and the stairwell is clinically quiet. Outside, the stars are dusty and covered in a thin layer of smog that is less noticeable in the day. He Tian looks exhausted. He’s the type of good looking where even the slightest imperfection somehow makes him even more attractive. Guan Shan hates it.

He stands when Guan Shan walks in, suddenly filling the space, and Guan Shan says, ‘Get outta my way.’

‘Where have you been?’

Guan Shan shoulders past him. There’s a moment where he thinks He Tian will grab him around the shoulders, the air around him simmering enough that Guan Shan is convinced it’s a near thing, choking with danger, but he lets him pass. He follows Guan Shan up the staircase, his footsteps silent, his body casting long shadows on the steps where Guan Shan sets his feet.

At the door, Guan Shan pockets the notice that’s taped there, knowing He Tian has already seen it. Less sharply, he picks up the notes in He Tian’s and Jian Yi’s writing and folds them into careful squares.

‘You’re not comin’ in,’ he says.

‘I called you, like, fifty times. Did you block me?’

Guan Shan thinks He Tian sounds angrier than he really has a right to be. He turns and presses his back to the door. He has his keys clenched tightly in a closed fist.

‘Yeah. I didn’t want to talk to you. I thought you would’ve gotten that.’

‘I can get you another job. Something better paid.’

‘You’re so fuckin’ clueless.’

He Tian’s eyes tighten.

‘You’re ruining my life,’ says Guan Shan.

‘That’s—that isn’t true. I’ve helped you. You would’ve been expelled if—’

‘Maybe I would’ve gotten expelled. But I wouldn’t have had She Li on my dick all the time, would I? Wouldn’t need you to get me a job ‘cause you made me lose my last one, would I? You’re just—stickin’ a bandage on shit when you hurt me first.’

‘It’s not always like that. Don’t make it sound like it’s always like that.’

Guan Shan shakes his head. ‘I want you to go. I told you I didn’t want to see you again. Fuck off.’

He Tian says, ‘Let me pay what was on the door.’

‘Fuck off.’

He Tian doesn’t move and Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to cry again, the frustration bubbling sourly in the back of his throat. He doesn’t trust himself to open the door while He Tian is still here because he knows he’ll probably let him in.

‘Do I really make you feel like a failure?’

Guan Shan rubs at his eyes with his fist. His voice comes hoarse and thick: ‘I am a failure. Bein’ around you just makes it so much more fuckin’ obvious.’

He doesn’t want He Tian’s pity when he says this, or his reassurance. He’s just being honest. Saying it out loud is kind of breathlessly relieving. He couldn’t say something like that to his mother, or any of the teachers at school. He couldn’t say it to Grey, who he’s known for years. He Tian knows more about him than anyone. It’s a terrifying thought.

If they never see each other again, will He Tian tell everyone the things Guan Shan has told him? About the restaurant and his dad, or about She Li and the things Guan Shan has let him do to him? He feels vulnerable and sick thinking about it, completely powerless, as he does a lot of the time when he’s around He Tian.

He oscillates between that feeling of uselessness and the feeling of being so empowered that he thinks it must be what being high or drunk feels like. That latter has him trusting his own convictions, having an unadulterated faith in himself like jumping from a bridge and thinking he might just fly—so long as He Tian is with him. He doesn’t like how it’s one or the other, empowered or powerless, and rarely anything in between. He’s heard adults on TV talking about being codependent, pulled punishingly into each other's orbit, and he wonders if this is the same thing.

In the end he supposes it doesn’t really matter. So what if He Tian tells everyone? Probably, he won’t see the rest of the year out at school. He’ll get a job on a different side of the city and no one will hear from him ever again. The embarrassment will all be internal and will only last a week or two. Then life will move on. He wishes he were older and wiser and better at believing this. He wishes it didn’t feel like the universe might fall out from beneath him.

‘Doesn’t matter what I do, it turns to shit,’ he tells He Tian. ‘No matter how hard I work, I’m never gonna earn enough. I can spend three hours studyin’ for a test and still come last. If it isn’t She Li, then it’ll be someone else. I just—I can’t catch a fuckin’ break, He Tian. But you do somethin’ and you come first every time. Life’s so easy for you.’

He Tian shifts from side to side. ‘Do you think things wouldn’t feel so hard if you stopped focussing on what you think my life is like?’

‘You’re pissin’ me off.’

‘I don’t know how I’m meant to help you. You won’t let me give you money. It’s like pulling teeth from you just trying to know what’s going on with you. What are you so fucking afraid of?’

‘I never asked for your help.’

‘You shouldn’t have to—that’s why we’re friends.’

‘I never said I wanted to be your friend.’

He Tian frowns, his look very serious. He isn’t teasing tonight. Neither is Guan Shan. There is the sense that their interactions are always anything but teasing, really, some dark undercurrent that runs between the two of them like dark veins.

He Tian says, ‘Are those fish?’

For a moment Guan Shan thinks he’s joking, deflecting wildly to distract from the seriousness of what Guan Shan has just said. Then he feels the crinkle of a plastic bag in his hand and, remembering how he’d just spent the last few hours, nearly drops the two goldfish onto the floor.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘You don’t have a tank.’

‘Yeah, no. I don’t know why I bought them.’

He Tian hesitates. There is a curious, predictable gleam in his eyes. ‘Red and black?’

‘It’s all they had left at the store.’

He Tian is looking intently at the bag. ‘Do you remember when we went to the aquarium? And you said I wasn’t someone you could forget?’

‘I just meant that—’

‘I know what you meant. But I always pretend like you meant it the other way.’

Guan Shan thinks, Don’t you think things would be easier if you stopped focusing on what you want me to mean and what I actually mean?

Instead of saying anything, he looks down at his sneakers. They’re scuffed and starting to rip at the seams. The thought of having to buy new ones makes him panic and the thought of buying a pair of second-hand ones online makes him panic even more. There’s no shame in it, but the thought of wearing someone else’s clothes makes him feel strange, especially when he knows He Tian could buy fifty pairs without blinking.

Guan Shan considers that thought and replays what He Tian has just said about focusing on his life too much more than his own. Maybe part of that is true.

Before He Tian, did he always feel things so intensely? Did the bad always feel so fucking awful? He knows that things were mechanical, and he was mean and didn’t think much about other people in particularly nice ways. He knows he didn’t laugh much then, or have dinners and sleepovers with friends. He knows everything hurt on a distant, muted level that was easy to ignore. Not much time has passed since then, and he reasons that nothing about him has probably changed, just everything else around him.

‘I can’t understand why you won’t let me help you,’ says He Tian, when the silence has stretched too long.

‘Because I’ll get used to it.’

He Tian frowns, not understanding.

‘One day, you’re not gonna be around. And I’ll be fucked.’

‘I’ll always be there for you.’

‘You don’t know that. People say that a lot and then they disappear or get taken away, even if they didn’t want to.’

It’s obvious they’re talking about his dad, but it feels safer to talk about things in vague, subjective conversation. Maybe things would be easier if they talked openly about things and didn’t use metaphors and hypotheticals. As it is, Guan Shan doesn’t feel ready to try the alternative. He is conscious of the fact that this feels like a conversation. They are passing words back and forth that hold meaning and neither of them has touched the other yet. It feels new and fragile as an oil painting, still wet, and so he doesn’t let himself think about this for long.

‘I think you’re getting this wrong,’ says He Tian. ‘I’m not asking you to rely on me. Obviously, I’d kind of like that. I like the thought of you needing me, and I know that says something about me. But—I’m just asking you to let me help you. Just here and there, no strings.’

Guan Shan rubs his forehead with the back of his knuckles. His keys are starting to pinch his skin and he can feel a headache starting to surface.

‘I’m tired,’ he says. ‘I actually do want you to go.’

He Tian’s jaw clenches and he breathes out heavily through his nose. He’s probably thinking he’s wasted his time.

‘Okay,’ he says then. ‘But we’re not done.’

A new wave of exhaustion comes over Guan Shan, crippling and final. He wants to get into bed with his skin against cold sheets and sleep for twelve hours without waking once.

‘You’re not the only one that ever gets to decide that,’ he tells He Tian, a little sharply. ‘You’ve gotta learn to let people go.’

‘But what if I know I can help them?’ says He Tian. ‘If I don’t, I’ve just—failed.’

They look at each other.

A minute stretches into an eternity that could be seconds or hours, and everything has gone backwards. Everything is the same.

Guan Shan can’t put his finger on what has just happened, but he feels like laughing. Their fears are twinned, self-perpetuating, some kind of ouroboros chasing its tail. Who will get caught first?

They both seem to take in a breath at the same time, and He Tian takes a step back.

‘Goodnight,’ he says.

Guan Shan nods. He waits for He Tian’s retreating back to disappear a few flights down before opening the door to his apartment, and shuts it swiftly behind him.

/

There’s a knock at the door while he’s brushing his teeth. The fish are swimming placidly in their bag on the edge of the bathroom sink. It’s past one, and he keeps all the lights off because his eyes are feeling sore. He’s adjusted to the dim glow that comes from street lamps seeping through the curtains, the blink of the timer on the electric stove, his Xbox gleaming in his bedroom. His mother shouldn’t be home yet and she has her own set of keys.

With a sinking heart, Guan Shan pictures his landlord demanding payment.

Worse, he pictures He Tian. Before He Tian left, they’d resolved nothing. It feels like being back to square one, chasing each other around a chess board. It fills him with a vast emptiness that makes him feel like he’s existing outside of himself, waiting for someone else to take over.

He pads silently towards the front door, his toothbrush jammed into his cheek, and peers through the viewer. There’s toothpaste dripping down his chin. In the hall, there’s no one there. He’s half-convinced he imagined it. He counts to ten before he opens the door, steps out—and his foot connects with something hard. There is a cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat.

Guan Shan peers around. The light in the stairwell is artificially bright. He kneels down and opens the tabs on the box, which hasn’t been taped. He swallows.

For the fish, says the note on the second box, nestled inside the first. Careful, it’s fragile.

Guan Shan rubs the heel of a palm into his right eye. He sighs. Then he reaches out, braces himself, and picks up the tank. He carries it into his apartment, and the door locks behind him.

/

thank you for reading! if you’d like to support me on my ko-fi/request a short drabble, you can do so here: https://ko-fi.com/agapaic 💞

#19 days #tianshan #old xian #he tian #mo guan shan #my fanfic #sorry for errors - it's late but i couldn't get this out my head

[taizi]

Could you write something about natsume getting a hug?? Just, from whoever n for whatever reason. I keep thinking about how no one ever really hugs him n it makes me sad

x

The absolute last person Joji expected to see today was Natsume Takashi.

Joji slows to a stop on the corner of the street, a block away from the train station, and stares shamelessly.

It's been a decade since the last time he saw Natsume, but he recognizes him immediately. Of course he does. His light hair and eyes aside, Joji has thought about him on-and-off since junior high.

Joji remembers that rainy day when he was thirteen, an empty desk in the middle of his eighth grade classroom, Ito leaning over in his chair to whisper, "Did you hear? Natsume was in the ER. He almost died. The police are looking at his foster parents."

It was as if he'd been plunged into a pool of ice water. He sat there, frozen, while their teacher called them to attention for homeroom and announced that Natsume wouldn't be in their class going forward.

What was the last thing Joji had said to him? "It's no wonder your parents didn't want you." Why the hell had he said that? A book, if he remembers right. He'd lent it to Natsume and Natsume gave it back all water-damaged, like he'd gone for a swim with his backpack on. Natsume's eyes were on his hands, on the ruined book, and he'd tried to apologize, said he'd pay for it, but Joji just snatched it away, ticked off.

"This is what I get for trying to help you, I guess. It's no wonder your parents didn't want you."

Joji is almost twenty-four now. He's going into pediatrics. His fiance, Sakura, is a foster parent. She is currently the proud and fiercely protective mother of two beautiful twin girls.

Sora and Miu are terrified of adults and they go everywhere together and sometimes they make up stories. Sometimes they lie, about why their uniforms are torn, why they're home late, why their lunchboxes are covered in dirt. They have this look in their eyes sometimes like they're just waiting to get hurt again.

Sakura has the patience of a saint. She never raises her voice. She stitches their torn uniforms, replaces their lunchboxes, and, on more than one occasion, has marched into their junior high school and threatened the staff with physical violence if her babies come home with bruises one more time.

Needless to say, Sora and Miu adore her. It took them longer to warm up to Joji, but they're there now; no longer flinching when he moves in their direction, greeting him happily when he comes over for breakfast, smiling shyly when he staggers into the apartment underneath the weight of two giant stuffed rabbits that cost nearly half his paycheck, because it's their birthday, Sakura, they need them.

Joji tries to imagine someone telling them "this is why your parents didn't want you" and goes absolutely breathless with rage.

Natsume glances up from his phone to look right at Joji, as if someone had pointed him out. Caught staring, Joji shuffles in place for a moment, and then squares his shoulders and heads over.

He's expecting the Natsume of his memory; he's expecting him to curl his shoulders and duck his head, the way Joji's girls still sometimes do when a stern auntie wants to talk to them.

He's not expecting Natsume to level him with a clear, politely confused gaze. He pockets his phone, and shoves his hands into the front pockets of the cardigan he's wearing; a size too big, like something he borrowed out of someone else's closet, but it's a charming look on him. He's dressed well, in dark-washed jeans and white high-top sneakers, and his silvery hair is long, probably long enough to fall past his shoulders if he didn't have it piled up in a bun. There's a squat calico cat at his feet, glaring up at Joji with judgmental green eyes.

"Can I help you?" Natsume asks kindly. His voice is a shock to the system; Joji remembers him like it was yesterday.

"Oh," Joji says, stymied. It never occurred to him that Natsume might not recognize him in turn. "Um, I'm Watanabe Joji. We were classmates in eighth grade."

"That's right," Natsume says with gratifying quickness. He looks a little embarrassed now and returns Joji's short bow. "Sorry, it's been a long time."

And we weren't exactly friends, he doesn't say, but that common knowledge sits neatly between them.

"Ten years!" Joji replies with some forced enthusiasm. "Is that why you're here?"

"Sorry?"

"The, ah, reunion this weekend? Ito, from our homeroom back then, put together a whole thing. Our whole class is getting together for dinner and drinks."

It occurs to him that Natsume might not have been invited. Joji thinks that's less because he isn't welcome and more because Ito almost certainly didn't have his contact information. The few times his name has come up, Joji's friends have gone quiet and melancholy. A few of them are parents now, or aunts and uncles at least. All of them know better than they did when they were mean, shitty little teenagers.

Joji opens his mouth to assure Natsume that they'd love to have him, but Natsume cuts him off with a laugh.

It's not a mean laugh. It's not unfriendly in the slightest. But it stings anyway, because Natsume is laughing out of pure disbelief.

"No, no," he says, waving a hand, "god, no. Could you imagine?" he adds, glancing down at the cat. The cat huffs, settling a little more solidly against Natsume's ankle. "We're just passing through, actually."

"We?" Joji asks dumbly. Did he mean himself and the cat?

It's Natsume's turn to get cut-off, this time by a long, drawn-out shout of "Takashiiii!"

A short, russet-haired young man around Joji's age comes barreling down the sidewalk toward them at a flat-out run. Joji's first inclination is one of alarm, but Natsume steps forward with his arms outstretched, and the stranger collides with him in an embrace that looks like it hurts.

Natsume is laughing again, but it's softer this time. It's the warmest sound Joji has ever heard him make.

"What's this for?" Natsume is saying, patting him on the back.

"Just missed you," his friend replies.

"You saw him twenty minutes ago, Satoru," comes the exasperated call from further down the road, and Joji glances over to find a small group headed their way, laden with shopping bags.

