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aitarose · 3 years

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AKAIBARA (T.KUROO) pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

synopsis: he was everything, her entire world. y/n didn’t know love without kuroo, but she also didn’t know if he knew any love for her—any love at all.

word count: 5.6k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, mutual pining, fluff, angst

warnings: blood, mentions of death, terminal illness?

notes: this is for my muse, lina-chan, since she’s my love—and i catered y/n to her exact personality traits..so you’re welcome loser-chan!

↳ DIRECTORY

Nine petals and counting.

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of the vinyl bathroom sink, head tilted downwards, towards the view of red. Solids and liquids approached the drain, a mix of flowers and blood escaping from her body.

Ten, eleven, twelve. It was unstoppable, the amount of love she was losing, the amount of strength she had to go on. Her legs felt weak, frail in comparison to her usual tenacity and vigor on the side of the court.

She hadn’t been able to manage the volleyball team in weeks, nearing months. Her physical health had wavered, forcing her to resign from her post. Forcing her responsibilities on their coach, her boys having to fend for themselves for the first time since she was fifteen.

Loneliness was all Y/N knew, though she was still an avid student and classmate. It was all she’d felt in the past days, isolated from her friends, her classmates, even him.

Even Kuroo.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be apart from him, from his humor, his laugh, the overwhelming feeling of warmth that he brought to her life. He was her sun amongst Toyko’s sea of stars—but he couldn’t see her like this.

He couldn’t see the blood stains, the coughing fits, the garden of flowers that grew from her throat. She was a mess and he was him, the very person that caused her this horrid disease. The very person that she loved more than anyone in the entire world.

Hanahaki wasn’t uncommon in their town, nearly a quarter of Nekoma High suffered from it in some type of way. It was truly an enigma, a confusion turned infection that made no sense to the human mind.

Y/N had tried to re-work her diagnosis for years, since the first few weeks she’d had it—and despite her knowledge of anatomy and biology, there was no solution to her dilemma, there was no true scientific cure.

And over time, she and Kuroo had come to realize that. While they worked and worked for a way to rid her of the thorns, there was nothing they could do as he didn’t know who her love was.

He didn’t know that no matter how many nights he stayed up beside her, chin rested over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her torso—no matter how much he tried to relieve her of her pain, he only made it worse.

He wanted to help, she knew that he wanted to help in any way that he could—but it was no use. All he’d ever be able to do is watch in sympathy as she’d run out of their classroom and back into the hole that was the public girl’s restroom.

Kuroo was the best person Y/N knew, which was all the more reason that he had to stay out, that he needed to give her space during this time. The disaster that was hanahaki couldn’t infiltrate his life, Y/N wouldn’t let it, he didn’t deserve the pressure—the pressure of loving her.

Thirteen, fourteen, to nothing.

Relief began to overcome her lungs, oxygen filling her veins, the thorn-covered vines retreated back to the place in which they came. It was as if the sun had finally showered through the clouds, giving Y/N the light that she so desperately needed.

Her flowers were strange in comparison to the stories she and Kuroo had read online. Rather than continuous, straight lines of blood and blossoms—her roses were sporadic and unpredictable.

There’d be times where she’d be stuck in the restroom for the entirety of the day, throwing up due to her rib cage cramping and rolling over itself—or she’d be perfectly fine, with all the energy in the world.

Those days were her favorite. The day’s where she and Kuroo would scream at the top of their lungs. Where he’d spin her around and wrap her up in the tightest hug he could muster. Where he’d smile at her as if she wasn’t only his best friend—as if he loved her.

But he didn’t. He didn’t love her, not in the way she wanted at least.

A light sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, her quivering body stilling as she finally took a look towards her reflection. She’d been staring at the pile of scarlet for nearly a half-an-hour, trying her best not to lose count of her trauma.

Fifteen petals was all it took to uproot her day, dwindle her time with Kuroo down to nothing. It was embarrassing, truly.—that her soul was controlled by a mere rose.

Color slowly returned to her cheeks, flushed shades of pink mocking her with their rosy hue, red lighting up the tip of her nose. Her eyes were weary, blurry from the amount of tears she’d shed, the same tears that had meshed with the running tap water.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N let go of the sink. She let go of the safety of her reflection, the safety of knowing that she was the only person who’d ever see herself this way, completely derailed by love.

Stepping into the real world, the world of judgement from classmates and concerned advisors, she hastily left the bathroom—only for a large, calloused hand to wrap itself around her forearm.

As she rolled her eyes, turning to face her captor, Y/N raised her palm and flicked her best friend right between his eyebrows. “You waited?” She suppressed a grin, stifling a laugh at the sight of his mocking pout.

“Seems like fan behavior to me, Kuroo.”

He frowned at her words, picking her up with ease as he made his way down the now empty hallways. Y/N squealed, despite being used to his relentless strength, there would never be a time in which she’d expect him to throw her over his shoulder.

Holding her legs whilst supporting her waist, he nodded with a troublesome smile at any of their classmates who’d so happened to remain after the school bell had rung—to which they’d respond with a simple shake of the head, amused at the sight of Nekoma High’s infamous best friends.

“Fan behavior, huh?” Kuroo spun dramatically as they reached the parking lot, nearly throwing Y/N into the passenger seat of his car, her designated spot. The place where no person, not even Kenma, was allowed to sit.

He instinctively buckled her seatbelt, knowing that she must’ve felt weak and nauseous due to the stress her body had been under only ten minutes prior, before settling himself behind the wheel.

A bright beam overcame his features, practically spreading across his entire face as her eyes met his. “Where to next?” Y/N asked, fingers fiddling with the different radio channels, deciding on a soft indie-station.

“Home.” He replied, taking a hold of the hand she’d placed over the volume nozzle, allowing them to turn up the song together. Though it was brief, him releasing her touch after seconds, it was moments like this where she considered the theory that perhaps she did hold a place in his heart.

She shook her head, forcing the absurd thought away and rolling her eyes once again at the utter ridiculousness that was Kuroo Tetsurou. She leaned back into the soft leather of her seat, deadpanning at his words. “Your home. You act as if I live there.”

“You practically do,” he quipped back with ease, hair pressed against the chair’s headrest, smothering the thick black peaks, “What’s mine is yours, Y/N. There’s nothing I’d ever keep from you.”

“You deserve the world, and I’m going to give you every little bit of this world that I can.”

Her lips pursed into a tight smile, internally punching herself at the sweetness in his voice, the purity that he managed to sop into every word. Looking away from his gorgeous face, gaze retreating to the bustling city around them, Y/N contemplated his promise.

It was impossible, the idea that he’d proposed. The thing that he vowed to her in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. The concept that she always loved to hear roll off of his tongue, but also wanted to throw out her open window.

After all, how would Kuroo ever be able to give her the world—when her world was entirely him?

While his house was practically her second home, Y/N always seemed to notice the residence beside it before anything else.

As they pulled up in the driveway, Kuroo carefully parking his car between the stone gate and his grandfather’s buggy, both of their ears perked to the familiar sound of none other than Kozume Kenma.

“You’re spending the night again?” He questioned peering over the fence, recognizing the extra duffel packed along with Y/N’s school bag. “You were just over last week. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other by now.”

Kuroo shook his head, making his way around the hood and opening the passenger door. “No way, pudding head.” He shouted, resting his elbow on the roof whilst slinging the small pack over his shoulder. “Only thing I’d ever get sick of is your cute little attitude.”

Y/N giggled, squinting her eyes to see the nonchalant expression that was undoubtedly gracing Kenma’s features. She wasn’t exactly close with him, having little to nothing in common other than their giant of a friend, but still held great respect for his dedication.

Dedication as in the value to which he held his friendship with Kuroo.

Though she’d known their captain longer, there were times in which she wasn’t able to be by his side during matches or breakdowns. This usually having to do with her hanahaki forcing her to be immobile.

But it always turned out alright, since Kenma was there. He was always there to help, even when she’d forget to send him a warning text message or quick heads up. He was reliable as he was pessimistic, a truly unconventional friend that Y/N would be grateful for until the very end.

As Kuroo took her bags inside the house, insisting that he had to help even though she claimed that her muscles were feeling perfectly fine, Y/N waved to the younger boy, casually approaching his small figure.

Her steps were small, fallen leaves crunching beneath the soles of her sneakers. Autumn was beautiful this year, the oranges and yellows mixing together like the perfect sunset.

It was complementary, the colors—they reflected the sky in a dream-like synchronization. The last time fall had landed upon Japan, she and Kuroo had spent the entire day nestled together, jumping in the multiple piles of leaves and sipping spiced drinks by the fireplace.

While the memories were happy and nostalgic, they were a distraction. Nothing but recollections of false hope and ideologies that she’d ingrained into her brain as convincing factors that he did indeed love her—that he had just an inch of his heart that was completely reserved for her.

Kenma immediately opened his mouth, interrupting Y/N before she could ask him all about how his school day had gone. Her jaw dropped, the statement being said was unexpected, out of box in the current moment of relaxation.

“You still have hanahaki.” He looked straight into her eyes as if he were challenging her. If Y/N could see into his brain, there was no doubt that the gears would be turning rapidly in synchrony. “You’ve had it for years, Y/N. A normal person would’ve given up by now.”

She frowned, her lips curving into a downward arc, slightly appalled by the bluntness of his words, before furrowing her brows while she came up with an understandable response.

Her relationship with Kenma was civil, never straying from one of acquaintances, but there were sparse moments like this in which he’d blatantly say something personal—something that made her think that he knew more than he was letting on.

“I don’t think my case falls under the normal category.” Y/N whispered, choosing to reply with honesty over falsehood, while both of their gazes fled to Kuroo, who’d cheered as he successfully managed to unlock the front door with his hands full of bags.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” she continued with a love-struck radiance. As if on natural instinct, her legs began to move towards the person that was her heart, abandoning Kenma to his side of the fence.

With one final glance, she saw him nod at her last words. The words that she repeated to herself every time her flowers became too much, every time she needed to remember why she was here in the first place.

“As long as I’m still breathing, he’s got me.” She called out, chest warming at the sight of her little friend’s approval. The approval that meant more to her than any test grade or big win. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Heads up!”

Before she could blink an eye, Y/N’s vision was covered by the thin grey fabric of Kuroo’s massive t-shirt. It draped over her head like a sheet in the night, the smell being clean and comforting, completely and utterly him.

Reaching up to take hold of the borrowed garment, she shoved his chest, feeling the vibrations of laughter rolling off of him in contagious waves. Despite how much he annoyed her, he could be quite amusing at times.

Their dynamic had always been an interesting one. Her being more logical and serious, whilst he was carefree and witty. They weren’t an obvious pair of best friends, but they did have the important things in common.

That being the value of hard work and dedication, whether that came to school assignments or volleyball—they both knew the true meaning of ambition and success, and would do anything to help the other achieve their dreams.

Opening the door to the guest bathroom, Y/N slipped Kuroo’s shirt over the tank top she’d been wearing, stripping herself of her undergarments beneath the endless fabric. She tossed her clothes into her duffel, zipping it tightly and placing it on the floor.

The Kuroo household was a place she was comfortable in, having been friends with the boy for nearly all of her life. It wasn’t uncommon for her to stop by and stay for dinner or overnight, considering his family adored her and considered her one of their own.

In their first year of high school, she’d spent a total of one-hundred and twenty nights wrapped up in his arms before his grandparents had decided to permanently mark the guest bedroom as her’s.

Though she’d grown accustomed to the warmth of her best friend’s comforter, Y/N did have to admit that it was nice to have her own space. Her own space that also gave her the luxury of having the person she loved only one wall away.

As she dug through the right-hand drawer for the toothbrush and toothpaste that she always stored in the case that she’d be staying overnight, a rhythm of knocks ricocheted off of the hard wood.

“You ready?” She called out, walking past the sliding shower doors and turning the small door-knob. “I was just about to brush my teeth,” her words continued, stopping as she came face-to-face with her favorite giant.

His smile was cheeky, mischief seemingly on his mind as he held up his own set of tools. “You waited for me, Y/N?” A sly smirk crept on his face, her words from earlier coming back to bite her in the butt. “Seems a little like fan behavior to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stepped aside, making room for his ginormous body in the quaint bathroom. The countertop wasn’t exactly large, having just enough space for the two of them to stand beside one another with their arms touching as they looked into their reflections.

Her eyes seemed distant, even to herself. The usual livelihood that inhabited her irises was absent, replaced with fragments of the person she once was, the person that had been overshadowed by dirt and disease.

Resentment was the only emotion she displayed, hatred for the pathetic reasoning behind her pain, the putrid dreams she wished would come true—but as Y/N looked away from the stress and worry, she saw him. She saw Kuroo.

Unlike her, his gaze wasn’t resting on himself. His eyes weren’t immediately attracted to his own appearance, choosing to lay on Y/N instead. His neck was angled down, a soft expression gracing his face while he simply admired her.

While he admired her like a boy in love.

They held eye contact for a brief moment, neither one wanting to end the intimate interaction, before he broke away. He snapped out of his trance, hands subconsciously reaching for the tube of toothpaste that had been forgotten by both minds.

As they began to brush their teeth, Kuroo played troublemaker. Whether that meant making faces or mimicking Y/N’s actions, he found endless ways to humor her, wanting to see the smile on her face as she flipped him off.

The laughter wheezing from her lips was infectious, her body doubling over, forcing heavy chuckles from her love as well. It was a sight to see, two high schoolers in a minimal-sized bathroom, overcome with a fit of giggles—but that was simply them. It was simply Y/N and Kuroo.

With a mouth full of foam, she leaned past him and over the sink, expecting to see a mix of bubbles and white—only to be gifted with the mood-killing sight of blood and blossoms.

She choked, gasping for air as the small roses fell from her throat. “Please,” she cried, gripping the ledge of the counter with a killer grasp, gesturing for Kuroo to leave the room. “I can’t breathe.”

But he didn’t listen, he didn’t leave. He didn’t cover his eyes and walk away like he normally did, respecting her wishes that he would never see her like this—like a complete and utter mess.

As her airway began to clear, her smiles turned to frowns, embarrassed of what he’d seen, the proof of her never-ending infatuation. However, Kuroo didn’t seem phased. He glanced at the flowers as if they were nothing, as if they weren’t a foul sight in itself.

He turned the faucet on, washing them away from her view, forcing the spray roses to dissolve and wither above the drain—and for some odd reason, Y/N’s heart hurt at his actions.

It was the first time in months that he’d been present during one of her uproars. The first time in months that he had to see what she went through on a nearly daily basis, and he didn’t even blink an eye.

He looked at the physical representation of her love like it didn’t matter, like it was a pest that he had to kill. Like an unintentional rejection that his instincts dictated, a rejection that she feared for every moment of every day.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N muttered, refusing to meet the concern in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the inevitable judgement that she expected to come from his way—only to feel his rough hand take a hold of her chin, tilting it upwards towards his face.

Nothing was said, no remarks came from his end. Instead, he wordlessly stole the hand towel that’d been hanging on the shower door and dabbed away the blood that had soaked into the skin beneath her lips.

He was unreadable.

No matter how hard she tried to analyze his thoughts, his actions, his posture; a blank canvas was all she’d painted. She wanted to keep apologizing for the things that were out of her control, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted with a question that she’d never expected to hear.

“If it weren’t for your hanahaki,” he began, brows furrowed in concentration, not allowing Y/N to pin-point what he was so focused on, if it was the disease or herself. “Do you think you’d know that you love them?”

“You know, your person?”

Her response was momentary, the gears in her brain working on overtime as she tried to find the meaning behind his words. Why the sudden curiosity? Did he have hanahaki? Was there someone he loved?

Clearing her throat, making sure that there was no evidence of her accident, Y/N began to speak slowly. “Being in love is more than just a disease, Kuroo. It can’t be dimmed down to a single flower or infection.”

“I love him enough to put myself through pressure every day. I love him so much that it physically hurts me to think about him. He brings a light to this darkness that no other person can outshine—”

“—and I’d never give up on him.” Glass covered her eyes, tears struggling to roll down her cheeks as her peripheral vision grew blurry. In the midst of her tangent, Kuroo had pressed Y/N against his chest, rubbing her back in soft circles.

“He’s the other half of me, my true equal.” Bitterness was being laced in her tone, the irony of it all settling in. It was unfair. Her describing her everlasting love for the boy she’d do anything for. He was right beside her, and yet he seemed miles away.

“I’d know love for him even if I was healthy. Even if we were strangers, worlds apart.” Choking back the last of her cries, Y/N bit her lip, pushing away the warmth of his chest. “Trust me, Kuroo. You’d know if you were in love.”

For once in his life, he had no words. No comments or remarks that he was dying to say. His only response was a nod of the head, a curt acknowledgement of her feelings, before he turned and said a brief goodnight.

Before he turned and left Y/N with nothing but confusion, thoughts that would keep her restless and awake throughout the night. Itching concerns to creep up her veins and into her dreams.

If only he loved her, then all of this could’ve been avoided. If only he had asked her who her hanahaki was for, then maybe she would’ve confessed. Perhaps she’d be free and untethered from her illness.

But he didn’t ask, and she didn’t confess. All she was left with was broken fragments of care, leftovers of love that she received through twisted questions and wonder.

All she was left with was half of a heart, that would never find its whole.

2AM.

It was nearly two in the morning and Y/N was restless, chasing sleep like it was an everlasting punishment. Slumber being within her grasp, but stolen, kidnapped by the stress and worries that were Kuroo Tetsurou.

Her mind was moving at a million miles per hour, overthinking and overworking the question that he’d asked her in the midst of their nightly routine. The curiosity that had somehow overcome his usual vigor and happiness.

Panic settled in her throat, the feeling of thorns and stems inching their way up her neck and touching her tongue. She needed water, anything that could suppress the punishment for feeling love.

Swinging her legs over the side of the queen-sized mattress, Y/N shivered as her feet touched the cold floor. Her steps were light, trying her best to be completely silent, not wanting to disturb the actual members of the household.

The trip to the kitchen was short. An easy route for her after having taken many midnights trips before, since her hanahaki always seemed to act up whenever she stayed overnight.

Finding a small glass and filling it to the brim with tap water, Y/N gulped it down, savoring every last bit as if there was no other substance on Earth. The liquid ran down her throat, pushing past the vines and forcing them into their home that was her heart.

“You’re up late.”

Y/N jumped, nearly smashing the cup on the counter as the familiar voice of Kuroo’s obaachan crept up from behind her. She sighed, taking a deep breath before facing the old woman.

Her relationship with his family had grown extremely close in the years that they’d known each other. She was practically considered a member of the family, them always wanting her around no matter what the circumstances were.

