#i make meal plans for each week and it's absurd how much it helps with my depression | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

echo-of-sounds · 3 years

Text

pregnancy

Small headcanons of how Aizawa, Toshinori, Hizashi, Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog would be through your pregnancy.

I don’t write about giving birth (as I’m mildly terrified of doing so) so I didn’t add anything about that. Please don’t ask for me to. And even though I’m not interested in getting pregnant, I think I’d be okay with it if Kugo or Ryo were the father.

EDIT: I love picturing all of these men with little girls. It’s just so cute!

Warnings: uh, pregnancy

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta isn’t one to jump for joy when you tell him. However, you will get to see his handsome smile when he grabs your waist, breathing out a light laugh of happiness as he tightly hugs you. His smile won’t disappear for a while. Every time he glances at you, one simply finds its way onto his face.

It may not be by a whole lot, but his behavior changes. Just a little. When you’re out and about, his hand finds its way to your back or elbow much more often, particularly in a crowd. It’s the paternal instincts kicking in. His favorite cuddling position, laying between your legs with his head on your stomach, becomes harder the farther along you are. He adjusts to laying behind you, keeping a hand on your tummy throughout the entire night.

Shouta hides his worries well. Even the people closest to him have a tough time telling what exactly is going on with him. Sometimes, it’s a good thing. He’s a stable person to lean on. But it’s difficult to deal with when you’re hormonal and emotional. He pushes himself so hard to speak more. There’s no way of him understanding everything you’re going through, but when he opens up, he can tell just how much you appreciate it during the tough times. So he does it near-daily, checking in with each other before bed.

He hates how busy his life is. Well, he’s always kind of hated it. Now it’s worse because his partner’s pregnant, and he’s stuck in a room with screaming children when he should be bringing you to your appointments. Shouta attempts to make up for the absence by heading home every night and helping around the house more. Step in. Explain how you value his help, but also need him to relax. If he gets overworked, that would only stress you more.

Shouta changes his eating habits and fitness routines. He wants you to eat well for yourself and your child. He wants you to keep exercising for yourself and your child. He simply wants your body to be healthy. Don’t grumble because he’ll throw your complaining back in your face when the Lamaze coach explains how important physical health is. But don’t worry, his cute smile makes up for the teasing.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshinori is starstruck. Too many thoughts flood and fight. He loves children and has always wanted a family. Being able to father one with you is indescribable. And he never thought the universe would grant any of that. On the flip side, his fear is also undefinable. People know who he is now; who knows what’s out there, waiting to expose All Might’s weakness. The rapid thoughts may bring a tear or two. Cup his face and kiss them away, reassuring him that everything’s okay.

The fears follow him throughout your pregnancy. Like all things (with you and him), there are good days and bad days. His emotions ramp-up during your emotional and physically unwell days. He tries his best to push them down to focus on you. But they eventually end up spilling over. It’ll be common for both of you to cry at the end of the day, snuggled together, talking about the future, worries, and anticipations.

In general, Toshinori isn’t that protective. He trusts you and your abilities. Just because you’re pregnant, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly disabled. You can still do things. Although, he does become a bit of a helicopter. Whenever you bend over to pick up a bag, he beats you to it. He swoops the laundry basket from your hands, claiming, ‘You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,’ despite it not even being ten pounds. He’s just very watchful of your movements.

He’s very active in dieting, doctor’s appointments, and planning. He eats well, so it’s easy for him to aid you in that respect. For doctors, he has quite a lot of contacts and knows many doctors from his time in the hospital. He asks around, only accepting the best for you. Planning, shopping, and setting up the nursery are his favorite parts. He loves choosing the sweetest colors, softest blankets, and, of course, all the adorable All Might onesies, toys, and superhero books he can find. The nursery is set up perfectly.

Toshinori doesn’t admit how incredibly your pregnant body enchants him. It isn’t always a horny, sexual need. It’s about admiring your body and what it’s creating. He just wonders at you. All the time. Sometimes the changes may make you feel insecure. He’s always there to listen and assure you how amazing your body is. If you want cuddles and kisses, he’ll give them with a smile. If you want gentle lovemaking, he guides you onto your back and gives you exactly what you want.

Yamada Hizashi

Expect a loud song of love, a bear hug, and jumping for joy when you tell him. Hizashi loves kids. He thinks they’re amazing and say some of the greatest things. And he’s beyond excited to see their quirk. Of course, it doesn’t mean he’ll love them any less if they’re born quirkless. He just loves imagining a little one with a similar quirk running around your place.

He is all about redecorating and planning. The entire apartment is getting babyfied and rearranged. The nursery will be beautifully painted. He regularly comes home with cute outfits and stuffed animals. Partly, it’s because he’s just so excited. The other part is he wants you to relax through the pregnancy. No stress, pressure, and unnecessary burden on your shoulders. He’s there to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible.

Hizashi doesn’t just spoil your unborn child; he spoils you, buying you those pregnancy pillows, your favorite ice cream, driving you everywhere, etc… He just hates how much time his jobs take. He’d rather spend his time with you. To help, he’ll ask for time off of patrols, choosing to be closer with you, physically, mentally, and emotionally, during your pregnancy.

In the later months, Hizashi is all over you. Seriously, he will not leave you alone. He’s very handsy, kneading and licking your swollen, sore breasts, and stroking your belly. Your body, and everything it’s doing, is utterly gorgeous to him. He’ll suck away, gently nursing on your nipple while dozing off to Tv, occasionally switching to the other so it isn’t left needy.

Toyomitsu Taishiro

When you tell Taishiro, you’ll only be able to get out a few words before you’re lifted off your feet and spun around. He smooches all over your face, laughing and cheering about how amazing and perfect and stunning you are. You’ll have to ask to be put down lest you get sick from all his spinning. But his compliments keep coming. They won’t dwindle for a while. There’s just too much love in his body to keep inside.

Whatever you’re craving, no matter if it’s pineapple dipped in ketchup, he gives without complaint. He may try some of your odd combinations. Who knows? You could be on to something new. At the same time, he also watches out for your health. The cravings suck. He understands that. He truly does. But if you ate something sweet/not as healthy for lunch, then he plans a healthy dinner for you. Your body’s going crazy. It needs its nutrients.

Your worries are always taken seriously. It could be the most absurd thing to be anxious over. Tai always listens. His cute smile and never-ending positivity help a ton. Your body and brain are going through a lot. He’ll do his part to validate all your feelings. He talks down the anxieties as you eat pickles on ice cream, making sure you are and feel heard.

Since he works one job compared to the others, he’s able to be with you much more, notably during the hard-to-handle days and at appointments. And he picks up extra chores so you can rest through aches and pains. Any choices you make regarding your pregnancy and birth, he supports. He may not agree with everything, but he loves you, and it’s your body. He’ll always put your comfort and wishes first.

Tai treasured your tummy before. But now, seeing you growing with his child, he’s absolutely enraptured. He places nightly and morning kisses on your belly. When he wakes you up, his kisses trail down to the bump. Every night, he rubs lotion into your tummy, kissing and cooing to his child. It doesn’t matter if you’re only one week pregnant, and it’s just a clump of cells in there. Tai still sings to them.

Gang Orca

Kugo is in disbelief when you tell him. He freezes, staring, hardly hearing your words. Give him five minutes. He’ll process what you said and snap back to the present. Watch out because you’re going to get lifted high into the air and maybe tossed like a father does a baby. He’s just practicing. It’ll only take one or two days for him to slip into paternal mode. It’s damn near instinct for him.

As per usual, he’s a gentle paragon behind closed doors. Throughout your pregnancy, he melts into a puddle of sweet honey. His overall affection skyrockets. His hands and claws are as tender as possible whenever they touch you, doing whatever you need him to: massaging your back and legs, rubbing lotion all over, or brushing your hair. He reassures you through tears. He prepares healthy meals that satisfy your cravings. And he holds you all night, keeping you safe on his chest and in his arms.

Kugo goes to every single checkup and appointment. It doesn’t matter if it’s just an ordinary visit to your primary care doctor; he calls out of work and goes with you. At any ultrasounds, expect a few tears, especially when you hear the heartbeat for the first time. He holds them in until you’re alone. The second the door closes, his forehead is nudging yours as small, loved-filled tears fall. He never thought he’d get a family. Part of him thought he didn’t deserve a family, but you’ve proven that false repeatedly.

The farther along you are, the more he watches out for you. He checks in every morning to make sure you took your medicine and vitamins. He washes you so you don’t strain yourself. If you’re waddling, he offers his arm for support and helps you stand. If your back hurts, he applies a heating patch to your lower back and puts your shoes on for you. If you need it, he can carry you to the car and into where you’re going.

As does everyone, Kugo has doubts about his quirk and abilities. People have always viewed those with mutations differently. And it can affect their health, leading to numerous doctor visits and tests. He doesn’t want his baby to deal with the staring, whispers, self-doubts, and distress he did. To support him, talk in detail about his fears and help him realize he’s never disappointed you or hurt anyone. Kugo’s exactly how he should be.

Hound Dog

Ryo doesn’t have a tail, but you’ll definitely see a little happy wiggly before he hugs you. The following week, he keeps you close as he acts differently: rubbing up against you to ensure you smell like him, touching your nose with his, lapping along your neck, sleeping incredibly close, and occasionally smelling between your legs, licking the air around there to smell better. It’s awkward, almost weird, since it isn’t average ‘human’ behavior. But if you love him, let him do it. Please. Understand his nose works differently. It reassures and comforts him to smell you, checking in to see if anything’s changed.