"Yeah, exactly," Satoru says, leaning back without letting go, just enough to gaze up at Natsume with a cheeky grin. "I'm all Takashi-deficient. It's pretty serious."

"Sounds serious," Natsume replies, and agreeably keeps an arm wrapped around his shoulders as the rest of their group catches up.

A tall, dark-haired man stoops to pick up Natsume's cat, and it settles agreeably in the crook of his arm. The brown-eyed woman beside him lets out a coo, shifting all her bags to one hand so she has one free to scratch it behind the ears.

"We're being rude," the dark-haired man says in a soft, pleasant tone. "Who's this, Takashi?"

Natsume introduces Joji as an old classmate, giving absolutely none of their history away in tone or expression, but somehow all of his friends seem to clue in to something anyway. Their collective demeanor shifts, in an unidentifiable way, even if their polite smiles don't slip an inch as Takashi introduces each of them in turn.

All but Nishimura Satoru, still tucked up against Natsume's side, who gives Joji a positively poisonous look.

"Okay, Satchan, you're going to lose privileges if you can't be nice," Kitamoto says dryly, and extracts him from Natsume's person with a deftness that speaks of years of practice.

"Nooo," Nishimura says, but it's curbed quickly by Shibata shoving a bag at him and snapping, "Carry this! It's that stupid lucky cat statue you just had to have, and it's heavy!"

"It looks just like sensei! Tooru loves it, too!"

"I do," Taki admits.

It's a warm afternoon, right at the end of August, the sky turning golden with the beginnings of dusk. Joji still manages to feel cold.

He grew up, but Natsume did, too. He always regretted what he did, he always wondered if Natsume was okay, wherever he went, but Natsume hasn't seemed to spare him a second thought. He's got his own friends now; bright, kind people who look like they'd raise hell for him. Who run to meet him.

Joji missed the chance to have a place in Natsume's life. He's a footnote, now, and not a very good one.

"Jojojojo!"

The bright voices have him spinning around, forgetting everything else, and he lights up when he spots Sora and Miu waving at him from the other side of the street. Sakura has a firm hold on their jackets so they can't go spilling out into the street until the pedestrian crossing sign lights up, and then she releases them like a couple of eager hunting dogs.

Natsume's friends shuffle to one side politely, and Joji steps forward to catch his girls when they reach him. They're so beautiful and he missed them so much, this weekend they were away to visit Sakura's parents. He kisses them each on the head, and then kisses Sakura on the head in the name of fairness, and it makes all three of them laugh.

Taki coos just like she did with the cat, hands clasped together under her chin.

"What sweet girls!" she says. "Are they yours, Watanabe?"

"Yes," Joji says proudly, putting one arm around each of their shoulders. They've come so far, not hiding behind him from the group of strangers, even if they press into his sides shyly. "This is Miu, and this is Sora. We're adopting them."

Sakura shifts her weight imperceptibly, a barely-there tell. Waiting, he knows, for the surprise, or outright condemnation. She's dealt with a lot of bullshit for taking these kids in, from family and ex-friends and even total strangers. It rolls right off her, and she usually gives as good as she gets, but she hates when Sora and Miu have to hear it. They don't deserve to hear it.

Joji will have to explain it to her, later, why he brought it up. Why he knew it would be safe to bring it up in front of these strangers.

Sure enough, all their faces soften immediately, a gentle transformation. Natsume crouches, gazing at the twins with an expression that Joji remembers from his childhood. The delicate resilience, the willingness to reach out even if he got hurt.

The look on his face ten years ago when he handed back that ruined book, owning up to his mistake and trying to fix it, buying Joji a replacement even after Joji said something unthinking and cruel.

"I was adopted, too," he says.

"Really?" Sora asks quietly.

"Really," Natsume tells her. "My parents died when I was little. I wasn't an easy child to care for, even though it wasn't my fault, so I got passed around a lot. It took me a long time to find my place, but I found it. Did you find yours?"

"I think so," Sora says, glancing around Joji at her sister.

"Me, too," Miu adds.

Sakura clutches Joji's hand hard enough to bruise. She won't cry here and now, but he already knows it's going to be an ice-cream-for-dinner kind of night.

Natsume looks up to meet Joji's eyes when he says, "That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

It's forgiveness. Joji hears it plain as day. He didn't get a chance to ask for it-- isn't sure he deserves it-- but there it is, freely given. And it's reassurance, too.

When Joji's daughters used to curl their shoulders and duck their heads, it would always tug at the memory of a boy he used to know, who was as kind as he was desperate for kindness.

Now, he thinks, when his girls are making a mess of the kitchen trying to follow a pancake recipe with their friends, or dragging a stray cat inside with big, hopeful eyes, it'll remind him of this afternoon. Natsume's clear, bright eyes, and the protective cluster of friends surrounding him.

The world wasn't fair to him; it left a mountain in his life that he had to climb, complete with all its pitfalls and crumbling paths and bad weather.

And here he is on the other side, goodness intact. Smiling. Loved.

He found his place. Sora and Miu found theirs.

And god, if that doesn't give Joji hope for everyone else.

"It was nice to see you," he says thickly, hoping Natsume hears his honesty. "Don't come to the reunion, that was-- a stupid thing to say, but-- would you-- dinner?"

Natsume hears it. He tilts his head, considering, and then says, "We missed our train, anyway."

"And I'm starving," Tanuma says agreeably. Clearly, he says it more to agree with Natsume than anything.

Nishimura is the hardest sell, watching Joji with hard eyes. But then his gaze dips to Sora and Miu, and all his sharp edges go soft, like butter melting in the sun. After a handful of tense seconds, he visibly gives up on his anger with a huff. His friends, watching patiently, all give absurd little cheers when it's clear he's on board.

"Fine, but if you live farther than three feet away, we're getting an Uber," Shibata threatens, rustling the shopping bags in his hands with annoyed fervor.

They drift in the direction of Joji's home, and Kitamoto talks Shibata down from the Uber with the promise of ducking into a 7-Eleven for ice creams instead, and Taki and Sakura are fast friends, rolling their sleeves up to compare tattoos-- Taki's is a strange, occult-looking circle that Joji makes a mental note to ask about-- and Tanuma lets Sora carry the fat cat, while Miu pets it with reverent fingers.

Natsume walks beside Joji, calm and unhurried, with Nishimura on his other side. He grew up with so much grace.

"Can I add you to the class groupchat?" he asks without thinking.

"Good luck with that," Nishimura butts in, not unkindly. "He's the most unreliable texter you've ever met. He left me on read for like two days once, and we live together."

"You'd have better luck with an email," Natsume says apologetically.

It's more than Joji thought he'd get; they exchange contact information, in the middle of this chaotic, noisy group making its way down the street toward the well-lit combini on the corner and then, beyond that, home.

Natsume doesn't seem to have any interest in reconnecting with his old classmates, and Joji doesn't blame him for that. Even though it will certainly piss Ito off to be kept in the dark, even just for a few days, Joji decides it's for the best.

Nishimura's goodwill can't be stretched that far.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natsume takashi #nishimura satoru #tanuma kaname #shibata katsumi #my writing #prompt #natsuyuu fic #cha-lii #wanna find a home (wanna share it with you)

[hrina]

Be Sweet, Pt. I

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M (minors dni!) WORD COUNT: 6k

hey everyone! here's part one of my new enemies-to-lovers series :) this fic will be five parts in total, but i'm only posting the first part on tumblr. you'll be able to read the rest of it on patreon if you wanna sign up!

as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated. i love hearing your thoughts! enjoy.

~*~

August 27th, 2021

“Who’s opening tomorrow?”

Ella scrubs a wet rag across the table closest to the door. You cast a furtive glance up at her, flipping absentmindedly through the jumble of papers on the counter in front of you. Nick’s messy scrawl catches your eye, and you pause, reading the haphazard comment written at the bottom of the page.

Customer requested a very specific shade of pink trim. See back for details.

You flip the order, scoffing at the Pantone strip taped to the other side. The square labelled Quartz Pink has been singled out, encircled in bright red. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Alice and Olly, I think,” you say, shoving the form to the bottom of the pile.

“That’s good,” Ella grunts, returning the napkin holder and the sugar dispenser back to their spots on the table. “And you’ll swing by sometime during the afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you say, drumming your fingers over the papers. “I’m gonna help Olly in the back. You know how much he hates dealing with fondant.”

“How could I forget?” Ella rolls her eyes, smiling to herself. You grimace when she tosses the damp cloth in your direction. It lands on the counter with a loud splat! You nudge it away with your elbow, shaking your head.

“Gross.”

“You’re gross,” Ella says.

“I’m lovely,” you reply. She grins.

“Where’s Alex taking you tonight?” you ask, changing the subject. Her eyes light up instantly, and she clasps her hands together against her chest.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, giggling girlishly.

You groan. “I hate surprises.”

“It’s a good thing he’s not your boyfriend, then, isn’t it?” she retorts. You snicker, and she continues: “He told me we should stop off at home to change, though, so I’m guessing that wherever it is, there’s a dress code.”

“Ooh, fancy.”

“Right?” She twists her wrist, peeking at her watch. “He should have been here by now. It’s already a quarter past seven.”

“The hospital is just down the street,” you remind her, organising the mountain of orders into a neat stack. “Give him another five minutes.”

She nods. You spin on your heel and push through the door leading to the backroom of the bakery. The large space is split into two sections: on your right, there’s a wall of ovens, and a cluster of metal racks filled with pale, unprocessed dough. On your left, tables and counters lined with all sorts of decorating necessities—piping bags, spatulas, scrapers, turntables. You make your way toward the small cabinet perched against the nearest wall and pull out the top drawer, sliding the orders inside. Olly should have no trouble locating them tomorrow morning.

When you return to the front of the shop, Ella is locked in a passionate embrace with a gangly, dark-haired man. You recognise him immediately.

“Doctor Dao,” you call out, resting your elbows on the counter. “Did you at least wash your hands before putting them all over my best friend?”

Alex and Ella break apart swiftly, but he keeps one arm wrapped around her waist. “Hey, cookie,” he says, flashing you an apologetic grin. “Didn’t see you there.”

You arch one brow, lips curling into an amused smirk. “I’ll say.”

Only then do you catch sight of the other man lingering by the door, and your smile quickly morphs into an irritated frown. Harry is watching you with twinkling eyes, like he knows the effect his presence has on you. How could he not? You don’t try to hide your disdain, especially when it comes to him.

“Harry,” you say curtly, lifting your chin in stubborn acknowledgement.

He brings two fingers to his temple—a mock-salute. “Sweetheart.”

You clench your jaw. God, he makes your blood boil. Rather than responding, you turn back to Alex, who is now smoothing his palms over Ella’s silky brown hair. “You’re late,” you tell him. “You were supposed to be here when we closed.”

“Sorry, cookie,” Alex says, and he sounds like he means it. “My last surgery of the day had a few…complications.”

You purse your lips as the annoyance melts away. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods, blowing out a heavy breath. He looks tired. “We figured it out.”

“That’s good.”

Alex directs his attention back to Ella, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Just let me grab my bag.”

“Cool,” he says. “You don’t mind if we drop Harry off at his place, right? His car is fucked, apparently.”

Ella’s grey eyes widen. She peers over her boyfriend’s shoulder at Harry. “What happened?”

Harry waves away her concerns, chuckling quietly. He tugs on the collar of his blue scrubs, and you can’t stop your gaze from trailing across the plethora of tattoos inked into his arm. Your nose wrinkles at the sight. He looks ridiculous. What kind of doctor would agree to don such outrageous body art?

“He’s being dramatic,” Harry says, shooting Alex a pointed glare. “My car’s at the shop right now, but I’ll have it back by tomorrow evening at the latest.”

“Oh.” Ella relaxes. “Okay, that’s great. Babe—” She turns to Alex. “—when are our reservations?”

“Eight-thirty,” Alex says. “Plenty of time.”

“Awesome,” she chirps. She scurries around the counter and playfully bumps her hip against yours. “My purse is in the back. Give me one second.”

And then she’s gone.

You stare at Alex, fighting a clever smile. “Tonight’s the night, huh?” you murmur, quiet enough so that there’s no chance of Ella overhearing.

He beams, shouldering his knapsack and dragging his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt. His scrubs are a light purple, you note. The shade compliments his dark skin.

“Yeah,” he replies, gnawing anxiously on his bottom lip. “She’ll say yes, right?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Of course she will.”

Just then, Ella bursts through the door, her leather purse swinging wildly against her waist. “Alright!” She claps once, striding over to you and planting a wet, sloppy kiss onto your cheek. “I’m off.”

“Bye,” you say, wiping her saliva from your face with the back of your hand. “Have fun.”

Alex waves at you as she tugs him out of the bakery. “See you later, cookie.”

You wink. “See you.”

Harry is the last one to leave. He glances at you momentarily, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smug smile. The look makes you bristle. He’s absolutely infuriating.

“Got any leftover almond croissants?” he asks. Silent laughter taints every word.

You point to the exit. “Get out.”

He bows his chin in farewell, approaching the door. “Sweetheart.”

“Asshole,” you reply flatly. Now that your friends are out of earshot, you’re under no obligation to tolerate him. Sometimes, you find yourself actually craving his company, just so you can drop the pretence and really give him a piece of your mind. You’re a mature adult, and you won’t ruin a social gathering because of one presumptuous dickhead, but everyone has their limits. You don’t owe him shit.

Harry chuckles to himself, and you clench your fists at your sides. He shoots you one last maddening smirk before disappearing out the door. You rush forward, latching it swiftly and ensuring that the sign against the glass reads ‘CLOSED’. Once you’ve successfully locked up, you march into the back of the shop, plucking your own purse off one of the metal counters and tugging it over your shoulder. You shut the light and return to the front, scanning the clean tables, the empty display cases, the shades drawn over the windows. Shards of the sunset stream through the cracks in the blinds, casting orange stripes along the floor.

All clear, a voice in your head whispers, and you sigh.

Finally—you can go home.

August 28th, 2021

Quick, frantic knocking rouses you from your sleep. Blearily, you sit up on the mattress, knuckling at your puffy eyes. The hardwood floor is cold against the soles of your feet when you climb out of bed. You shiver.

The insistent clamour continues as you pad down the hallway. You tug at the hem of your worn, baggy t-shirt, concealing your midriff. Ella wastes no time after you open the front door, surging past the threshold and vaulting herself into your arms.

“He proposed!” she squeals as the two of you stagger backward. You freeze, remembering Alex’s plans from the day before. His apprehension, too—the way he wiped his clammy palms against his scrubs and anxiously dug his teeth into his bottom lip. Shock ebbs and flows through your veins for a fraction of a second, but then you’re sweeping Ella into a tight hug, rocking your bodies from side to side.

“Oh my God,” you say. Excitement festers beneath the murky exhaustion clouding your mind. “He did it.”

Ella steps back, brows knitting together in bewilderment. “You knew?” When you nod, she scoffs, aiming a half-hearted swat at your bicep. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?” you retort, rolling your eyes at the demand. “Come on. Let’s see it.”

A bright grin stretches across her lips, and she holds up her left hand, wiggling her fingers keenly. You spy the ring resting on the fourth digit: a simple platinum band topped with a large, clear diamond. Grey morning light bounces off the gemstone, and it winks at you as if it knows something that you don’t.

“Gorgeous,” you breathe, gripping Ella’s wrist to bring her hand closer. You scrutinize the ring carefully, smiling to yourself. “He’s got good taste.”

“Doesn’t he?” she gushes, beaming like an idiot. You beckon her into the kitchen, and she collapses onto one of the tall stools positioned in front of the marble island. A quick glance at the digital clock on the stove reveals that it’s only eight in the morning. You groan, rubbing gentle circles against your temples.

“I was hoping I’d get to sleep in today,” you say, lips curling into a wry smirk.