But she and obaachan were different compared to how she bonded with the Kuroo men. Unlike the others, his grandmother was observant, knowing of the love that Y/N had for her favorite boy. Knowing of the cause of her hanahaki.

“Obaachan.” She greeted her weakly, holding up the glass as an excuse for the timing of their interaction. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean to cause any havoc.”

The old woman simply smiled, approaching Y/N with a loving hand and placing it on her shoulder in comfort. “It’s alright dear,” she squeezed her palm, feeling the younger girl’s struggling heartbeat. “It’s not your fault.”

Y/N grimaced, shaking her head in defeat. “But it is,” she admitted. She’d always take blame for her hanahaki. It was a virus in not only her life, but everyone around her. “It’s my fault that I’m unwell.”

“No, dear.” Obaachan cupped her hands around her cheeks, challenging her eyes, not taking her answer or excuses. A sad smile graced her lips, sorrow in her irises. “You’re not unwell..you’re in love.”

Tears grew from the corners of Y/N’s sockets, waterworks beginning to roll down her cheeks at the familiar feeling of the comforting touch of a Kuroo. She broke down, her walls shattering in front of the only person who understood. The only person who would truly listen.

“Why won’t he love me?” She cried out, pain overtaking her whole body. The pent up emotions were collapsing like tidal waves, storming throughout her heart. “Why won’t I ever deserve him?”

Concern furrowed in the older woman’s brows at the sight of Y/N breaking down. Her grandson’s best friend was one of the strongest people she knew, and knowing that her struggles were this great was indescribably disheartening.

“My Tetsurou has been a caretaker all of his life,” she started, gently speaking in languid sentences, doing her best to keep Y/N’s attention on her and not her pain. “Whether it was for me, my husband, or Kenma—he takes on more responsibility than he can handle.”

“His heart is so big, so full of love for everyone other than himself.” She continued, her words beginning to settle in Y/N’s mind. “And in the midst of that, I don’t think he realizes that he’s capable of experiencing love as well.”

“He doesn’t realize that everything he could ever want is standing right in front of him.”

Obaachan was whispering now, her voice being soft but commanding. It was frightening, the passion that she held for her grandson. The passion that she held for her dreams of his happiness. Her dreams of him finding his true love.

“While love is a chemical feeling, it has no chemical solution.” Y/N swallowed hard, taking in every single thing she was saying. Letting her statements ingrain themselves into her memory. “This disease doesn’t define your future, my dear.”

“Whomever you choose to love will be lucky, Y/N—but I have to say, I truly hope that my Tetsurou has luck on his side.”

It’d been almost a month since the fateful overnight encounter, Obbachan’s words playing on repeat, over and over again until they grew tiresome. The idea that Kuroo could perhaps love her was haunting, terrorizing her very soul.

Despite the shift in their energy, the elephant in the room being his unexpected question and her never ending response, their friendship continued on like normal.

They’d go to school, spend time together afterwards, perhaps even have a sleepover, and repeat. It was all the same, not a thing out of place except for a major detail that couldn’t be explained.

The presence of Y/N’s hanahaki was little to none.

Her flowers decreased, the numbers becoming smaller and smaller every single time she took the time to count. The disease that had become a constant in her life had suddenly disappeared, confusing her to a maximum.

She didn’t feel like she’d fallen out of love for Kuroo, there was still a large part of her heart that was reserved for him and only him—yet her roses were invisible, the trips to the bathroom were down to none.

And while those statistics had fallen, the number of quick glances, stolen touches, and late night conversations had increased. She and Kuroo did everything together before, but now it was as if they were inseparable at all times.

It was as if his heart had finally opened up, accepted her presence and locked it into place, never wanting to let it go. Y/N couldn’t determine what had gotten into him, what made the sudden change in behavior.

But her flowers were gone and her love still remained. All that needed to be said was a confession, a confession of the love that she hoped was mutual. The one-sided love that she’d secretly harbored for years on years.

Mindlessly walking down the school hallway, passing by classmates and advisors, Y/N contemplated the future of her and Kuroo’s relationship. The future of her heart and if it would ever find its other half. The other half that so happened to take a hold of her hand at that very moment.

Kuroo seemed on edge, his heartbeat was quick, throbbing against Y/N’s palm as he dragged her towards the closest empty classroom. Without warning he closed the door, drowning out the scattered noises of everyone on the other side of the wall.

“Hey.” He said, breathing heavily. His shoulders were rising and falling, his breaths deep as if he’d just ran a marathon on his path to retrieve her. “I really needed to talk to you.”

Y/N almost toppled over, the strength of his grasp tripping and unbalancing her body. As her vision began to stabilize, wobbly from the sprint, she took notice of the classroom he’d brought her to.

Flowers lined the walls and ceilings, potted plants hanging from the wooden beams and arches. Soil was sprinkled over the floorboards, various footprints etched into the dirt.

He’d taken her to the floriculture classroom—the classroom for the study of flowers.

Silence overcame them for a moment, neither one speaking a single word as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Her confession was at the tip of her tongue, ready to be said, ready to be spoken into existence—but Kuroo spoke first.

“I’ve never had it.” He simply said, his mouth pursed and head towering over her. Before she could respond, asking him what in the world he was talking about, he continued. “Hanahaki. I’ve never had it.”

Biting his lips, Kuroo took her hands in his once more. Rubbing her palms with his calloused fingertips, easing away her confusion and speaking his feelings with his entire heart weighed into them.

“All this time, for all these years, I thought that I’d never known love.” His brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Y/N could tell what he was so focused on. It was her.

“I asked you how you knew that you were in love, flowers or not, and the way you described that feeling..it was familiar. It was something that I’d felt before, something that I felt all of the time.”

“Something that I felt all of the time for you.”

Y/N was at a loss for words, the confession that she’d always wanted to say being said to her. The very moment that she’d dreamed of was actually coming true, it was actually happening right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t her imagination—it was real. Kuroo loved her.

The smile spread across her face was more than enough to ease his nerves, her teeth were so bright they could’ve been compared to the sun. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she looked, how she was his sun.

“I’m so sorry my love hasn’t been constant, Y/N. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize the patterns, how your hanahaki came and went. It was my fault you’ve gone through so much pain.”

“But even here,” he whispered, pulling her close. His arms wrapped themselves around her body, his nose being mere inches away from hers. “With all of the flowers anyone could ever ask for, the only one that matters is you.”

She could feel his breath now, the soft breeze against her cheeks. Her body wanted to surge forward, connect their lips in a final confirmation of their feelings. She wanted the kiss with Kuroo that she’d been waiting for for her entire life.

“I love you.” He admitted, not waiting for her response before pressing his mouth to hers.

His smile could be felt between their lips, moving continuously as if they didn’t need any air to breathe. After all, they really only needed each other—Kuroo was the missing piece to Y/N’s puzzle, her heart was finally whole.

As they broke apart, love radiating off of them in contagious waves, overwhelming the room, igniting the aura—a cheeky grin grew on her new lover’s face.

He plucked a flower from the pot behind her head, presenting it with a laugh at the sight of her rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. Although she found him to be ridiculous, she accepted it gratefully—loving the new chapter that they were about to embark on.

“I heard you like roses?”

334 notes · View notes

amaya-writes · 3 years

Note

a KamiJirou one in which Jiro and Denki are both nervous for their first date and ask the girls and boys respectively to help them get ready but it all turns out well.

10 Days of BNHA: Day 10!

The 1-A dorms had descended into utter chaos.

If Jiro was being honest, chaos could always be found at their class's dorms; the seeker just had to look hard enough. But today was different.

Today the chaos was more...happy.

For after two semesters of gruesome training and aspirational attempts at becoming pro heroes, 1-A had finally begun to experience something some of them, more specifically Mineta and Mina, were looking forward to almost as much the hero course.

Dating.

She didn't know how or when, but somehow Jiro had fallen for the adorably idiotic Chargebolt.

At first, she was too shy to admit her feelings, much less act upon them, but after a little nervous breakdown and a lot of encouragement from the girls, Jiro had collected herself enough to confess.

Unfortunately, Denki had the same idea and ended up beating her to it with a box of music-themed chocolates and a sweet note with his confession.

He had been too shy to admit it in person and had instead resorted to what Mina would later refer to as the perfect way to win over a girl like Jiro.

The thought that someone like Denki, a boy who seemingly didn't have the mental capacity to comprehend a lot of things, was so thoughtful left the earphone jack hero with a silly smile on her face to go with her melted heart.

I like you, Jiro. If you feel the same way as I do, meet me outside the dorms at seven.

Jiro didn't mean to do it, but she had spent the greater part of the afternoon simply staring at the note and reassuring herself it was real, to the point where she hadn't even thought of what to wear.

Which led her to where she was then; stationed between a group of pestering teenage girls as they tried to pick out an outfit for the occasion.

Two floors below them Kaminari was facing a similar situation as Mineta and Iida fought over how he should look for the date, but Jiro didn't need to know that.

"You should wear a dress!"

"No, I feel like you should stick to your normal style."

Yaomomo's and Mina's argument continued even as Uraraka held up a variety of outfits from behind them and attempted to meet Jiro's gaze from between Tsuyu's arms working on the violetnette's hair.

Eventually, it was Hagakure who picked out the black skinnies and studded leather jacket. Yaomomo completed the outfit with a black beret and boots while Mina painted her nails to match Jiro's purple hair.

"Denki is going to love it!"

Uraraka's excited yell somehow worsened Jiro's nerves as she walked out of the now empty elevator and towards the boy she had somehow fallen for.

Jiro was nervous, and rightfully so.

She had never been with a boy romantically and was unsure what to do much less say around him. Was she expected to be overly polite and somewhat girly?

Did she have to be someone she was not to appeal to his type?

"Jiro, you came!"

As her gaze met his golden eyes, Jiro couldn't help but feel like coming there was a bad idea.

He had picked out an outfit similar to hers with a somewhat matching jacket and his usual jeans. The sight itself made her feel stupid for not going with Mina's suggestion of a dress.

She was the girl here, wasn't she? The girl was supposed to wear a dress!

"Denki, I-"

And that was when it happened.

Jiro didn't know if he had somehow sensed her nerves or was just as nervous as she was, but Denki somehow knew exactly what to do as he reached out and pulled her into a warm embrace.

He was the first one to pull away, and as he did Jiro was sure she felt her nerves ease away and make room for a sudden shyness that had her neck warming up.

"Come on, we're getting late!"

Jiro was inexperienced.

She didn't know what to do much less say and would probably be an awkward mess for a great part of the evening, but as the blond pulled her along, Jiro knew she would be okay.

Because it was Denki Kaminari; the boy she had completely fallen for.

#bnha denki #mha denki #denki imagine #bnha jiro kyoka #my hero academia jirou #kaminari x jirou #kamijirou #this kinda sucks #scratch that #it actually sucks #but eh

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luminescencefics · 4 years

Text

you feel like home - part three

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at.

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

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***

Luna’s Great Escape

It’s been two days since Ryan last saw Harry in her doorway, and she’s grateful for the rainstorm that’s been plaguing north central London ever since he left her heart racing that afternoon. The rain hasn’t stopped roaring, presumably ruining Jackson’s playtime in the park, allowing Ryan a short period of time to catch her breath.

She’s spent the past two days in a bit of a drunken stupor. After Harry uttered those words to her in the hallway before entering his own flat, Ryan ripped open the parcel and finished her work for the day, sending over her inspections and adjustments to her supervisor in a daze before the clock struck five. Afterward, she tore off her flannel pajama bottoms and shoved them into the depths of her drawer to hopefully never be seen again, traipsing into her bathroom to turn the tub on, a few bottles of Carlsberg nestled tightly under her armpit.

It’s not that Ryan was avoiding her feelings, because she truly didn’t understand them. After two beers, she came to the conclusion that the bubbling in her gut and the warmth on her cheeks, the fluttering of her heart and the pinch in her breath—was all due to the fact that she found Harry annoyingly attractive.

Ryan’s no stranger to attractive men. Her awkwardness practically disappears after a few shots of tequila have settled into her bloodstream, allowing her to hold a conversation with a handsome man without the overwhelming urge to stutter over her words or shift in her heeled boots from nervousness. Most times, in her debilitated state, she’s gotten lucky with a quick shag and a fumbling exit hidden under the darkness of the night. But now, as she sits in her bathtub nursing her fourth beer, a Kiehl’s face mask hardened over her skin, she’s not sure how much alcohol she would need to consume in order to appear seemingly normal in front of Harry.

That was last night. Now, as her hangover starts to settle in, Ryan’s decided that she needs advice. The brutally honest kind that usually fell unapologetically from the lips of her best mate Fiona.

“So let me get this straight, your new neighbor just so happens to be fit as all hell, and you’ve had a handful of conversations with him without making a complete fool of yourself, and you still haven’t shagged him? What am I missing here, Ry?” Fiona’s voice calls out from Ryan’s mobile that’s leaning against her porcelain fruit bowl, the camera angle allowing her to be able to see Fiona while attempting to cook some sort of pasta dish to cure the throbbing in her head.

“Fee, I got fucking rug burn on my knee from tripping over my own bloody feet the first time I met him!” Ryan recalls, the memory causing her head to shake aggressively, trying her hardest to expel it from her brain.

“Well, I did say complete fool,” Fiona retorts, causing Ryan to roll her eyes as she tries her hardest to follow the vodka sauce recipe she found on Pinterest. She’s eyeing the heavy cream she just added to the saucepan, wondering if the color should be pinker.

“I think it’s for the best if I just continue avoiding him for the rest of my life,” Ryan says, opening the box of ziti and throwing it into the boiling pot on the back left burner.

She can hear Fiona laugh over the hiss of the water. “Stop with the dramatics! You’re starting to sound like me.”

Ryan just ignores her friend, stirring the sauce that’s starting to smell. She instantly reaches for the parmesan cheese, adding more aimlessly to change the viscosity into something that doesn’t resemble broth.

“This could be great for you, Ry,” Fiona says through the screen once Ryan’s reappeared in front of her.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ryan asks, a bit distracted with the way the saucepan on the hob begins to gurgle inconspicuously.

“Because he’s fit. And he literally lives right next door. This is fantastic news! You can get laid without even leaving your building! Especially during quarantine with the entire city on lockdown!” While Ryan loves her friend, she hates the way Fiona says certain words, her voice level rising with each stressed syllable. She’s speaking so loudly that Ryan thinks back to how Harry referred to hearing Mrs. Bingsley banging about in the kitchen when she used to live in this unit, and immediately Ryan lowers the volume on her mobile, grabbing it from its spot against the fruit bowl and turning into her living room to be as far away from the thin walls as possible.

“I’m not sleeping with him, Fiona. I literally just met him,” Ryan says, sitting on the arm rail of her couch, watching Luna in her periphery continue sleeping soundly against the throw pillows.

“But you want to.”

Ryan stays silent, wondering if that’s what the bubbling and fluttering and pinching of all her insides means. Wondering if all of these feelings can simply be associated to sexual attraction.

“Why don’t you knock on his door and ask for a plunger or something?” Fiona says, breaking the silence. Ryan instantly disagrees, her eyes widening in fear.

“No, that’s a terrible idea! I don’t want him to think I’ve clogged up my fucking toilet,” Ryan shrieks, knowing that move would definitely work on a girl like Fiona—confident, unrelenting, and fearless. But for a girl like Ryan, whose cheeks turn red whenever a boy like Harry even looks in her direction, she knows there’s no way she can handle that.

Fiona sighs. “You’re probably right.”

Before Ryan can respond, the blaring sound of the smoke detector going off from the kitchen interrupts her thoughts. “Shit!” she screeches, jumping up from her seated position and running into the kitchen, her mobile clutched in her fist as she approaches the stovetop. The saucepan with the once pinkish-red sauce has now turned black, the edges burnt to a crisp, smoke rising from the top because Ryan forgot to lower the heat to a simmer. The pot with the pasta has boiled over, water falling onto the burner with a loud fizzle. “Fuck!”

“Christ, Ryan! Only you can burn fucking pasta!” Fiona shouts through her mobile, and Ryan immediately discards the device on the countertop, flicking the burners off. She reaches for the dishtowel near the sink, waving it under the smoke detector to make the incessant noise cease.

“It won’t fucking stop!” Ryan bellows, switching the towel to her left arm. If Harry didn’t hear her before, he definitely heard her now, and the thought is enough to make her wave her arms frantically, praying for the smoke detector to shut off.

“Open the front door, get some airflow in the flat, you twit! Twenty-seven and still can’t cook a bloody meal, it’s a shock how you’ve survived this long on your own—”

Ryan doesn’t stay in the kitchen long enough to hear the rest of Fiona’s comment. Instead, she’s spinning on her heels towards her front door, opening it up partly in hope to get the smell of burnt food out of her flat.

Just as she walks back into the kitchen, the beeping finally stops, and Ryan feels as if she can finally breathe again. Her cheeks are stained red from the exertion of flailing her arms about, the stray hairs from her low ponytail sticking to the nape of her neck uncomfortably. She takes in the state of her kitchen, annoyed with herself that she got too preoccupied with Fiona’s ramblings instead of focusing on cooking her pathetic meal.

“Have you died?” The sound echoes from the countertop where Ryan left her mobile, and for a moment Ryan forgets that Fiona was waiting for her. She saunters over slowly, leaning her mobile on the toaster oven so that she can rest her bent elbows on the countertop, her hands falling over her cheeks in embarrassment.

“Knew I should’ve gone with the boxed mac and cheese,” Ryan mumbles, catching her breath.

Fiona laughs. “I appreciate the attempt, Jamie Oliver. You’ve probably scared Luna half to death, poor thing.”

At the mention of her kitten’s name, Ryan immediately swivels her head around to the living room, eyes falling to the spot on the couch her white British Shorthair was just occupying. But when she looks closer, she realizes that Luna is gone.

She quickly stands up straight, telling Fiona she’ll call her back before ending the FaceTime call, entering the living room to search every nook and cranny for her kitten. Luna’s small body is nowhere near the couch or armchairs, her cat tree is empty, and when Ryan takes a look in her bedroom and finds absolutely nothing, she’s suddenly filled with fear at the fact that her kitten has disappeared.

Before Ryan can have a full-blown meltdown at the loss of her meal and kitten in the span of ten minutes, she hears the faint echo of a meow from the other side of her front door. A tiny giggle follows after, and suddenly Ryan’s head is peering out into the hallway, falling on the sight of Luna laying on the carpet with her tummy up in the air, and Jackson’s small hands rubbing soothing circles in her fur.

“What would your dad say about you leaving the flat without him?” Ryan calls out from her doorframe, watching the way Jackson’s face lights up when he realizes it is her speaking to him.