Ryo gets protective when you’re on your period: When you’re pregnant, it’s so, so incredibly worse. He hovers, grumbling low at those walking by. Others barely hear it. It’s intense enough for you to feel it when he’s behind you. He doesn’t like people running up to you, or startling you, or roughhousing or playing in any way. He’s lenient with children, less with teens. Women get a deep growl and scowl. God help any man that approaches you. You might have to have him wear his Hero outfit’s muzzle until you give birth. Though, that might not help because then he’d be protective of two people.

It’s only the teensiest amount better at home. He makes you rest, almost too much. After work or some time outside, he shuffles you to the couch so you can’t overwork yourself. He’s a pleasant change of pace from his typical gruff self. However, as great as he is at the physical needs, he still struggles with the emotional aspects. You can cry on his shoulder, complain, and talk about your worries all you need to. He’s just a bit clunky when it comes to reciprocating the soft emotions. But he puts all his heart into it, and it’s easy to tell.

Ryo is also one who loves pregnancy sexy. You’re swollen and sensitive, and he loves watching your breasts bounce, maybe even leak a little depending on how far along you are. And since you’re already pregnant, he releases and stays inside. After, he lays behind you, keeping himself deep in you despite being flaccid, just feeling how wet and aroused and full you are because of him. When the heated moment is finally done, he licks you clean, nearly getting drunk off your smell.

1K notes · View notes

givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper - Part Twelve

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of drug use, fluff, smidge of angst? Length: 1.7k Notes: Managed to whip up this bad boy during a quiet moment today and should probably make y’all wait for it but I don’t really do posting schedules (as you’ve noticed) so enjoy. Not beta’d, not proof read, I’ll die on this messy hill.

Series Masterlist

Surprisingly, life didn't change too much after that night. Frankie continued to run his acreage and oversee the making of this year's cider. With some encouragement and support from you, he was starting to expand the business and already had a few pubs in the closest city clamouring to have his product on tap.

Meanwhile, the improvements on the house were nearing an end, for the indoors list anyways. The first thing Frankie had helped you do was to install your new soaker tub, immediately followed by christening it by making soft, slow love to you inside of it.

There hadn't even been any water, your impatience to be close to each other wouldn't allow for that. You had just stripped out of your coveralls, convenient work-wear for people who fucked like rabbits you had to admit, and sat in his lap with your arms and legs wrapped around him. His hands guiding your hips in a slow rocking motion, breathing each other's air as your open mouths hovered in a not-quite kiss, only breaking eye contact when you threw your head back as you came.

Autumn passed quickly and Winter had gripped Vermont, cloaking the countryside in a heavy blanket of white. Christmas was a cozy affair, you and Frankie had been asked to join Jacquie and Mark in their family's merriment. It had stirred something inside of you, watching a functional family laugh, sing, argue, eat, and love with such abandon.

It was everything you'd dreamt, initially, for your future with Brad. Now? Now you were starting to picture that future with Frankie's face as the patriarch, you just haven't built up the nerve to broach the subject yet.

You'd started working at the bakery, enjoying the early mornings surrounded by rising dough and sculling back coffees with the adorable older ladies who ran the place. You'd also begun doing the books for Morales Acres and Catfish Brewery. Frankie was a veritable genius but he claimed he had no patience for keeping receipts and tracking numbers.

You had a sneaking suspicion he was playing dumb in an effort to give you more time together but you really didn't mind. Your break-of-dawn mornings at the bakery had you tired, but after a full day of renovating or bookkeeping, you were downright exhausted and ready for bed by eight pm. This, mixed with Frankie monitoring the brewing, bottling, and distribution of his cider and networking at bars and pubs throughout the state meant the two of you rarely saw each other.

All of your hard work in your own house had made you a popular friend to call when someone needed decorating advice, or a helping hand once they realized they couldn't tile their kitchen backsplash solo. You never charged for your time, although payment had initially been offered until work had got around that you preferred a good meal and conversation over money. I mean, sure, you could use the cash but it just didn't seem right. And you loved helping people and making deeper connections with the town you now truly felt you belonged in.

Tuesday evenings had become an unofficial date night for the two of you. The bakery was closed on Wednesdays and bar owners tended to be less interested in business halfway through the week, something to do with the rush of the previous weekend having worn off and the worry of setting up for another one starting to grow.

This meant you could stay up late, enjoy a proper homemade dinner, maybe even watch a movie or share a bottle of wine while soaking in your big ass tub. It usually ended as a sleepover, your house being the preferred location; Frankie's loft was perfectly fine but it did lack a certain homey appeal.

This pattern, this life, that you'd created for yourself was making you happier than you'd ever been in your entire life. You weren't one hundred percent content, not yet anyway, but the path to getting there was on a direct trajectory. You still wanted to finish your college degree, maybe switch it over to horticulture. Building a greenhouse and selling flowers was still a pipe dream but something your heart truly longed for, something that Frankie was constantly encouraging you to do.

"Look, hun," he had called out to you a few weeks ago while supposedly researching the new line of bottles. "There's an auction next county over and they have all this confiscated stuff from a grow op that got busted!"

"What?" You'd made a face and laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What on earth would you use from a pot farm?"

He just gave you a salacious wink as an answer.

Frankie had been open about his past drug abuse and while some recovering addicts may want all mention of it banned from a conversation, Frankie found levity in treating the topic like any other person would.

It had taken you a couple of hours to realize why he'd brought up the auction. It had hit you with a jolt, knowing that he’d remembered your rambling from on top of the Ferris wheel. You didn't realize he'd been listening when you'd told him about your idea of taking over the flower stand at the market once the current couple retired.

Your heart had swelled and there was a concerted effort to prevent the sudden onset of tears from running down your face. God, you loved this man, maybe one of these days you should tell him...

This particular routine was working well for the two of you. It gave each of you your own space to relax, destress, enjoy the shitty tv shows you were too embarrassed to watch in front of another living person. It also forced the two of you to take your relationship slowly, communication being a constant learning curve. You were both really good and telling each other when you needed time alone, when you were feeling stressed or sad. You each had learned the tells for when the other was angry or just hungry, if it was hormones or if there was something that was actually pissing you off.

The thing you each seemed to struggle with was expressing the softer side of the relationship. Neither of you appeared to have the Words of Affirmation love language skill, yet you both craved to hear it. You showed how much you cared for Frankie with your acts of service; helping him with the boring side of the business, baking, deep cleaning the loft, even scrubbing out the massive fermenter in the Catfish Cider warehouse.

Frankie, on the other hand, showed his love through physical touch. At first, you had assumed it was a staking-his-claim kind of thing but then you noticed how he'd do it all the time. A hand on your lower back while walking, caressing your hand with his thumb when driving in the truck, carding his fingers through your hair while you watched tv.

This week's date night found you at his place, relaxing in the loft after a busy workday. You were making dinner while he 'helped' by sneaking bites of the prepped ingredients, arm slung around you with a hand in your back pocket.

"What're you looking for?" He asked, taking advantage of your distracted searching through his cupboards to sneak a few more pinches of grated cheese.

"A can opener!" You replied, exasperation raising your voice an octave. "I could have sworn I saw a white one around here somewhere..."

“No, pretty sure that one's yours. I don't think I have one?"

"Frankie," you deadpanned "how did you survive as a bachelor without canned food?"

"I ate a lot of take-out?" He looked indignant at your laughter, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Can you stop judging me long enough to eat some burritos?"

Smoothing his playful scowl with a kiss, you sat down at the counter and enjoyed your first meal together of the week.

An idea was formulating in the back of your mind, though, and you barely tasted anything. As the evening progressed, the idea grew and you were liking it more and more. The final straw was you not having a toothbrush in his bathroom anymore, having forgotten that it had fallen off the counter and into the trashcan the last time you'd spent the night.

Using his, with a strange mixture of distaste and nonchalance, before making your way over to the bed, you began to plan how the conversation could go:

Hey Frankie, so you know how I have a big house all to myself? Yeah... And it had everything we need in it? Yeah... And there's more than enough room for two adults to store all of their things? Yeah... And I wouldn't have to use your toothbrush ever again? Yea- wait what? I think you should move in with me.

It wasn't very romantic but it was the most likely, considering your dynamic. Just as you were crawling into bed and snuggling under the arm he'd raised to allow you to get closer, his cell phone rang.

"Hello? - This is he. - Yeah, biological. - Oh god, when?"

The immediate change in his tone from questioning to horrified caught your attention, sitting up to face him you grabbed his free hand, silently letting him know you were there for support.

His eyes were out of focus and a panicked expression was slowly morphing his face as the conversation went on, but he gave your hand a squeeze back in acknowledgement.

"Yes, in Vermont. Do you have my address? - Okay, good, good...okay - When? - I'll have something ready. Umm... does she... does she remember me? - Oh. Okay, thank you."

Slowly lowering the phone from his ear, Frankie sat staring into nothingness for what felt like hours. His side of the conversation and the way he was reacting had you rattled. You could guess as to what was happening but weren't sure if now was the right time to pry.

"Babe? Is, is everything okay?"

Silence.

Gripping his hand tighter and rubbing his back you sat with him for a few more minutes before trying again. You didn’t want to push him but your heart was constricting in your chest from nervousness and concern for him.

"Can I get you anything? What do you need?"

His hand was now completely dead in yours; eventually, he turned his head towards you, eyes never fully focusing, and shook his head.