Ella shoots you a sheepish, apologetic smile, sliding her purse off her shoulder and placing it on the counter. “I’m sorry, cookie. I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m just kidding,” you tell her, floating around the room to prepare a pot of coffee. “So…how did he do it?”

She launches into a frenzied retelling of the night before. Alex brought her to the same restaurant they’d visited four years ago on their first date. They ordered their food and made conversation. Things proceeded as usual until the end of the meal, at which point Alex set his napkin down on the table and excused himself to the restroom. Two minutes later, the waiter arrived with the bill. Ella accepted it graciously, scanning the thin paper and pausing at the question scrawled at the very bottom of the slip. When she snapped her head up, searching for her boyfriend in the crowded dining area, she found him kneeling a few feet away from her chair, a small velvet box nestled securely in his steady hands.

“I started crying immediately,” she tells you, groaning at the memory. “I couldn’t keep it together. It was so embarrassing.”

You toss your head back and laugh. Despite the crimson blush staining her cheeks, she joins in. The coffeemaker beeps, signalling that the pot is ready. You fetch two mugs from the cupboard and fill them with dark liquid. Ella accepts her drink eagerly, blowing cool air across its surface. You grimace as she takes a tentative sip—you’ve never understood her penchant for unsweetened black coffee. Sugar and cream are a must.

“I’m so happy for you, El,” you tell her, stirring a small spoon around your mug. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

Her eyes grow damp. You snicker quietly, reaching across the island and swiping your thumb beneath her bottom lashes. She catches your hand and kisses your knuckles softly, clearing her throat.

“Will you—?” She releases a shuddering breath. “Will you be my maid of honour?”

You stiffen at her request. Her gaze rakes over your face, like she’s searching for any clue as to how you might respond. At last, your shoulders sag in relief, and an ecstatic smile splits across your cheeks.

“Of course,” you say, voice thick. Tears gather in your own eyes, but you blink them back furiously. “I would love nothing more.”

She sets her coffee down and skirts around the counter, yanking you into another bone-crushing hug. You grin as she presses a handful of sloppy kisses to the side of your head. Her elbow knocks against your abandoned mug, and a few drops of coffee spill down the side of the cup. You laugh at her enthusiasm, pulling back and sweeping your hands over her silky hair.

“It’s probably way too soon, but have you guys started discussing anything?” you ask, arching one eyebrow.

Ella flushes pink, averting her gaze. “Um…when we got home, there wasn’t really much of a discussion going on.”

You cackle, poking at her ribs. “Oh, he gave it to you good, didn’t he? It’s a miracle that you’re not limping right now.”

“Be quiet,” she yelps, stamping her eyes shut.

You lift your hands and shoot her a teasing smirk. “I’m not judging, okay? If anything, I’m living vicariously through your various sexual conquests. It’s been months since I last got any action.”

“Maybe that should change,” Ella says, folding her arms over her chest. “You and Harry could probably fuck out your frustrations. His dick is huge, apparently.”

You balk. “Ella!”

She shrugs, grey eyes widening comically. “What? Alex told me!”

You snort, but say nothing. She watches you cautiously, examining your features for any signs of acquiescence. Any indication that you might actually be considering her lewd suggestion. You almost gag.

“Why do you hate him so much, anyway?” Ella asks, flicking an invisible speck of lint off her shoulder. “You’re not still hung up on that fiasco with the almond croissant, are you?”

“I’m not doing this with you again,” you say, and she sighs.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But can you at least try to be civil while we plan the wedding? For my sake.”

After mulling over her words, you slouch in defeat. “Fine. But only for you,” you say, throwing a stern finger in her face.

She beams. “Thank you.” Something dirty flashes behind her pale eyes. “And if you do end up sleeping with him, I want all the details.”

You shove her gently and scoff. She laughs.

“Honestly,” you start, shaking your head, “it doesn’t matter how huge his dick is. I’d rather walk across hot coals than let somebody like him climb into my bed.”

“What makes you think it wouldn’t be the other way around?” Ella snickers. You glare at her, but she just steps back, raising her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, fine. Have it your way. But I’m expecting you to find someone in time for the big day. Don’t let your plus-one go to waste.”

You roll your eyes, thoroughly unconvinced. “Noted.”

September 2nd, 2021

“Olly!” you call, sticking your head into the backroom. “Ella and I are going on our lunch break, but Leyla will be here in, like, twenty minutes. You going to be okay by yourself until then?”

Olly doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder, too busy piping little flowers along the sides of the rectangular cake laid out in front of him. He lifts one hand, waving away your concerns before running his palm over his short blue hair. He buzzed and dyed it just last week after claiming that he couldn’t stand how the long brown curls stuck to the nape of his neck. It took a few days to get used to the change, but now that the initial shock has faded, you have to admit that he looks great.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Olly says, putting the finishing touches on the cake. He sets his piping bag down and turns toward you, wiping his palms against his red apron. His left ear bears a swirl of shiny silver piercings. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Thanks,” you say, flashing him a small smile. He returns it, and then you’re spinning on your heel and letting the door swing shut behind you.

You find Ella waiting outside the bakery. She urges you along, and you squawk at her impatience.

“What’s the rush?” you ask, falling into step with her as you both amble down the sidewalk. “We have forty-five minutes.”

“I don’t want Alex’s sandwich to get cold,” she explains, holding up the small paper bag clutched in her right hand. You snort.

The two of you make it to Ridgefield Hospital in record time, mostly because Ella grips your arm and gives it a forceful tug whenever you start lagging behind. You walk through the automatic doors, ignoring the row of ambulances parked outside. The secretaries sitting at the front desk shoot you a few distracted smiles—they’ve all grown accustomed to your frequent visits by now.

Ella babbles endlessly as you enter the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor and waiting as the metal doors slide shut.

“I want to ask Alice and Leyla to be part of the bridal party, but I’m scared the guys will feel bad if Alex doesn’t choose them as his groomsmen. Like, I think they’d understand, considering I work with the girls and we’re all pretty close, but I don’t know.” She nudges you with her elbow. “What do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever the fuck you want,” you tell her, shrugging. “It’s your wedding. And I don’t think Olly, Marcus, or Nick will mind if they’re not part of the bridal party. Olly doesn’t care about that stuff, and Marcus and Nick already have their hands full with their jobs at the bakery. Plus, they know Alex has his own friends—not just the ones he’s met through you.”

Ella nibbles on her bottom lip, her head bobbing in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You lay a placid hand on her shoulder. “You’re already overthinking this. You’ve only been engaged for a week. Enjoy it.”

She shoots you a grateful smile just as the elevator dings and the doors glide open, and the two of you step out onto the hospital’s paediatric floor. It’s a stark contrast to the other sections of the building. Instead of barren white walls, these ones are painted with all sorts of pretty, colourful decorations—flowers, rainbows, sunsets, animals. A massive sign in front of you denotes the different divisions on the floor and where to find them: the ICU, the operating rooms, the palliative unit, the psychiatry wing, and the oncology department. You and Ella turn right, making the familiar trek to Alex’s office.

“He should be on his lunch break, too,” she says. “Unless they paged him for another emergency surgery.”

You hum in response.

Sure enough, you find Alex at his desk, twirling a blue pen between his fingers as he pores over the stack of papers in front of him. Ella knocks gently against the open door, and his face lights up when he spies her standing in the threshold. He moves quickly, crossing the room in five long strides, and plants a searing kiss onto her lips. You look away, rocking awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“Hey,” Alex murmurs after he and Ella break apart. That’s when he notices you behind her. “Hey, cookie.”

“Hey,” you reply. You toss your thumb over your shoulder. “I’m just going to—you know, the usual.”

He nods.

The last thing you see before you turn around is Ella holding up the brown paper bag, and Alex’s face splitting into a bright, easy smile.

You meander through the halls, trailing your fingers over the rich artwork covering the walls. The end of the corridor cleaves in two; you turn left and enter a large atrium. The ceiling is high and peppered with skylights. A small cafeteria sits off to the side, clusters of families chatting and laughing together as they eat. Children sprint around the space, their arms outstretched. Some of them are dressed in normal clothes—others don pale hospital gowns, their skinny legs bared for all to see. You wrench your attention away from them, fixing it instead on the far wall.

Slowly, you cross the room, surveying the vibrant handprints stamped against the plaster. There has to be hundreds of them, you think. They vary in size—some are so tiny you could cry. Colour becomes scarcer the higher you go—the youngest children are too short to reach those levels, obviously—but still. The sight takes your breath away. You visit this mural every time you find yourself at the hospital, and every time, you unearth a new detail that you hadn’t noticed before.

You walk along the length of the wall, dragging your fingertips across the dry, smooth paint. Purples and pinks and oranges and blues. Reds, greens, yellows, browns. Each handprint is a person—a pair of little feet that scuffled over this very floor, a blank story that had yet to unfold. Briefly, you wonder how many survived whatever illnesses plagued them, and how many succumbed to their conditions. The thought makes your throat grow tight with emotion, so you quickly shove it aside.

Ten minutes pass before you’re leaving the mural behind and heading back the way you came. You’ve just rounded the corner when a strong, solid body barrels into you. You grunt at the impact, smacking one palm against the wall to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you start, lifting your head to meet the stranger’s gaze. “I wasn’t paying—oh.”

Harry smirks, his green eyes glittering with mirth once he recognises you. You purse your lips, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Harry,” you say, nodding stiffly.

He folds his arms over his chest. “Sweetheart.”

His brown hair is tousled, and his biceps strain against the white button-up adorning his torso. Black slacks cover his legs, and he’s wearing a pair of pristine leather shoes, ones that look like they might’ve cost a month’s worth of rent. Your teeth grate together noisily. The sound echoes in your ears.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, as though the two of you are old friends. You want to scoff—you’d rather stick your hand in an oven than make idle conversation with him.

“Visiting Alex,” you say tightly, stepping back. “Ella brought him lunch.”

At that, Harry straightens. “Ella’s here?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I’d run into her,” he murmurs, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

You throw him a scowl. “Asshole.”

Harry cocks one eyebrow, tilting his chin haughtily. “Forgive me if I prefer her company to yours. At least she doesn’t treat me like I’m some insufferable bastard.”

“Maybe if you stopped being such an insufferable bastard, I wouldn’t treat you like one,” you shoot back, planting your hands on your hips. You tense as Harry’s gaze rakes down your body—head to toe, like he’s sizing up an opponent. His nose wrinkles in disdain, and you fight the urge to deliver a sharp, backhanded slap across that pretty, perfect face.

Harry opens his mouth, and you brace yourself for whatever retort he has prepared. What comes out is nothing overtly nasty, but it is enough to make you want to shrink away and curl into yourself until you wink out of existence.

“You smell like yeast,” he says, and tosses in a derisive sniff just for the added effect.

You recoil as the words slam into you, blinking in shock.

Asshole. Rude, arrogant, condescending asshole.

“I own a bakery,” you grit out. Harry shrugs, but says nothing else. Your lips flap wordlessly as he pushes past you, his shoulder bumping against yours. You watch him go, massaging the tender spot on your arm with shaky fingers. Your eyes fall to his ass for only a moment before skittering away, and a hollow laugh catches in your throat.

What a fucking prick.

September 17th, 2021

“Attention, everyone!” Ella stands at the head of the table, clinking her fork delicately against her glass. “I wanted to make a little toast.”

The conversation around you tapers off into silence. You sit back in your chair, focussing on your best friend. She looks splendid in her pretty blue dress, her dark hair twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. She peers around the room, chewing nervously on the inside of her cheek. When her gaze locks with yours, you grant her a tiny, encouraging nod.

She beams, her next words imbued with renewed enthusiasm. “I wanted to thank all of you for coming here tonight to celebrate our engagement with us.” She holds out her hand, and Alex presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “We’re so grateful to be sharing this milestone with such a wonderful group of people.”

You inspect the other guests gathered around the table. To your right sit Alice and Leyla, the first employees you hired when you were trying to get your business up off the ground. It’s odd seeing them like this—poised and elegant, looking nothing at all like they do during the long, arduous shifts at the bakery. Alice’s blond hair has been fashioned into an intricate braid, and Leyla’s brown eyes are lined with dark kohl and smoky eyeshadow. They clean up nice, you must admit.

Next to Leyla: Ella’s older sister, Hillary. They have the same piercing grey eyes, though Hillary’s hair is a shade lighter. You didn’t miss the sour expression that trundled across her face when you waltzed into Alex and Ella’s condo. She’s jealous, you think. Jealous that Ella chose you as her maid of honour instead of her. You’ve been ignoring her resentful glares for the better half of the night, letting her bitterness pass over you like a cloud. Whatever her problem is, it’s clear that the issue lies between her and her sister. You’re not getting in the middle of that.

It doesn’t help that she’s been fawning over Harry all evening. Upon witnessing her coquettish behaviour, you glanced at Ella, brows raised, but your best friend just rolled her eyes and yielded a helpless shrug of her shoulders. At least the attraction didn’t appear to be one-sided—that would have been humiliating, you think—because Harry gave as good as he got, chuckling sincerely and flirting right back. You had to suppress the urge to retch, and sent out a quiet prayer of gratitude when Ella and Alex sat them as far away from each other as possible at the beginning of the meal.

On the opposite side of the table: Alex’s groomsmen—Milo, Sasha, and Connor. You’ve been in their company a few times, mainly on birthdays and other special occasions. According to Alex, they all met when Milo accidentally vomited during their very first anatomy lesson at medical school. Milo insists that the putrid smell of the cadavers was simply too awful to bear, but everyone else claims that he just couldn’t stand the idea of being so close to a dead body. No matter the truth, the story always makes you giggle. The four of them have been good friends ever since.

The five of them, you remind yourself as your gaze settles on Harry, who is lounging in the chair directly across from you.

Harry—Alex’s best friend. Harry—Alex’s best man.

You wanted to rip your hair from your scalp when Ella broke the news. Several images flashed through your head all at once. You and Harry inching rigidly down the aisle, arms linked. You and Harry donning the same colours, your gown complimenting the spry flower pinned to the lapel of his suit. You and Harry flanking Ella and Alex while they recite their vows, glaring daggers at each other behind your friends’ backs. Even now, the mere thought of it has you biting down on an exasperated groan.

You don’t realise that you’ve zoned out until the faint quirk of Harry’s mouth catches your eye. You blink once to yank yourself from your daze, and clench your jaw when you find him staring at you with an amused look on his face. He places his elbows against the arms of the chair and clasps his hands together. Unmistakable smugness emanates from him, as if he somehow managed to crawl inside your mind and saw exactly what you were envisioning. Your nostrils flare, and you fix your attention back on Ella, who has reached the end of her speech.

“Cheers,” she says, holding up her glass. The champagne inside sloshes and fizzles temptingly. Would she allow you to chug the entire bottle, if you asked?

Everyone around the table mirrors her movements, raising their own drinks and touching them together lightly. Quiet, delicate clanking fills the room, and the friendly chatter resumes. You nudge Ella with your elbow, shooting her a proud smile. “That was great, El.”

She beams. “Thanks, cookie.” She then picks up her fork and motions to the plate in front of her, piled high with seasoned chicken and steaming, roasted vegetables. “Let’s eat.”

~*~

“Are you sure you’ve got him?” Alex asks Sasha, gesturing to the very inebriated Connor wobbling at his side.

Sasha wraps one arm around their friend, letting Connor rest his full weight against him. He bares two rows of perfect ivory teeth, flashing a wicked grin. “Yeah. Besides, I’ve been meaning to pay him back for the shit he pulled at the barbecue last month. There’s a Sharpie in my car.”

“You’re going to draw a dick on his face, aren’t you?” Alex muses.

“Obviously.”