“Daddy will probably be mad. But I heard the kitty outside when I was playing! I didn’t know you had one!” He’s smiling so wide it causes Ryan to immediately do the same, despite her borderline breakdown a few moments prior. She trots over towards the pair, crouching down in front of them and balancing on the heels of her socked-clad heels, watching the way Luna purrs at Jackson’s soft strokes.

“I do. This is Luna,” Ryan answers, grinning when Jackson begins cooing at the tiny animal.

“Hi Luna, I’m Jackson. You’re so soft.” He’s whispering to her and Ryan isn’t quite sure why, and when Luna suddenly flips over and sits on Jackson’s lap, Ryan feels her heart swell at the sight of two tiny things cuddling up to one another.

The silence is broken by a gruff, frustrated voice. “Jackson! You can’t keep runnin’ off—oh.”

Three pairs of different colored eyes look up at the intrusion, and suddenly Harry’s anger dissipates at the sight of his son holding a cute kitten in his lap. A cute kitten that just so happens to belong to his even cuter neighbor who he seemingly can’t stop thinking about.

Ryan just smiles shyly, swallowing harshly when Harry crosses his arms over his broad chest, his large palms cupping his bulging biceps under the thin material of his shirt. She coughs into her fist, realizing now that she probably should stand up from her crouched position so that she’s no longer staring up at him underneath the cover of her eyelashes.

“Daddy look! Ryan has a kitty!” Jackson squeals, his cheek squished against Luna’s tiny face as he pets behind her ears, causing her whole body to vibrate with a deep purr.

Harry looks between Luna and Ryan, that slow smirk grazing his lips that causes Ryan’s cheeks to burn with a deep blush. “I can see that, Bubs.” His voice is so deep Ryan can feel it settle into her bones, and suddenly she wishes her hair wasn’t tied behind her head in a ponytail so that she could hide her reddened cheeks under the deep brown tendrils.

Before she can speak, a loud whistle from Harry’s flat breaks the silence. His upper body shifts away from the doorframe so that he’s standing straight, arms falling back to his sides as he peers behind the entranceway to ensure that the steam is blowing from the spout of the kettle on the hob.

“Fancy some tea, Ryan?” Harry asks once he’s turned back in her direction.

Ryan quickly stumbles to stand upright, wiping her sweaty palms on her cotton biker shorts. An oversized band tee she stole from her ex-boyfriend swishes with her hasty movements, and she can feel her head shaking before her mouth can say no.

“Uh, I’m okay. Don’t want to impose or anything,” she stutters, the sound of her thick woolen mid-calf socks scuffling against the carpeting with her incessant shuffling due to the influx of nerves that begin creeping up her spine.

“Please, Ryan? I can play with Luna! I’m a great sitter,” Jackson proclaims loudly from his seated position behind her. Once again, Ryan finds herself struggling to say no to her new friend with just one look into his beady green eyes. With nothing but a small smile, Ryan’s nodding in Jackson’s direction, her grin growing larger when he scoops up Luna in his little arms, ducking past his father and entering the flat.

Harry chuckles, holding the door open a bit wider so that Ryan can follow him inside.

She’s watching as he ducks into the kitchen, shutting off the burner so that the whistling kettle can quiet down. Ryan watches Jackson plop Luna on the soft emerald rug, laying on his stomach so that he can observe her every move. After guaranteeing that her kitten is in good hands, Ryan enters the kitchen, settling on one of the dark leather barstools and watching Harry grab two tea mugs from the cabinet above the sink.

As his arm extends to reach the top shelf, Ryan can’t help but take note of the contrast between his right and left arm. His left arm was ornamented with various black etchings, flowing across his skin in a strange way that somehow looked beautiful. When Ryan watches his right arm reach out to grab the tea bags, the untouched skin practically blinding against the harsh overhead lights, she feels her throat suddenly dry up—and she’s left wondering if she should add this to her growing list of symptoms she feels whenever she’s around Harry.

“Sugar? Milk?” Harry asks, his back still to her as he rummages around the drawers to prepare their tea.

“Sure.” She’s distracted by the way his thin t-shirt practically hides nothing, the ebb and flow of his back muscles constricting with each gentle movement he makes as he grasps the sugar from the counter and grips the milk from the fridge.

When he turns to meet her at the kitchen island, he clutches both mugs in one hand, the other holding both the sugar jar and milk carton. Ryan’s forced to look away, her mind completely fogging over at the site.

The sound of the ceramic mugs clinking against the granite counter causes Ryan to look up, smiling softly when he pushes the tea in her direction. Just before her hands can clasp around the handle, she regards the black script tattoo above the crook of his elbow, the words Jackson in lowercase lettering make her breath hitch in her throat.

“How have you been, all right?” Harry asks from across the island, reaching for the milk and adding a generous amount to the murky tea. His eyes are busy focusing on the task at hand, and Ryan can finally feel herself calm down a bit.

“Yeah, been okay. You?” she responds, blowing a bit on her tea before bringing the mug to her lips, swallowing deeply and reveling in the taste of the brew. Harry’s eyebrows arch when he notices that she takes her tea black, but he doesn’t make a comment about it, choosing instead to rest his forearms on the counter, pushing his mug a bit closer towards Ryan’s as he leans against the island, infiltrating her personal space just the tiniest bit.

“Yeah, okay. Bit shit with the weather, though. Jackson’s been going crazy,” he comments, his mouth far too distracting when he licks the spilled over tea on his lower lip. Ryan flicks her head over in Jackson’s direction, thankful that she can look at something other than Harry’s stupidly good-looking face.

Ryan hums in agreement, bringing the tea back to her lips as she swivels back in her stool, her eyes back on Harry’s.

“That cat of yours will give him another reason to talk about you for hours,” Harry says with a grin.

“If it weren’t for his knack of sneaking out of your flat, Luna probably would have ended up on the seventh floor. Guess I owe him a proper thank you,” Ryan counters, smiling at the fact that she made Harry laugh.

“Little shit never listens to me,” Harry says lightly, and Ryan suddenly wonders if he has any help looking after Jackson.

She starts to look around the kitchen for any hints of a feminine touch. The state of his flat is disgustingly clean, and when she observes the fridge to see if there are any photographs of Jackson’s mum, she’s found that there’s nothing but artwork most likely done by the hands of a four-year-old.

When she shifts her head to the other side of the room, where the kitchen flows into the living room, she doesn’t really find anything new. The walls are still filled with records, the instruments are still lining the walls, the couch is still void of throw pillows. Ryan tries to visualize the entranceway, trying her hardest to remember if she noticed any heeled boots or women’s jackets on the coat rack.

She hasn’t known Harry long, barely a month at this point, and in that short period of time she’s never heard him speak about a woman before. Ryan’s not stupid—she knows that both sexes are needed to produce a child—but she’s truly never seen a woman enter or exit Harry’s flat.

Granted, it’s only been a month. And she isn’t really sure if she can call him her friend yet, therefore she feels a bit odd in asking. Ryan’s come to the conclusion that maybe Jackson’s mum is an essential worker, a nurse perhaps, a profession in which she has the luxury of leaving her home to go to work.

“Ryan?” Harry’s oaky voice breaks Ryan out of her headspace, and suddenly she’s blinking in Harry’s direction, embarrassed at the fact that she wasn’t listening to anything he had just said to her in the last few minutes.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” she responds lamely, bringing the mug to her lips with the goal of hiding the lower half of her flushed cheeks.

Harry just laughs, cocking his head to the side to observe her intently. “Doesn’t matter. Lost you for a minute in there.”

“Right. Sorry about that,” Ryan responds, wishing Harry would stop looking at her as if she were the most fascinating creature on the planet.

“Does that happen a lot?” Harry asks quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to know every little thing about her.

Ryan’s eyes squint in confusion. “Does what happen?”

“That,” Harry starts, taking a sip of his tea without tearing his eyes away from Ryan’s. “You getting lost in your own head.”

Ryan quietly contemplates Harry’s comment, watching the way he watches her with intrigue. As a serial overthinker, Ryan knows that she retreats sometimes, mulling over her words intensely before speaking. Unlike Fiona who blurts every thought that runs through her head, Ryan’s always been more critical, obsessing over every detail before verbalizing. It’s the only thing that helps subdue her social anxiety.

But she’s found that whenever she’s around Harry, she can’t bring herself to think about anything, really. It’s as if her mind is blank, encouraging her to speak what she truly feels, without all the thinking that usually comes along with it.

She’s not quite sure what that all means.

So she just shrugs, sipping softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Harry nods before changing the subject, which makes Ryan feel relieved. “So, my quiet, reclusive neighbor is also a cat lady? It’s far too fitting, Ryan.” He’s teasing her a bit and it’s enough to make Ryan giggle, the sound practically causing Harry to splutter his tea over the rim of his mug.

“I’m all about clichés, clearly,” Ryan responds, her eyes zeroing in on the hollow dimples that appear around his mouth whenever he laughs. She finds herself enjoying the sight very much.

“She’s cute,” Harry says, his eyes shifting from Luna to the woman sitting across from him. Ryan assumes he’s talking about her kitten, and she smiles, swiveling around in her chair to watch Jackson giggle whenever Luna’s paws graze his arms. But when she feels Harry’s gaze on her cheek, she’s wondering if he’s talking about something else, too.

“He’s good with her,” Ryan acknowledges, impressed with how gentle Jackson was with Luna. Most toddlers his age were too handsy with her, scaring her off before she even got the chance to get used to them. But Jackson is proving to be a natural, allowing Luna to grow comfortable around him before he started playing with her.

Harry finally looks over to his son, smiling at the sight in the living room. “Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

Ryan turns round to face Harry again. “He really is. Guess he has you to thank for that. And his mum, I suppose.”

Harry’s face suddenly loses its grin, and Ryan’s wondering if she’s said too much. His eyes have lost their shine, and the granite countertop seems to be more interesting than Ryan’s face. Before she can say anything, an apology or some version of one, the computer in the corner of the living room begins to ring loudly, causing Harry to stand upright and peer at the clock on the microwave screen.

“Shit. Forgot I had a four o’clock meeting,” he says quickly, gathering his mug in one hand and crossing the threshold so that he’s entering the living room space. Ryan stands up, frowning down at her half-emptied cup of tea, wondering what blend Harry uses because it’s just that good, and she’s a bit sad to leave it unfinished.

Harry turns around, catching the frown on Ryan’s face. “You can finish it at yours if you’d like,” he offers with a small smile.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I wouldn’t want to—”

“—Ryan,” Harry says, cutting her off and walking towards her so that he’s fully in her line of vision, “It’s fine. ‘S not like I don’t know where you live.” The smirk is back on his face and the blush is back coating Ryan’s cheeks, and suddenly the balance has been restored in their small universe.

Ryan nods, clutching the mug tightly in her hands and side-stepping Harry in order to reach Jackson and Luna on the living room floor. “‘M sorry, champ, but Luna and I have got to go.”

“Really?” Jackson says, tearing his eyes away from Luna and onto the two adults standing in front of him. He’s frowning and Ryan instantly feels bad.

“Yeah, Bubs, daddy’s got work to do. I’m sure you can see Luna again very soon, if Ryan’s okay with it,” Harry says, causing two pairs of green eyes to fall onto her frame.

She nods quickly, crouching down in front of her small friend and grabbing Luna in her unoccupied hand. “Of course, champ. We’ll schedule a playdate.”

Jackson grins enthusiastically, wiggling on the floor with excitement. Before Ryan can respond, Harry appears in front of her, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll see you later, Ryan,” he mutters in a low timbre.

“Bye, Harry. Thanks again for the tea,” she responds, heading towards the doorway in her socks and leaving the confines of his flat, trying her hardest to catch her breath in the silence of the empty hallway.

It’s only once she’s back in her own flat, her sad attempt of dinner disposed of in the bin and in its place an oversized bowl of cereal in one hand, with Harry’s mug in the other, Ryan comes to a startling realization.

Harry’s tea mug was a far better alternative than the fucking plunger.

*** A/N: Hi guys, here’s part three of you feel like home! I hope you enjoyed it. Part four will be posted on Thursday November 19, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light @onlyphysicallypresent @dontwanttobealone @justsaying20 @elemayox @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum @kakayam @harryinsweatersandbandanas @hopelessly-harry @ficnarry @morethanamelodyy @niallgolden @harryswinterberries @caramello-styles

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #hs #harry styles x ofc #harry styles x reader #harry x ofc #1dff #1dffupdates #fic: home #1dffquarantine

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sophsicle · 3 years

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Chapter 26

The friendship of Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald began under a bed. Lily’s bed, to be exact. See, she’d been having a bad day. It was first year and everything was just…a little…much. She missed her mum and dad, back then she even missed Petunia, and Severus was there but he wasn’t there-there. He was in Slytherin. After the sorting Lily had briefly considered begging the hat to put her in Slytherin too. Especially after being placed in the same house as Black and Potter. There hadn’t been any posh kids at her old school but they were about as obnoxious and self-obsessed as she had expected. And Potter was so gaga for Gryffindor that she was certain it would be filled with people just like him.

In the end, however, Lily had not had the guts to ask anything of the sorting hat, so she had remained in Gryffindor. And mostly that had been okay—posh bespectacled prats aside. Her roommates were nice, her classes were fun, and she did rather like not living in a dungeon. But she was also…lonely. And out of place. And uncomfortable. There were so many things that the kids around her—even if they weren’t Purebloods—seemed to know, and it felt impossible trying to keep up with it all. Severus did his best to help her along but she could tell that he was sometimes a little bit embarrassed by her. That was the worst feeling honestly.

One afternoon, at the end of September, for no reason in particular, it had all just felt too much. So she’d crawled under her bed, trying to make the world smaller. Easier to manage. About fifteen minutes into her pity party Mary had walked in. Lily watched her feet, listened to the David Bowie song she hummed under her breath. Her and Mary had barely exchanged more than a few sentences but she was secretly Lily’s favourite roommate, if only because she was the one who reminded Lily the most of home. The posters she hung on the walls were all of people Lily recognized and they didn’t move or talk, plus, sometimes she would complain about things that Lily could relate to—like missing ballpoint pens and three-ringed binders.

She’s not sure, to this day, what compelled her to speak then. Surely the smart thing to do would have been to remain silent and hope that her new roommate wouldn’t notice her having a complete and utter mental breakdown. But being quiet had never been Lily’s strong suit.

“Do you have records?” she wondered out loud.

“Ah!” Mary shouted, her feet stumbling back into her bed. “Jesus Christ, Lily? Is that you?”

“It’s just that I’ve never seen you play any but you hum them all the time,” she said in lieu of an answer.

“Where the hell are you?” Mary demanded.

“At home I have a bunch of records but my mum wouldn’t let me bring them, she didn’t know how safe it would be here and she was worried they’d get stolen, not that Wizards are dying for Muggle music but, of course, she didn’t know that. Still doesn’t know, I suppose—“

“Lily,” Mary said harshly. “Did you get turned invisible or something?”

“What? Oh,” Lily blinked. “No, I’m not invisible.”

“Then why the hell can I hear you prattling on but there’s not a single freckle in my line of vision?”

Lily scowled up at the bottom of her bed. “I don’t have that many freckles.”

“Uh-huh and the Giant Squid doesn’t have that many legs.”

“Did you just—“

“Where are you?” she was beginning to sound genuinely exasperated, but to be honest, Lily quite liked being a disembodied voice. It was freeing

“I’m under here,” she said eventually, and with great reluctance.

“Under—oh honestly,” some shuffling later Mary was kneeling on the floor and peering at Lily under the bed.

What the hell are you doing, is what Lily expected her to say. If it had been Petunia “freak” might even have been thrown in there somewhere. But the thing about Mary—the beautiful, fantastic, brilliant thing about Mary—was that she never did what you were expecting.

“I see,” is what she actually said, before sliding under the bed to lie right alongside Lily. “What’s happened then? You and your boyfriend have a fight?”

“Boyfriend?” Lily repeated confused, and then; “Oh—OH—no. Sev isn’t—we aren’t—we’re just friends.” Though her face blushed so furiously it burned.

Mary turned her head to look at Lily, brow arched. “Really? Then you two might want to stop making googly-eyes at one another all the time.”

“We don’t do that!” Lily said almost desperately.

“You do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t.”

“Do.”

“Don’t infinity.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Whatever. So if that’s not why you’re under here, what is?”

Lily chewed on her lip, looking back up at the bottom of her bed. “I just think…I don’t know…that someone made a mistake.”

“Probably, but you’ll have to be more specific.”

At eleven Mary’s dry sense of humour was largely lost on Lily. Mary would later credit her wit to her childhood obsession with Monty Python.

“I just don’t think I’m supposed to be a witch.”

Lily didn’t have to turn her head to know that Mary was staring at her. “What do you mean “supposed to be” ? You ARE a witch?”

Lily let out a frustrated noise. “But I’m not really though, am I? I’m a Muggle.”

“That is literally not true.”

“Yes, but I know Muggle things and I like Muggle things and I don’t know anything about Wizards really. People like Marlene or Alice or, God, even James bloody Potter, those people are meant to be Wizards and Witches. It’s in their blood. It comes to them so naturally. None of this is natural to me.”

Mary continued to stare at her for long enough that Lily started to squirm. She had rather been hoping that out of everyone Mary would understand.

“Did you know that the Gryffindor Quidditch team is almost always Half-Bloods and Purebloods?” the other girl said suddenly.

Lily blinked, adjusting to this change in topic. “I—no, no I didn’t.”

Mary nodded. “And even when there are Muggle-borns they’re always seventh years, because it takes them that long to pick up the game,” her voice was determined. “Not me though, I’m gonna get it in three. I’m going to be the youngest Muggle-born Quidditch player ever on the Gryffindor team and you know why?”

Lily shook her head and Mary inched a little closer. “To piss them the fuck off.”

At that time swearing was still rather new to Lily so she actually gasped, and after several moments of shocked silence managed to stammer; “Them?”

Mary waved her hands above her as much as the bed would allow. “The powers that be, the system, the Man. The snooty Purebloods. Because I am every bit as much a Witch as they are,” her eyes locked onto Lily’s, “and so are you.”

After that they’d gone to the Great Hall and only eaten dessert for dinner and eventually Marlene had joined them and Lily had felt better and by Christmas she didn’t want to leave. But that moment under the bed, the moment her and Mary really became friends, had always stuck with her. Always made her smile a little. Made her feel better when someone in her class laughed at some bit of magic she didn’t know—something that was obvious—that little kids learned. I am every bit as much a Witch as you are, she’d think, channeling Mary as best she could. Because Mary never apologized for herself. Never felt embarrassed. Never backed down from a fight. She was unstoppable.