"I- she- fuck... I think you should go.”

Part Thirteen

#Frankie Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x F!Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x Fem!Reader #Francisco Morales x F!Reader #Francisco Catfish Morales x Fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales x you

153 notes · View notes

xenia-cenia · 3 years

Text

Razor x Fem!Reader - Trust

A/N - I... have been avoiding writing this one, but he and Albedo are the last two before I can finish off the Mondstadt part of this series. Here’s hoping it doesn’t take me as long as the other ones lol

Post writing authors note: only took 2 hours so a lot better than my other ones

Trigger/Content Warnings: Injury, blood mention, slight manga spoilers, kidnapping, human experimentation mention, abusive sibling, food mention

Word Count: 1,552

Request: No

Summary: Ooooh dottore bad... razor good.... its 1am i have school tomorrow pretend this makes sense

---------------------------------------------------------------

You came to him on accident.

You didn’t mean to stumble into the Wolvendom with blood coating your arm and chased by people who thought of you as nothing more than a Harbingers sister. You hadn’t planned on slipping in the mud and watching with fear in your eyes as your pursuers celebrated their victory. How could you of known that the scream that’d fall from your lips would alert a nearby boy?

Electricity remained in the air as he set his weapon down. He turned to you with a blank expression, “...hurt?”

“Who are you? Do you know what you’ve just done?”

“Hurt.” He pointed at your arm. “I fix.” Razor walked over to you and kneeled, carefully grabbing your arm.

“The Fatui! You’ve just... oh Archons, please help me. I’m so sorry, I got you into this mess and now you’ll be in danger, why did I scream?”

“Fa... tui?” He slightly cocked his head to the side.

“T-They’re people who want me back. I... I’m the sister of-”

“Family?”

You shook your head violently, “No! Not family!” You sighed, “I’m the sister of one of the harbingers. P-Please, tell me you haven’t heard of Dottore...”

“Dottore. Dottore bad?”

“Very!”

“You scared Dottore?”

“Yes.”

“Razor protect you from Dottore. Join lupical.”

“Lu...” you echoed, “Are you Razor?”

“Razor is me.”

You looked at the mysterious boy and considered your options; either be found by the fatui and forced to face your brother or... follow the boy who saved your life without knowing you.

“Okay, fine.” You sighed, “I’ll come with you.”

He nodded, “Follow.”

You walked in silence and you noticed kindness in his subtle actions. He would hold branches above your head until you were safely past them or pointed out puddles so you wouldn’t step in them.

Finally, you arrived at an opening. Wolves stalked the exterior, looked at Razor and you, and continued their business.

“Ra... Razor?” You whispered, gripping onto his arm and stepping behind him. “Why did you take me to wolves?”

“Lupical. Family.”

“These are your family?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You nodded, drew out your words as you started to regret your decision to trust him. “Wolf... family. Alrighty. Annnd... I’m here now. This is what I’m doing with my life.”

“Lupical protect Razor. Razor protect Lupical. Razor trust you. You smell nice.”

“I’ve been on the run for multiple weeks. There’s no way I smell nice.”

Razor scrunched his eyebrows as he searched for the right word, “You smell... kind. Razor trust you.” He turned to you and tried to manage a smile though it looked more like a ferocious snarl, “You trust Razor?”

And maybe you were just tired but for some reason, you did.

It didn’t take long for you to merge with the rest of the wolf pack, though you couldn’t understand their words you learned their body language.

The pups would run over to you and wouldn’t leave you alone until you pet them behind the ears. You would pick grass and would weave it into a shoddy crown, and each time you gave it to Razor he’d wear it the rest of the day.

Happy. You were happy.

Hunting, flower picking, star gazing. It was simple, but it was the best life you could’ve asked for. A life outside of political intrigue, violence, anger, and human test subjects.

A life where you could smile. A life where your shoulders relaxed. A life where you were trusted and you could trust.

Lupical. Family. You would give anything to keep these peaceful days ongoing.

But, as with every spot of happiness you found, it needed to be crushed.

Crushed by your older brother and the troops he controlled as he tracked down your location. As he demanded they wait until nightfall to grab you by your arm and drag you back into his clutches.

“Scream and they die.” He had said with a smile. You knew better than to doubt him.

“Can I...” you tried to blink the tears out of your eyes, “Can I give them a final goodbye gift?”

Dottore rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. You picked grass, quickly weaved it into a shotty flower crown, and lied it on Razor's chest. And just like that, you were gone.

You were halfway to Liyue by the time Razor realized that you were missing. He gripped the flower crown as if his life depended on it, and tried his best to stay calm. To breathe.

His Lupical were quicker to pick up on your disappearance, they whined and hounded him until he finally picked up on it.

What was he going to do? You trusted him and you’re gone. Razor hadn’t felt this awful since part of his Lupical died in front of him. He didn’t spend much time grieving, however, he dropped right onto your scent.

You walked next to your brother, your eyes locked onto the ground, you were surrounded by trees and there was a cliff behind you.

“Why, (Y/N), you gave us quite a scare!” He chuckled after hours of pure silence, “3 months and no message. I almost began to think the worst.”

“I bet you wished for it.” You grumbled under your breath.

“What?” He looked at you, “How could you say that? I love you.”

“You never loved me.” You snapped, your fingernails digging into your palms, “You used me. You only want me back so I can’t tell everybody the awful things you do. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter to you. I’m just here for your appearances.”

“I wanted you back because you’re my fami-”

“Don’t you dare say we’re family. They were my family. They loved me.”

“The-the wolves?” He laughed, “Don’t be absurd! Wolves can’t love you.”

“And why not?” You finally made eye contact with him, “They surely love me more than you.”

He looked at you with a slightly agape mouth, “Surely you hear how ridiculous you sound. You... you need some food. When's the last time you had a whole meal? Is that it? Are you starving? Are you sleep-deprived? What’s making you act like this?”

“I finally found someone who truly cares about me, and you take me away from them! You never want me to be happy. I hate you.” You took a deep breath, “No... hate isn’t strong enough. I despise you.”

Dottore looked at you with almost seemed like genuine pain. But you knew better. This was the man who’d set scientists to dissect your body if he got bored. This was the man who turned countless children into experiments.

You hated him. You hated the way he made you doubt yourself. You hated his confident smirk.

He sighed heavily, “They always did say these teen years were hard... (Y/N), I don’t understand why you’re angry.”

“And that’s the issue! You never understand me. You don’t even try to.”

“Can’t you just listen to me?”

“I have! I’ve listened for years and nothing's ever changed! You take me away from where I’m happy and try to convince me I’m in the wrong for getting upset. You are a terrible brother and even worse person.”

“Ter... oh. Oh, (Y/N), I tried to be reasonable with you.” He shook his head dismissively, “It really is your fault. You forced my hand. You’re going back to Snezhnaya and you’re staying there until you learn your lesson.”

“No, I’m not.” You took a step away from him. “I’ll run. I’ll run each time and I’ll tell everybody what you do.”

He stepped towards you and grabbed your wrist, “If you disappear again, I’ll just be forced to kill all of your... ahem... friends.”

You bit your lip and tried to keep the tears pooling in your eyes to spill over, “Fine.” You pulled out of his grasp.

“Are you finally going to listen to me?”

You turned around and looked over the edge of the cliff. A flash of white caught your attention. You smiled to yourself, turned around, and let the tears fall.

With outstretched arms, a huge smile, and a torrent of tears, you spoke, “I’ll always run from you.” You stood on the edge and let your body fall.

Dottore ran to the edge and grabbed at your clothes, missing by mere inches. He looked over the cliff in fear as he watched you fall through the branches of trees.

He sighed to himself and tried to contain his frustration. “Damn brat.” He turned to his troops who took the time of your argument to rest, “We continue on. (Y/N) is dead.”

In the tree, Razor looked at you in relief as you sat in his arms. “Safe?”

“Safe.” You replied with a laugh as you hugged him as best as you could considering he was holding you. “He won’t... he won’t bother us anymore.”

“Dottore? Dottore hurt you? Razor not protect.”

You pulled back from the hug, “You saved me.”

He blinked, “Razor... save? You are safe... Razor save...”

You pulled him down by his collar and kissed his cheek, “I love you.”

His cheeks turned bright red. “Love... Razor love... Razor love you.”

You giggled as you pulled him into another kiss, happy to be free from your brother and in Razor's arms.

“I love you,” you whispered again, “I love you so much.”

#razor x reader #razor x you #please god let this blow up im so tired #genshin impact #genshin impact razor #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact razor x reader #genshin razor x reader #happy endings #saved by razor #x reader fanfiction #x reader #one shot

367 notes · View notes

supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

Aftermath.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader.

Word count: 2290.

It’s been an entire week since Lena’s been home. You want to pretend that you’re fine about it, but this is insane. It’s insane, right? You had a really crazy and terrible experience involving none other than Lex freaking Luthor (who’s currently still chilling in his prison cell, probably planning other insane things), and your moms are fighting over Rao knows what.

You’ve been sad all week. And guilty. There’s no amount of ‘this isn’t your fault’ that makes this feeling go away. You just wish you could remember what happened, or at least that you could do something about it. You feel like you’re stuck inside a storm. Waiting for things to just get better already, but everyday you wake up, the sky is grey and your family is broken apart.

You hate how Kara says ‘Lena’, with guilt and pain in her voice. You hate how her eyes are constantly filled with tears. You hate when she says stuff like ‘let’s do things we never got to do’, and eats ice-cream at midnight while watching sad movies, unable to pretend she is unaffected by the whole thing. She should at least fake it, shouldn’t she?