With that, Alex bids them both farewell, shutting the door and heaving a dramatic sigh. Ella approaches him after a moment, hooking her chin over his shoulder and murmuring something indiscernible into his ear. He chuckles softly.

“Didn’t peg you as the voyeur type, sweetheart,” a low voice says from behind you.

You jump, whirling around and coming face-to-face with Harry. He’s got a green washcloth slung over his left shoulder—the shade brings out his eyes, a traitorous voice in your head whispers—and his arms are folded neatly across his chest. Your gaze falls to the collar of his black button-up, where he’s undone the first two discs, leaving his sternum exposed. Tendrils of ink peek out from beneath the dark material.

You frown and take a step back, putting distance between your bodies. “You’re such an asshole.”

“So I’ve heard.” His lips twitch, and he rolls up his sleeves. “Now, if you’re done ogling them like a lovestruck puppy, I could use some help in the kitchen.”

You grit your teeth, but follow him into the other room. Harry grabs the rag hanging over his shoulder and holds it out for you. You snatch it from his fingers without a word, and the two of you take up residence in front of the sink. Harry plunges his hands into the soapy water, rinsing the dishes thoroughly before passing them to you. You stand as far away from him as possible while you dry each plate, your movements stiff and choppy. This is not how you wanted to finish off the night, but Alex and Ella spent the entire day preparing the food, and it was delicious. The least you can do is spare them the hassle of tidying up.

The tense silence eats at you, until you feel like you might explode. Unable to bear it any longer, you hastily blurt, “Saw you getting pretty cozy with Hillary before dinner.”

Immediately, you want to kick yourself. Where the fuck did that come from?

Harry snorts, shrugging coolly. “We’ve hooked up a few times, but it’s nothing serious.” He shoots you a mischievous grin. “You jealous?”

“Of Hillary?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Please. The woman’s standards are practically underground. Why else would she be interested in someone like you?”

Harry scowls, and hot satisfaction surges through your veins. Yes, the taunt was mean, but no, you don’t care. “You’re a real bitch sometimes, you know that?” he says.

You flash him a petty, insincere smile. “Only to you.”

He squeezes the yellow sponge nestled in his right hand, scrubbing it forcefully across a dirty plate. “Maybe you should find someone to hook up with. It might help get that stick out of your ass.”

“I have better things to do,” you sneer, narrowing your eyes.

“Better than sex?” He chokes on a derisive laugh.

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“Like…things!” you snap, fingers curling into tight fists. “I run my own business, for God’s sake. And I’m going to make Ella’s wedding cake.” You announce the last part proudly, hauling your chin into the air.

Harry, however, looks unimpressed. He shakes his head, blowing out a heavy sigh. “Uh-oh.”

You pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs again, but you detect a hint of malice behind the action. “It’s just…I’ve seen the way you decorate cakes. Ella might be better off going elsewhere—you know, to an actual professional.”

Son of a—

“That’s rich, coming from you,” you say, motioning to the mismatched tattoos littered across his arm. “What would you know about professionalism? It looks like you let a preschooler doodle all over you.”

Harry bares his teeth in a feral grin. “Deflection. I’m not surprised.”

You bristle at his words. “Asshole.”

“You’ll need to get a bit more creative with the insults, sweetheart. I’m growing bored.”

“Is that so?” you say. “I think ‘asshole’ suits you just fine. Maybe you should have become a proctologist instead of a paediatrician.”

“At least I pursued something I was good at. I’m not sure if you can say the same.”

“You fucking—”

“Everything okay in here?” Ella asks, floating into the kitchen. You spin around to conceal your anger, placing your hands against the counter and inhaling deeply. You roll your shoulders back and slap an artificial smile onto your face before turning once more.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, and fake a yawn, covering your mouth with your palm. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m exhausted.”

Ella’s bottom lip juts out into a pout. Her red lipstick has faded, leaving only a stain of scarlet in its wake. On cue, Alex walks into the kitchen behind her, setting a steady hand on her hip and cocking his head to the side. “Hey. Everything okay in here?”

You nearly snort. Fucking soulmates.

“All good,” you tell him, nodding brusquely. “I’m just going to finish up with the dishes and head home.”

“Okay.” Alex presses a soft kiss to Ella’s temple, murmuring something about needing to get out of his stuffy clothes. You whirl, drying the last of the plates with frantic, shaky fingers. In your peripheral vision, you spy Harry watching you, but the stupid bastard must possess some scrap of self-preservation, because he keeps his mouth shut. You say nothing else as you whack the rag down onto the counter and stride out of the room.

You don’t miss Alex and Ella’s hushed whispers at the other end of the hall, but a little voice in your head tells you not to interrupt them. You halt at the front door, snatching your purse off one of the metal hooks mounted on the wall. You’re in the middle of putting on your shoes when you hear it:

“I was hoping we could arrange a truce, you know.”

You twist around, palm flying to your chest. Harry is standing a few feet away, his hands still wet with the water from the sink. He clasps them together and ducks his head, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was ashamed.

Something vile bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You gnaw on the flesh of your cheek, trying to reel your emotions back in. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another outburst.

“Keep your fucking truce,” you spit, and wrench open the door. You shoot him one last withering look before stepping out of the condo and slamming it shut.

#be sweet #harry writing #lmao you can tell i've given up on posting my writing on tumblr cus i don't even tag it with the typical fic tags anymore 😭

[elius-learns-to-write]

Do You Need A Hug?

To the anon who gave the idea that the reader gets hurt on a mission and Wanda helps them out, you are a genius and this is for you so I hope you enjoy <3 (I just realised there isn’t much hurt comfort and a lot of Mother!Wanda oops)

Summary: Reader gets hurt, Wanda wants to help, hugs.

Wanda had bonded with you as soon as you came to the table 

You had originally lived with your dad but once your abilities started to show at the age of 14 he didn’t know how to cope so he sent you to go live with the avengers 

You had similar powers to Wanda so of course they set you up to train with her first to make sure you wouldn’t lose control

You looked so nervous. That was the first thing Wanda thought when she saw you, the next thing was that you had this sought of kindness that seemed to envelope you as you walked towards her. Kind eyes. “Hey Y/n I’m Wanda and I’m gonna help you learn how to control your abilities, okay?” she asked as you stepped onto the large grey mat that took up the centre of the room, “Nice to meet you, I don’t really understand why I’m here but you seem cool enough” you giggled at her enthusiasm. You didn’t remember much about your mum, of course you knew the basics like what she looked like and what she sounded like but she had walked out on your dad and you when you were only small. Wanda gave motherly vibes off (not that you had much experience with those vibes) and she was kind.

Training was the only interaction you really had with Wanda for the first few weeks of living there

But after a while constructive criticism and praise turned into small talk and suspiciously long water breaks filled with gossip instead of hydration 

And in about a month you had been invited shopping with her

“Hey Wanda, what do you think of this?” you said opening the curtains to the dressing room so the woman could see the pale blue top you had decided to try on, “uhm do they have it in purple? I think purple would suit you better” she replied, searching the mountain of clothes she had in her arms and handing you a nice pair of jeans “here go try those on whilst I go check if they have that top in purple” she shooed you into the dressing room before walking off. That was the thing about Wanda, she had seen you at your worst, sweaty and panting for breath as you were pinned by Nat for the 10th time yet she always tried to help you look your best.

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

You waited at the table as the woman went up and ordered your drinks at the counter of this dainty cafe you had found when trying to take cover from the rain that had started to come down only minutes after you had left the shop. You ran into the doors laughing your head off as she helped you push it open and then sat you down at a table and went off to order. “I got you a slice of cake whilst I was up there because I thought you might be hungry” she smiled handing you your cup and slice of heaven “now I feel bad you have paid for everything today!” you whined still going in for a bite as she added sugar to her tea “don’t! You are 14 and don’t have a stable income, the adults are meant to treat you”.

After that trip you decided to make it a monthly occurrence 

And were rarely seen without each other

She would do anything for you and you would do anything for her 

That’s why when you turned 16 she wanted to be the one to get you the best and most personal present

You looked up at Wanda then back at the box then back at Wanda. You couldn’t believe something as simple as a locket had made you cry. As you opened it the dam broke and tears started to pour from your eyes as you saw the picture you and her had taken in a photo booth on your second ever shopping trip. She started to tickle you as the countdown started. The photo that had come out was one of pure joy, something you had never been able to get a photo of , hence the tears. “I know it’s not driving lessons but I hope those are tears of joy” she laughed lightly as Tony threw his hands up at the car jab (even though if you ask him he will still say he had the best present) “of course they are! I love it so much thank you” you replied launching yourself into her arms.“Great now my bop it toy seems like a stupid gift” moaned Sam falling back onto the couch in defeat“It was stupid before the damn locket came out birdbrain” scoffed Bucky

So naturally after that the bond you had was even stronger

Which meant going on missions meant a debriefing from Wanda on the most random things, such as: How to properly stop drop and roll, What not to say to Steve when he’s in captain mode, Why annoying Sam won’t do well in a Hydra base, and so on

But when you failed to listen to her advice and come home hurt she is sure to patch you up

You could tell by the way Steve had prepared you for the incoming mama bear Wanda attack that she was worried about you. You hadn’t really had time to fully process that as the woman came flying at you shooting questions at you left, right and centre. “What happened?” she finally took enough of a break to inspect the growing black eye and small cut on your right arm. “I wasn’t paying attention when Bucky called over the comms that the building was coming down and I got a bit caught” you mumbled knowing she would find the situation both comic and concerning. “This is why I said to you always pay attention” she scolded, the motherly tone she had taken to using with you coming through.  

After the initial shock of “my baby is hurt” she took you to her bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit ready to sterilise the wound. “What’s wrong sweetie?” she asked after hearing you sniffle, pausing her actions to look at you, concern clear in her eyes as she “I feel like I let you down” you replied taking the tissue from her hands to blow your nose “No no sweet child you just scared me” she said tucking a strand of hair around your face. “are you sure?” you asked, feeding the tissue to the bin “of course, now do you need a hug?” Wanda giggled, wrapping her arms around your body gently as you nodded in confirmation. “Nothings better than a mothers hug” you muttered into her jumper (one you had tried to knit her for Christmas last year).

She couldn’t stop smiling 

Made sure to make your favourite drink and have a movie marathon with you 

This isn’t to say she got any less protective of you 

(Sam is still upset about the bop it so when you see him you just whisper “Bop it! Twist it!” as you walk past him)

#the avengers #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #wanda x teen!reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda imagine #wanda fanfic #wanda #wanda marvel

[ijustwant2write]

The Nice One-Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader

(GIF credit to @avocadosalad2​)

Masterlist

Prompt List

Tag List: @obsessedwithrandomthings​

Requested by anonymous: 'I have this idea about Fred Weasley falling in love with Harry’s muggle cousin. a dursley. Maybe y/n and Harry were always really close and she obviously knows all about magic. She’s the only person, Harry actually loved and trusted as a child and that didn’t change when he found out he was wizard so there really close, he sees her as a sister. Maybe he wants to introduce her to ginny because Harry wants her approval. And reader ends up liking Fred, and Fred likes her back.'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader, Harry Potter x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (cousin), Weasley Family x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (platonic), Hermione Granger x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (Platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of neglect/child abuse, lots of fluff

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sitting back in a plastic chair, I looked out of the huge window of the coffee shop, sighing as I realised it had started to rain. I never minded the rain really, but it had been like this since May, with no sign of a proper English summer in sight. Harry returning to the table with two mugs of tea distracted me, and I smiled as he set them on the table, sitting opposite to me.

“It feels like ages since we did this.” I said, blowing over the top of the tea.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve not called or contacted you in any way recently.” he apologised, casting his eyes down.

“Harry, you don’t have to be sorry for anything.” I reassured him.“You’ve been making your life in...well, your world. We’ve all grown up, had to get used to becoming adults and such. Though it is a shame we haven’t seen each other for over a year.”

“Year and a half actually.”

“I wasn’t surprised when you invited me here though. Of course, this is under better circumstances. I’m not having to drag you out of the house to avoid my parents.”

“No, this is much nicer.”  he chuckled.“How are they by the way? I was able to see Dudley last month.”

“They’re fine, same as always. I don’t see them as much as I should, though I do call them often. Sometimes it’s hard you know, especially after all that’s happened in the last few years.” I took a sip of tea, finally able to start drinking it.

Harry seemed hesitant to speak again.“Actually, I was wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you remember me talking to you about a girl called Ginny?”

“Ooh, has my little cousin fallen in love?” I was teasing until I saw the genuine smile on his face.“Wait, Harry, do you really like this girl?”

“W-well...I h-have for a while, we actually told each other our feelings when, when other things turned serious. And it’s been going good between us, really good, which leads me to my question.”

I was confused as to where this was going, but waited for him to carry on.

“I was wondering if you would come meet her?”

“You want me to meet her?” I excitedly repeated. 

“Yeah,” he smiled back,“there’s going to be a birthday party for me at her family home. She’s a Weasley.”

“Wait, isn’t that the last name of your friend Ron?”

“It is.”

“You’re dating your best friend’s sister?”

“I’ve already talked about it with him! Do you remember I stayed with him over that summer, and I wrote to you from there?”

“The Burrow!”

He nodded.“They’re more than happy to have you there.”

“Of course I’ll come Harry! For now, you have to tell me everything about this Ginny girl.”

The party was two weeks away, and I could not contain my excitement as it got closer and closer. Although Harry had told me much about the wizarding world, he was the only wizard I had ever met (unless I counted that giant man that had tracked us down when Harry first found out he possessed magic, though there weren’t any introductions), and I was extremely excited to meet more of them. Would they constantly be using magic? Would they just conjure up food and drink? And would they be comfortable with me there? I knew that Harry wouldn’t leave me alone unless I was one hundred percent comfortable with everyone.

It was surprising that Harry hadn’t become irritated with me on the day of his party. He was coming to pick me up, and I had greeted him with an over excited tone, setting off a party popper which made strings of confetti land on his head. I had never been able to celebrate Harry’s birthdays publicly, always sneaking into his room or under the cupboard to give him a small present and a hug to wish him happy birthday (once I was earning my own pocket money, or sweetly asking dad for a few pounds, I would buy him cupcakes as a birthday cake, stashing away sweets for him after he saw how much we were given). Dragging him into my flat, I demanded he close his eyes, dashing in and out of the kitchen with a stupid grin on my face. Counting down from three, I giggled as Harry opened his eyes, smiling when he saw me holding a cupcake with a candle in my hands.

"You didn't forget."

"Of course I didn't. Is it...is it alright?" I became worried, wondering if I had brought up bad memories.

"No, no, I actually missed this. It was one of the things I looked forward to each year."

He blew out the candle, sighing when I urged him to close his eyes and make a wish. Harry then pushed me to get a move on, his eyes widening when he saw me pick up two presents with wrapping paper, as well as a smaller one on top. I walked past him before he could say anything about them, handing him the keys to lock up.

As we turned up at the infamous Burrow, I couldn't help but stand back in awe. It was like nothing I had ever seen, and although shabby looking, very put together, it had some sort of charm to it, it was so different to other houses. Harry had already taken a few steps forward, stopping when he noticed me not move.

"(Y/N)?"

My eyes snapped back down to him."Oh, sorry."

"It's going to be fine." he said, coming to stand beside me.

I just nodded, walking next to him and standing back when he knocked on the door. A short woman opened it, squealing with excitement when she saw Harry, and as she dragged him in for a hug, she playfully scolded him for knocking, claiming that he could waltz in whenever. Staying outside, I poked my head in, still holding the presents in my arms. I watched as Harry was engulfed in numerous hugs, everyone wishing him happy birthday as well as joking and laughing with him. It shocked me. The only time I saw him this happy was when I was able to cheer him up as kids (and that was extremely hard to do when he lived in the hell hole I called home), but a sudden wave of emotion attacked me, I was so happy to see him being treated right.