#Lily Evans #Mary MacDonald #jily #Marauders #jegulus #James Potter #regulus black #james x regulus #wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Harry Potter #hp fanfic #choices

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noblest-roman-of-all · 4 years

Text

silence

day 7! if theres any major errors, sorry i might have a minor concussion cause im a dumbass. heres some cute analogical for you!

parirings: virgil/logan

tw: anxiety attacks, poor self esteem and negative self talk

Virgil has a tendency to blow things out of proportion. He knows he does, his therapist has talked to him about cognitive distortions and all the ways that it can mess with his perception of the world and the things happening to him.

With that in mind, Virgil is still pretty sure this is the worst day of his life.

The worst part of it all is that there wasn’t any particular thing that happened, no great catastrophe. Just a series of small, kinda shitty things that snowballed into him curled up on the floor in a dusty corner of the library, shaking and gasping and entirely unable to move. He’d had panic attacks before, but they were almost never this bad, especially since he’d started going to Dr. Picani, and the thought that he’d somehow failed, that Picani would be disappointed, sends him spiralling even deeper.

He hears footsteps approaching, and his breath hitches again. Shit, he thought he was the only one in the section of the library, now there was somebody who might find him, who might see him like this. He hears whoever it was take a few steps forward, and then-

“Hello?” And of course, because this is the worst day of Virgil’s shitty life, it was Logan Baker, the unfairly brilliant, stupidly attractive sophomore who was in Virgil’s English 112 class, and who almost definitely hated him. Who was now standing in front of Virgil, having a complete breakdown, looking like an utter idiot, and if he didn’t dislike Virgil before he absolutely would now, seeing him in a state like this in public, why was he such a fucking mess that he couldn’t manage to get somewhere private so no one would have to see him like this-

Virgil’s spiralling thoughts come to a screeching halt when he notices that Logan has not turned and quickly walked in the other direction, or pulled out his phone to make fun of Virgil to his friends, but has instead sat down, leaning against the opposite bookshelf so he is facing Virgil, but still a few feet away. He looks Virgil over with a keen eye, but not critical. It doesn’t help Virgil, necessarily, but it… doesn’t add to his panic. Which is good.

“I assume asking if you are ‘okay’ is a bit redundant,” Logan says. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Virgil… really wasn’t expecting that. He opens his mouth to respond, but all he can manage is a quiet croak. He hides his head back in his knees, wanting the floor to just swallow him whole at this point. Logan doesn’t laugh though, just lets out a thoughtful hum.

“Can you speak? It’s alright if you can’t,” he says plainly. Virgil shakes his head slightly, glad he’s not being pushed to speak when apparently, his body is refusing to do so. Logan lets out that same hum again. Then, after a moment of quiet, he speaks up again.

“Would it help you if I spoke?” The question is quiet, almost timid in a way Virgil had never heard him sound. “I’ve been made aware I have a… soothing voice, although I wouldn’t think to call it that myself,” he says in a tone that if it came from anyone else, Virgil would call it sheepish. Virgil nods quickly.

“I assume that nod means it’s okay for me to speak,” Logan says, a huff of laughter in his tone. Virgil smiles into his arms and nods again.

“I’m aware that for some people, being left alone is preferable, but many people find comfort in hearing another person’s voice. It allows the mind something to focus on, I suppose, to prevent from spiralling.” There’s a pause, and then Logan continues, a bit quieter. “I know it helps me.”

Virgil looks up at that, making a small, curious sound. Logan smiles, soft and unsurprised.

“I know people don’t expect it of me, but I’m not neurotypical. I have ADHD, and oftentimes I get overwhelmed. I’ve found it’s helpful to hear someone else’s voice, to have something to latch on to,” Logan explains calmly. Virgil sits on the thought for a moment, and then nods. It makes sense to him. When Logan doesn’t say anything else, he makes a gesture with his hand, trying to indicate ‘keep going’. It seems to work, because Logan picks right up again easily.

“I’m not great with these-these emotional things.” The way he spits out the word emotional makes that clear enough. Virgil lets out a sound that isn’t quite a laugh, but is closer to happy than any other sound he’d made recently. Logan’s lip quirks up in a semblance of a smile.

“My roommate, Patton, he’s better at all of this than I am. I understand it from an intellectual perspective, but I admit that I struggle actually applying it.” Logan stays there, sitting on the hard ground of the library, talking to Virgil, for about an hour. He talks about his roommate Patton, who’s an early education major, and his friend Roman, a theater and performance major. He talks about the classes he’s taking for his major, astronomy. He talks about professors he loves, ones he hates. He talks about the little burger place near campus Patton drags him to every Friday so they can do karaoke, and how as much as he pretends to hate it, he secretly loves it. He talks, and for the first time Virgil gets to see someone other than Logan Baker, mildly intimidating straight A student. He gets to see Logan, who’s admittedly a bit of a dork and cares about his friends more than he would ever admit.

Eventually, Virgil manages to unfurl himself, his breathing relatively even and his mind no longer filled with swirling, hurtful words. Logan stutters to a stop when he realizes Virgil is now sitting up straight, actively listening now.

“I, um, see you’re feeling better. I apologize for revealing so much personal information, it’s just-” Logan stops when Virgil chuckles.

“It’s alright, dude. I, uh, actually enjoyed it,” Virgil admits with a flush. Logan looks equally flustered, and moves to stand up.

“Well, seeing that you’re in a better state now, I’ll be on my way. Have a good afternoon, Virgil.” With that, he makes to hurry off. Virgil lurches up and grabs his wrist before he can go.

“I… never told you my name. How did you…” Virgil trails off. Logan actually manages to look more flustered.

“I, well, we share an English course, and I… appreciate your input. It’s interesting, and it makes me think,” Logan mutters. Virgil breaks into a smile at that, and pushes himself up as quickly as he dares.

“Well, I’ve been down there for about 2 hours now. I really need to stretch my legs, and probably get something to eat,” Virgil says. Logan nods and starts to turn away.

“Of course, I don’t mean to interrupt your plans.” Virgil grabs Logan again, his shoulder this time, and Logan turns on his heel.

“Well, I was thinking. You said that burger place isn’t too far from campus, right?” Virgil asks. Logan gives him an odd look, and Virgil sighs. “I’m trying to ask you to get lunch with me, dork.” Logan lets out a shocked laugh.

“As much as I appreciated the silence from earlier, I think I much prefer you like this,” Logan admits. He gestures for Virgil to walk alongside him as they walk off.

Alright. Maybe this isn’t the worst day of Virgil’s life. Maybe, it’s actually the best.

#ts virgil #ts logan #analogical #college au #theyre two nerds and i adore them #also logan being a dork and loving his friends bc i say so

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chmpgnpearls · 4 years

Photo

[8:30 p.m.]

It’s dinner time already, and yet all you can do is sulk on your bed, wrapped up in your makeshift cocoon of blankets, wishing for the world to just stop until you feel better. Your phone rings for what feels like the thousandth time in an hour, reminding you once again that you have now been ignoring everyone since this morning.

You thought it was not gonna matter, that you wouldn't care about the outcome and that, once you got the results, you would simply go on with your life. Yet when you got back your research paper, now twelve hours ago, and you saw the big fat C written in the corner, you felt like an utter failure. After tricking yourself into thinking you didn't actually care for better grades, you had put your phone on silent and retired in the comfortable dark hole that was your room and did nothing but stare at the ceiling, completely forgetting about what was to be your third date with Renjun.

Renjun, the sweet, kind guy that sits with you in your shared lectures and gives you his notes when you don't really feel like taking them for yourself. The guy that blushed the first time he had asked you out on a date and manages to remember your usual order at the cafe on campus. In the midst of all your sulking and overthinking, you had forgotten that you were supposed to meet up outside the science building two hours ago, so that he could take you out for dinner.

Your phone rang all afternoon, but you haven't had the heart to read his texts. You felt even worse knowing that he would probably think you stood him up and that maybe he had even waited for you under the heavy rain going on outside.

As you, once again, mentally curse yourself for being so careless, you hear three sharp knocks on your door, followed by a high-pitched sneeze. You get up from the bed in a hurry, stumbling on a couple of books you had left laying on the ground after your breakdown earlier. You try to guess who might show up at your front door on a Friday night when everyone was out partying, but you would have never thought to open the door and find a soaking wet Renjun, fist held in the air as if caught in the middle of knocking a second time and a plastic bag in his other hand.

“Good evening, stranger.” he lets out, successfully breaking the awkward silence that had started since you had opened the door.

“Renjun, I... what... what are you doing here?” you manage to stutter out, genuinely confused. The boy in front of you smiles and proudly raises his bag in the air. He seems confident, which catches you off guard because, until a minute ago, you thought he would hate you for not showing up for your date.

“Well, you know what they say: ‘If Mohammed will not go to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed’.” he says, dangling the bag between your bodies.

“But... aren't you mad at me?”

“Why would I? I know what happened today and I understand.”

Renjun’s eyes trail over your face, he seems genuinely concerned about your well being and you almost tear up at the thought. But then you remember your current attire and you almost bite your fist, leaning towards the door in an attempt to hide your hideous pants from your potential future boyfriend, because saying that what you're wearing at the moment is embarrassing would be an understatement.

“Renjun, that’s so freaking sweet. But I’m not exactly ready for a dinner date.” you can feel the heat rise to your neck as you see him scan your clothes, biting his lip to suppress a smirk when he gets to your fuzzy pink socks.

“I don't really care, ___. We don't need to be dressed up and go somewhere fancy to enjoy each other’s company, right?” he chuckles and you actually want to rebut because you really, really wanted to make a good impression by dressing up for him, but he raises a hand and continues.

“Besides, I didn't get soaking wet through walking to your place for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

His words make your heart melt and you subconsciously wrap your arms around his shoulders for a hug that he gladly returns, snaking his free arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Ugh, I’m getting you all wet.” he acknowledges, words muffled by your hair.

You step back and shoot him a mischievous grin, pulling him inside by his shirt while he stumbles forward, dripping rainwater on your carpet.

“Don't you think it’s a little early for that?”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Renjun giggles, a blush creeping onto his ears as a result of your joke. His laugh is the first thing that made you genuinely smile today.

[11:29 p.m.]

The night goes on through jokes and episodes of your favorite shows, Renjun acts like an absolute sweetheart and doesn't bring up the reason of your sadness once, except for when he tells you that he's there for you if you ever want to talk about it.

His little gestures make you melt on the spot, he's so careful with everything he does and looks at you with a glint in his eyes, as if you could tell him the secret meaning of life at any given moment.

When the clock strikes 11.30 p.m. Renjun starts feeling as if he’s overstayed his welcome, which is not true obviously because you are loving his company, but your body betrays you and you start to yawn, eyelids drooping while the pilot of yet another series comes to an end. So he pats your head and starts putting away the trash, mumbling about bringing it out himself when he goes.

“Wait, are you going already?” your voice is a tad bit groggy as you get up from your comfortable position on the couch, walking over to the entryway where Renjun is already putting his shoes on. When he looks up at you he holds in a chuckle, bringing a hand to your face and softly tracing his thumb over the thin sleep wrinkles on your cheekbones.

“It’s very late and you look like you need to sleep.”

“But we’ll do this again sometime, right?” you don't realize how desperate you sound for a second, but the fact that you almost ruined what you have with Renjun still burns and you can't help but feel insecure and wonder whether he wants to keep seeing you.

Though all your negative thoughts come to a halt when his lips stretch in the most beautiful grin and he takes a step closer.

“Of course we will. You owe me, you know.” his voice is soft, breathy and you can feel the warmth he emanates almost luring you in like the comfort of a warm bed on a chilly morning. His words leave you ever so slightly dumbfounded: of course you thought you had to make it up to him for forgetting about the date, but you weren't sure he actually meant what you thought he was hinting at.

“I owe you?” you ask, subconsciously inching closer to his figure, which he notices.

“Yeah well, you owe me a kiss.” the corner of his mouth raises in a smirk once again at the way your eyes widen slightly at his statement. And while you try to keep the bush creeping to your cheeks at bay, Renjun runs a hand down your arm and takes a hold of yours, intertwining your fingers and slightly pulling you towards him.

“Tonight, I was going to wait until I walked you home and then I would’ve kissed you on your doorstep and asked you to be my girlfriend. But, obviously, it didn't go according to my plan.” he admits, toying with your fingers as your breath hitches in your chest, unsure of what to do next.

Renjun has the same look he had on for the entire night, his eyes gleam with affection and what seems like uncertainty, maybe at the thought of being rejected. But by the way you’re gazing back at him, you doubt the boy doesn't know he has you wrapped around his finger yet. After a couple of seconds filled with your silence, his eyes drift from your own to your lips, he wonders what you're gonna say next, if you're going to push him away.

“You can still kiss me now, you know.” your boldness has him smiling, he guides your hand until it’s resting on his shoulder and snakes his arms around your waist. Your chests are almost touching and he playfully bumps your nose with his.

“That’s exactly what I was gonna do.”

His actions don't really catch you off guard this time, he tilts his head and locks your lips as if he had been waiting the whole night for this moment only. You let yourself smile into the kiss, basking in Renjun’s familiar scent as he cups your cheek with his hand and swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, deepening the kiss.

Your fingers play with the hair on the back of his neck, his tongue slowly makes its way in and out of your mouth, almost lulling you to sleep, with his hand caressing your back. You separate from him while sighing a little too loudly, when you both need to take a breath, and he’s holding onto your hips for dear life as he rests his forehead on yours and gifts you a smile even brighter than the last one.

You stay trapped in each other’s hold for what seems like minutes, until realization hits you that he has to go home eventually. So you jut your bottom lip out and he chuckles, pecking your pout one, two, three, four times before he grabs his backpack from the floor and kisses your forehead.

“Goodnight, ___.”

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 3 years

Text

A Familiar Soul - Chapter Three

Summary: Hilda decides to be completely honest with her mother, surprised when she seems to be a lot more in on magic than Hilda had expected her to be.

With her daughter’s association with witches, Johanna is forced to face some secrets of her own, bringing her back to feelings and people she’d rather have left behind

Dealing with insecurities and inner demons of her own, Kaisa finds herself face to face with the very issues that brought her to be so displeased with her own abilities

Or: the one where Johanna is Kaisa’s familiar

Notes: I tried my best not to make Johanna’s parents downright abusive again but... that whole “this isn’t the sort of mum I wanted to be” breakdown Johanna had in The Fifty Year Night wasn’t something someone who grew up with good parents would do, I think. Hope you enjoy it!

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3)

“Yep, this is certainly magical business just like you suspected, Frida. You can close your mouth now.”

At the librarian’s command, David closed his mouth and swallowed, feeling the bitter taste that arose every time he did so. He had been with his friends in the woods for a leaf identifying Sparrow Scout activity when he ate a berry that had evoked the most bizarre reaction from his body. Purple bubbles the same colour as the berry had sprouted on his tongue and made it feel like a dead slug inside his mouth, and as soon as the girls had taken a look at it they’d decided to go ask Kaisa what her opinion on the matter was.

“Am I going to die?” He whispered fearfully. David knew he could trust magic when it came from Frida, but aside from that his experience with it so far had been less than pleasant. Kaisa blew raspberry and swept a hand on the air, as if to brush his concerns away.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

The librarian turned her back to them and continued calmly typing on her computer behind the circulation desk, like she’d been doing when they arrived. Judging by the books on the counter, they assumed she was taking note of which tomes had been returned that day.

“Well?” Hilda shared a look with Frida as she asked. “What happened to him?”

The way Kaisa looked back at them and then to the side was uncharacteristic. She seemed to be battling with herself about whether or not she should answer them, which only made David worry that he was, indeed, going to die.

“He ate the berries of a bush protected by the fae people.” She explained at last, looking not at them but at the computer screen. “Terrible idea.”

“And how do we undo it?” Hilda stepped closer to the counter. The librarian placed her hand on top of one of the books, biting her bottom lip as she did so. Though she might not like Johanna, Kaisa wanted to respect her wishes as Hilda’s mother, and giving them what they needed very much went against them. It was the way Hilda was looking at her, with wide and hopeful eyes, that made her throw caution to the wind and give her the book. If the girl’s first reaction to disaster was looking for some random witch and not her mother, that was on Johanna.

“The potion is on page 63. It’s simple to brew, Frida shouldn’t have any trouble. Oh, and just for good measure, go back to the bush and place an offering on the ground for the faeries. They’ll enjoy anything sweet or shiny, as long as it’s not iron.”

“Thanks, Kaisa!” Hilda smiled up at her as she handed Frida the potions book. “You’re the best!”

The trio ran out of the library together, hoping to get started on their tasks as soon as possible. Until the doors closed behind them, Kaisa could hear Hilda talking about how she could handle the offering while her witch brewed the potion. She sighed and allowed herself to fall back against her chair, her head on her hands as she breathed deep.

The girl was too much like her mother.

_#_#_#_

It had been an extremely risky move on her part, but Johanna arrived safely on the ground. The palms of her hands were stinging from gripping her makeshift rope so tightly, and she looked up at the string of clothes she’d tied together in order to allow herself out of her room on the second floor of her house. As soon as her feet touched the earth, her best friend sighed in relief behind her.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kaisa asked. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Johanna turned to face the young witch with a bright smile. Since the day they’d met each other in the woods two years before, they’d been inseparable. And Johanna wasn’t about to let that change.

“A three pm curfew is ridiculous and you know it. I’m not letting you go on a cool magical adventure without me, Kai. Besides, they won’t even be home! I’ll be fine.”

Kaisa sighed. She had to admit Johanna’s curfew, as well as every other limitation her parents gave her, were very strict, but how fair something was or not didn’t change the fact that Johanna would be punished if she got caught. At least she knew Johanna was quite good at this: she knew exactly what to do to not be seen having fun. It was around this time in the afternoon that Kaisa got invited over to Johanna’s house to play on most days, since the girl knew her sitter would be too busy watching her soap opera to notice her sneaking another child in the house. Besides, it wasn’t like Kaisa could talk her out of helping her; when Johanna got something in her mind, nobody could stop her.

“If you say so.” She shrugged, turning her attention back to the book she was holding. It was wordy and hard to read even for an adult, but Kaisa rather enjoyed deciphering it. In its pages was all the information humans knew about the Draugen treasure. Tildy had assured her that it wasn’t real, nothing more than an old sailors’ tale, but Kaisa knew it had to be real. Out of the few things her mother had left her, this book was one of them, and Kaisa believed that her mother wouldn’t give her a book filled with made up information.

“So, where are we headed?” Johanna fell in step with Kaisa, trusting her friend to lead the way even if she occasionally had to point out a closed walking sign or stop her from hitting a person or a street lamp. Kaisa could get very distracted when she was concentrating on her books.