You hate how Lena simply refuses to ask about Kara, even though you can see it in her face that she’s dying to know. You hate that she’s throwing herself into work in a non-healthy way. You hate when she pretends she’s not at all hurt and she just tries to be nonchalant about the fact that she’s not home. She should at least show you that she cares, shouldn’t she?

But the thing that you hate the most is the fact the none of them tell you anything other than that it’s not your fault. You just don’t know what started it all, how bad is it, and how long this is going to last. One thing you know for sure is that this can’t last forever. You can’t handle it.

“Hey.” Maya shakes her hand in front of your face, trying to get you to focus on her. “You cool? You’ve been acting kinda weird all week…” She nuzzles her nose in the crook of your neck, breathing deep. “And I miss your pretty smile.”

“Sorry. Just, um, things are weird at home.” But you still bring her closer hooking one arm around her back.

“I knew this day was coming.” Jamie says, sitting in front of you, on your lunch table. “It was too many ‘almost’. I knew one day you would catch your moms having sex.”

“I wish.” You whisper and they both furrow their brows at you. “I mean, I don’t. Definitely don’t want to see that, but it’s better than where they are right now.”

“They’re fighting? Wanna make them a romantic dinner again?” Jamie asks with a smile and you roll your eyes thinking about the last time you got involved. Things did not end up well.

“They are not.” You sigh. “They had a fight I know nothing about.” You raise one eyebrow at Jamie, who quickly put things together. “Then, Lena never came back home, and she’s staying in a hotel, so-”

“Holy fuck, babe.” Maya straightens up right away to look at you. “That’s messed up. I’m so sorry.”

“They’ll be fine.” Jamie dismisses both of you with her hand. “Honestly, your moms are so in love with each other. And besides, haven’t they gone through, like, way worse stuff in their relationship and totally got over it?”

“I guess.” You shrug, still not convinced. She’s right, they have. But you were never in the middle. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it was my fault.”

“You can’t make two people fight and don’t remember.” Maya says trying to ease your mind, unaware that in your life that’s actually more common than she would think.

“It’ll be fine.” Jamie ends the subject, so none of you spill important information and you try to distract yourself.

You fail.

“Hey, do you want to work on your robotics project today?” Maya asks and you furrow your brows. Wow, you didn’t even remember you had that going on in your life. “It could help you take your mind off… You know.”

Moms fighting and maybe never getting back together? Yeah, you don’t think so.

“Um… Maybe next week.” You shrug. “There’s still time.”

“Well, then maybe we could go to my house and play video game.” Jamie suggests looking at Maya, who shakes her head agreeing. “You can show Maya that game you made.”

“Sounds fun, but I’m really not in the mood.” You sigh and look at them staring at each other, trying to come up with something else. You give them a little smile. “Really guys, I’m fine. I just want to go home and chill with Kara a little. I feel like she needs me.”

“Ok, babe.” Maya kisses your cheek lightly and whispers. “I’m here. You can talk to me if you want, or not talk. I’m still here, ok?”

“Thanks babe.” You smile at her, and then at Jamie on the other side.

“Whatever it’s best for you, little Danvers.” Jamie adds.

Nothing is best for you right now. Except Kara and Lena’s happiness.

And they are definitely not happy. There’s no amount of ‘let’s fly around the house’, ‘let’s build something together in your lab’, from any of them that can fake that. And so if they’re not happy, you are in the same situation.

“You have to clean your bedroom.” Kara says when she opens the door, at night, and you look up from your books. “An alien could be hiding under that absurd amount of clothes in the corner, and you would never know.”

“Let it have a home.” You shrug.

“No, no ‘let it’. Baby.” Kara comes close and holds your hands. “I know you miss your mom, but there’s no reason why we will just stop doing stuff we normally do because of that.”

Tell that to all the showers you’ve been skipping since she was gone. Tell that to the meals you have been skipping all week. Tell that to your sad face.

“So, your bedroom is tidy and clean?” You raise an eyebrow and she lets out a chuckle.

“I love you. Did you know that?” She kisses your hand and smiles. “I’m so glad you exist.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately. Maybe you miss saying that to someone else?” You raise one eyebrow at her, and she gives you an extremely sad smile.

“Same eyebrows move.” She winks at you and you know she’s talking about Lena and how this is literally her move. “Come on, let’s eat something. And you can clean your room before bed.”

“How do you feel having to tell me to clean my room?” You ask, following her to the kitchen and she laughs.

“Like a mother.” She smiles harder at that, and you roll your eyes. She’s such a dork.

Kara goes through the cabinets and fridge to find out that if you two were in an apocalyptic situation, you wouldn’t survive a day with the food in your house. She promises she’ll go grocery shopping the next day (which you only half believe), and you both decide to go with instant noodles.

“So, um, mom texted and she asked me if I wanted to go spend the night at the hotel with her.” You tell Kara while she looks at the boiling water with puzzling eyes. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but I kind of feel sad that she’s all alone there too, and like-”

“You should go.” Kara cuts you off, still interested in the pot in front of her. “Do we put it on now?”

“Are you seriously asking me how to make instant noodles?” You smile, rolling your eyes playfully. “Scootch.” You bump your hips on hers, and take control. “So, you’re going to be fine here alone?”

“Of course!” Kara smiles and you look at her to see how real she’s being. You look for any signs of her sadness being too much. You look for watery eyes, pouts, anything. “It’s one night. I’m not a toddler, I can go one night alone.”

“Well…” you think about making fun of her, but you bite your tongue. “I just want to make sure you won’t go ‘sad burrito’ on the couch.”

“I won’t go ‘sad burrito’.” She promises. “I might wrap myself and blankets to watch TV, but I promise not to be sad about it.”

“Maybe you should go to aunt Alex’s house.” You say, and Kara holds your face between her hands, squeezing it gently.

“I’ll be fine. Go see Lena. You know that if she asked for it, she really needs you.” Kara kisses your forehead. “Go give her some love.”

“You can come too…” You raise your eyebrows a few times, but stop when you see Kara’s sad expression. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, sunflower.”

“See you tomorrow, little one.” Kara smiles. You hesitate, looking behind you a few times, but Kara shoos you with her hands, so you fly off to Lena’s hotel.

Talk about weird! Lena living in a hotel room it’s the definition of ‘something is wrong with the world’.

“That’s, um, nice.” You say, when you go inside the room and Lena chuckles, wrapping her arms around you, and kissing the top of your head.

“It’s temporary. I didn’t have time to look for a real place.” She gives you a smile, and strokes your cheek gently while fully analyzing you. “Have you lost weight?”

“Unlikely.” It’s your answer, but it’s a lie. You probably did lose some weight, since Kara simply forgets to eat, and she’s surviving on ice-cream and whatever is left in the fridge for a week. And you just don’t want to bother her with the fact that you need to eat, because you’re a freaking alien and you eat like one.

It doesn’t matter what you say anyway, because Lena knows the truth, so she is definitely ignoring you and calling for room service. She orders so much food, you have to tell her to stop. You! Of all people!

“So-” She lets out, like a breath, while sitting on the couch next to you, and wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “How are you?”

“Scared.” You fall further into her comfort, and breathe in her familiar smell. Home and flowers. “I don’t want our lives to be like this from now on. I-I know it’s my fault-”

“Not your fault.” She interrupts you. But it doesn’t matter, because you don’t believe her.

“Tell me how I can make things better. Tell me how I can fix this.” You ask, and Lena tights the hug kissing your head a couple of times.

“My baby.” She sounds like she’s about to cry, and you’re already too far gone. Tears streaming down your face non-stop. “Stop taking everything upon your hands. This problem is not yours to fix. And you have done nothing wrong to have to make things better.”

“I think you’re forgetting that I burned my training center to the ground?” You look back at her, and she cleans your tears. And then hers.

“That wasn’t you. You know that damn well.” Lena says with a serious expression. “Lex was responsible for all of that. And now you’re back, and you have nothing to worry about, ok?”

“But mom, if Lex knows he can use me, won’t he try that again? And maybe be more successful this time?”

“Remember when I believed your thoughts blocker was a mind wiper?” She asks, making you agree with your head. “Turns out, it could be a mind wiper with a few changes. So, I did them, and now he doesn’t even remember you.” She smiles softly. “You’re safe now. He won’t do that again. And if he ever tries anything, your momma and I will stop him, ok?”

“How did he know about me in the first place?”

“Lillian. But she won’t talk about you with him ever again.”

“Did you make her forget about me too?” You ask, almost sad about it. You don’t want Lillian to forget about you. You like seeing her eventually, and she’s being so nice lately.

“No, baby. She wouldn’t do anything that could harm you.” Lena says with a smile, putting your hair behind your ears, and you furrow your eyebrows at her. “Lillian has done a lot of terrible things, but none of them it’s destroying the family name. And you, babygirl, might be a kryptonian, but you’re also a Luthor.”

“So, you trust her?”

“Well, she has proven herself in the last few days, so… With you? Yes.” That makes you smile a little, and when you hear a knock on the door and you see food on the other side of it, that makes you smile even more.

Staying with Lena one night is not enough. You can see it on her face that she needs more than that. But when you fly back home in the morning to get ready for school, and you find Kara sleeping on the couch, all wrapped up in blankets definitely looking like a ‘sad burrito’, you know she can’t be alone either.