"Everyone, this is my cousin, (Y/N)." Harry interrupted my thoughts once again, gesturing for me to step inside.

Sheepishly walking in, I held onto the presents a little tighter, smiling through the awkwardness. There were so many of them standing there.

"Here, let me take those from you love." a man who seemed to be the dad offered, placing the presents on a nearby table. Now I was out in the open.

"So this is the decent one?" one of the younger lads said to break the silence.

"Ronald Weasley, you mind your manners!" the woman scolded him."Don't mind him dear, it's lovely to meet you. Harry has never stopped talking about you."

"He's right though," Harry said,"this is the nice one."

"It's nice to see that Harry stayed in such a lovely place, and with lovely people."

Really (Y/N)? That's the first thing you come out with?

"Oh what a sweetheart." the woman gushed."Believe me, they look like angels, but they don't act like one."

Harry soon broke us into a general conversation, attempting to introduce me to everyone. This family was so different to mine. It felt more loving, as if they didn't hate to be around each other all the time. They included each other in every conversation, they laughed together, joked around with each other. And they also included me.

We were sat around a long table, squeezed amongst one another with food and drink laid out. I had Harry one side of me, and his old friend Hermione on my other. I believed that she and Ron had romantic connections, but I was hoping she would shed some light on Harry's love life, as Ginny was sat beside him.

"They've only recently become public. Everyone knew that they were together, it was bound to happen. But we all acted surprised anyway." Hermione and I giggled, drowned out by the sound of everyone talking.

"Oh bless him, he seemed very happy when he mentioned her. That's why he invited me actually, he was wondering what I would think about her. They don't seem to be able to keep their eyes off each other."

"Someone else seems to have their eyes on someone." she smirked.

I followed her eye line, seeing one of the twins looking in our direction before averting their gaze. I had remembered that they were each wearing the same jumper but with different colours, thankfully making it easier to tell them apart. It had been Fred looking my way, and I hated that I was blushing already; no one had looked at me like that for a long time.

"I'm sure that was nothing." I mumbled.

"If you say so." I heard Ginny say, making me whip my head round to her. She was leaning forward to look at me, and I saw Harry holding back a laugh.

"Come on, I haven't even spoken to him."

"Maybe you should. Perhaps this was meant to happen."

Molly stopped all chatter across the table, standing up to announce that it was present time. Heaps of presents were pushed down to our end of the table, Harry was shocked by how many there were, but stuck right in. After thanking all of the Weasley’s for their sweet presents, especially Ginny. With my presents left, I felt all eyes on me, nervous as to what they would think of my gifts.

One was a collection of books he read when he was younger (until my brother got angry at him and ripped out the pages), the other was two shirts I knew would look nice on him. The last present was a photo book, which I had had personalised; on the front it said ‘Harry’s Memories’, in a beautiful swirling style of writing. The toothy grin on his face fell slightly, and I began to panic again. Everyone waited for him to open the book, a slight tension in the air. Harry slowly opened the book, reading the message I had left for him in his head. It entailed fond memories we had, and how proud I was of him for setting out to school by himself, and how many times he was brave enough to put himself on the line for his friends and family. Turning the next page, a breathless laugh left his lips when he saw the photos I chose. Unfortunately there weren’t many of us together, or of him in general, but I had raided our old cameras back home to find any photos I had taken of him without my parent’s knowledge. After flipping over another page that turned out to be blank, he looked up at me, as did everyone else.

“It’s blank so that you can fill it. I knew you wouldn’t want memories of home, just...just me I suppose. But I’m sure you’ve got better memories to put in there now.” I shyly explained.

“This is amazing, thank you (Y/N).” Harry said, hugging me tightly.

“The pictures aren’t moving?” Ginny questioned.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.“Your pictures move?”

Once dinner was done with, along with a round of singing as the birthday cake came out, we all broke off into smaller groups. This would have given me an opportunity to speak to Ginny, I had a strong feeling that she was absolutely perfect for him, they seemed well matched, but I still wanted a chat at least. However, Harry had stolen her away, and it wasn’t the right time to intervene. As I thought about who to talk to, Fred walked up to me, leaning against the kitchen counter top as I was.

“Thought you looked a little lonely over here.” he said, but it wasn’t in a cocky way, he was being genuinely kind. 

“Thanks.” I laughed.

He smiled.“I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

I looked up at him.“No I know what you meant. I was actually thanking you.”

“Ah.”

There was a moment of silence as neither of us were sure what to say next. Suddenly, something popped into my mind,“You know, I’ve seen you before.”

“What?”

“When you came to rescue Harry, in your flying car. I was in my room, but my room was next to Harry’s, so I could just about see you and your brothers.”

“That was so many years ago.”

I nodded.“I just remember how shocked I was when I saw the car, but also how relieved I felt when I saw Harry get in there. I was in trouble for not going to my parents straight away though.”

“You don’t sound like a typical Dursley at all.”

“I suppose I’m not. I was never the favourite, for some reason Dudley was. But I was so focused on keeping Harry somewhat happy that it didn’t matter. I just got good results at school, made friends and kept the biggest secret in the world.”

“It is slightly strange having a Muggle about.”

“How do you think I feel? The dishes are doing themselves over there!” I gestured to the sink where there was a floating plate and sponge. He laughed at that."That would be so useful to have at home, especially after a long day."

"So," he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning towards me,"what do you think about our families combining?"

I took a sip of my drink, following his eye line to Harry and Ginny."I can't express how happy I am for him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I'm not just saying nice things because Ginny is your sister. Harry had a long talk about what happened in the past, he's mentioned her, well, all of you, a lot. You've all been able to give him much more than I have."

"That's not true. Harry has expressed multiple times how he didn't know what he would have done if you weren't there for him."

"Seems like everything has worked out perfectly in the end. It even feels right me being here."

"I can agree on that."

"Even if I'm a Muggle?"

"Can't say that's the first thing I noticed about you."

My eyes widened slightly, slowly looking down into the content of my cup."Fred, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were flirting with me."

"Thank god you noticed, thought I might have to start using pick up lines."

"You still can if you want to."

"Nah, think I'll save that for a first date."

"If you're asking, then the answer would be a yes."

"Well, glad that's been sorted."

I giggled quietly, trying not to show how much I was enjoying this."Do I get to find out where you're taking me?"

"If I'm honest, I wasn't sure if I would get this far."

We laughed together, catching the attention of his parents who were with Hermione and Ron. We quietened down, finding it hard to hold back on giggling. Before we could even continue speaking, Harry was approaching me, and I knew he wanted to find out what had happened since he left me alone.

"So, uh, what are you two talking about?" Harry failed to play dumb.

I rolled my eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder."OK, whilst you interrogate my date, I'll go talk to your girlfriend. Sound like a deal?"

"D-date?"

"Don't act like you weren't listening. Relax Harry, this is your party after all."

I heard him sigh to Fred as I walked away."You two are going to be trouble, I just know it."

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter

[cherienymphe]

None Of Your Concern (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON(NON-CON?), AGE GAP, CHEATING(?)

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  costars for a little over a year, Chris has always been protective of you in the cutthroat industry much like a father would be. However, when he learns that your boyfriend is even older than him, he realizes that his feelings might not be so familial after all

~

“Okay, so it’s sort of cool that a small chunk of the Avengers gang is reunited for this movie,” the interviewer said with a chuckle.

You all joined in, in agreement. She rested her blue eyes on you.

“I know that you were a huge fan of the franchise, Y/N. I mean, over the years there have been quite a few tweets from you about the movies, ranging from…‘Spider-Man’s on team Iron-Man so therefore I am on team Iron-Man’ to ‘Scott Lang deserves the world’,” she said, reading from her phone.

Tom got a huge kick out of that first one, and you rolled your eyes. The interviewer’s eyes flickered between you two, a small smile on her lips.

“I mean, am I wrong? Does Scott Lang not deserve the world?”

She nodded with a grin.

“No, you’re right, he definitely does! I just feel like being cast in this movie and having been on the set for a little over a year must have been something like a dream come true,” she pressed.

You thought about your answer for a moment, just like your publicist advised.

“Yeah, you could say that. It’s sort of surreal going from having been kind of a casual fan of someone to interacting with them almost every day for a year,” you honestly answered.

You didn’t know if you would ever get used to interviews, no matter how private they were. You were grateful you weren’t on Jimmy Fallon or something with a live audience watching your every move, but sitting next to Tom, Anthony, Sebastian, Chris, and Tessa in a room was almost just as bad in your eyes.

“…and you’ve gotten super close with your castmates, I’d say.”

You heard Tessa clear her throat, and when you caught her eye, she gave you a look, but you didn’t understand it.

“Yeah, definitely! I love them all and they’ve easily become some of my closest friends now,” you replied, eyes meeting the interviewer’s again.

She threw you a secretive smile.

“…but you and Tom seem to hang out together more than the rest of the cast. As thick as thieves some would say,” she pressed.

Your lips parted, caught off guard, and when you caught Tessa’s eye again, you recognized the sympathetic look she was giving you. A light bulb seemed to go off in your head as you realized what she was trying to warn you against earlier, the very thing you’d unknowingly walked into. Luckily, Tom jumped in before you did.

“Well,” he started, straightening in his seat, shoulder brushing your own. “Y/N and I are the youngest members of the main cast. We don’t really have much in common with the senior citizens to my left.”

He feigned a whisper during the last part, not so discreetly pointing to his left. It had the desired effect, and you were grateful that he was trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Um,” Tessa loudly began, straightening up in her seat just as Anthony, Chris, and Sebastian all spoke up at once.

“I think what he means to say is we don’t allow the children to eat at the adult’s table,” Anthony threw in.

“Yeah, its definitely more like we exclude them, and they have no choice but to hang out together,” Sebastian joked.

“Senior citizens,” Chris scoffed, cutting his eyes at Tom.

The interviewer laughed at the turn of events, but unfortunately, she was determined to expose whatever she thought was going on between you and Tom.

“So you two are rather close then? Being alienated and all,” she chuckled.

Tom laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably as it became clear that she wasn’t going to give up. He nudged you, gesturing for you to take the stand, having already tried to steer her in another direction.

“Well…yes, but we’re all rather close, but yeah. I would say that Tom is kind of like my best friend,” you honestly told her.

She aw’d at that, tilting her head to the side. You cut your eyes to everyone else in the room, narrowing them as it became clear that they weren’t going to help the two of you get out of this. You just knew Anthony was enjoying this…

“Just friends then? Because you two have a lot of fans, and a lot of them seem to think there’s more to the friendship, or at least, they hope there is, and honestly? Who can blame them? You two are always spotted hanging out together, going for coffee, running to Target… You’re practically joined at the hip.”

As she came outright and said it, you both wasted no time in refuting it.

“Oh, God no,” you cried, shaking your head.

“No, no, absolutely not,” Tom laughed. “Y/N and I are simply good friends. She has much better taste than I do, hence why I have to drag her to Target. Besides, we don’t have Target back home, so whenever I’m in the states, I’m going shopping there every chance I get.”

“I don’t know, I think they answered that just a little too quickly for me,” Tessa suddenly wondered aloud.

You threw her a look of betrayal as Chris added on.

“Yeah, that…that wasn’t convincing, at all,” he said in between chuckles.

You gaped at him as Tom ran his hand through his hair.

“No, Y/N and I are just friends, and nothing more. She-she has a boyfriend, anyway,” he threw out, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Tom,” you warned.

You weren’t genuinely upset that he’d let that slip, especially since you didn’t exactly care if people knew. People knowing you had a boyfriend wasn’t the cause of your apprehension. It came from certain details about your boyfriend…

“Wait, you have a boyfriend?”

Four people said several variations of this at the same time, and you cringed. Tom at least looked a bit ashamed as the interviewer watch on in amusement.

“I didn’t say any names,” he defended, hands up.

You caught Anthony’s eye and he was looking at you like you’d just hid the world’s biggest secret. Tessa looked scandalized as well, and you didn’t dare look at Chris and Sebastian.

“Wait…wait a minute,” the interviewer said, sitting up in her own chair as she looked at you two.

There was a slow smirk forming on her lips.

“So…you have a boyfriend that nobody else seems to know about…except for Tom…”

You both froze, realizing how this looked. A few chuckles reached your ears, and you exhaled.

“Okay, I know how this looks…”

“It isn’t like that, at all,” Tom reiterated. “He’s a swell chap, no, really. He’s brilliant-.”

“You’ve met him then?”

“Well, yeah-.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So how come you’ve met this ‘boyfriend’ and none of us have?” Anthony wondered.

“Yeah, this sounds like a bit of a cover,” the interviewer added.

“Not a very convincing one,” Sebastian whispered.

“Okay, okay! I know that I’m not super talkative about it, but have we all forgotten that I have a girlfriend?”

That seemed to quiet everyone down.

“…besides, her boyfriend is like forty anyway, so its definitely not me,” he laughed, realizing too late what he’d said.

“Tom!” you cried.

Both of his hands were covering his mouth, eyes wide as all hell broke loose. You blinked several times, mouth agape in shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tessa yelled over the others.

“Forty?”

Sebastian, Chris, and Anthony were all talking over each other, all of their questions directed at you while you just stared at Tom who stared back, pleading. He slid his hands down, teeth bared as shame filled his features, cringing.

“I’m so, so, so sorry…”

His apology was overshadowed by Sebastian.

“Forty?” he repeated.

“Tom’s exaggerating, okay? He’s more like thirty,” you quickly said, trying to ease the tension and make light of the situation.

Tom’s eyes were wide as they met yours, and you quickly looked away.

“So, the boyfriend isn’t Tom…and he’s only thirty then?” the interviewer finally spoke up when the room was finally quiet once again.

You sighed, eyes meeting Tom’s again as he looked to see what you were going to do. You thought about what your publicist would advise. You’d been a part of stan twitter once. You knew how the internet could be. They’d dig until they found out the truth, and discovering his actual age, and identity by extension, would be pretty bad for both of you. Against your better judgement, you decided to be truthful since the cat was out of the bag, hoping it’d be enough to keep people’s curiosity at bay.

“No, he’s definitely 43,” you quietly admitted.

Once again, all hell broke loose.

As soon as the interview was over, you were the first one out of the room, Tom right behind you. You could hear your name being called, and Tom pushed you along.

“Go, go, go,” he urged.

You had just made it to your dressing room when a muscular arm slid between the door and the frame as you attempted to close it.

“Anthony, not now!”

“No, no, now.”

He pushed the door open, and you denied him entrance, two familiar faces behind him. Neither him, Sebastian, or Chris looked pleased with you, and you just knew that they weren’t going to let this go…not without a fight. Tessa passed by, and you sent her a pleading look.

She heaved a sigh, slowing down before reaching out to pull them all back.

“C’mon guys. Leave the poor girl alone,” she said.

“We just want to talk,” Sebastian said.

It was a lie.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” you told them, eyes meeting Chris’. “Any of you.”

You tried to ignore his frown as you closed and locked the door. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your phone. You texted Alex, your boyfriend, warning him of what might make it into the article. You weren’t actually upset about the turn of events, you just hated the aftermath that would ensue.

You blamed the interviewer most of all. You knew that Tom was just trying to clear the air and make it known that there wasn’t anything going on between you two. You knew how flustered he could get sometimes when he started rambling, and you also texted him to let him know that everything was fine, and you weren’t mad.

Your main concern was the trio down the hall. Tessa felt like an older sister at times, and while you wish that it had been on your terms, you weren’t opposed to talking to her about this. You knew the conversation was going to happen eventually. Anthony, Sebastian, and Chris on the other hand were a completely different matter.

You stuck your head out, glancing around before leaving the room.