“To the harbour.” The witch said with confidence. “And then, to the Draugen treasure.”

_#_#_#_

Things hadn’t been as simple as that. Once at the harbour, the two children had to face the fact that they had no means to go underwater. Johanna knew how to swim, and she even offered to go and get the proof that Kaisa wanted to bring home to her mentor, but Kaisa declined, not only wanting to see the treasure herself but also knowing that no matter how good Johanna was at swimming, she wouldn’t manage to find the shipwreck.

Feeling stuck, she’d sat down on a bolster to think. Nothing in her book hinted at how to actually get to the treasure, she knew so because she knew each word in it by heart, and still she searched the pages hoping an answer would magically appear.

“It’s not too bad if we don’t find it.” Johanna cooed from where she was sitting on the sand. The disappointment in Kaisa’s face was something she didn’t like to see, and it made her want to hug her. “Even if you don’t have any proof to take to Miss Pilkfist… you know it’s true. That’s already enough, isn’t it? Plus, if we wait we’re going to see a gorgeous sunset from here.”

Holding her cheeks between her hands, Kaisa grumbled. “I guess.”

Even though she’d given up, Kaisa continued staring at the book. Until, that is, she heard her friend gasp.

“What a pretty seashell, look!”

On Johanna’s palm there was a pearly white conch shell, its shape a little too perfect for it to be natural. Kaisa hopped from the stone, extending her hand so as to ask Johanna to see it, but the girl didn’t notice. Instead, she chuckled as she took a better look at it.

“It kind of looks like a tiny tuba, doesn’t it?” Saying that, Johanna brought the shell to her lips and blew. Both of them shrieked when it made a sound much louder than they had expected, even the birds from nearby trees flying away in fright.

“What the heck?” Johanna looked to her left to check if Kaisa had also been as surprised by the vibration, but the witch was staring wide eyed at something behind her friend. Turning her gaze to the sea, the girl gasped as she saw a tower of water rise up, with eyes staring right at them. If a being entirely made of water could even look annoyed, Johanna was sure this would be it.

“A water spirit.” Kaisa whispered. “Johanna, you’re a genius.”

Johanna had no idea of what was happening, but given that Kaisa seemed to have she didn’t worry. Instead of running away like she imagined would have been the most logical decision, Kaisa walked closer to the spirit and uttered gibberish. At this point, Johanna had lost count of how many magical languages she’d already heard her friend talking in.

Apparently happy at having been talked to, the spirit shape shifted to the form of a bubble. Kaisa turned back to Johanna with a smile, offering her hand to help her get up from the sand.

“Come on, Anna. We’ve got a treasure to find.”

_#_#_#_

The underwater landscape was something they both knew they’d never forget. Miraculously, the water spirit had taken them, safe and dry, through the sea that connected their city to other far away lands. When Kaisa pointed out a picture in her book that showed a representation of the sunken ship, the spirit had set off to a certain direction without needing any further instruction, which left the two girls free to look at the fish that swam by them and the other strange creatures they couldn’t recognize.

Once they reached the boat, or at least what was left of it, they couldn’t help but stare in awe for a couple of seconds. As soon as the shock of actually having found it wore off of Kaisa, she fist pumped the air. She really had been right, and she’d prove it.

Aside from a single draugen who for some reason didn’t stop sweeping a broom around during the whole time they were there, no one seemed to be guarding the treasure. This allowed them to find the chests the book spoke of, filled with golden items and a variety of other items.

“We could be rich!” Johanna had said, touching the golden coins and chains as soon as the water spirit rolled forward so the chests were inside the bubble.

Kaisa shook her head. “I don’t think we should take any of it. Tildy says it’s never a good idea to steal from the dead. We don’t know what’s up with that Draugen there.” She pointed to the cleaner, who had explained his situation upon their arrival. “As far as we are concerned, he might have been cursed for trying to steal some of the treasure.”

The possibility made Johanna hastily drop the coins she’d been holding.

“Oh.”

“Besides, maybe someone else would like to see this in the future, and I wouldn’t want them to find nothing. “

Following that logic, Kaisa decided to take a chip of wood from the weak shell of the boat. Certainly, that was insignificant enough that they wouldn’t face any repercussions, and it still was something they could take home for her to show her mentor that she’d been right.

They were returned to the harbor by the spirit, who as kind as always nodded them goodbye. Kaisa stared at the spot where it had disappeared, thinking that now she’d have even more motivation to learn to speak Water Spirit. That one seemed like a good friend to have.

Just as the sun was beginning to set, the two of them arrived at Tildy’s home. The sorceress was sitting on her couch, crocheting something out of pink wool, and Kaisa knew she’d felt it when they entered the house even though she didn’t look up.

“Aha!” The girl cried triumphantly, walking up to her teacher and raising the chip of wood above her head. “I told you the Draugen treasure was real, Tildy! We’ve found it, and I can prove it!”

As serene as if she was going through a daily occurence, Tildy lifted her gaze up to her young apprentice and to her friend, who was just beside her.

“How lovely that you found a fun way to spend the day! And welcome, Johanna, I made a cake today thinking about you. Why don’t you put some water in the kettle and we can all eat it while having some tea?”

“Sounds delicious!” Johanna set off to the kitchen, having been there enough times to know where everything was. Kaisa was left standing in front of the woman with an eyebrow lifted.

“Thank you for this, dear.” Tildy said as she took the chip from her hand. “Just what I needed.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You’re not surprised? You believe me?”

“Of course I’m not. And you have always been more of an overachiever than a cheater, so yes, I do.”

“Wait…” Kaisa looked down with a crease between her brows, trying to put the pieces together as the mentor got up from the sofa.

“I do know the treasure is true. But you see, I needed something that belonged to a Draugen for a potion I want to make and that’s not really easy to get! So I thought I could count on you to want to prove me wrong if I said I didn’t believe in it.”

“Tildy!” Kaisa groaned. She wanted to be annoyed or angry but truly? She found her mentor’s behaviour quite amusing. Would she ever manage to outsmart the great arch sorceress, Kaisa wondered.

“Let’s go eat, now. You two deserve your cake.”

_#_#_#_

After eating, Kaisa had offered to walk Johanna back to her house. The days were getting ever shorter, and the wind was icy cold as they walked, but they didn’t care. Being with each other always made the rest of the world fade away, and once again Kaisa was grateful that Johanna had been so insistent on befriending her. They were laughing and shooting the breeze while they walked, until Johanna stopped abruptly and gripped Kaisa’s wrist so she would too.

“My parents are home.” She whispered stiffly, looking at the house’s garage, where there were now two cars. “They will probably have noticed I’m gone by now.”

“I’ll go with you.” Kaisa said immediately. “I’ll… I’ll say I pressured you to leave without supervision.”

Johanna gave her a sympathetic smile. There was evident sadness in her eyes, and she squeezed her friend’s hand.

“That’s exactly what I don’t want you to do and you know it. We’ve been here before. If they think you’re guilty of anything, they will want me to stop seeing you. Turn back now and it’ll be better for both of us.”

Kaisa’s shoulders slumped. It wasn’t often that something like this happened, but whenever it did, she was filled by a sense of helplessness before her best friend’s situation. Still, Johanna knew her own parents better than Kaisa did, so she always obeyed.

“Library as soon as you can?” Kaisa asked in a small, hopeful voice, knowing that Johanna’s parents wouldn’t allow her to leave the house at all for a while. It was their arrangement that whenever Johanna got grounded, Kaisa would be in the library at exactly ten in the morning every day until Johanna was allowed to leave, even if followed by her sitter, to tell her she was free to visit Kaisa and be visited by her.

Johanna nodded and let go of her hand, only heading toher house when Kaisa had already begun to walk away, so as to be sure her friend wouldn’t try anything heroic.

Her pace was closer to a run as she went back to Tildy’s. Tears stung at her eyes but she held them back. It wasn’t fair that Johanna would be punished if Kaisa was the one who had asked for company. It wasn’t fair at all. One day, Kaisa thought, she’d be strong enough to save her too.

_#_#_#_

When Johanna asked her how her afternoon had gone, Hilda had had to resist the instinct to say the first lie that popped on her mind. She was being honest now, she reminded herself. In the most calm and casual way she could, she narrated the events she’d gone through while her mother finished preparing their dinner, but it was easy to tell her mother did not approve of most, if not everything, of what she was telling. Her shoulders were visibly tight and her mouth was pursed, and the only reaction Hilda got were grunts. When the story was finished, the woman sighed tiredly.

“Hilda, I… I don’t know what to tell you. Sweetheart, you could have gotten hurt.”

“Mum” Hilda groaned, trying to make herself look taller. Why did her mother think she was so fragile? “I understand you’re scared for me because you just want me to be okay. But I am okay! This wasn’t dangerous, I promise. You had to see Frida, she was awesome! She’s so smart and skilled.”

Johanna took a deep breath as she took the pie away from the oven and over to the table. No, it wasn’t dangerous, at least what Hilda had told her wasn’t. She still didn’t like it, since her own experiences led her to be wary about that situation, but she knew making a storm in a teacup would only make it so Hilda never told her anything.

“You’re right, sweetheart. I just want to tell you to try not to rely on magic for everything. And Frida… she’s your friend, and a good girl, but do not idolize her, okay? She’s just as human as us, and you may not be able to count on her for everything.”

Hilda’s brow furrowed, thoughts about what it was that her mother wasn’t telling her clouding her mind. “She’s my best friend, mum. I know I can count on her.”

Johanna clenched the fist that wasn’t pulling herself a chair.

“I suppose you can. But listen to me on this, I don’t want you seeing the librarian again.”

Now sitting in front of her mother, Hilda blinked in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Anyone who feels this comfortable giving children magic is not to be trusted” Johanna answered simply, making her child sigh.

Getting her mother to trust her judgement would take a while.

#my fic #fic: afs #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #sketchbook ship fanfic #kaisa hilda fanfic #johanna hilda fanfic

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crystaldwightsworld · 4 years

Text

Adam, post surgery, on medical leave...

So... I’ve got this whole, weird, crazy, obviously non canon idea in my head for something I wanna do.

It’s obvious that Adam is struggling even after the 6 months of medical leave Sarif has given him but what’s been on my mind is, what’s he been doing in the 6 months prior?

Surely, drinking up a storm, smoking and eating massive amounts of cereal to try and manage to cope but I can’t imagine the amount of pain he must have been in in adjusting to his augmentations. I mean, severe pain, agony and anguish. Not to mention the clear breakdown he has the first night he gets home from the clinic. I’m talking a severe breakdown, crying, beating on the wall of his shower, wailing, angry and pained tears. It’s all he can do on most days other than get out of bed. He’s fallen to the bottom pit of a depressive state that he can’t even be bothered to clean up after himself (i.e. the piles of empty cereal bowls strewn about counter tops and tables, unpacked belongings, etc), let alone look at himself (the first broken mirror). Adam loathes his augs, suffers greatly with body dysphoria now that more than half his body is gone and replaced with mechanical limbs he never consented to but on top of all of it, his ex-girlfriend is gone, whom he was really good friends with even after the break up. Even his dog is gone.

He’s become aware of how serious his neglect is getting. As much as he’d like to handle it on his own and as much as he prefers being a loner, there’s a big part of him that knows he can’t, especially when he has more days where he just wants nothing more than to lay in bed. So, he hires somebody. A maid in such words but she’s more like a house sitter but also called on to be a caregiver for Adam, to Adam. Her name is Adley and even though Adam isn’t quite sure at first with how young she is (she’s 24, yes, major age difference, if that bothers you, then I understand) she adheres and abides by his politely requested rules in keeping his apartment tidy and kempt following in keeping an eye on him, his health and his daily exercises in adjusting with his augs. It’s a long, grueling six months for them both but she’s been better than he would have ever asked for. She’s extremely mindful in keeping his privacy in mind, knocks on the door before entering, doesn’t touch anything she’s not supposed to or rearranging his possessions, keeps his extensive collection of cereals in stock, makes sure he takes his medicine and eats all while being even as quiet as he is, unless she’s playing music that she politely asks to play while she works on her surroundings, trip-hop she called it, some bands he’s never heard of, massive attack and unkle (to which he’s caught her on more than one occasion dancing to while she worked, and yes, he finds it rather cute). He appreciates her but doesn’t quite know how to show or tell her. She does more for him other than provide a service.

Adley, on the other hand, likes Adam, has grown to admire him. Like, really likes him although it’s something she’d never admit to anyone. She genuinely cares for him and his well being and has shown it to him, even in his supposed unawareness of it (i.e. covering him with a blanket after he’s fallen asleep on the couch or in his bed, closing the door and hardly bothering him on days where his pain levels are too much to handle, chatting with him in the early hours of the morning through messenger or skype when he can’t sleep, sending him memes she knows he’d find funny). Adam’s augmentations don’t bother her but when she shows up one afternoon after Adam’s taken off to an appointment at a LIMB clinic, she discovers just how serious his self loathe really is when she finds the mirror in his bathroom shattered to pieces, cracked and broken with one perfectly shaped impact of what she thinks is his fist. It’s not hard for her to put two and two together. Adam hated himself and would rather destroy a reflective surface than catch a glimpse of himself in it. It breaks her heart, especially since she found him more than attractive, augs or no augs, she’d feel the same. She’d worked hard to gain Adam’s trust and now that she has it, she feels that she might be jeopardizing it by bringing up concerns.

It bothers her immensely to the point where her bother shifts quickly in worry with a desperate need to tell him, to show him that he shouldn’t... when he does. She brings it up after he arrives back, genuine concern laced in her voice when she questions him about it.

“The mirror... did you- did you break it?”

But, alas, the stoic that he was, he brushes if off immediately and claims that it was nothing. Claims that he’s fine. Retreats to the confines of his room with nothing more than a peep uttered, leaving Adley to her thoughts, confused and conflicted. She knows better than to push him on it.

It’s the third one he’s broken. He hadn’t meant for her to find it. Had forgotten completely that it was one of those days where she made her routine visits. But even then, the mirror still would have been there, she still would have noticed it. He spends nearly the rest of the evening, glaring and gawking at his handiwork, reflecting on the force of his punch, the anger in what was left of his veins, the ache still hiding behind his steel heart (literally). He doesn’t realize just how long he’s been sitting there lost in a daze until she knocks on the frame of his doorway, announcing that she was about to leave for the evening and asking if he needed anything. That was Adley. Always so sweet and kind, worried about him way before she’d be worried about herself. With shoulders still slumped and his back still to her, he finally manages to speak, the first words he’s spoken to her in hours.

“Adley, can I talk to you for a minute?” His raspy low voice asks to her. There’s absolutely no lilt or fall to his tone but her heart nearly sinks to her feet, so certain that this was going to be the last time she’d ever see him, that he was going to fire her. Either way, she steps into the room and makes her way over to him, standing a few feet away from him in waiting for his dismissal, her fingers anxiously fidgeting in her nervousness.

It’s a long, empty and barren silence between them before he finally turns to match her gaze. There was no point in ignoring it any longer.

“I broke the mirror.” He admits. His confession surprises her.

“You’re not firing me?” She asks, to his surprise.

“Of course not, why would I?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“I thought I- I-I don’t know, maybe I had over stepped a line or something.” She brings up, her voice breaking and cracking. She’s nervous, Adam senses. “Why did you break the mirror?”

Adam inhales and sighs heavily, stretching his lengthy legs out in front of him and combing his fingers through his hair. He takes one last quick glance at his destroyed mirror before reminding himself not to look at it and shifting his gaze back to Adley. She’s not expecting it when he retracts his eye shields. She’s never seen him without them.

“Because... because I hate these fucking augs, I hate looking at them, what they make me. They’re apart of me now and there’s nothing I can do about it. I almost died on that table, Adley. They say they saved my life but... with what they had to do to do it, with what they gave me... sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off dead. Should have let me die there. I can hardly stand to look at myself because that’s not me, that’s not... Adam. I- for fuck’s sake, I can’t even jack off, cannot get my goddamn rhythm back- I-” He pauses, realizing what he just said with his mind running rampant with thoughts, he hadn’t even thought twice about what he was saying. Adley still stood there, waiting and listening to him although was now doing a horrible job to hide the smile that had appeared on her lips.

It’s faint, hardly there at all but even in the dim light seeping through his blinds that was the Detroit night, she catches the grin that appears just ask quick as it vanishes, watching Adam close his eyes against the embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry Adley, I’m sure you don’t wanna listen to me vent and rant.” Adam breaks the awkward silence.

“N-no Adam, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep you, if you need to leave-”

“No, I don’t but... Adam.” She says, her gaze lifting towards the bathroom where his broken mirror resided. He catches her glimpse. She has no idea how to put it into words, that his augmented limbs didn’t scare her, how much she adored him, how much she pondered and thought about him, immersed in fantasies and scenarios that would never happen...

“Can I try something? I mean, show you, I don’t know.” She asks him, wanting his permission. He nods. She wastes no time in making herself comfortable in front of him, between his now pulled up knees and... on hers before him. This is, this was highly, highly suggestive but he waits for her, enamored in her tiny frame in the darkness of his bedroom.

Her lacquered fingers lift cautiously and reach for his alloy plated hands. Augmented hands didn’t sense touch the exact same way skin did but either way, he could still feel her hands in his, her flesh chilled but cradling his carbon black fingers with a tenderness he had all but forgotten. She has no idea where this new found confidence was coming from but with her trust that she held with him, she’s not afraid to let her hand explore his forearm, letting his other touch her face as she pushes her cheek against his palm, almost lovingly all the while a gawking Adam stared at her, mouth slightly agape, his heart, artificial or not, thudding rampantly against the steel wall of his chest cavity. She... had no idea what this meant to him, what it felt like to be touched again. He’s so overwhelmed and fixated on her hands on him that he has to remember to tell himself to breathe.

“I don’t see the augs, Adam. I... only see you. Yes, apart of you may be gone, may have been taken from you but... this is still you, this is the Adam I know. Augs or no augs, I’d feel the same way. Trust me when I say that I don’t let just anybody near me like this, let alone touch. I don’t see a machine, a product. I see you, a man, my um- well my friend, I guess, if I’m being honest.” She tells him. Of course if she were really being honest, she’d tell him he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, that no one compared to him.

He may not show the emotion on his face but it’s written well in his eyes, glimmering in the low light and contracting in taking her in. They’d been close before but nothing like this, nothing intimate. Her hands move to his face, her skin grazing against his and goddamn, he could almost melt with the tiny brushes of her pinky fingers invading into his hair line.

“I can’t change the way you think or feel Adam but... next time, come to me maybe? You know I’m always okay to talk if you need to. A three in the morning skype call has never stopped you before, don’t let this stop you now. Not because you’re paying me but because I want to. That’s what people do when they care for each other. They help the other.”