You wish you could divide yourself in two and be with them all the time. You wish they would just talk. And you wish you could turn back time and undo whatever mess you made while you were mind controlled. But you can’t do either. So, you just hope that what you can do for now is enough. And you pray to Rao this storm ends sooner than later.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp daughter #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #lena x reader #reader insert

139 notes · View notes

angellesword · 3 years

Text

MAGIC SHOP | JJK (08)

Description: You and Jungkook were best friends who were in love with each other. What would happen when Soojin, your half sister who you’re trying to impress, told you she’s in love with Jungkook too?

Alternatively:

“Would you believe me if I said that I was scared of everything too?”

Genre: childhood best friends to lovers, family drama, angst, fluff, idiots to lovers, pining, slice of life au.

Pairing: Architect!Jungkook x Architect!Reader (side pairings: Reader x roommate!Jimin | Taehyung x Yoongi)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

Series: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

Chapter’s OST: Talk by Kodaline

"Where is he?" Yoongi didn't sound annoyed when he asked this. He knew he should be but then he realized he was more worried than angry.

"In my room," you responded. Yoongi gave you a quick nod before rushing inside your bedroom.

You were left standing in front of your apartment door, waiting for Jimin who you guessed was parking his car.

You wondered if your roommate was upset too. You couldn't blame him if it was the case. You knew it was cruel of you and Taehyung to bail on your double date with him and Yoongi tonight.

However, if you were given a chance to redo this night, you would probably still choose to go home with your brother.

Pretending was becoming taxing on your part. You were sure Taehyung felt the same way as well. He was done acting like he could walk inside a fine-dining restaurant and pay for his meal. Yoongi said Taehyung didn't need to worry about things like bills—that he got it, but your brother was too proud to allow that to happen.

Taehyung and Yoongi had been dating for almost two years now, yet the former still felt abashed when money was involved.

He was so opposed to the idea of Yoongi treating him well. Taehyung didn't like the idea of him leeching off of Yoongi for money. You, on the other hand, were done acting as though you weren't hurt every time you see your brother struggling because of this.

Taehyung burnt himself out by keeping his promise to pay back Taemin. As far as you knew, he still owed your father an estimate of eight hundred thousand dollars. Taehyung had no idea how to pay off his debt, considering that his bank account had zero balance now.

He couldn't even afford to pay rent that's why he usually stayed in your shared apartment with Jimin. Taehyung's excuse was that he didn't like staying alone in his place so he'd rather sleep on your couch.

Yoongi asked your brother to move in with him but the Taehyung refused, saying he wasn't ready to take their relationship into another level. You and Yoongi knew it was a lie. It broke your heart every time Taehyung made lame excuses like this.

You wanted him to be able to freely express his life struggles to you. You would never judge him. It was okay to admit that he turned down Yoongi's offer because he didn't want to be dependent on him, that he didn't want to feel like he was 'useless.'

There should be no shame in admitting that you were having a hard time. It was a normal thing. Many people experienced it, but even if only the minority experienced it, we should still be understanding since not everyone was privileged, some people were struggling just to survive—this was Taehyung's case as of the moment.

He was a freelance model and he's still working as a curator, not at his mother's company though. Taehyung hadn't spoken to his parents, not even to his siblings. You were the only family member he talked to.

Sometimes you felt guilty thinking that one of the reasons why Taehyung turned his back on the Kims was because he wanted to help you forget.

"Come to New York with me," your brother offered this to you a week after you broke up with Jungkook.

You were miserable. You were having a hard time pushing Jungkook away. He was so persistent, begging you to take him back, saying things like he would do whatever you asked him too.

But you couldn't. Everyone knew he and Soojin were getting married. You couldn't afford to shame and hurt your sister like that.

"I could hook you up with this company. They're looking for a graphic designer. You're perfect for the job..."

You had to admit that you were skeptical about Taehyung's preposition. Sure, you wanted to get away from Jungkook, but not to the point of leaving Seoul.

It felt too rushed. New York was a foreign place, you hadn't been there before. You didn't know if you could survive there.

"I don't know, oppa..." You expressed your doubt, fortunately Taehyung knew exactly what to say to successfully coax you.

He said you had nothing to worry about since he would be there for you. Taehyung also promised to introduce you to Park Jimin, his best friend since high school.

Apparently, Jimin was the sweetest person in the world and you needed someone like him in your life. Taehyung thought that the universe wanted you to be close to Jimin since it so happened that the latter was also looking for a roommate.

Originally, Taehyung planned to move in with his best friend to save more money, but he figured it would be best if you took the opportunity instead. As said, your brother wanted you to hit it off with Jimin. Apart from this, Taehyung believed he was better off alone.

He was wrong though. Few months after moving back to New York, Taehyung realized he couldn't handle his expenses.

He needed a roommate too. Sometimes he hated himself for turning down Yoongi's offer, considering that the sole reason why Yoongi decided to go to New York was to be with Taehyung.

Your brother wasn't stupid. He was certain Yoongi was in love with him. The long distance type of relationship wasn't working anymore. They both crave each other's touches and kisses.

A few months after you and your brother left Seoul, Yoongi called to say he had been offered a job in New York too. He said he accepted it despite Taehyung's opposition.

It wasn't like Taehyung didn't want to be with Yoongi. Your brother was just upset that his boyfriend was making all these sacrifices for him. Yoongi was a well-known fashion designer in Korea. Why would he want to be an assistant of a fashion designer here in the United States?

It was absurd. But Yoongi didn't complain. He never did. Many months later, his patience and hard-work paid off.

Yoongi was able to close deals with different clients using his own name. He wasn't hiding in the shadow of his boss. He wasn't an assistant anymore. This was also the reason why Yoongi wanted to go out on a double date with you, his boyfriend, and Jimin tonight.

He wanted to celebrate his success with the people he loved, but Taehyung's 'mood' ruined Yoongi's night.

"Hey," while you ruined Jimin's.

"Hey you." Your roommate's voice was laced with exhaustion upon seeing you waiting for him at the door.

Your heart recoiled at the sight of his tired face. You were aware that his job as a professor was exhausting, it didn't help that he and Yoongi waited for two hours in that restaurant only to end up leaving and not grabbing something to eat.

"I'm really sorry about tonight," you smiled apologetically. You hated disappointing him.

"At least I saved some money." He laughed and this was when you came to know that he was holding a box of pizza.

A smile bloomed on your face.

"Is that garlic and shrimp?" You couldn't contain your excitement. Jimin chuckled and nodded at you, pleased that you appreciated the food he brought.

"Yay!" You grabbed the pizza box, rushing towards the kitchen so you could open it.

Your stomach grumbled, your eyes turning into the shape of a heart as you grabbed a piece of pizza.

"So good!" You moaned, relishing the taste of your food for tonight. Jimin grinned, handing you a can of beer.

You gladly took it. Jimin knew you so well. Pizza and beer were your favorite food combination.

"Corndog’s sold out," your roommate mentioned as he grabbed a slice of pizza for himself.

Your smile faltered. Yeah, right. How could you say that pizza and beer were your favorite when nothing could ever top corndogs, your favorite brand of probiotic drink, some chocolate bars, and Jungkook's smile?

"Is everything alright?" Jimin asked softly when he noticed your frown.

"Yeah."

Should he believe you?

"How's Tae?"

"Better, I guess? Yoongi's with him right now." You wanted to give them some slices of pizza. Taehyung's probably hungry, but then you didn't want to disturb him and Yoongi. Maybe they're still in the middle of a serious conversation.

Your brother's most likely explaining to his boyfriend why his mood suddenly turned sour. Yoongi asked you to tell him the truth, sadly you felt like you're not in the position to tell him anything.

You didn't even understand what's running inside your brother's head, and so you simply texted Yoongi and Jimin this: have to take a rain check for dinner tonight. sorry. Tae oppa's not feeling well.

"What about you?"

Your head snapped up to meet your roommate's thoughtful gaze. "What about me?"

"Are you okay?" Jimin sounded so sweet that your heart was filled up with so much warmth. Taehyung's right. You needed someone like Jimin in your life.

"I'm fine," you lied. You're not. Lately all you could think about was him and what could've been. "Wanna watch Breaking Bad and hate on Walter White?"

The worry painting his face vanished when you mentioned his favorite T.V series.

"I still don't get why you hate Mr. White when a whole Skyler White exists." He gasped dramatically, shaking his head before making his way to the living room.

You sighed, smiling albeit the pain in your chest. You couldn't help but compare the two men who had a huge impact in your life. The first one never forced you to share, he was very easy to reassure that you're okay, the other man, on the contrary, wouldn't stop until he's sure you're really feeling better. He liked prying into your personal life, acting like he could stop your despair.

Your chest ached because between the two men, you didn't know who you preferred.

Yoongi and your brother couldn't be bothered and you were certain it was because they're busy fucking. It was Taehyung's way of making it up to his boyfriend.

"He's getting so worked up over a fly! Gosh, he's so annoying!" And your way to make it up to Jimin was trying to keep your dislike of Walter White to yourself. Keyword here? Try. It was so hard not to talk shit about Jimin's favorite fictional character.

You tried. But you couldn't anymore.

"oh gosh," you pouted when you noticed your roommate's being too quiet. "I'm not supposed to rant because I know you're mad at me."

That broke his silence.

"I'm mad at you?" He looked at you as if you're crazy. "Why would I be mad?"

"Uh..." You winced. "Because I bailed on our date?"

Jimin laughed. He actually laughed! The corner of his mouth twisting upwards.