Your friendship with Seb was way more casual than with the other two. You cracked jokes and hung out with all of them often, but half the time it felt like Chris and Anthony were scolding you and telling you what you could or couldn’t do. Sebastian didn’t care, and you liked that. Hence why you didn’t verbally oppose when he suddenly came out of nowhere, easily falling into stride with you.

He didn’t say anything for a while, but you knew it was coming. You bit your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing that he was doing the same. He abruptly stopped, and so did you.

“Forty-three?”

You avoided his piercing gaze, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he faced you.

“Seb…please…”

“I mean, I’m not judging, I promise,” he said, hands raised.

“Except, you are though,” you sighed, looking at him. “You’re judging, just a little bit.”

His arms fell at his sides.

“Okay, so I’m judging just a little bit, but can you blame me? The guy’s older than Anthony,” he scoffed.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t care,” you told him.

“Clearly. I’m just saying, he’s old enough to be your father,” he said.

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s not, because then that would be weird,” you threw at him, rolling your eyes.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and somehow, you got the feeling that he’d drawn the short straw on who was going to come and talk sense into you. You briefly glanced down the hall, brows furrowed. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hated how he was looking at you. Like you were a child doing something bad. Your jaw clenched.

“I know you’re an adult…”

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“Do you know who you sound like, right now?”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“At the risk of sounding like Chris…”

“You sound like Chris, that’s who you sound like.”

“…this industry can be…ruthless,” he continued.

“Don’t I know it?” you sarcastically replied.

“…and you’re still so fresh and new and there are plenty of people just looking to take advantage of someone like you and your talent and potential…”

“My boyfriend isn’t one of them, okay? He has plenty of talent on his own,” you informed him.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“What his name, anyway?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you slowly sang.

“Well…what does he do?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“How did you meet? How long have you been seeing him? Something, anything! Anything at all?”

You pursed your lips before releasing a soft sigh.

“We’ve been seeing each other for about 7 months now,” you admitted.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head, lips parting.

“7 months?”

You pulled away from him, the day finally getting to you.

“Look, Seb, I have to go. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you guys, but to be honest, this was the main reason why, so…”

You paused, facing him again.

“Please, tell Chris and Anthony not to worry, okay? I know they’re freaking the fuck out and probably sent you on their behalf. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder as you exited the building.

When you got home, there was a slew of text messages awaiting you. Most were from Anthony, and you answered all of them as best as you could. He was just worried, and you definitely understood that, but he was freaking out more than your own mother had when you told her about Alex.

“It just…took me by surprise,” was the first thing he said when he picked up the phone.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, browsing your fridge for something to eat. “I was always going to tell you guys if it ever got more serious.”

“More serious?” he scoffed. “Seb said you guys have been dating for 7 months.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We clearly have different definitions of a serious relationship,” you mumbled.

“It’s just concerning, alright? If my kid was dating someone 20 years older than them, I’d be rightfully concerned,” he defended. “Especially considering I’ve never met this man and don’t know anything about him.”

“Look at the word you just used: kid. That is something I am not,” you said, slamming your fridge shut. “…and there’s no need to meet him.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s fine,” you tersely replied.

You heard him exhale on the other end, a tense silence falling between you two. You were being a little harsh, you knew that, especially considering Anthony always treated you like family, but you needed to make him, all of them, understand that you were an adult who could make her own decisions. They had no say in this.

“…you heard from Chris?” he eventually asked.

“No, actually, and that’s a little worrisome, I’m not going to lie,” you honestly added, running your eyes over your wine collection.

“Yeah, well, he’s not happy,” Anthony told you.

“If he’s going to pout about this like my personal dating choices offended him or something, then he can suck my ass.”

A laugh met you from the other end, a genuine laugh, and you cracked a smile.

“He’ll come around. You know how much you mean to him,” he finally said after he calmed down.

You did know. Chris was one of the first people to talk to you on set, trying to make you feel more comfortable. It was your first big movie, your first time starring with household names, with people that had way more experience than you. He got you to laugh on your first day and even dragged you over to meet everyone else. He’d taken you under his wing…

Your heart clenched as you thought about how he must feel. It was your business, sure, but you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t feel guilty. You felt even worse once you thought about the fact that you’d told Tom and not him, but Tom didn’t judge you. Tom didn’t treat you like some kid who didn’t know any better half the time.

“I’ll text him,” you told Anthony. “See if I can get him to accept my white flag…”

“You do that. See you tomorrow, kiddo.”

You texted Chris as soon as you hung up, and as the night wore on, your worry grew. You found yourself periodically checking your phone for any type of response, but you got nothing. Alex called though and talked with you until you fell asleep. He was overseas, filming in his home country at the moment, but he called you every day.

He wasn’t bothered at all by what might be in the article, only making sure that you were okay.

“Yeah…I’m okay,” you quietly replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound it,” he quietly replied, deep voice gruff.

You frowned before turning to look at your clock.

“Isn’t it like…3 in the morning over there?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he lightly said, ignoring your own.

You sighed.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…there was a reason I didn’t want to tell everyone, and some people are proving me right…”

“They’ll come around,” he assured.

“You know Seb isn’t the type to care too much, but even he was more judgmental than I expected. Anthony is slowly coming around, but Chris… He’s not answering any of my texts.”

He was quiet for a while before finally responding.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You frowned again, sitting up in bed.

“What do you mean?”

“He is a bit…overprotective of you, isn’t he? I know he just gets concerned, but sometimes he acts like he’s your father and…he’s not. He shouldn’t have any say in what you do,” he elaborated.

You rubbed your eyes.

“I know what you’re saying is true because I’ve thought it myself, but for some reason it sounds harsh coming from your lips,” you groaned.

He chuckled.

“I don’t mean for it to, I promise. I just mean that maybe this will force him to lighten up a bit and realize that there are boundaries and lines he shouldn’t cross…”

You blinked.

“Huh. You might be onto something,” you admitted. “I know he thinks I’m such a child sometimes. Maybe this will make him wake up.”

You didn’t stay on the phone for much longer, and your heart sank when you hung up only to see no new notifications. Was Chris ignoring you? With a huff, you plugged your phone up and settled into bed.

You sipped on the coffee Tom had gotten you on the way here, leaning against the wall as you watched Chris and Anthony talk to the interviewer. This one preferred to talk to a few of you at a time, and considering the disaster that happened a week ago, you quite liked that.

That pushy girl had indeed included the bit about your love life in the article. Fortunately, it was tastefully done, only mentioning it in passing, but she had included that the rest of the cast, sans Tom, had been none the wiser. You hadn’t checked to see what people were saying about it. It wasn’t their opinions that mattered to you.

Chris hadn’t talked to you since, ignoring every one of your messages. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that he’d talk to you whenever he was ready. At first you were angry once you realized what he was doing, but eventually you became more understanding. He was probably more hurt than anything that you hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him.

You perked up when you heard the mention of your name.

“So, word on the street is that Y/N does indeed have a beau and it’s not Tom Holland…” he started.

Chris and Anthony chuckled, but you could tell it was forced.

“Yeah, man, I don’t think anyone was more shocked about that one than their fans,” he laughed. “…but we all know they’re just good friends. It was a nice running joke for a while though.”

Chris didn’t say anything, and the interviewer continued.

“Speaking of shocked, is it true that the rest of you guys were completely in the dark about it? I read that the ball was actually dropped during the interview. I mean, how awkward that must’ve been…”

Chris exhaled.

“Yeah…it was definitely something. It made my day though.”

Your jaw ticked as you realized that he was putting on a front.

“…and is it true that he’s 43? I mean, I’ll definitely ask Y/N this later on-.”

“Then it’d probably be best if she answered that,” Anthony interrupted, and you mentally thanked him.

“Well…the secret’s out, right?” Chris laughed, and you frowned. “Yeah, she says he’s 43.”

Your frown deepened.

“That’d be like dating one of you guys, I’d imagine, but at least it’ll be easy for him to get on well with you guys. You all are rather close with Y/N, so that must be of some importance to her,” the interviewer replied.

“I don’t know about that one considering we found out with the rest of the world,” Chris joked, but you saw right through it. “I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t know though because…”

He suddenly trailed off, letting out a low ‘whew’. He shook his head.

“No. I never would have allowed it.”

Your jaw dropped, staring at him like he’d grown a second head as the words registered within your mind. You didn’t even hear the rest of what was said as you backed up. You almost bumped into Tessa, and she steadied you.

“Woah,” she said. “You okay?”

“No, actually,” you slowly replied, turning to face her. “I’m not.”

You found that it was true. Your stomach churned and you felt like you were going to vomit any moment. The audacity of him!

“I…I have to go,” you told her.

You let your publicist know that you were feeling ill, and you waved bye to Tom on the way out, his brows furrowed in confusion as he hesitantly waved back. You fought tears the entire way to your apartment, shaking your head in disbelief. Never mind the fact that Chris has said that, but the fact that he’d confidently said it in front of other people.

“Never would have allowed it?” you mumbled to yourself.

You were gripping the wheel so hard you were sure it would break. As you furiously got out of your car, you thought to yourself that you didn’t even care if he texted you back or not. You weren’t in the mood to even look at his face, let alone talk to him.

After you showered and poured yourself a glass of wine, you curled up on your couch, staring at the tv…but not watching it. Chris’ words kept replaying, and you wondered how he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. He wasn’t your father! There wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could forbid you to do.

And before you knew it, you had downed two more glasses and that was exactly what you were texting him. You were certain your thumbs would crack the screen with how furiously you were typing. When you were done, you turned your phone off, slamming it on the table as you returned your gaze to the tv.

It was hours later when you heard a knock on your door. You briefly wondered who it was, but you had suspicions that it was probably Tom. You’d left in such a hurry, and your phone was off, so he was probably coming to check on you. With a buzz coursing through your veins, you pulled the door open, only for your face to drop when your eyes connected with blue ones…not brown.

He didn’t exactly look thrilled to see you either, and you were certain that your face was no different. You pursed your lips, going through a pros and cons checklist of letting him in before scoffing. You swung the door open wider before turning your back on him. You heard him close it, his feet following yours into the kitchen.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you poured yourself another glass, taking up residence on the other side of the small island. Eventually, when he didn’t say anything, you looked up at him, a frown on your face.

“Are you actually going to say something? Or just stand there and stare at me?”

Chris heaved a sigh, resting one hand on the counter while the other found a home on his hip. He stared you down, jaw ticking beneath his beard.

“You’re upset with me…”

“I wonder what makes you think that?” you mumbled into your glass.

“…but I’m upset with you too.”

“Yeah, well, at least my anger is valid,” you spat.

“…and mine isn’t?” he threw back.

You huffed, glancing away from him.

“If you’re upset that I didn’t tell you, then I’m sorry. I mean that. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything, but you have to understand why I didn’t say anything. Look at how you’re reacting,” you said, gesturing to him.

His nostrils flared.

“What does a man like that have in common with someone like you anyway?”

You jutted out your hip, resting your hand on it as you stared him down.

“Someone could easily ask you the same thing. What, I can be friends with you, Anthony, and Sebastian despite the age difference, but I can’t date someone who’s the same age as you?”

“It’s a bit different. We are your friends, we look out for you, we are not trying to…”

He swallowed his words, seeming like he couldn’t even bear to say it. You smirked at him.

“So I can choose my friends, but I can’t choose who I fuck?”

He glared at you.

“I mean…that is what you’re saying, right?”

“You can choose someone who’s acceptable…”

“…and who are you to say he’s not acceptable?” you demanded, offended on Alex’s behalf. “You don’t even know him.”

He made himself at home, taking a seat as he stared at you, hands folded on the counter.

“So tell me about him then…”

You heaved a long sigh, leaning against the sink as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“He’s…sweet,” you started, pressing your hands to your eyes. “Oh my God, he’s so sweet, Chris. You’d get along great with him. He’s funny, he loves dogs, and he has the biggest and kindest family you’ll ever meet. He’s filming overseas, right now-.”

“So he’s an actor,” Chris interrupted, sounding displeased.

“Yes. He calls me every night…,” you trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You told Anthony that it wasn’t serious…”

You looked down.

“I really like him, okay? That’s why I don’t care what you guys think. I’m not breaking up with him just because you don’t approve,” you said, eyes meeting his again. “You’re not my father, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, I’m not your father, and I’m sure as hell glad for that, but someone definitely needs to be…”

“Screw you, Chris,” you murmured.

He glared at you, and you fought back tears, surprised at how much this was hurting your feelings.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad about this! Why are you treating me like I can’t make my own decisions?”

“Because I think you’re making bad ones,” he answered, rising and heading towards the door.

You balled your hands into fists as he made his way out.

You spun away from Tessa, a thin layer of sweat clinging to your skin. Today was the last day of filming, and the crew members were hosting a party. You’d almost let Chris’ sour attitude ruin it for you, but Tessa convinced you to come.

She’d arrived at your apartment early in the morning, fed up with your sulking. You told her about your argument with Chris, and she listened while you ranted about his behavior. You talked with her about Alex too, eager to tell her everything. Talking to Tom about him was nice and all, but it was different with Tessa.

She comprehended why you had never said anything about your relationship, far more understanding than Chris or even Anthony had been. She made you feel a lot better about the whole situation and assured you that Chris would get over it. He hadn’t spoken to you the entire time you’d been here, so you didn’t know about that.

It pained you to think that your friendship with him could end just like that over something so insignificant as to who you were dating, something that didn’t affect his life in the slightest. You stumbled away from Tessa, realizing that you’d had more to drink than you thought. You touched her arm.

“Hey, I’m gonna head inside. Try to rest my nerves for a bit…”

“Okay,” she said. “Hurry back when you feel better.”

“K.”

You trudged your way inside of the huge house, heading straight for the kitchen. You filled a glass with water from the sink, emptying it in no time. You were ready to go for another when movement from your left caught your eye.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing when your gaze connected with that of Chris’. He didn’t look like he was having fun, and your shoulders sagged.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You eyed him, almost sadly, before swallowing. You nodded, forgetting the glass of water and opting to follow him instead. You stumbled a few times, alcohol coursing through your system, but thankfully Chris didn’t notice.

You followed him into a guest bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he turned on the light. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a dark tee, a darker cardigan hugging his arms and shoulders. He rested his hands on his hips in that Captain America way you often teased him about, and you fought a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually breathed.

You blinked at him, the alcohol making it hard to process what he said.

“You’re…sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and his face crumbled as he moved to sit beside you.

“You’re right. I can’t tell you who you can or can’t date. I shouldn’t have said what I said in that interview,” he admitted.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“No…you shouldn’t have. I was so…embarrassed when you said that Chris,” you said, looking at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to make you feel that way. I thought I was upset because you hid it from me, but…”

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue. His gaze met yours.

“I don’t have any rights to your dating life, but…I want to,” he slowly replied.

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I care about you…”

“I know. I care about you too,” you told him in the quiet room.

“I’m attracted to you, Y/N,” he confessed, making your eyes widen. “I always have been.”

Your lips parted, surprise and confusion filling you.

“I told myself from the beginning that my feelings were innocent, that I was just looking out for you. I convinced myself that my anger at your relationship came from a place of concern…but that isn’t true.”

“Chris…”

“Somewhere down the line, in the back of my mind, I had accepted that anything between us would be inappropriate. That you’d be repulsed…and then, come to find out, your boyfriend is even older than me.”

He chuckled, finding some warped humor in it all.

“I felt cheated. I felt like that could be me…like that should be me…”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d have to be blind to deny that Chris was handsome. He was one of the most sought-after men in America, but your feelings had been fleeting…shallow. You thought Anthony and Sebastian and Tom were handsome too, but in an appreciative sort of way. That was how you saw Chris too.

“I’m…with Alex. You know that…”

He took your hands, scooting closer.

“…but could that have been me? Tell me the truth,” he pleaded.