He’s speechless, has absolutely no idea what to say but he words have touched him somewhere deep down in the wallows of his broken mind. And her hands on his face, he had forgotten what it was like to be touched again. As much as he’s fighting to hold them back, he can’t help the stray tears that roll down his prominent cheeks, Adley’s skinny long fingers brushing them away as she still cradled his face in her hands.

It’s quiet for some time between them, nothing but the sound of Adam’s breathing filling the empty silence. She’s not expecting anything, especially from Adam, he’s always been so guarded and blocked off and she’s more than used to it by now. It nearly knocks the breath out of her lungs when he pulls her to him, his arms hooked underneath her shoulders as he clung to her. She’s more than happy to reciprocate the hug, her arms wrapped around his waist and holding him close, this moment, she had played over so many times in her head yet it had never went this way. Adam was quiet as he held and hugged her to him but she doesn’t mind, even when his hold on her tightens. She’d stay there for as long as he needed her to.

“Stay with me.” His low voice whispers to her in the pregnant silence. Her eyes widen at his request. “Stay with me tonight. Please?” He pleads, his voice longing and desperate.

“Adam, I- I don’t have any clothes with me.” She reminds him.

“You can wear mine.” He offers. She smiles.

“I-I need to shower as well, I should really get going.”

“You can use my shower.” He assures her. Again, she smiles, huffing out a laugh. He pulls away to look at her, his fingers tangling and intertwining with hers. “Please, stay with me. I don’t want you to go.”

She can’t say no to that.

“Alright, Adam. I’ll stay.”

As much as he preferred being alone, he felt comforted to know that she’d be there in the morning with him. Maybe they could cuddle in bed together until noon, get up and make breakfast together. Well, she could teach him, at least.

“Well, if I’m gunna be staying here, we need to figure out the food situation. I don’t know about you but I’m starving. You wanna order take out?” Adley suggests, pulling away and standing.

“What, no cereal?” Adam chides.

“Adam, I am not eating cereal for dinner!” Adley whines as she makes her way back out into his kitchen.

“Why not? It’s good!”

“Adam!”

He joins her back out in the kitchen, looking and searching through the massive collection of restaurant menus he had stockpiled. It’s the happiest he’s felt in months. He couldn’t wait to wake up next to her in the morning.

#this turned into a fic i guess #adam jensen #deus ex #deus ex human revolution #adam post op #my OC #adam x adley #its all gunna go to hell when adam finds out about megan #adley davis

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Note

ROWAELIN WITH "Not that I'm saying what you're doing is a bad idea, but I don't see anything about it going right."

Written alongside the LOML @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty.

Warning: this got real dirty, real fast. Rated M.

“Not that I’m saying what you’re doing is a bad idea, but I don’t see anything about it going right.”

Rowan was halfway up the ladder when he glanced over his shoulder, an exasperated look in those pine green eyes. “What do you mean? I’m...how the hell else am I supposed to paint the top of the wall?”

Their entryway was tall. It was one of the reasons Aelin wanted their house, that beautiful grand entryway. However, she wanted it light blue, not honeydew yellow as it currently was. They had two more months to finish their renovations before life got even more hectic.

Aelin’s hands protectively moved to her bump as she said, “I need this baby to have her father so don’t fall off that ladder or I will personally annihilate you.”

Rowan shook his head, continuing his stroll up the ladder and standing on the very top.

Aelin cringed. “See? This is what I’m saying. They literally tell you on the ladder not to stand on that part of the ladder.”

Rowan hung his head in utter defeat. “Fireheart, I love you. Okay? But if you keep talking, I will kick your ass.”

“You can’t, I’m carrying your child,” she shot back.

Rowan sighed. “Do you want this damn thing painted or not?”

“Yes,” Aelin crooned, “but I want you to get a taller ladder first.”

It was true, even with his natural height, standing unsafely on the top of their short ladder, Rowan still couldn’t reach the top of the walls.

Rowan raked a hand, frustratingly, through his hair. “Alright. Fine. I give up.”

He slowly made his way back down the ladder and fell against the wall, running his temples, completely exhausted.

Aelin cleared her throat. “Uh, Ro?”

Rowan opened his eyes, realization lighting up his eyes as he pushed off the wall. The entire back of his shirt, and the back of his arms, were covered in blue paint.

Aelin tried to contain her laughter, but failed.

Rowan, defeated, turned and walked down the hall.

Aelin, seven months pregnant, hurried after him. “Babe, I’m sorry.”

Rowan sighed. “I’m taking a shower. And throwing this shirt out, apparently.”

She followed him into their bedroom, then into the master bath. As Rowan stripped off his shirt, Aelin’s laughter faded. “Hey, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you lately. Okay? I’m sorry.”

It was true. A few weeks prior, Aelin had given him an absurdly long list of things that she wanted done before the baby comes.

She was still biting down on her smile as she grabbed him by the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled him toward her. He could have easily resisted but didn’t.

She was resting against the double vanity and he leaned down and captured her lips, resting his hands on either side of her full bump. She gripped his hips, loving the feeling of his skin beneath her fingers.

“Don’t ever apologize for asking for my help, Aelin,” he said, pulling back and gazing into her turquoise and gold eyes. “I pretty much signed up for that when I said ‘I do’.” He smirked and Aelin punched him in the ribs.

“For better or for worse,” he mumbled as he leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers, once more.

“Keep talking like that and you’re going to be the one to get your ass kicked,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“You know it turns me on when you talk like that,” he mumbled back.

Aelin pushed him back as she laughed, leaning back against the vanity. “I can still turn you on? Even when I look like I swallowed a watermelon?”

Rowan lovingly rubbed her swollen belly. “That watermelon is our son, thank you very much.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose. “And yes, all the time. Every time I curl up in bed next to you, you can’t feel it?”

“That’s just your morning wood,” she mumbled, pushing him back a bit.

“It 3:45 in the afternoon, wanna explain that to me?” He glanced down at the growing tent in his sweatpants.

She rolled her eyes. “Pity Wood.”

Rowan laughed and pulled her into him. “No pity. I’ve never seen you more beautiful.”

Aelin pressed her lips to the center of his chest, and he kissed her forehead.

Rowan lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I’m going to shower, then I’m going to run to Lorcans and borrow his ladder. Okay? One more thing crossed off the list.”

She nodded, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

“Mhmmm.” Rowan mumbled, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “There’s room for two, you know.”

He gestured to the shower behind him.

Aelin groaned as she pushed off the countertop and her feet landed back on the floor. “Yeah, room for two humans,” she mumbled, heading for the door, a hand pressed to her aching lower back. “Not a beached whale.”

The tone of her voice made Rowan pause. “Fireheart.” He timidly reached for her hand. When she turned around to look at him, tears were streaming down her face. “Aelin, baby, what’s wrong?” He led her over to the rocking chair in the corner of their room, carefully sitting her down and kneeling on the floor between her legs. He cradled her face in his hands and made her look at him.

“How am I supposed to do this for two more months?” She whispered, shaking her head and rubbing a protective hand over her round stomach. “He’s already so big, I’m huge. How am I supposed to get any bigger?!”

She started crying, full, breathtaking sobs, and all Rowan could do was watch. He’d never been pregnant, was barely even around for Lyria’s. All that he knew was what he’d read from the books they’d bought and what she’d told him. But he knew she was doing this for him, for them. She knew that all of this was worth it when she’d be able to hold their son.

He’d never loved his wife as much as he did in that moment he watched her cry. Because he knew everything she was going through, every slow day that crawled by, all the pain and the sleepless nights and the gas - yes, there’s gas - was to give him the son he’d always dreamed of.

“Aelin,” he whispered, as gently as he could muster, once her sobs had nearly subsided. He thought for a moment to carefully prepare his words, hoping he doesn’t say anything that would piss off the beautiful hormonal woman in front of him. “I know it’s hard, but I am so proud of you. You are literally growing a human being inside of you. In two months, when he’s here, you won’t even be thinking of all these months when everything hurt and you couldn’t see your ankles.” Her lip started to tremble, once more, and Rowan quickly followed with, “and you’re not alone. Okay? I’m here for whatever you need me to do. I’ll let Lorcan know I’m going to get his ladder in a few hours, but until then, let’s start a warm bath, yeah? For you. Get in the tub, and I’ll rub your shoulders, and your feet, and your legs…”

Aelin sighed, blowing stray strands of hair out of her eyes. “I’m an emotional mess.”

Yes, yes you are. “You’re…no, you’re not.”

Aelin chuckled, wiping at her face. She leaned down and kissed Rowan softly on the mouth. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He smiled softly and leaned up to kiss her one more time. “I’ll be right back.”

Changing his original course from when he entered the bathroom, he turned on the bath, rather than the shower and began to let it fill up. He sent a quick text to Lorcan, asking you borrow his ladder, to which he got a “come get it, don’t wake the baby” text back. He chuckled as he tossed his phone back on the bathroom counter and started getting out towels.

All of their friends getting pregnant at once wasn’t planned - at least not on the men’s side - but Rowan had to admit, he was relieved. Chaol and Yrene’s son was seven weeks old and Elide and Lorcan’s son had only been home from the hospital for a week. Manon was due two months after Aelin, but there was a good chance she would go into labor first. Twins never waited until full term and Dorian was sure those baby girls would be coming soon.

Needless to say, the guys group text had been nothing but pictures with the caption “IS THIS NORMAL??” for about three months.

Rowan stripped down and wrapped a towel around his waist. He found Aelin’s fluffiest robe and made his way back out into the bedroom.

“Look,” she crooned, holding her phone out in front of her, showing him the screen.

Yrene had sent a picture of Chaol and Tristan asleep on the couch. Both had on jerseys representing Adarlan’s football team, Tristan’s was just much, much smaller.

Rowan could already see the tears before they’d even started forming. “Nope, no more tears, you beautiful basket case,” he chuckled, helping lift her from the chair. “Not even if they’re happy tears.”

He led her into the bathroom and helped her get her clothes off. As soon as she was completely naked, she snatched the robe from his hands before he could see her.

“Aelin,” he cooed.

“Nuhuh,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Not with you in here. I look like something straight out of a Star Wars movie while you look like that.”

Rowan looked down at his cut physique. He laughed. “Baby, you looked like this six months ago.”

“But, I don’t now!” The tears were unstoppable, he decided in that moment, and while she was distracted, he took off his towel, dropped it by the full tub and stepped in. He sat down in the water and waited for the mini-breakdown to stop.

When she collected herself, she glanced over at him. He was patiently waiting, his arms draped around the rim of the tub.

Aelin clutched her robe. “Close your eyes.”

Rowan shook his head. “Nope.”

She pursed her lips.

Rowan shook his head again.

With a designated sigh, Aelin dropped her robe to the floor and took Rowan’s outstretched hand. He helped her into the tub, and when she was snugly leaned back against him, his knees bent on both sides of her, Rowan traced his fingers across her bump and pressed his mouth to the hollow of her neck. “See? Absolutely beautiful.”

Aelin crossed her arms over her breasts, which were fuller and heavier than she was used to. She was just about to say something along those lines when a sharp pain made her gasp and grab her side.

At this point, Rowan knew exactly what that gasp meant. He rubbed a soothing hand over her belly until he felt a fluttering of movement beneath. “There you are, buddy,” he crooned, gazing down at her belly. Aelin relaxed back against his solid chest and he rested his other hand on the other side of her bump. “I need you to stop kicking Mommy in the ribs, okay?”

“It’s your fault he can’t move in there,” Aelin mumbled, nestling her head into the spot his shoulder met his neck. “You’re the freak of nature who’s seven feet tall.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who decided to make a baby with a freak of nature, so I feel like it’s a 50/50% split,” he mused, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She only murmured an unintelligible response before she dozed off in his arms in the warm water.

Rowan did as he said he would, he rubbed her tight shoulders, her lower back, and he talked to their son for nearly twenty minutes.

As he washed her belly, he skimmed one of her breasts with the loofah and in her sleep, she moaned.

Not a whimper, not a whispered cry, but a moan.

“Aelin,” he whispered by her ear.

She didn’t move. She was out.

He slid his legs beneath hers in the water and carefully opened them. He looked down and for the first time, he truly understood her frustrations.

With how big her stomach had grown, he couldn’t see that perfect pussy he loved so much.

With careful hands, he cupped a swollen breast and massaged. She immediately responded, but didn’t wake up, just began to writhe around a bit. He pinched her nipple and rolled it between his fingers. At the same time, he began to trace her entrance with his other hand.

Her moans became more aware and she breathed, “Baby, what are you doing?”

“Shhhh,” he said, lips against her ear. “I’m going to make you feel good, fireheart.”

He pushed a finger inside of her and she groaned at the feeling. It had been two months since she’d let him touch her and this was like ecstasy.

The way she moved, the way she ground back against him, made his already hard cock stiffen and he fought his groan that tried to come out.

Aelin tried to twist to face him, but Rowan tweaked her nipple and pushed a second finger inside her, causing her to freeze and cry out.

“This is all about you, baby,” he breathed. “Don’t worry about me, trust me. I’ll get off on getting you off.”

Aelin’s eyes fluttered shut and she went limp in his arms, giving herself to him completely.

“What if the baby feels you?” Aelin mumbled.

Rowan chuckled. “How long do you think my fingers are?”

“I repeat my earlier freak of nature comment,” she said, laughing quietly.

Rowan’s teeth took in her earlobe, and she fell quiet once more.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he felt how wet she had become. He let loose a long, slow breath.

He couldn’t keep his lips off of her skin. He adored the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her. Rowan once again teased her entrance, only going in to his knuckle, loving the impatient whine she released.

He paid special attention to her breasts, cradling one in each hand. Aelin has nice breasts before she got pregnant, but now…

It took everything in Rowan to not shove his face into cleavage every damn day.

“God, I love these,” he breathed, kneading the heavy orbs.

“I love you doing that,” she whispered, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop, please.”

So he didn’t. He kneaded and rolled and pinched.

When he finally stopped, he let his hand travel south, only to find her slick and ready. “Please,” she begged.

“Do you want me to play with your clit or just finger you until you cum, baby?”

Aelin quietly whimpered. “Play.”

One hand remained on her breast, his lips on her neck, as he circled her clit.

“I’m at your command,” he mumbled against her skin.

Rowan didn’t want to rush it. It had been too long to be rushed. Every ounce of him throbbed, every part of him had been ignited by the touch of his skin against hers.

He swirled his finger around her clit, causing her eyes to flicker shut and her lips to part in want.

One of her hands held onto his outer thigh and she gripped him so tightly her nails made small crescent moons in his skin.

He picked up the pace and began to rub directly onto her clit. He put his lips to her ear and breathed, “Haven’t talked dirty to my girl in a while. Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“Yes,” she moaned, hips moving searching for more.

“Yes?” He asked, chuckling, but continuing to stroke her. “So sure.”

“I’m carrying your massive spawn,” she growled, her own hand joining his under the water. “I deserve endless orgasms.”

Rowan huffed a laugh as his hand left her breast and pushed her cheek to the side, so that his mouth could crash against hers. She whimpered as he stroked her faster, his tongue sweeping between her lips, brushing against her tongue.

Rowan couldn’t help his hips from moving in rhythm with hers, his cock hard and throbbing against her ass.

He growled as a finger slipped inside of her and she squeezed down on it. “God, I miss fucking you,” he breathed, adding a second finger and stroking them both deep inside of her.

“Then do it,” she groaned, trying to lift herself out of the water enough to where she could kneel over his cock. “Please.”

“No, my sweet,” he said, kissing her neck. “This is for you.” He continued his ministrations on her, until she was breathing heavily, ready to break at any moment. “What I meant,” he breathed, biting down on her ear lobe, “is that I miss fucking you how I used to. Can’t be rough with you right now, but after he’s here?” Rowan bit down on her neck. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, maybe knock you up again if I’m lucky.”

Aelin’s eyes shot open, her chest heaving as she neared her climax. “Ro-.”

He added a third finger, and Aelin’s nails dug deeper into her thigh.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, stroking and working and until a cry broke from Aelin. Her body jerked and Rowan peppered kisses all over her face, her neck, he shoulder. He rubbed a protective hand over her belly and stayed quiet until she came down from her orgasm.

When she let out a contented sigh, Rowan smirked, proud that even while she was miserable, he could make his woman feel good.

“Still believe you don’t turn me on?” He asked, chuckling as he rocked his hips against her ass, letting her feel the evidence that she very much did.

“Shut up,” she laughed, standing and carefully stepping out of the tub. Her legs, already weak, were like jello as she wrapped a towel around herself. “I think I’m going to take a nap,” she said, yawning and piling her hair on top of her head. “At least until you get home from Lorcan’s.”

“Alright, baby. I still have to, uh, clean up,” he said, lifting his arm and glancing at the blue paint still coating his arm.

She laughed and leaned down to give him a kiss. She stood up and as she turned to walk away, he gripped her hand and turned her back pressing a kiss to her swollen belly, too.

Her eyes grew misty and she left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Rowan slid down in the tub and crossed his arms behind his head, pride filling his chest at how good he could make his woman feel.

An ache began in his lower stomach and went lower, lower, lower, until he glanced down at his still hard cock. He groaned.

All work and no play made Rowan a pained man.

#rowaelin #fanfic #fanfiction #aelin #rowan #shelby and tara write #shara #tag #prompts #sweet baby love

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dreamtaehyung · 4 years

Text

(This Is Not) A Puppy Love

In which Jimin’s soulmate is in love with someone or something? else.

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

words: 4.1k

contains: soulmate!au, soulmate!jimin, sulky jimin, run era jimin (because i couldn’t get over it), lots of scenes w/ taehyung and his son bc why not, a hint of suggestive content if you squint

Jimin had been standing motionless in front of the heavily engraved mahogany door for quite a while now, right hand still poised over the doorbell.

He couldn’t believe it.

Etched on the side of his right index finger was a tattoo. It was written in delicate, looping script, the black ink spanning from the knuckle right to the fingertip.

He had not paid a smidgen of attention to it before, but he certainly did right at this moment.

It was too elegant, so perfectly ornate it was almost calligraphy.

He hated it.

Jimin wasn’t averse to the idea of getting tattoos, per se, in fact he had one inked right on top of his rib just last month. The actual process might’ve hurt like a bitch, but God was it worth it.

This one, though, just wasn’t his cup of tea. Too perfect, he reckoned, and his eyebrows furrowed, mouth frowning in distaste at the prospect of the tattoo taking up permanent residence on his body.

Jimin stares blankly ahead, struggling to remember how the horrendous tattoo got there in the first place. If his guess was correct it was probably inked right after partying the other day with his best friend, Taehyung.