"I guess I haven't made myself clear about that, huh," he rubbed his chin, realizing that he didn't explicitly tell you it was okay, that you didn't owe him anything.

"I like you..." He confessed, uttering your name. "You know that, right? I'm glad you even agreed to go on a date with me."

You bit your bottom lip.

"But liking me doesn't mean you're not allowed to get mad at me."

Jimin chuckled again, amusement was dancing in his eyes. He lowered the volume of television before turning to face you.

"But I'm not mad. I know what I was getting myself into when I told you how I feel about you. Liking someone means you should also accept the risk of getting hurt, you know?"

You shuddered, heart thumping. You felt like your head was spinning.

As usual, Jimin simply giggled at your reaction.

"You're acting as if liking someone is such a scary thing..."

"It is." You replied, voice still mixed with slight fear. "Love too. Imagine waking up one day only to realize that someone has the power to hurt you."

You made that mistake once. You're still paying for it now. Love...be it romantic familial, or platonic, it still hurt the same. You made sacrifices for them, making yourself your last priority when it should be the top one.

"Imagine waking up every day realizing you have the power to make someone's life a little bit better, and doing it." Jimin retorted and for the first time, you couldn't answer.

You simply rested your head on his shoulders, grabbing the remote to increase the volume of whatever episode of Breaking Bad you were watching.

At the end of the episode, you saw Walter White closing his eyes, finally dozing off, a yawn escaped from your lips and before you knew it, you fell asleep too.

You jolted to consciousness when you heard your phone rang.

Grunting, you immediately answered the call even though an unknown number was ringing you. Jimin was sound asleep beside you. You couldn't risk waking him up.

"Hello?" You squinted, sleepiness still staining your eyes. "Who's this? Why're you calling me in the middle of the night?"

There was a pregnant pause on the other line, making you huff and yawn in annoyance. Was this a prank call?

"I'm gonna end this call if you don't speak." You yawned again when the caller still didn't say anything. "Goodnight—"

"Wait!" The stranger said before you could hang up.

Your heart suddenly skipped a beat. The voice of this caller sounded familiar—too familiar to the point that you could feel your stomach stirring.

"It's Jungkook," he mumbled. "Jeon Jungkook..."

He said his name as if you'd ever forget that. Your stomach continued to protest.

"I'm sorry for calling you so late..."

You were holding your breath, unable to speak.

"But it's an emergency."

"Emergency?" You startled, very awake now. Jimin stirred in his sleep because of your abrupt alerted movement. "Where are you right now, Kook? Are you okay? Did something happen?"

You stood up, pacing back and forth. Jungkook was silent once again. You felt tears filling your eyes. Why was he taking this slow when he said it was an emergency?

"Y-Yeah," his voice was shaky, as though he was having a hard time. Your heartbeat doubled as he said this:

"You and Taehyungie-hyung have to go back here in Seoul. The whole family needs you."

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook best friends to lovers #jungkook best friend #armywriterssupport #jungkook x female reader

151 notes · View notes

eyoricka · 3 years

Text

Secret dating - Pete Davidson x singer!reader

First thing, I am sorry for my rather long absence I was moving to another country and way to stress. But now I have to spend ten days in quarantine so I will try to catch up and write all the asks I received in the meantime. So sorry for the delay and I hope the waiting will worth it!!

Also this is the first part of a small series about Pete x singer!reader because I had few asks on this theme! Hope you will enjoy

Words: 1600+

Warning: none I guess

You had been dating Pete for few months. You decided to keep it low profile. It wasn’t really a secret; your friends and families were aware that you were together but you didn’t want the whole world to know. You had seen Pete’s debacle with his exes, and he witnessed yours. You both agreed to not to make it public this soon since you wanted to avoid paps, gossips articles, harassment online and to hear everybody’s opinion. You were surprised that no one caught the two of you or speculated on your relationship. Maybe the both of you being friends for years, evolving within the same circle of people helped you. When people saw the two of you strolling, getting ice cream together, no magazines titled about how cute this date was but rather on how good it was for you to have such good friends in your life.

These past couple of weeks, it had been hard to spend some quality time with Pete. You had to flew to LA to assist to the Grammys and you missed your boyfriend so much through out the ceremony. You wished that you could have hold his hands during the stressful waiting, kissed him when you heard your name, thanked him when you gave your acceptance speech or feel his hand drawing absurd figure in your back to relax you while you were waiting to perform. Then after going back to New York, you hadn’t had that much time. Your publicist had packed you with interviews and gigs during late night shows. It was tiring but worth it. Your career was on a clear path to success. You were finally considered as not another pop star but one of the biggest artists out there. Pete was so supportive of you. You lived for his lovely text messages to give you strength before each performance or his compliments on how beautiful you looked on TV, how smart your answers were, how funny you were during an interview game.

You had eventually managed to find an afternoon just for you and Pete. You enjoyed a home-cooked meal at his place and could help but melt every time he was laughing while recounting his week. You simply spend the rest of the afternoon watching cartoons. It was your way to decompress together. Pete would always prepare some snacks while you set everything up. Then you would lose at least ten minutes to choose which cartoons or movies to watch. You usually had long debate on whether SpongeBob was better than Scooby-doo. Pete would always take you in his arms while you were watching, peppering your neck with kisses and smelling your hair. He liked the smell of your shampoo arguing that it reminded him of happiness. That was so cliché and yet so adorable, you couldn’t make fun of this cheesiness.

You were slowly falling asleep engulfed by Pete’s warmth, this was cozy, it felt like home. Suddenly, you heard your phone buzzed and sighed. It was your agent, asking you where you were to pick you up to go an interview. You texted her your address while you looked for something to put on for the TV. You liked very much the clothes you had on but you doubted that their shades would be nice on camera. As you were researching the perfect outfit in underwear, trying on several combo, you congratulated yourself for letting some clothes at your boyfriend’s place. You were hesitating between two tops and asked Pete’s opinion. After a quick joke on how good you looked in underwear and that you probably should go like this, he made up his mind for the baby blue top.

You rushed outside to be picked by your team but not before sharing a sweet but passionate kiss with Pete and agreeing to spend the night at your place after the show. Your team smiled at you knowingly as you entered the car but they didn’t make any comment on your relationship. You discussed the show, the possible questions and what the best answers would be… The ride was pretty quiet after that and you soon arrived at the building where the show was taped. You were warmly welcomed by the host. You had already done some interviews with him, he was easy to talk to, always made you comfortable and was rather fun to be around. He lead you to the make-up artist trailer who didn’t fail to notice your tired look but promised you that it was nothing than a bit of foundation and powder could hide. Indeed, after only 15 minutes there you were glowing, looking fresh, like a fairytale princess leaving her bed.

As you were waiting to be called on stage, you received a message from Pete telling you that he was excited to see you on the show, that no matter what you were the best and that he was eager to see you tonight to finish the nap you had started together. You quickly replied before entering the stage. The interview went rather smoothly. You had begun with questions about your last album and upcoming project teasing a possible collab with Taylor Swift. The crowd went wild at this info and you knew that you would certainly end up in top tweets. After a commercial, you played a game with the host where you had to sing a random song imitating another artist. Clearly, it was not your forte, but you were funny enough to make it a good moment to watch. Then, you proceeded to answers some more interrogations from the public that could be found on social media. Those questions were a lot more personal and globally more focused on your art, compositions, writing skills, inspiration. You were passionate, your eyes were big with enthusiasm and you did a lot of gesture with your hand with made the host smile.

You were so happy that when a question about your dating life came up, you didn’t think twice before saying “Well I am the luckiest person, I have my dream career and dating Pete Davidson is just the cherry on the top, you know. He is just so perfect for me, like me understand and support each other, it just so great when you can share all those moments with someone you love and trust.” As you finished your rant, you noticed how the host was staggered. You finally realized what you had revealed and blushed furiously. “Did you just announce publicly that you are dating SNL cast member Pete Davidson?”. It was like words were dying in your throat and you envisioned Pete’s reaction at this. Surely it was not how you had planned to go public. You nodded shyly and the show stopped there. The host thanks the audience who was visibly thrilled, and you made your way backstage. You compulsively checked your phone every five seconds waiting for a text from your now very public boyfriend. But none came and it was worse. You felt so bad, you never wanted to put him in such a position, you were not sure that he was ready to go public, face the world’s reaction but here you were because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Your team drove you back to your place assuring you that it was okay, he couldn’t be mad at you for this but actually he legitimately could. They insist that you should check your social media, people were very supportive of you, saying that you were so cute together, goals… however you didn’t think that it was a good idea right now, you head spinning with the prospect to face Pete.

You silently entered your house waiting for Pete to arrive, a huge lump in your stomach. You felt so guilty, obviously you had to ruin everything, didn’t you. You were in your kitchen drinking a hot cocoa to calm your nerve when you heard Pete unlocked your front door with his spare keys. You didn’t dare to approach him and let him come in the room, your hands shaking so bad that you had spilled some hot beverage on it. You didn’t really feel the burning sensation, you were too scared of what he would say. To make it even more torturing he remained silent as he glanced at you. he eventually approached you and put away your cup as he took your injured hand in his. He put it under cold water and you let him do it, not understanding what was happening. “Do you think that I hate you or that I am angry at you for making it public without talking about it first?” he stated more than questioned as he stood behind you with his hand on yours. “Yes” you sighed looking down. He made you turned to face him and since you were still not looking at him, he put gently his hand on your face and lift it up. His face was so calm and soft, not what you were expecting at all. “I don’t mind, I mean sure it would have been better to discuss it and find a way together to announce it but you didn’t did on purpose. You were just so excited and you didn’t really think of it so I can’t blame you. I certainly would have done the same. Also, how I can be mad at someone who is so cute and so adorable when talking about me. You know what you say about us, it means a lot to me, a lot more than you can imagine. I love you, okay, and I don’t care if the whole world knows as long as you know it.” He smiled down at you and brushed away some tears that you hadn’t realize where rolling down your face. He cusped your cheeks and kissed your forehead as you buried yourself in his shirt.