“I…I don’t know-.”

“I think you do. I think you thought like I thought and pushed any desires out of your mind.”

Your mind was fuzzy, too much alcohol in your system to fully process this conversation. You moved to stand, but he held you in place.

“Chris, I think I should go…”

You trailed off when his lips met yours, and you jerked back, eyes wide.

“I have a boyfriend, you know that…”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he told you.

“I…I don’t know! But it doesn’t matter because I am with someone!”

“…and that someone could have been me.”

“But it’s not, so-.”

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you. You reached in between your bodies, pressing the palms of your hands against his chest. He moved back, but he brought you with him. He rolled you over until you were beneath him, and you made a noise of protest deep in your throat.

“Chris,” you mumbled into his lips, pushing against him again.

He was smooth in reaching under your dress to take hold of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. You opened your mouth to protest again, but all that came out was a gasp when his hand slid between your thighs.

You shook in his arms as he played between your legs, fingers ghosting over you and prodding you until he was able to slide them into your soaking lips. A choked moan climbed out of your throat, and he hummed as his lips trailed down your chin, peppering kisses along your neck.

Your body felt light, limbs numb as you heard him fooling around with his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. You knew what was about to happen. Your brain was screaming at you, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or shock, but you were powerless to stop him.

You reached out to place your hands on his when he parted your legs, and you didn’t know if it was to pull his hands away…or not. You caught a glimpse of him as he settled between your legs, stomach sinking as you blinked at the sight of him…bare…for you.

“Chris,” you mumbled, unsure of what you were going to say.

It didn’t matter, anyway. His lips were covering yours as he pressed the head of his cock against your folds, prodding and prolonging the inevitable. You thought about Alex, and that sobered you up a bit, but it was too late.

You threw your head back against the mattress, nails digging into Chris’ hands as he thrust inside of you. The noise that escaped him was orgasmic, the deep sound causing you to clench around his length. He hissed at that before completely leaning over you, forearms pressed into the mattress beside your head as he started to move.

Shallow breaths left your lips as he pumped into you, the squelching sound of his retreat and entry reaching your ears. Your eyes were unfocused, hands coming up to rest on his sides as you started to moan. He joined you, bending his head to kiss you again and again.

There were odd brief moments at the start of filming where you idly wondered what it would be like to kiss Chris. You never imagined that you’d find out for sure. Then when you and Alex happened, you’d left those girlish and embarrassing fantasies behind. His lips were soft and sweet with the taste of whatever drink he’d had, and he moved them over yours with so much expertise it made your head spin.

“That feel good?” he breathlessly wondered, jerking his hips into yours.

You gave a shaky nod.

“U-uh-huh,” you gasped, clenching around him.

“God, you’re so beautiful… You know that?” he mumbled, kissing you again.

Your toes flexed, stomach clenching as well.

“I thought about you all last night,” he quietly professed. “I thought about your lips and these fucking thighs and how it’d feel to be in between them…”

“Chris,” you whined.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed in your ear. “Tighter than I’d imagined you’d be.”

One of your hands traveled to his back, bunching up his shirt and sweater.

“Chris,” you gasped, breath hitching. “Chris, I think…”

Your words died on your tongue as you moaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer. He groaned against your skin, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me?”

You gave a jerky nod, tightening your grip on him. He hissed when you clenched around him again, blue eyes boring into your own.

“Yeah? You’re fucking choking my cock. A greedy little thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Come on, baby. Show me what I do to you…”

You shook in his arms as your climax rushed over you, legs trembling and eyes rolling as you clenched around him again and again. He wasn’t done, fucking you through it until you were an incoherent mess beneath him.

You never did rejoin Tessa on the dance floor.

~

tags: @harryspet​ @coconutqueen21​ @readermia​ @nickyl316h​

#Dark Fic #Dark fics #dark!chris evans #chris evans x reader #dark chris evans #dark chris evans x reader

[jinx-jade]

A Fairy’s protection Chapter 3

“I’m sure your wife will love them, Mr. Hade!” Marinette heard Mia, one of the young teens she had employed by Lao’s recommendation, cheer as she most likely waved goodbye to the older gentleman.

Mia was the only employee in the shop today due to it being a school day. 

“It’s a wonder that she found such ‘respectful’ and ‘clean’ children to help around the shop.” Marinette heard one of the more uptight, rich snob customers comment to her friend.

Mia tensed a bit but kept her head down and continued working and helping other customers.

“She’s truly lucky. I haven’t once seen a ‘street vermin’ near this lovely flower shop.” The woman’s friend responded, causing the first woman, who Marinette has now identified as Mrs. King’s daughter, Zoe King, to laugh.

Mrs. King was one of Marinette’s regulars. She was always coming in for teas and treats, sometimes bringing her friends to gossip and snack. Marinette wasn’t too fond of some of the company Mrs. King kept but Mrs. King herself always made pleasant company.

Marinette let out a sigh and made her way to Zoe and her friend. With the way Mia's energy would tense and swirl with hurt and annoyance Marinette figured it would be best to get them to stop the insult-laced comments.

“Can I help you?” Marinette questioned the two teens in a sweet voice.

Zoe’s friend scoffed, most likely about to make a rude comment when Zoe placed a hand on her arm as if to tell her to be quiet or watch what she says.

“Hello, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Zoe said in a pleasant well-mannered voice vastly different from her previous gossiping voice.

The energy of Zoe’s friend was confused by the sudden change of attitude.

“Miss Zoe, I didn’t realize you walked in. Is Mrs. King here as well? If so, I can mix up a batch of teas for her.” Marinette greets, gesturing for them to follow her as she made her way back to the front counter.

Zoe followed hesitantly her head hung a little lower than her usually ‘picture-perfect’ posture. Her friend followed after Zoe curiously.

Zoe’s energy was swirling around in shame and nervousness. Her friend’s energy swirling around in annoyance and curiosity.

“Actually Miss, My mother isn’t here. I came with my friend Clare to look at the flowers and get some treats.” Zoe informed Marinette, trying to mask her nerves as she spoke.

They had already reached the front counter, Marinette turning to face Zoe and the newly dubbed Clare.

“It’s a shame that Mrs. King couldn’t come in,” Marinette said with a thoughtful expression.

“I’ll just have to give her a ring and ask what kind of tea she would like,” Marinette said, with a deciding nod. “ Oh! Mrs. King had mentioned that Mr. King was interested in the teas as well. Perhaps I could get his opinion?”

Zoe and Clare seemed to panic at that, but before either girl could stop her from calling, the phone answered, and Mrs. King’s voice rang through it with crystal clarity.

“Hello?” Mrs. King questioned.

“Sorry to bother you, Mrs. King, I was wondering what teas you would like mixed up?” Marinette asked, her voice as sweet and innocent as ever.

“Oh! Miss Dupain-Cheng! My apologies, I didn’t save the shop’s number.” Mrs. King says, causing Marinette to giggle.

“There’s no need to apologize Mrs. King, and I thought I said you could call me Marinette. My last name is such a mouthful,” Marinette informs her. Mrs. King only gave a light laugh in response.

“That’s right you did.” There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Mrs. King seemed to be talking to a man, most likely Mr. King. “Sorry. It seems my husband and I have somewhere to be. Is there a reason for this call?” Mrs. King asked.

“Uhm,” Marinette lets out a hum as if trying to remember before she made eye contact with Zoe.

 “Oh! I wanted to know what kind of tea you and Mr. King would like? I figured since Miss Zoe and Miss Clare were already in the shop they could bring it back for you.” Marinette said as if she had just remembered.

The other end of the phone went dead silent. When a voice filtered through the phone it was not Mrs. Kings.

“Hello, Miss Dupain-Cheng, this is Mr. King. My wife and I will be at your shop in a bit to pick out tea mixes. Could you keep an eye on my daughter and Miss Odle?” Mr. King states more than asks.

“Sorry, but I’ll have to have one of my employees keep an eye on them. Would that be acceptable?” Marinette asked, knowing that not all parents like leaving their children with strangers. Mr. King had probably only been ok with the idea of her watching Zoe and Clare due to Mrs. King already knowing her.

Mr. King sounded like he wanted to disagree or ask why she couldn’t watch the children when the King’s voices became muffled as Mrs. King spoke with her husband.

“Ehr. Uhm. My apologies, I wasn’t aware that you are missing your sight, Miss. Dupain-Cheng. A trusted employee of yours will be acceptable to watch over my daughter and Miss Odle.” Mr. King informed her.

The call ended, Zoe and Clare looking a bit pale.

“Why don’t you young ladies take a seat at one of the tables. I’ll have Mia keep an Eye on you, per Mr. King’s request,” Marinette said, handing a plate of treats to the girls.

Clare took the plate with a quick thank you and quickly moved to sit at the tables with Zoe.

“Mia,” Marinette called, raising her hand a lazily to call over the young employee.

Mia walked over to Marinette, having seen the whole scene with the King and Odle girls.

“Yes, Miss?” Mia cheered, with a smile.

“You remember Mrs. King, Yes?” Marinette questioned.

“Mrs. King is one of your regulars. The sweet lady who looks too young for what age she says?” Mia said curiously.

Marinette chuckled. “That sounds about right, her voice makes her seem young as well. Anyway, those two young ladies, one of them is Mrs. King’s daughter, the other is her friend. Mr. King wants an eye kept on them.” Mia nodded her head.

“I’ll keep an eye on them for you, Miss.” Mia cheered before disappearing towards the table.

Mrs. and Mr. King came in fifteen or so minutes later, Mrs. King directing them to the front counter when it was clear that Mr. King wanted to go towards Zoe and Clare.

Marinette had given Mr. King some tea samples to try as Mrs. King picked out the mixes she had already decided on. Once they had chosen their tea Marinette began wrapping them up. She was almost finished packing the order when they heard a scream and then aloud slap ring through the air.

Everyone in the shop’s attention turned to the table that had the young King and Odle heiresses and who appeared to be a shop employee.

The shop employee was holding her cheek with tears in her eyes, causing a clear picture to form in everyone’s heads about what had happened.

The Odle heiress seemed to have been the one to slap the employee, seeing as the King heiress was in shock, seated on the opposite side of the table.

Marinette put down the package and made her way to the table stepping in between Mia and Clare.

“Is there a reason for your assault against my employee, Miss Clare?” Marinette said in a neutral tone of voice.

A few of the adults tensed at the words Marinette used.

“This street rat spilled water all over my designer dress!” Clare huffed, still very upset.

Marinette was about to say something when Mia placed a hand on her arm.

“I’m fine Miss,” Mia claimed, removing the hand that was covering her face with a slit hiss.

The others in the store gasped in shock. Mia had a split lip with heavy bruising already appearing on her cheek.

Marinette cleared her throat getting everyone’s attention.

“If everyone could leave so I can close the shop and take this I would be very grateful,” Marinette claimed in an authoritative tone of voice. The people left the shop without much fuss.

“Mr. and Mrs. King, you are free to take Miss Zoe and leave, but I will have to ask Miss Clare to stay. If you could give me a number to contact Miss Clare’s parents or guardians that would be helpful as well.” Marinette states.

Mrs. King told Marinette Mrs. Odle’s private number. After typing it in she selected the call button.

The call itself took no more than fourteen or fifteen minutes, the Odle’s arriving half an hour later. 

The perks of being in the business district Marinette guessed.

The Odle’s had only been in the shop for a minute or two when a police car parked outside the building and its driver, a man in a police uniform with black hair and blue eyes walked in.

Tag list: @Moon5608 @animegirlweeb @asrainterstellar @toodaloo-kangaroo @mystery-5-5 @casual-darkness @user00000003 @iloontjeboontje @alyssadliv @jayjayspixiepop @corporeal-terrestrial @all-mights-asscheeks @adrestar @moonlightstar64

#maribat

[bonjour-rainycity]

Making Amends

Summary: Five years, you thought he was gone for good. After the War, he disappeared. Now, after months of zero contact, he shows up at your bridal salon. A somewhat bitter Reader and a post-FATWS Bucky

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader

Word count: 2381

Warnings: Mentions of past violence and killings, adult language

I sigh, securing the train of the dress so it doesn’t drag against the floor. The dress is stunning, as they all are. This one—pouffy, ivory, grand—has a bateau neckline and falls to the floor in a long, glittering train.

The glitter gets everywhere.

I bend down, trying to wipe some of it off my pants leg, then work on my blazer. Every day, only black clothes. It’s tradition, but a stupid one — the glitter stands out on my clothes more than it does on the white dresses.

“Miss, someone’s here to see you.”

I grit my teeth, digging my hands into the fabric of the dress. The receptionist is young — barely out of her teens, really — and still quite new at her job. She, like others, disappeared on that awful day five and a half years ago.

The day I lost everything.

And she’s here today because of my friends’ sacrifices.

I try to remind myself to be patient. “We’re appointment only, Lydia. Tell her to call, make an appointment, and come back then.”

“R-right,” she stammers, and I can hear the bottoms of her heels scraping against the floor as she shifts her weight. “It’s just—well, he said it’s really important, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

That gives me pause. He?

As a product manager at a bridal salon, my day is mostly spent in the company of women. Brides, their mothers, bridal parties, wedding planners, etc. There’s the occasional fiancé, father, brother, friend come to support, or a groom shopping for a dress, but overall, men tend to stand out.

“Fine, send him in,” I allow. It’s obvious he’s not listening to Lydia, but I know I’m more intimidating than she is. I’ll tell him to schedule an appointment. “And then do me a favor — there’s a list of designers on my desk upstairs. Can you give their offices a call and update the contact info for each brand representative?”

She sounds relieved. “Sure, no problem.”

As the sound of her heels meeting the ground fade away, I breathe in the sweet, floral-scented air. We’re under-booked today. There are only a few brides occupying our east fitting rooms, so I’ve decided to spend my afternoon in the west, making everything look perfect for the weekend ahead. Having this section alone — just me, the soft piano music playing over the speakers, and the dresses — is almost peaceful.

It would be peaceful if I were anyone else.

I continue to straighten the dresses. Everything needs to be perfectly spaced, meticulously tucked and folded to make each dress impressive in its own way. There’s no room for imperfection, here.

The sound of heavy boots clicking on the floor rings through the empty room. “Hey, Doll.”

My body runs cold.

That voice. I know it well.

My mind flashes to late nights, stealing smiles and kisses, tight hugs, adoring eyes.

And then falling to the ground in grief. Changing outfits to attend my second funeral of the day. His. And, after years of grieving, healing, and suffering through, one chance to fix it all. The joy of having him back. Locking eyes on the battlefield.

And then nothing.

Nothing.

All my air leaves me in one, quick, sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I turn, both dreading the sight and longing for it.

And just like that, standing between two rows of eggshell and pearl and ivory, he’s here.

Dark denim jeans, a deep blue shirt—long sleeve, knowing him—a grey button-up open on his chest, and two thick gloves, despite the summer heat.

I cross my arms.

He purses his lips together and raises his eyebrows, crossing one foot over the other casually. “So, bridal, huh?”

I feel my jaw clench. “I’ve got to make a living, don’t I? Evidently you do, too.” I can’t stop the bitterness from seeping into my voice.

He sighs that long-suffering sigh, one that tells me he’s more resigned than upset. “I wanted to come back.”

I turn my attention back to the dresses, walking down the row of gleaming white. “No one was stopping you.”

He turns to face me as I continue my inspection of each and every gown. “It’s not that simple. I—I was working hard. I had to get freed from him.”

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to feel something. But of course, I do. Ever since I’ve known Bucky, he’s been wrecked by the things he’s done and terrified he’ll be called to do them again.

Terrified that he’ll lose his mind once again to the assassin.

When I saw him on TV, in a random news report from months ago, I’d broken down into sobs. I’d fallen to my knees and said prayer after prayer of thanks. Because the clouds had faded from his eyes. The fear, the ever-present dread, was gone. He stood taller, more assured —

Happier.