That rat. Taehyung had probably convinced him to get the monstrosity tattooed on his skin in the first place, as Taehyung had the tendency to be mischievous and conniving, especially when inebriated, and of course Jimin, as piss drunk as he was, would gladly and willingly indulge his best friend’s antics. Stupid.

Jimin groaned, retracting said hand from the doorbell and running it through his orange locks in exasperation.

“I swear will never so much as breathe near alcohol with Taehyung in the vicinity.”

Jimin brought his hand down to his face again, scrutinizing the tattoo in detail. Upon closer inspection though, he saw that the tattoo was glowing, albeit faintly.

Well that was weird, Jimin mused to himself. Its outlines were tinged a bright, vivid red, blinking one last time before disappearing entirely.

He gasped, mouth ajar in disbelief. It couldn’t be —

He never believed in stuff like this. When Taehyung, a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic had told him about the idea of soulmates, he had always brushed him off. Never believed him when he said that when a person turns a specific age, the universe will help them find the one who was meant to spend the rest of eternity with them.

When the Fates had deemed it fit, a mark would find its way on the person’s skin, which would signify the first words they would hear their soulmate say.

He had never said it out loud in fear of hurting Taehyung’s feelings, but even back then he had scoffed at the notion. It was all utter bullshit, he thought. He never really believed that somewhere in the world there was a person who was meant to be his and only his.

He was content with living by himself and engaging in occasional hookups, insisting that he didn’t really give a rat’s ass if his soulmate did or did not exist. Or so he thought.

That did not stop him from hoping that Taehyung would find his own soulmate, though. And when he finally did, he was ecstatic for his best friend.

Taehyung, despite being pesky and annoying as hell when he willed himself to be, was a pure and genuinely kind soul who deserved to find true love.

His true love came in the form of a tall, blonde-haired girl whose name was Sana, who always had a smile on her pretty face.

Sana and Taehyung met through him, the former being Jimin’s classmate in Contemporary Literature. They kind of suit each other, Jimin had thought even back then. Sana has always been a kind, cheerful girl, always looking at the bright side of things, and while Taehyung could vex the crap out of him sometimes, he was also someone whose positive disposition in life Jimin would turn to whenever his thoughts turn a bit too gloomy.

He and Sana were studying for their upcoming finals in the university café when Taehyung barged in on them, honey colored skin glowing in the afternoon sun, his signature boxy smile plastered on his face.

“What’s up, nerd?” Taehyung mused, ruffling Jimin’s hair in greeting.

“Still as irritating as ever, I see.” Jimin muttered, pushing the latter’s hand away in mock annoyance, albeit unable to suppress his chuckles at his best friend’s antics.

Taehyung proceeded to rant about his Advanced Calculus class, grumbling at how the professor who seemed to have harbored a dislike for him called him to answer every single problem on the board.

“I never even did anything to piss him off, I swear!” Taehyung was rambling now, hands gesturing wildly as he recounts his overall behavior during this particular class, and Jimin was just about to utter some snarky remark when he finally remembered that they had company.

“Ah right,” Jimin almost forgot about his study buddy, gesturing to Sana who was now petrified in her seat, big, round eyes stuck staring at Taehyung who was promptly stopped from spouting more of the verbal diarrhea when he noticed her, mild discomfort evident on his striking features. “This is my classmate—“

Jimin was interrupted by Sana abruptly standing in her seat beside him, shouting and pointing a perfectly manicured finger towards Taehyung’s direction. “It’s you! My soulmate!”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped to the floor, eyes wide as saucers as he too now stared at the girl in disbelief. A beat or two had passed before he came to his senses and engulfed Sana in a bear hug, muttering into her shoulder how he was so grateful to finally meet her.

At that moment, Jimin had finally considered the plausibility of soulmates. He’d never admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he knew that the hope of finding his own soulmate had planted itself deep in his heart, and he began to silently long for the day when he could finally meet them, run his hands lovingly over their skin, touch their lips tenderly with his.

Still, he never thought this day would finally come.

His hands were shaking now, out of nervousness or excitement he really couldn’t tell. Who are you? Did he already know you or are you a stranger? Would you like him enough to spend the rest of your life with him?

Are you pretty? He chuckled at thought. Of course you would be. To him you would be the most beautiful creature he ever beheld, and he was sure that he would always be in love with you, even if he hadn’t seen a glimpse of you yet.

He squinted, eager to read the words that were now permanently etched on his skin. When he had finally read it in its entirety, his brows were creased once more in confusion and a frown had settled on his now crestfallen face.

What the fuck?

He reread it all over again, certain that he had just read it wrong. But he had not. Right on the side of his right index finger were the words “I love you too, Yeontan!”

Jimin scoffed in disbelief. Who the hell was Yeontan and why would his soulmate, the one person he was destined to spend the rest of his life with, say those wretched words towards him and not to Jimin himself?

Surely it was a mistake. It should be a mistake. His mind was reeling now, going into overdrive as he racked his brain for answers to no avail.

The fact that he had a soulmate should have made him giddy and euphoric, not upset and slightly dejected. So you were in love with someone else? His heart broke at the thought.

And what if anyone else were to find out? He would hate to be the subject of pitying glances and faux concern, but most of all he did not want Taehyung to know, he knew that his best friend would take the news just as hard as he did.

He could feel the incoming onslaught of an emotional breakdown, and as much as he would love to slump straight to the floor and wallow in his heartbreak and self-pity, he definitely did not want strangers passing by to regard him with looks of pity and mild disgust.

He shook the thoughts away, willing himself not to think about his predicament anymore and reminding himself of the reason why he had been standing right in front of the dark mahogany door in the first place.

He was here to finally meet Taehyung’s adopted “son” as his best friend himself had put it, a black and tan teacup Pomeranian he got from the local animal shelter. Slowly, Jimin stooped to pick up the plastic bag containing puppy treats that he dropped earlier on the floor, and finally pressed the doorbell right above the doorknob of Taehyung’s apartment.

Jimin could hear Taehyung before he could see him, heavy footsteps quickly bounding towards the door.

“Chim!” Jimin was greeted by the sight of a barefoot Taehyung clad in a light beige knitted sweater and dark olive green chinos, forehead glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and dark, freshly permed hair sticking out in multiple directions as if he had just come back after a run.

“I’m so glad you could make it! I just got back from touring the puppy around the block, and man does he have a lot of stamina for a someone his size,” Taehyung chuckled fondly, and taking notice of the seemingly heavy plastic bag Jimin held in his hands, took it away and made for the kitchen, all the while still talking Jimin’s ear off.

Jimin immediately stalked towards Taehyung’s direction, neck craning forward to make out the words coming out from his best friend’s mouth. He still couldn’t hear him properly though, so he opted to head for the sofa on Taehyung’s living room. He’ll just ask him about it later.

Taehyung’s living room was spacious, much like the rest of his apartment. Multiple canvases and art supplies were scattered about the room, each painting in different degrees of completion. Freestanding wooden shelves housing selections of books and photography magazines were situated on the right side of the wall, a painting of a blue, starry horizon hanging right above it. A puppy playpen was positioned on the opposite side of the room, filled with toys and treats undoubtedly for Taehyung’s small, fluffy son.

Disorganized stacks of paper were placed haphazardly beside two laptops on an ornate wooden table placed right in the middle of the room, adjacent to the plush, maroon sofa where a certain someone was currently sitting with their back turned towards Jimin’s direction, small, dainty hands holding a puppy close to their face.

Jimin stilled. Taehyung did not tell him he had another guest. Or maybe he did, judging by the way he was chattering nonstop earlier. He probably hadn’t heard him.

You were clad in a light yellow hoodie and black jeans, the hood covering your hair entirely. White sneakers were discarded on the floor beneath you, feet placed on the table revealing cream colored socks decorated with rice cakes all over.

“Cute”, Jimin muttered to himself without thinking, clearing his throat immediately.

He looked at you intently, trying to make out if he knew you already. He wasn’t really sure if he did, so the way his heart was hammering louder the longer he looked at your form terribly confused him. What the hell was happening to him?

He was about to make his presence known when you suddenly held the dog closer to your face, giggles escaping your mouth when it suddenly licked your cheek.

“I love you too, Yeontan!” You exclaim, situating the puppy in your lap and petting its soft, fluffy fur with your hands. You stood up slowly and made your way towards the foyer, firmly nestling Yeontan in your arms.

You were too busy cooing over the puppy to notice Jimin who now seemed to be glued to the floor, wide, disbelieving eyes never tearing away from you.

Jimin was sure his heartbeat was so loud that even you could hear it from across the room. It was you. His soulmate.

Well, he wasn’t wrong. You really were the most beautiful creature he ever beheld.

He was never one to believe in love at first sight, but looking at you now, laughter bubbling from your soft lips, eyes twinkling in utter delight, he was quite sure that he would do anything in his power to ensure that you would never feel unhappy again for the rest of your life.

You start, a small choked sound escaping your lips as you finally register the man standing in front of you.

Your curious eyes swept slowly over his frame. His hair was distinctly akin to the hue of autumn leaves, only brighter and more vivid. It was messily combed back and styled upward away from his forehead, and you assumed that he must have had a habit of running his hands through his hair.

His soft, slightly round cheeks which were flushed a deep red and his full, pink lips juxtaposed his sharp, angled jaw, impressing a striking yet gentle visage.

Slung over his shoulders was a dark green army jacket, the thin white shirt underneath graciously bestowing you the sight of his delicate collarbones. Your flustered mind unconsciously drifted to thoughts of how beautiful it would look littered with marks all over, and you frantically veered your mind away from the notion.

You ventured lower, noting that the fabric of the light wash ripped jeans he was currently wearing were straining against slender yet thick thighs and calves.

Damn, this guy certainly hit the jackpot in the genetic lottery.

All of his features were lovely, undoubtedly so, but what struck you the most was his eyes. Dark, sharp eyes were staring straight at you, pupils blown wide. It held a plethora of emotions you could not really decipher, but among them one stood out the most.

Pure, ardent adoration.

Cheeks coloring slightly in embarrassment, you wondered how long the man had been standing there. And why was he looking at you like you were the love of his life?

He was easily the most beautiful man you had ever seen, and you definitely have ogled a lot of hot guys in your time. Surely a guy like him wouldn’t even breathe in your direction, let alone be attracted to you.

You inwardly cringe at your train of thoughts, chuckling nervously as you delicately placed Yeontan down on the floor. Yeontan immediately heads for the kitchen, probably looking for his owner. Or food, you couldn’t really tell.

Your meet moved of their own volition, tentatively stepping towards the man who was still rooted in his place. He was probably Taehyung’s best friend, you guessed, the one he always told you about. You reach out a hand towards him, a small smile on your lips.

“You must be Taehyung’s best friend, I suppose? I’m y/n, Taehyung’s thesis partner.” You offer, eyes darting to his face. He was still staring at you, ears not registering what you just said. You try again, this time a little louder.

“I’m y/n, Taehyung and I are thesis partners? We’ve actually just finished working on it today, so I was just about to leave. Sorry for startling you,” You laugh uncomfortably, lowering your proffered hand back to your side when he didn’t take it.

Jimin was startled out of his stupor, wringing his hands in embarrassment. He willed himself to speak, clearing his throat a few times in an effort to get rid of the nerves currently plaguing him.

Finally, he croaked, tone tinged with both amusement and relief, “Y-you mean to tell me it was a dog?”

“Huh?” You crease your brows in confusion, not really understanding his question.

He asked you again, tone softer and voice a bit louder this time.

“You mean to tell me it was a dog?” Jimin asks, earnest eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition.

He could see the gears turning in your mind, confusion melting into awe and disbelief. You hastily searched for the mark etched on the inside of your left wrist, confirming what he had been thinking.

“You mean- I- We-“

“Yes.” Jimin was laughing now, dark eyes resembling crescents. He offers you his hand, showing you the exact words that had come out of your mouth earlier.

You couldn’t believe it.

There he was, your soulmate, in the flesh.

You gave his form a not so subtle once-over for the second time today, and this time he definitely noticed, if the teasing glint in his eyes was enough to go by. This man seemed to be carved out of marble, exquisite features carefully made out with the skill and precision only the most adept sculptor could ever achieve, and he can’t blame you for making sure that he wasn’t just a figment of your overactive imagination.

You were too busy checking him out that you startle when he speaks, the smallest hint of an amused smile adorning his features.

“Like what you see?” Jimin asks teasingly, feet clad in black combat boots treading slowly to close the distance between the two of you, careful and calculated as if he doesn’t want to scare you away.

He was in front of you now, so close you could feel his hurried breaths fanning across your face and could take in the scent of his cologne.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you surveyed him in closer detail. He was much better looking up close, if that was even possible.

“I’m Jimin,” he breathed, eyes never leaving your face.

You wordlessly nod, the words seemingly stolen away from you.

“I.. I can’t believe I actually found you,” he chuckled a bit at himself, unable to hide his exhilaration and relief at finally meeting you, his soulmate.

Thank heavens you weren’t actually in love with someone else. It was just a puppy, Taehyung’s puppy to be precise, and as he lets out a slight laugh he felt as though a massive, painful thorn had finally been dislodged from his chest, allowing him to breathe freely.

He never took his eyes away from you, as if looking elsewhere would make you slip away from him forever. He regarded you with so much affection, so much love that you wondered if you deserved this. If you deserved him.

The corners of your eyes started to fill with unshed tears as he beamed down at you, thoughts of you being unworthy of his attentions, his affections beating harshly at you.

Jimin frowns, hand coming up to your face to wipe the stray tear cascading down your cheek.

You stared wordlessly back at him, his small gesture comforting you and vanishing those ugly thoughts immediately. You knew at once that you would gladly spend the rest of your life gazing at his face if he allowed you to.

Jimin’s holds your gaze tenderly, his hands reaching to cup your face. His fingers graze your cheek softly, lovingly, as his lips slowly inching towards yours.

You blushed and closed your eyes as he crossed the distance between the two of you, laying your forehead on his.

He was utterly perfect. And he was yours.

You sighed and closed your eyes as his soft, plush lips met yours. You stayed like that for a while, relishing the feeling of the other’s lips, before you felt him nip softly at your bottom lip, as if asking your permission.

You press your lips to his once more, insistent as you feel Jimin smirk as he finally deepens the kiss, angling your jaw gently to the side.

You whimper, shuffling impossibly closer to his body, eager to feel the warmth emanating from him. You wanted nothing more than to feel him against you, hear the frantic beating of his heart as you melt into his touch.

“Soulmate.” Jimin breaks away from the kiss and sighs contentedly into your lips, placing a delicate peck on your forehead as he struggled to catch his breath.

Your hand settles on his hair, playing with the strands and pulling slightly. Your eyes were glazed over, pupils blown wide with desire as you stare at his lips, which earns a low growl from Jimin.

“Fuck,” Jimin’s nuzzles into your neck, placing open mouthed kisses on your throat. You moan louder this time, hand tugging insistently on his hair as Jimin hums and places delicate purple marks along your collarbone.

The sweet noises coming out of you only serves to encourage Jimin further, hands hastily reaching for the hem of your hoodie to allow him access.

His lips find yours again once more, groaning into your mouth as his hands explored every inch of your body. You gently bit on his bottom lip and let out a gasp as you feel something hard poking against you, causing your cheeks to blush.

At the sound of loud, heavy footsteps, you pull away from the kiss, pushing your hands slightly against Jimin’s torso to increase the distance between the two of you. Jimin frowns, his now swollen lips eager to be against yours again.

He moves his face closer to yours, eyes never leaving your soft lips. You almost indulged him, moving to close the gap again, until you hear Taehyung clear his throat.

“I see you’ve met each other.” His voice resounded in the room, an amused lilt laced in the deep timbre of his voice. Yeontan was cozily nestled in his arms, the puppy yapping at the both of you once, almost as if in greeting.

You jolted away from each other in surprise, cheeks both tinged in pink in embarrassment from being caught.

At the lack of response, Taehyung suddenly wiggled his eyebrows, mischievous eyes flitting playfully between the both of you, Yeontan still held against his chest.

“And I see that you’ve also been getting it on—“

“Shut up, Taehyung!” You interrupt, covering your face with your hands while Jimin turns to look at you, snorting at your sudden outburst.

Jimin gently pulls your hands away from your face, enclosing them with his own. He turns to look at Taehyung who was still sporting a look of delight, eyes following Jimin’s gestures.

“Taehyung, I would like you to meet my soulmate, y/n.”

Taehyung almost dropped Yeontan on the floor in utter surprise, mouth forming a perfect O. Yeontan glances at his owner with what you are sure is a hint of exasperation.

You stifled a laugh for his sake, failing as you hear Jimin chortling slightly beside you. When he finally recovered from the understandably shocking revelation, Jimin finally told him how you both found out.

“So let me get this straight. You actually thought Yeontan stole your soulmate away?” Taehyung was cackling now, hands clutching at his stomach from laughing too hard.

“I mean it wouldn’t be impossible, seeing that he got his father’s good looks and all.” He adds with a smirk, and it took all of Jimin’s willpower to not throw a pillow right into his self-satisfied face.

“You’re annoying, you know that, right?” You quip, and as if reading Jimin’s mind you grabbed pillows from the sofa and smacked one right into Taehyung’s torso, effectively wiping the smug look off his face.

Jimin could not help but laugh at the sight of you, bickering with his best friend just like he usually did on countless occasions. You turn to look at him, eyes gazing adoringly up at your soulmate, an impish smile playing on your lips as you hand him another pillow.

You were wiggling your eyebrows at him, gaze flitting to an unsuspecting Taehyung who was still indignantly grumbling about the sudden attack.

“Pillow fight!” You both yell simultaneously, pelting poor, unguarded Taehyung with the pillows you held in your hands, Jimin’s smacking him right in the face.

“Great shot, soulmate!” You cheered happily at him, holding up a hand towards him for a quick high five. Instead of doing so, Jimin reached for your hand to bring you closer to him, placing a delicate kiss on your both of your cheeks, your forehead, your nose and then your lips, much to Taehyung’s disgust.

Only when he held you firmly against his chest, your lovely face peering curiously at his, enamored eyes tracing the shape of his lips, did he finally come to terms with the fact that you were indeed his soulmate and God, did he strike it lucky.

#jimin fanfic #jimin scenario #bts fanfic #bts au fanfic #bangtan au #soulmate au #soulmate!jimin #jimin fluff #bts bluff #bangtan fluff #jimin scenarios #yay for my first fic #bts angst #bangtan angst #please tell me if you liked it.. or hated it #id love to hear your thoughts!