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fanfic #pete davidson imagine #snl fanfic #fluff

196 notes · View notes

dontmindifidontt · 3 years

Text

EARLY MORNINGS AND OVERTIME | Chapter 3: Nanami's POV

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader (fem, first person pov) Word count: 1873 Fic Summary: A smutty fic in which Nanami Kento brightens up the mundane, flour-dusted life a college dropout working in a bakery. Chapter Summary: That Day from Nanami's pov. Warnings: None yet.

Read on AO3. Masterlist. Please feel free to ask me to correct anything in the above info, this is my first fic and I want to be sure I’m following all fic-posting etiquette. Ty!

11 am. That day.

Phone calls with angry clients. Emails with angry clients. More calls. More clients. Still angry. Pacing back and forth in the cramped office kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. More emails. Another call, this time with a not so happy investor. Checking the clock. Still waiting for that coffee. Still only sticking around in this job for the money.

I lean back in my chair and drum my fingers atop my nearly bare desk, resting my chin in the palm of my other hand. If I quit now, I begin to muse, I'd have saved up enough to last me a few years before needing to find work elsewhere. No, I wouldn't want to return at all. I need to wait longer so I can be out for good. Though I don't know how much longer I can take...

Check the clock again, it's 11:50am. The slightest twinge of excitement escapes through the deafening exhaustion in my brain: it's almost lunch. I figure I'll grant myself the short break to think it over and come back to my desk with a clear mind.

I rise and sling the grey jacket of my suit back on, pushing my chair in and quickly making way for the elevator. It's Friday and my usual spot for lunch has stopped selling my go-to, so I ought to try somewhere new. Perhaps it wouldn't kill me to buy from an actual bakery, it's not like I can't afford to stray from my usual convenience store.

The walk isn't far, but I take the time to consider my options, consider my future. All I want is to live life on my own time, without distraction from work or other people's problems. Everywhere I look, all I see are problems. Money problems, loneliness, or even worse, all the problems cursed energy brings. I try to shut it out and stick to myself. I tell myself that's not my job anymore.

I spot the bakery ahead and the negative thoughts begin to clear from my mind. To put it plainly: food makes me happy, it's one of the simplest pleasures I enjoy. I can't help but at least briefly forget the problems of the world when I'm about to take a bite out of a favorite meal.

I pull the door open and step inside, briskly walking to the register eager to begin my lunch. Impatient, I clear my throat to signal I'm ready to pay - only to be met with a reminder of why I was so desperate to clear my head in the first place. Tilting my head to get a better view, I see it clear as day: a fly head curse wrapped around the woman at the register's wrist. In an effort to ignore it, I avert my eyes, only to meet hers.

She's a few years younger than me, though I immediately recognize the familiar look captured in her eyes. The look of someone who's tired, overworked, and waiting on the clock to crawl forward. There's something else in her eyes, though, almost a bit of wonder. Is that aimed at me?

"Just the sandwich, please," I say while taking out my wallet, trying not to stare. There's no denying she has a pretty face, a beauty that appears effortless or natural, even when overtired from what I imagine was a long week of work. How one person can manage to look so charming even when carrying around the weight of a fly head I have no idea.

I notice she looks to the side before she speaks again, as if she has to look away to concentrate on what she's going to say next. She asks if I'd like a receipt and I decline, still watching over her pretty features and beginning to feel badly she has to work with that extra weight on her wrist. I'm usually better at ignoring this... there's just something about her expression. I can almost feel a sense of silent, shared exhaustion between us. I'm sure she works just as hard as I do, and she does it with a curse hanging off her body, and yet here she is smiling up at me when I'm just a customer who makes her day even busier.

I can barely make it to noon on a Friday without threatening to quit.

I turn to walk away only to hear her voice call out behind me, "come again please." With that request, something clicks. I pause as I reach the door. I tell myself these next words are based not only off of my attraction to her, but also out of a want to help someone whose work actually means something. It wouldn't cause me any harm to remove that fly head... in fact, I'm sure helping her live a more comfortable life would end up positively benefitting a lot of other people in return. Her work brings sorry people like me even a fleeting moment of joy. "Thank you. I will," is all I say.

The rest of the afternoon I couldn't shake the thought of returning to the bakery. Not returning next week when I'd order another lunch, or even Monday morning when it would open again. I had to return today. But how do I just reappear to secretly exorcise a weak cursed spirit? I'd look ridiculous to the non-sorcerer eye. There needs to be another reason for my return. I could use the situation to my advantage and ask her out to dinner... It's a pretty selfish solution, I'll admit, but the excitement and nerves building up in my stomach at just the thought were confirmation enough. She had a certain glow about her despite the clear exhaustion of her work, I can only imagine how she'd clean up for a proper date.

It's decided then, I'll offer to give my help over dinner.

6 pm. That day.

I arrive at the door at 6pm as promised, with her appearing only a few seconds later. My prediction was correct - having changed from her flour-dusted work attire to a much less casual ensemble made her beauty bloom. Seeing her round the corner in a perfectly fitted dress and heels I had to hide a smile, she must have matched her attire to fit the occasion of my own.

After introducing ourselves I turn to lead the way, excited to share my favorite steakhouse with my date. I answer her question about where we're headed by stating I'd assume that she'd prefer to spend dinner somewhere totally different from a bakery.

"What's the opposite of baked goods? A sushi bar?" I catch her eye as she asked this question, and I see a gleam of excitement and joy that hadn't yet presented itself in the short time I'd known her. She looked so eager and somehow already grateful... I wanted this happiness to last. Sushi it was then.

"Now you've guessed right. It's just around the corner here," I answer while internally sighing in relief for knowing a sushi bar nearby. It's one I used to frequent in the evenings before work began to keep me at the office too late on a regular basis.

As suspected, the hostess recognizes me straight away and we're seated in my former usual spot. Sitting face to face with my date now, I can't help but stare.

She has her hair pulled back, accentuating her cheekbones and putting each beautiful feature of her face on full display. Full lips, long curled lashes, and an ability to stare at me with eyes that will me to hold eye contact without breaking.

"So, how exactly do you plan to heal the ache in my wrist, Not Dr. Nanami?"

I guess she wastes no time in getting to the point. I don't blame her, considering I'm still a stranger and all... I chuckle at the thought of how selfish this entire idea was of me once again. Taking advantage of a curse as an excuse to share a meal with someone this beautiful? I have to laugh.

I reply to her question with the the truth: that I'll distract her while I swat this weak curse away and heal the soreness. Though I wasn't expecting to do this so soon... I need to think fast on how to create a proper distraction.

In the brief time I've known her I have noticed her tendency to look away while deep in thought. I'm counting on my observation to hold true when I blurt out, "Why don't you tell me three things about yourself, and when you're done I'll do the same."

At first she's taken aback, but just as I suspected she instinctively turns her head to the side while deep in thought, searching for a response to my proposition. Now's my chance.

I raise my right hand just a few inches above the table, keeping it low enough not to catch any attention. With fingers aimed at the pesky green fly head I flick my wrist with a snap, sending it flying and disintegrating in thin air.

She doesn't get the chance to finish even the second item about herself before feeling a difference. I smile and ease up in my seat. She looks so pretty with that hint of amusement in her eye. I feel myself hungry for more... more of her expressive eyes staring up at me, pleasured and thankful.

It hasn't even been an hour and I'm enjoying her company more than I expected. Did I hear her say she likes to cook earlier? I want to keep hearing more about her...

"So you never finished," I offer as a means to continue the conversation.

As she shares more about herself I find myself relaxing more each second, soaking up just how comfortable I feel in this moment. I'm not worried about the problems of those around me, I'm not worried about watching the clock or wishing time would pass - for the first time in a long time I'm actually wishing for the opposite.

"So you stay out of people's business, and yet here you are providing unsolicited help to me along with asking me to describe details about myself over dinner?" she asks. I barely let out an audible laugh at the way she worded this - a fair question no doubt.

"Both of those things are correct, yes," was all I let up in my response. I could never tell her the true explanation behind this date, the way I used a weak cursed spirit to my advantage. I'd sound beyond unbelievable and absurd.

We continued to play slightly coy and stare back at one another, enjoying the solitude of each other's company. By the time our meals were finished and the check arrived it felt as if the day I experienced this morning and evening I'm experiencing right now were a part of two entirely different years. Can meeting just one person make such a difference?

I closed server's book with the signed check inside and stood to pull out her chair. "Shall we?" I ask while lifting my forearm for her to hold on to as she stood. "How about I walk you home?"