I knew then, that somehow, he’d gotten the Winter Soldier out.

I bend down, fluffing layers of crinoline in a ballgown. “You’ve been in the news.”

He hears the accusation in my voice. You’ve been back for months.

He approaches me slowly, coming to stand in front of me as I straighten. “I had a job to do.”

“What, the new Captain America doesn’t allow cell phones?”

He ignores the jab. “Doll, I had to wait to make sure, to be sure, but I’m safe, now. I’m not him anymore.”

“Bucky, I always felt safe with you,” I whisper, the emotion nearly winning. “I loved you more than anything. And despite what you said — that you loved me, too — you just left. Five years I waited for you. I didn’t think there was any way I would ever see you again, and then by some miracle, after so much loss, you came back! We fought in a war together. We killed. And we won. And then you disappeared. It’s been six months! I-I mean, I hate to think the worst, Bucky, but I really thought—” I cut off my words then, unable to continue without dissolving into tears.

His jaw tightens in that heartbreaking way it does when he’s sad, and he reaches forward. When I don’t protest to his gloved hand on mine, he pulls me into a hug. I want to melt into him. I want to collapse under nearly six years of unresolved grief, stress, worry, and let him hold me up, let him bear this burden for just a few minutes.

But that’s not the way I’m made.

I’ve entrusted my heart to him too many times.

And every time, I’m left alone and broken.

I push myself out of his arms, wiping my tears away quickly. Once again, the dresses act as my anchor, my distraction. I gather one in my arms, crossing the aisle to re-hang it in its proper place.

Bucky watches from a distance.

His hands are tucked into his pockets, and he looks at me sadly for a while before his eyes turn to the ground.

Silence falls between us. The only noises are the coos of elated brides and their adoring guests coming from the east side of the building.

After a while, Bucky raises his head towards me. “Does working here make you want it?”

I sigh. He can’t do that. Can’t come in here after so much time away with zero contact and then casually ask me stupid questions. “Want what?”

“You know,” he shrugs, leaning against the receptionist’s desk. “It. A wedding, a marriage, a…life.”

I purse my lips, shaking my head. I reach to adjust a hanger slightly out of my arm span, trying my hardest not to sound sad. “I’m not the kind of girl you marry, Buck. Not anymore.”

He scoffs, making a face. “What does that even mean?”

I turn on him, more than done with this conversation. “Exactly that! I see it every day — brides come in here, all starry-eyed, happy, innocent. They’ve got love, or at least the excitement of planning their ‘big day,’ and they just glow with all the life in them. I don’t have that, not anymore. I—” I lower my voice, gritting my teeth against the emotion that attempts to fight through. “I’ve killed people, Bucky. For a long period of time, that’s all I did. And, look, I’m really, really happy for you being able to heal and move on and be freed, but I can’t do that. I can’t come back from who I turned out to be.”

“That’s bullshit. You did what you had to do.” He pushes himself off the receptionist’s desk, adamant. “Every life you took was to stop the slaughter of others. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I can.”

We stare each other down.

He’s always had a good stare.

Steady, intimidating, unwavering. It’s like he can see into the depths of your soul and know he can outlast you.

But I work with furious mothers of the brides.

I raise an eyebrow, showing him I will not back down from this challenge.

He blinks and moves his gaze past my right shoulder. Something shifts in his eyes. “You’ve got a client.”

I force my expression to soften, maneuvering around Bucky to grab the clipboard from the receptionist’s desk. I give him a look that clearly says do not move, and hurry to the front door to welcome the bride and her guests in. Amidst the flurry of excited chatters, gushing about wedding plans, and a clear description of what she does not want, I check them in on the clipboard and take them to the east wing to meet a consultant. When I return, Bucky is exactly where I left him.

He smirks at me. “What the hell was that? Your voice rose like three octaves.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s called customer service.”

He shrugs, leaning against the desk in a way I should not find ridiculously attractive. “Well, why don’t I get any of that?”

I grit my teeth. “Because they are going to buy a dress, which will pay my salary, which will make me happy. You on the other hand, have caused me nothing but anger, sadness, and worry.” I blink, absently shocked that all that truth escaped despite my best efforts.

Something flashes in Bucky’s eyes—regret, maybe—but he covers it well, tilting his head to the side and keeping his playful tone. “Really? Nothing but that? Gosh, I must have been a terrible boyfriend.”

I dig my teeth into my lower lip, staring down at my clipboard. It’s been six months. You may as well continue with the honesty. You don’t know the next time you’ll have a change to talk to him like this. “Buck…” I approach him slowly, buying myself time. Too soon, I come to stand in front of him. “You were a great boyfriend. I…” I sigh, shaking my head. “I thought you were it. I didn’t want anyone else. And we were happy, overall. You know—up until you disappeared without so much as a text and ignored me for six months.”

A muscle twitches in his cheek. He leans forward, locking his eyes with mine. “We were good together. I loved you, more than anything, I—well Doll, I still love you. And look, I know I’ve messed up. In more ways than seems is humanly possible, but I,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m as clean as I’m ever gonna get. I shouldn’t have disappeared without warning. I should’ve called when I left Wakanda. I should’ve let you hear from me rather than seeing me on the news. I should’ve come back and done the work to rebuild what I broke. I’m sorry. I really am.”

I feel the clipboard digging into my stomach. I don’t move. I stare at him, terrified of the way his words, the honesty in his eyes, makes me react. Too easily, my walls are coming down. “What did you come here for?”

“I—just,” he digs his hands into his pockets, sighing lowly. “I’m back in town. And I’m here to stay for a while. If you’d allow it, I’d like to try to make amends.”

Don’t do it, I beg myself. Don’t set yourself up for more pain.

In the face of my silence, he nods slowly, taking on a look of sad understanding.

“I work till seven.” The words rush from my mouth before I can stop them, before I can think of the consequences. I grip the clipboard even tighter.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, the start of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod, my heart racing at the prospect of being with him again, of maybe fixing things. “I live in the same apartment.”

He grins fully now, but at my stern look, attempts to wipe it off his face. I’m still mad at him, he shouldn’t get too comfortable yet.

But the light doesn’t leave his eyes and, despite my fear that this will all turn out terribly for me, I feel my own lips threatening to turn up.

He pushes himself off the desk, standing closer to me than I think either of us intended. “Can I take you out?”

I release a long breath, not moving from my spot despite our proximity. “Yes.”

He nods slowly, not pulling his gaze from mine. “It’s a date.”

“It’s a trial period,” I correct, unable to keep myself from teasing him a little.

He tilts his head to the side, laughing indulgently. “Alright, I deserve that. Then, sure, I’ll pick you up at eight for our trial period.”

He smirks cockily at me, winking in that way he knows makes my knees weak, before turning and swaggering to the door.

Despite our play, he’s not getting off this easy. There’s a lot we have to work through, and we might not even be compatible anymore — he knows that, too.

But for just this moment, I allow myself to enjoy feeling comfortable with him, joking like we used to. When his gloved hand reaches for the doorknob, I call after him, keeping my tone light. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Barnes.”

He turns his head to mine, nodding solemnly in a way I didn’t expect. “I know, Doll.”

A/n Whoops, couldn’t get this one out of my head after seeing Bucky in FATWS, so here’s some angst, bitterness, and hopefully a little hope! 

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#fatws #fatws spoilers #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction

[junko-and-riri-domain]

a cup of coffee | sjy

↬ series: cameras & caffeine | chapter two ↬ pairing: cafe owner!jake x ceo!reader ft. all members in this chapter !! ↬ series genres: fluff, slight angst, jake also bakes, reader is a single mom, we fell in love when we were kids but life happened so we broke up and now we’re reconnecting because we’re adults and i don’t think i ever truly got over you au, love triangle if you squint really really hard ↬ navi: previous | next | series masterlist ↬ warnings: some angst if you squint really close  ↬ word count: 1.6k

As Jay and Sunghoon leave the doors of Jayla’s Cafe and head to their cars Jay notices the shift in the younger’s mood and slightly nudges him with his shoulder. Jay’s about to say something when all of a sudden,

“SUNOO-YAH!” a female’s voice practically yells on the street causing the two men to look up and around them. Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he sees a little boy dressed in yellow, almost running into the street. Instinct takes over Sunghoon, he reaches for the boy and pulls him into his chest just as a car drives by, honking its horn. The little boy looks at Sunghoon, eyes wide and slightly curious.

“Sunoo, what did I say about running onto the street?” the earlier female voice says as she runs up to Sunghoon and Sunoo, stopping in an attempt to catch her breath. It’s when Sunghoon sees her that he takes in her appearance. Her messy hair tied up in a bun, eyes wide with worry, and voice slightly wavering.

“Sorry, Eomma,” Sunoo replies as he stands up and bows towards Sunghoon and Jay. The woman looks at Sunghoon and greets him with an appreciative smile,

“Thank you for saving him.”

“Do you… need help?” Sunghoon offered somewhat hesitantly as he sees the small wagon of flowers behind her.

“Oh, no really, it’s fine, thank you! We’re just right over there,” she replied, pointing across the street. Sunghoon and Jay look across the street to me with the sight of a small little flower shop called Smiles & Sunflowers. “We have to go but if you ever need flowers let me know, I’ll give you a discount. I’m Hwayoung, by the way!” The woman, — Hwayoung says just as she hands Sunghoon and Jay a business card just before crossing the street pulling the wagon of flowers and holding Sunoo’s hand.

Sunghoon puts the business card into his pocket, nothing much of the exchange or the woman that he just met when there was already one that constantly occupied his mind. Turning to Jay,

“What were you gonna say before that?” Sunghoon asked. Shaking his head.

“Nothing, I forgot,” Jay lied.

You couldn’t focus when you got to work the next day. Your mind was only met with frustration as your fingers attempted to tap at your keyboard and send words into documents. The silent air of your office was met with your constant sighing and slight huffs of annoyance as a result of it. Which ultimately led to your assistant, Nishimura Riki coming into your office and calling you out on it.

“Are you gonna keep moping around or are you gonna actually do something?” Ni-ki asked as he entered your office. Ni-ki didn’t hesitate to ask or call you out about anything which was one of the reasons you liked having him as your assistant. He was like a breath of fresh air in a world polluted by fake compliments and fake smiles. Ni-ki knew a fairly good amount about your life, though, not as much as Sunghoon and Jay but enough to tell that something was going on with you.

“I’m not moping,” you muttered as you looked at him from above your computer. Ni-ki rolled his eyes in response,

“You’re clearly not working either,” he countered.

“Ok, well what the hell do you want me to do?” Ni-ki looked at his watch,

“Take the day off.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have any more meetings scheduled, you can pick up Heeseung from school, and relax.” You were hesitant about it, leaving work earlier than everyone and in broad daylight was something you weren’t quite used to but after a few more minutes of convincing from Ni-ki, you decided to go for it. You let Sunghoon know that you were picking up Heeseung and spending the entire day with him. Happiness filled Heeseung’s face once he saw you waiting for him in the front of the school, causing him to run into you and practically jump into your arms.

“Are we going out today?” Heeseung asked as you two went into your car. You nod as you put on his seatbelt for him,

“Mhm, bubs. How does going to the mall sound?”

“Sounds fun!” While on the drive to the mall,

“Eomma?” Heeseung asked.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Appa?” The sentence almost causes you to slam on the brakes out of shock but thankfully, you managed to continue driving, your hand on the wheel slightly tightening. You decided to pull over to better talk to Heeseung about this.

“Where’s this coming from, bubs?” you asked. You couldn’t help the slight fear and nervousness that filled you, you knew that Heeseung was growing up but honestly you weren’t ready to talk about it. It was selfish, you knew. Both Heeseung and Heeseung’s father had a right to know about the other’s existence but you were scared. Things were fine so far, right? So why did it have to change?

“I’m just curious because all the other kids talk about theirs so I wanna know where mine is.” You clear your throat thinking about how to handle this until finally,

“Appa’s somewhere right now.” Lie.

“Doesn’t he want to come and see me?” Heeseung asked, eyes full of hope and happiness. You weren’t sure how to handle this nor did you want to break Heeseung’s heart.

“Of course he does! He’s just really busy right now.” The first part… you weren’t quite sure about. But the second part had to be true, right?

The conversation thankfully ended there and you resumed to your drive back to the mall. Yet still, another worry was added onto your list.

The rest of the week passed by as somewhat of a blur. You had a gala to plan which added onto your workload but said workload allowed you to take your mind off of Heeseung and the topic of Heeseung’s father as well as your ex opening up a cafe. But things changed when you got home because being a mother always came first.

And you were going to have to face reality sooner or later.

Saturday afternoon came, you, Sunghoon, and Heeseung were just having a lazy day and staying in. Throughout the week, Sunghoon noticed that something was on your mind but decided it wasn’t his place to ask about it. Yet despite knowing this,

“What happened?” Sunghoon asked as you two were doing the dishes, Heeseung in the living room choosing a movie.

“What do you mean?” you replied, pretending as if you didn’t know what he was talking about.

“You’ve been acting weird this whole week, don’t act like I can’t tell.”

“A couple days ago,” you took a deep breath, “Hee asked where his dad was and asked if his dad wanted to see him.”

“Oh.”

“What should I do?” you asked, looking up at Sunghoon.

Sunghoon looked back at you, wanting to tell you that he’d take care of Heeseung like his own if you’d let him. Sunghoon’s heart raced at the thought of finally being able to be there for you in all the ways that he knew Heeseung’s father hadn’t. But as Sunghoon’s words left his mouth and were said out loud, he knew damn well that what he wanted wasn’t going to happen.

“You should get a cup of coffee, I’ll take care of Hee for the rest of the day.”

Sunghoon wondered how much longer this would last. He wondered how much longer he’d be able to pick up Heeseung from school and head to your office. He wondered how much longer he’d be able to freely enter your house and stay with you and Heeseung, the two people who had a place in his heart deeper than he cared to admit. How much longer until you slipped away from beside him and took back your place next to the man who had always claimed you?

“Jungwon-ah!” Jake said to his newest baking assistant and barista in the cafe.

“Yeah, hyung?” Jungwon replied, walking out of the kitchen and towards the register where Jake was.

“I’m taking Layla out for a walk, are you gonna be ok running the cafe on your own for around an hour?” Jungwon nodded as he tried his hands with a towel,

“I’ll be good, don’t worry hyung,” he replied with a smile. Jake headed out with Layla, the two walking around and getting to relearn more parts of the city since Jake hadn’t been in the city in a while. But now, he was here to stay. As Jake walked Jayla, his mind kept going back to the picture he saw on Sunghoon’s phone. Did you and Sunghoon really start a relationship together and have a kid? Yet at the same time, there was no ring on Sunghoon’s finger nor was there one on yours. On the way back to the cafe, Jake was only brought out of his thoughts when he felt Layla’s leash slipping from his hand and saw her running. Chasing after her and calling her name, Jake didn’t quite notice just who Layla was running towards.

You stood at the front of Jayla’s cafe, palms sweating, heart racing, and mind unsure if coming here was the right decision. The chance to leave is taken away from you when a familiar voice yells,

“LAYLA!” and all of a sudden, a presence — Layla’s to be specific, is on you nearly knocking you down to the concrete sidewalk. Layla barks and jumps up at you in happiness, tail wagging excitedly. You notice Jake before he sees you, too focused on Layla to realize that you were even here.

It’s when he finally catches up to you that he stops in his tracks.

It’s when he looks up that his breathing pauses in his throat and it’s not from all the running he just did.

It’s when you smile at him that he feels his heart tightening and squeezing in his chest.

“I know you’re busy… but can we talk?” you ask.

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❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul​​ ) | main blog masterlist | blog navi

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