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imagines-mha · 5 years

Note

Karma and Nagisa reacting to the dead girlfriend prank please

Aaaa tysm for requesting!! Lots of u guys seem to request the dead gf prank so i hope u like 💕💫

Nagisa

💙 Yeah, he’s a trained assassin. Yeah, he’s prepared to break into battle at any given moment. Yeah, he could fuck us all up

But does that mean he’s prepared to see the love of his life dead on his living room floor with blood soaking through the boards? No it does not.

💙 He comes home after school, sleepy as heck and lowkey hoping you were in the mood to just have a cuddly afternoon cus the boy NEEDS IT

💙 when he sees that, in fact, you had died; he just freezes forreal it’s the saddest shit you’ve ever seen

💙 He’ll slowly let his bag thump to the floor before getting down on his knees next to your body, and his breathing’s so shaky and his hands are fumbling around your pulse for a last thread of hope before he goes into breakdown mode

💙 It turns out that in fact, this last thread of hope is the one that comes thru, because you AREN’T actually dead!!!!!

💙 The first 10 seconds will be a “WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT?!?!” And ngl he’d probably cry it’s the cancer energy in him lmaoo

💙 After a while (im talking 3 hours at least) of him calming down (he won’t let you leave his sight even to shower) and trying not to attack every possible noise (he still does), he’ll finally start to find the situation funny about fuckin time smh 😤

💙 As punishment you have to abandon your nights plans and cuddle him lmao imagine ur life being so good your PUNISHMENT is getting to snuggle nagisa shiota like what the fuck

💙 He can’t lie though, on the inside his entire mind’s array. He won’t sleep that night cus he’ll be too husy holding you and thanking everything he has to thank that you were only pranking him

💙 yeah he’s a LOT more protective from here on out

Karma

❤️ Have you ever seen bloodlust so strong???

❤️ When he walks in through the door, smooth as ever- and the first thing he’s greeted with is your dead body- the switch in his head immEDIATELY flips like it never has done before, and all sights of calm, smooth Karma will die

❤️ His entire carefree attitude will dissolve, and you can see his stance mode take charge

❤️ Definitely pulls out a gun and fires it into the ceiling as a warning to whoever did it

❤️ He’ll disappear and rush up the stairs, calling out the most malicious sounding threats and demanding the killer to make themselves known or else he would blow the entire house up and watch them burn

❤️ In fear he would actually strike a match on your beloved home and turn it into a suicide bombing mission, you rightfully hopped up and ran up the stairs, reassuring him you were alive and it was a JOKE smh y he so dramatic for 🙄

❤️ When he becomes aware that in fact, it was he who had been the clown all along- he just drops the gun with a stunned look on his face

❤️ You can see that he had been tearing up beforehand, and it melted your heart to know he really cared about you like that, like you had hoped

❤️ Even if he wants to kill YOU now for making him look like an utter fool straight out of the circus but he is a fool so 😔😔

❤️“I almost KILLED myself to be with you, y/n!” He’d whine in a completely un-karma way from the distress, before gathering his posture and character again

❤️“I gotta say though, i’m proud of you for being able to scare even me like that... guess i fell for the right girl after all” he’d tease, just like all was back to normal

❤️ Not like he’d just shot through the ceiling multiple times or anything, no no

#karma akabane #nagisa shiota #assclass headcanon #assassination classroom headcanons #assassination classroom #assclass

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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diyunho · 5 years

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The Joker x Reader - “Nobody” Part 2

After not feeling well for months, The Joker finally found out why: the life threatening condition is so serious there’s only a 50/50 chance of survival. Dealing with a brain tumor is not going to be easy, that’s why The King of Gotham asked his half-brother Arthur to help Y/N while he’ll undergo treatment.

Part 1

“Hey Pumpkin,” The Joker kisses you. “Are you awake?”

You smack your lips and stretch, opening your eyes since you have no other choice.

“I am now… Are you feeling sick? Need anything?” the nursing side takes over while he’s silent, too busy wrapping your right leg around his waist. “Mister Joker,” you immediately gasp. “No guns in bed!”

“It’s not my gun,” he smirks and you chuckle at the evident truth. “When’s the last time we had sex, huh? Two weeks ago?!”

“Mmmm…” you debate, caressing his face. “Something like that.”

“All the meds are messing me up,” J pouts. “Great news though: turns out I’m not dead yet,” he adds and you yank him in your arms before his speech ruins the mood.

“Maybe we should sleep outdoors more often; it seems to have a beneficial effect,” Y/N underlines the welcomed idea The Joker had last night about resting on the terrace.

“Or maybe it’s just from having my girl close,” he utters a nice sentence, instantly correcting himself. “This is clearly the tumor messing with my brain; makes me say weird stuff.”

“Perhaps we should keep it then,” you sigh as The King of Gotham pulls down on your PJ shorts. “I like to hear weird stuff like that.”

“Do ya’?!” he fakes his surprise because he tries to avoid the subject.

“U-hum.”

“Naaah, I vote for sex and dirty talk!” J hisses and slides on top of you, prompting laughter when he starts nibbling on your cleavage. “Let’s have some fun before my mojo’s gone!”

“Mojo!” you repeat since you can’t stop cracking up, the unexpected entertaining morning 100 percent welcomed after the stressful past months.

“Shut up and let’s sin,” The Joker gives in to your charms. “You can be laud: Arthur’s a heavy sleeper, not that he can hear us anyway.”

***********

His brother is actually downstairs; Arthur woke up at 7:15am, moped around for a bit, then decided to cook breakfast. That’s what he’s been doing for the past 20 minutes: it wasn’t difficult to locate the necessary ingredients and bestowing his talents upon the famished couple might help in the long run.

He figured Y/N and J will appreciate his culinary abilities succeeding napping on the inflatable mattress outside; fresh air is bound to make one hungrier than usual.

So here’s the result of his hard work: two plates filled with bacon, eggs, hash browns, waffles and freshly sliced oranges perfectly arranged in symmetrical patterns.

Arthur places the dishes on a tray, humming a little song while he pours hot tea in the cups; it smells delicious and he can’t wait to enjoy the praises: he needs extra credit after upsetting Y/N yesterday with the unnecessary fight she witnessed by accident.

Mister Fleck lights up a cigarette, swiftly creeping out The Penthouse: he puffs the smoke like a chimney, mindful at the ashes flying in the breeze. A few extra steps and he’s almost in front of the canopy; Arthur prepares to announce his presence when moans reach his ear. He freezes and carefully listens, unsure on what to do.

“Oh my God, J!” you squeal as The Joker growls, purring up a storm.

“What are you doing to me, Kitten?”

Further panting and groaning suggests he should probably abandon his plan: Arthur holds in his breath, unwilling to interrupt the fun. The 42 year old begins to gracefully walk backwards, totally caught up in a tiny dance with the food tray.

“Sssttttt,” he admonishes his own action while sliding the glass door. “Let’s give the kids privacy,”Arthur mumbles and covers the plates to keep breakfast warm.

In about 20 minutes he notices J chasing you towards the entrance, your rosy cheeks turning red when you bump into the guest.

“Good morning,” you smile and let The Joker catch you.

“Easy prey,” he gropes a bubbly Y/N although if his older brother is present.

“Morning,” the reply triggers your boyfriend’s out of context comment:

“You cooked?!”

“Yeah,” Arthur gestures at the covered plates. “It’s ready to go.”

“Let me take a fast shower and brush my teeth. Are you coming?” J slaps you butt instead of another encouragement and you steal a piece of bacon to munch on the way up to the master bathroom:

“Thank you Arthur!”

“No problem,” he blows a rebel curl off his forehead, intrigued to see his sibling in a good mood; it’s a well-known fact The Joker didn’t have an abundance of fine days lately. Today must be an exception.

He’s actually the first one to arrive and Arthur has to ask:

“Where’s my sister-in-law?”

“She’s not your sister-in-law!” the sour tone underlines.

“I had you guys married,” the man insists.

“We didn’t agree to that!” The Joker hisses. “I barely tolerate her!” Arthur calmly lights up his second cigarette for the day, sharing wisdom with the feisty green haired menace:

“I wouldn’t take her for granted if I were you; one day you might wake up and realize she’s not even here. I talk from my own experience when I tell you it happened to me too: my relationship with the woman I loved was just an illusion, nothing more. Trust me when I tell you you’ll never feel such a deep disappointment again…”

“Ahhhh, I’m starving!” you pop up in the kitchen, completely unaware of the discussion they’re having. “Coffeeeeee,” you gush at the freshly brewed pot, excited to sip on the miracle drink.

“It’s impossible for us to hallucinate in the same time,” Arthur whispers. “Wanna check to make sure?”

J nods a yes and you’re suddenly trapped at the counter: Arthur grabs your right hand, his brother your left, both squeezing your fingers.

“I think you’re OK,” Mister Fleck concludes and you’re confused:

“What’s going on?”

“Confirming you’re real,” he admits on their strange experiment.

“Of course I’m real,” Y/N frowns, yet she has a vague idea regarding the mysterious behavior.

“Perfect; take your coffee and let’s eat,” J avoids expanding on the topic; that’s the best he can muster without revealing the slight panic at the thought you might be a product of his imagination.

*************

“I have a meeting at Savage Club this evening. Could end up profitable, depending on the terms. Would you care to accompany me?” Arthur offers to get The Joker out of the house for the heck of it.

“Nah…” the latest mutters, quite uncomfortable after his afternoon pills.

“Come on, baby; let’s go out!!! It’s been forever!” you implore because the proposal sounds super enticing. “I miss having fun,” you blur out and continue when his bitterness is obvious: “Not that it’s not fun staying home. Pleeeeaasseee, can we? I promise I’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me; I’m not a child!” The Joker raises his voice and you are frustrated since no matter what you articulate it gets twisted.

“Why do you have to be like this?...” the rhetorical question is a clear statement of how much you hate conflict over trivial issues of no importance whatsoever.

Your other half believes otherwise.

“Like what, hm? Like what?! Explain so everybody can get an intelligible and logical breakdown!!” J yells for no reason but you are so done with his outbursts.

“Never mind,” you sniffle and stroll out on the terrace in order to avoid more bickering; today started so damned uplifting and you don’t know how to keep things together anymore.

When you give your all and you don’t receive too much in return, the good moments blur out in the background to the point of becoming insignificant.

“You’re a jerk,” Arthur affirms after he’s left alone with his sibling.

“Pfft,” The Joker rolls his eyes. “It’s the tumor,” he sarcastically emphasizes.

“Bullshit! It’s not the tumor, kid. And I’m taking her out, she earned it. Your crabby ass can stay here; Y/N is certainly due for refreshing fun!” the fierce answer provokes J’s resentment.

“Definitely not!!!”

“Watch me,” Arthur scoffs at his relative’s conduct, deciding to follow you outdoors.

You watch the busy city from the 30th floor and it’s safe to say you don’t really see it; the wrists loosely hanging over the railing cue him to approach with caution.

“I had this epiphany that you should escort me to Savage Club,” he tests the waters. “If you don’t fancy to attend the gathering you can always sit at the bar and have some drinks. Call me insane but I have this hunch you might want a distraction.”

“I can’t,” you regretfully inform. “I have to ensure J takes his medications and eats; what if he has an episode while I’m gone?... I simply can’t…”

“Plenty of people to supervise him; he’ll be ok.”

You don’t reply and Arthur lights up another cigarette, nonchalantly chatting with the quiet Y/N.

“Tell you how this will play: we’ll get ready and at 6pm we are leaving with or without the kid. If he joins it’s fine, if not… infinitely better,” he elbows a sulky Y/N. C’mon, put on a happy face! See?” he grabs the corners of his mouth and forces them into an eerie grin, eager to demonstrate his proclamation. “It’s not complicated, you just have to practice,” he moves his fingers to your face and elevates the corners of your lips, trying to mimic a smirk for a few seconds. “Tough crowd…” he grumbles when there’s no reaction. “Don’t make me take out the heavy artillery,” Arthur threatens. “I used to do stand-up comedy, you know?”

“… Did you?...” you finally respond to his repeated attempts, pretending you are clueless of his skills.

“You should be aware I’m a tour de force nobody should reckon with,” Mister Fleck boasts, super confident he can make you laugh.

“Yeah, after you tell a joke there’s so much silence you can hear the crickets chirping all the way from New York!” J snarls because he tiptoed on the patio to spy on the conversation.

“Oh yeah?!” Arthur gets annoyed and without further delay he lays upon you one of the best masterpieces to ever emerge from his genius brain: “I hope my death makes more cents than my life.”

And now he waits… and waits…

“Told you before: it’s not funny,” The Joker reprises his march back to the Penthouse, thrilled at his brother’s failure when the unthinkable happens: Y/N bursts out laughing like crazy, not necessarily due to the pun being hilarious (she actually finds it kind of sad, that’s why she didn’t react sooner).

Arthur’s inflated ego makes him shout from the top of his lungs, ensuring the younger sibling can perceive his triumphant bragging:

“IT IS FUNNY!”

************* “Welcome to my humble kingdom,” Joker guides you towards the bar among the increasing ruckus his presence is creating among the audience.

Savage Club belongs to him and his “fans” meet here on a regular basis: a safe haven for the eccentrics, misfits and wackos, ready to do whatever necessary to please their role model.

Arthur picks a microscopic crumb from the collar of his impeccable red suit while pulling a high chair for you:

“Take a sit,” he quickly glances at the huge mirror behind the counter to make sure his clown make-up is flawless: it took him an hour to get ready after you accepted his invitation. He’s usually faster yet the feminine company required auxiliary efforts; it’s not every day you steal a woman from her crib and take her out for invigorating entertainment.

The woman being your brother’s partner makes it even better.

“J is not answering my texts,” you sigh, already worried he might be sick.

“It’s his fault for acting up,” Arthur takes out a cigarette and seven hands holding lighters pop up around him. He chooses the one belonging to the pretty lady to his right, giving her a little wicked wink that visibly flusters the recipient of such undivided attention. “I’m going to my meeting, it should take too long,” he addresses Y/N and she nods, prepared to guzzle down much needed alcohol away from the grumpy boyfriend.

“Nothing happens to my sister-in-law,” Joker barks at one of the bouncers on his way to the VIP room; there’s no soul to argue the disclosure regarding your connection so he gets away with it.

“No worries, sir; she’s safe.”

“You misunderstand,” Arthur cuts him off. “This is for their safety,” he points at the mob. “In case you didn’t recognize her, that’s Y’N and she’s in a foul mood; we all heard rumors about her temper, hm?”

“Yes, Mister Joker.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” The Clown scolds. “My brother’s Mister Joker; I’m simply Joker. Or did you forget?!”

*************

1 hour and 13 minutes later

“How are we doing?” Arthur makes himself comfortable next to you, gesturing at the 8 empty shot glasses collected in a small pyramid.

“Amazing,” you slurp from your second Mai Tai cocktail and chew on the pink straw.

“How many can shots can you handle?” he curiously interrogates the buzzed Y/N.

“About 5,” you snort and it makes him content to notice you’re carefree for once.

“Going overboard?” Arthur snickers and you lift your glass, lively concluding: “I’ll drink to that!”

He has no beverage so he snatches a beer bottle from a guy, inquiring:

“Did you touch this?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“It’s mine,” he clinks the container against yours and instructs: ”Here’s to going overboard; bottoms up!”

**************

“Look who’s home at 2 in the morning!” J criticizes when Y/N and Arthur show up in the living room at The Penthouse.

“I wasn’t aware we had a curfew!” your drinking buddy enunciates as you hide behind him, concealing your face in the soft fabric of his jacket.

You obviously thought your boyfriend would be in bed but nope, he waited for your victorious return.

“A-are you mad?” your slurred words dissipate in the air, closely followed by hiccups.

The Joker exhales, resigned: oddly enough he missed you, although you were absent for a whopping 5 hours and a half.

“No.”

“Oh my God!” you peek from beyond your human shield as if the opposite was stated. ”W-what are you gonna do?”

“You’ll see,” J finally takes his night meds: he postponed the remedy because he wanted to be awake for this magnificent after show.

“Oh my God!” you squeak, appalled. “W-what are you gonna d-do?” the repeated question prompts actual confessions:

“First, I’ll help you take a shower and brush your teeth…”

“Oh my God!” your eyes get big like this is the worst thing ever; the inebriated Y/N can’t connect the dots too well.

“Then we’ll have sex and I’ll be sweet; you won’t remember in the morning,” The Joker sneers.

“Oh my God!” you glare at Arthur completely dumbfounded, then at J, then at Arthur who’s sturdily holding your arm so you won’t fall.

“Stop teasing her!” he hisses.

“I’m literally replying to her quizzing.”

“W-what are you gonna do?” the plastered Y/N has to know again.

“This is your fault!” The Joker comes to grab you, exasperated. “I consider you responsible!”

“Cool,” Arthur proudly delivers his date to the rightful owner. “I’ll retreat to my room and leave you kids alone,” he waves and distances from the couple while blessing them: “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you Nobody and Joker!”

“Shut the hell up!” his brother snaps, irritated at the persistent charade.

“You may kiss the bride!” Arthur mocks, positively not giving a crap about the rant: he’s an individual with a mission and won’t admit defeat that easily.

“Can you believe this shit?!” The Joker complains and shoves Y/N in one of the bathrooms downstairs. “Ewww, you smell like a distillery,” he rants while tugging on your clothes.

“Oh my God!” you whimper, distressed at his words.

“Ugghhh, you sound like a broken record!” The King of Gotham urges you to step in the shower and it doesn’t fail:

“Oh my God!”

“Seriously??!!” your actions skyrocket his blood pressure to unknown heights. “Take a break!”

“A-are you mad?” you stutter, the hot water making you even drowsier.

“I’m starting to be!!” he reprimands and you fakely sob since you can’t recall how to cry properly:

“W-what are you gonna do?”

The great Clown Prince of Crime huffs, convinced the universe unleashed you upon him to test his patience as punishment for past transgressions:

“Why me?!”

You rub your eyes and J turns off the water, bundling the intoxicated Y/N in a huge towel.

“Stupid helpless burrito,” he grunts and sweeps you off your feet, entirely done for the night.

Ahh, it sure feels nice and you bury your cheeks in his neck, burping in the process.

“Jesus!” he protests as you clumsily apologize:

“S-sorry baby…”

“I should push you off the balcony and be done with this ordeal!” he stumbles on the hallway, vexed.

The Joker really should have kept his opinion to himself since Pandora’s Box is automatically reopened.

“Oh my God!”

“I’m cursed,” the genuine declaration is accompanied by a soft kiss; despite the circumstances, The Joker is not that angry.

Arthur closes the door to his bedroom, delighted to have observed the scene:

“He kissed the bride,” the man inhales from the last cigarette of the day, flicking the bud out the window afterwards.