.........

| Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |

Thank you for reading! Please inbox me to be tagged or to say hi :)

#jjk nanami #Kento Nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #slow burn #jjk smut #nanami pov #nanami jjk #there will be smut I promise #protective nanami #kento nanami #fanfic

45 notes · View notes

quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

hoax ; august walker x fem!reader 1/3

status — completed series

word count — 3,360 words

warnings — swear words, angst? betrayal,

pairing — august walker x fem!reader

a/n — so here’s my august walker series! this took me too long to complete lmao,, lmk what you think and asks are open!! Y/F/N = your father’s name

masterlist | series masterlist

August ran his sweaty palms over his thighs. “You can do this. You can do this,” He repeated to himself as he was sitting on the driver’s seat of the car, the agent thought it was absurd how he was worrying so much about a date.

He’s been on missions and life-threatening situations but here is getting all nervous about going out with Y/N. Perhaps it was because she was such a fine woman? That she was unlike anyone he’s ever met? This would mark the fifth time they’d be going out together; he unexpectedly enjoyed every single one and he was left excited for the next time they’d spend time together.

Exiting the vehicle he walked the short distance to her front door and rang the doorbell. Running his hands through his hair — to make sure that not a single strand was out of place — he could feel himself loosening up when he heard her footsteps getting louder. And as the door opened he grinned at her once he took in her dress, “You look stunning.”

Closing and locking the door, Y/N stood beside him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “You clean up well, Henry.” He offered his arm for her to hold on to and she latched onto it, “Where are you taking me tonight?”

Opening the car door for her, he made sure she was comfortable before shutting the door and jogging over to the driver’s seat. As he started the engine of the car, he turned to her, “Thought we could go for dinner then perhaps a walk in the park.” Y/N was sitting sideways on the car so she was fully facing the man beside her, “This is different from our previous dates; any special reason for that?”

The man chuckled as one of his hands left the steering wheel and placed it on her thigh, stroking it lovingly, “I just thought it’s been a while since we enjoyed a meal.” The rest of the car ride to the restaurant was filled with conversation about how their week was and anything they could talk about.

“Such a gentleman,” Y/N teased Henry as he helped her slide in her seat. Once he sat down from the seat across from her he smirked as he lifted her hand to his lips, pecking it softly, “Well only for you, love.”

They were both sipping wine as they waited for their orders, “I’m loving the aura of this place so far; how have you heard about this place, Hen?” With slightly damp hands, he laid the napkin across his lap as he noticed their waiter brought their food, “Well I searched for romantic restaurants and this place was on top of the list.”

Pointedly looking at him, Y/N tasted her food before snickering at him, “Are you sure this isn’t where you take your date of the week?” The CIA Agent rolled his eyes playfully as he cut his steak, “Believe it or not there really isn’t that many women I’ve been with.” Part of him wasn’t really lying — in his bustling life as an active field agent he didn’t have time to take a woman out on dates, so he settled for one-night stands. But as he spent more time with the lovely woman across, he started to rethink about how he previously lived his life and somehow yearned to spend more time with her.

Both her hands carried the weight of her face as her chin rested against it, “That’s cheesy, but I have to admit it does sound sweet.” He looked at her to see how her features displayed adoration and despite his training he could not prevent himself from reflecting the same expression. “Then I bet you’re gonna have to get used to it, now won’t you, love?”

The dimly-lit surroundings made her skin glow — but August somehow sensed that it was more than the lights; it had something to do more with how she glowed because she was spending time with him. As they both were sharing desert, which really meant that August scooted his seat beside Y/N and fed her, the man could feel her shifting around.

“What are you moving around for, love?” Her nervous chuckle had him putting down the fork and turning to face her completely. Her small hand held his to ease her nervousness and the agent felt the butterflies in his stomach, which was something that never happened to him prior to their first meeting. “There’s just something I wanted to ask you, Hen.”

And that simple statement of hers had August’s heart pounding; he thought of the worst possible scenario that Y/N was made aware of his real intentions with her. “It’s just we’ve been seeing each other for a while now right?” The agent could feel himself relax partially with how she began her explanation, but now he could not focus on his earlier dilemma as his interest was piqued. “And this is our fifth date already; so it got me thinking about how maybe we can move on from here?”

It was unusual for August to feel disappointment and Y/N cringed at her own words when she saw how dejected the man beside her was at her poor choice of words. “No, shit. I’m sorry that’s not what I meant,” She began and now held both her hands, caressing his knuckles, “What I mean to say is,” August held his breath as the woman across him took a deep breath, “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Her hopeful smile was faltering each second August took too long to respond — she didn’t know about the internal struggle the man beside her had. “I mean, you don’t really need to say yes. But I don’t know, I just wanted to make us official.” His heart broke with how she loosened her grip on his hands. August couldn’t help himself to deny how much he loved being with her and that she was sunshine on his drought-filled life. He thought it was unfair for him to indulge himself and connect with her on a personal level; but the carnal instinct to be selfish overpowered any other feeling and logic, “I’d love to be your boyfriend, love.”

Y/N gasped into his lips as he pressed against hers firmly and passionately. Her hands cradled his cheeks while his hands found themself resting on her waist. Her smile reached her eyes once they pulled apart from each other, “I was so nervous you were gonna say no.”

Brushing a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, August mused, “How can I say no to being yours, love?” His line had her pursing her lips, trying to hold back from physically cooing with how smooth he was. “I hope you don’t mind being mine for quite a long time then?”

Her retort had August smirking, “Good one, love,” He placed a kiss on her forehead before taking a bite of their desert and grabbing another slice for her. She gracefully accepted and smiled at him sweetly. “Wanna get out of here and walk for a bit?”

“Let me at least pay the bill, love,” He booped her nose and she jokingly chased his finger, as she tempted him, “Why don’t we make a run for it?” Chuckling as he shook his head and asked the bill from the waiter, “Nice try, my little troublemaker.” And Y/N could feel herself swell with how he said she was his.

August leant her his coat when she noticed the night’s breeze made goosebumps rise on her skin, “Are you sure you didn’t plan to just steal my coat from me?” She giggled at his accusation, “Nope, but I do like the way you’re holding me.” He had an arm draped over her frame to ensure that she wasn’t getting any more cold. They both were walking around the near-empty park which allowed them to continue their conversation.

“How about I take you out again next week?” He asked when she shared what her schedule for the following week would be. Pursing her lips she teased him, “You taking me out almost every week is really what made me fall for you, you know?”

Chuckling a bit, he asked her again, “But seriously, can I?” She looked up at the starry sky pretending to think about it — which wore her boyfriend’s patience as he tickled her sides, eliciting giggles from her. “Stop it,” She managed to let out in between giggles and caught his hands with hers, “Okay we can go out next week!”

Genuinely delighted with that he pressed a quick kiss on her lips but before asking her when she was available she warned him, “I can’t go on Friday night though.” Deciding to sit down for a while, August ushered them to sit down at a nearby bench before inquiring, “Why? What do you have going on then?”

“My dad’s coming back from an out of town trip for work and said that he wanted to have dinner with me,” She explained as she rested her head against his shoulder. Here’s my opportunity, August thought to himself. Clearing his throat caused the girl to remove her head from where it comfortably rested on his shoulder and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, “What's wrong, Hen?” He was quick to massage the space between her brows to relax her and reassure her, “Nothing’s wrong, love. I was just wondering if maybe I can tag along when you dine with your father?”

Y/N couldn’t believe it; in her previous relationships and dates, they were always dreading to meet her family. It even came to a point where they'd do anything to avoid doing so. But this god of a man was more than willing to do so? And he wasn’t even cowering away at the thought of it?

“Are you sure? Are you sick?” She pressed the back of her palm against his neck and forehead, checking if his temperature was unusually high. Removing her hand from being pressed against his skin, he took her hand and placed a loving kiss on the back of her palms before clarifying, “I’m not, love. I just wanna thank the man who created such a fine woman.”

Smiling at him fondly, “Do you realize that with a quick tongue like yours can get you out of trouble?” Oh I do hope it can get me of trouble, August hoped. Wrapping an arm on her frame, he guided both of them to lean against the park bench as he responded, “Maybe it will, but this silver tongue will try its best to charm the father of my beautiful girlfriend.”

Pressing a kiss on his cheek before complying, “Well I can arrange that meeting then; I’d love to see the best you can come up with to charm him.” August was relieved with that; as much as he was relieved though he couldn’t help but have a moral conflict within him. His intentions on meeting with her father weren’t as pure as she thought, but it was something that he had to do.

“I really enjoyed tonight, Henry,” Y/N fondly confessed once they were parked out of her home. His calloused hand caressed her cheek, “So did I, love. So will we have dinner on your home next Friday?” Nuzzling her cheek against his hand for she loved the warmth his palm provided, “Yeah we’ll just eat here then.”

August then moved to exit the car so he could open up the car door for Y/N. He held out one of his hands to guide her, which she accepted. With their intertwined hands swinging as they walked to her front door, “Goodnight, boyfriend. Can’t wait to see you again.” Her use of the nickname had him widening his eyes and stammered with his words, “Goodnight, girlfriend.”

His hands placed themselves on her neck, pulling her close and locking their lips together for a passionate and amorous kiss. Opening her mouth, she welcomed his tongue and didn’t even bother to battle with him for dominance as she caved in easily, her arms circling against his broad shoulders. Planting a few small kisses before they broke apart and stared into each other’s eyes, “Now I really can’t wait to see you again.”

I’ll be meeting with Nick Roberts in a few. Dinner is scheduled at 6pm, have the team be here by 6:20.

August sent the text to Sloane, not bothering to wait for her reply as he tucked his phone into his jean pocket. Ringing the doorbell, he was not physically displaying any signs of nervousness. It wasn’t Y/N that opened the door for him, but her father. “Are you Henry?” He asked with a stern expression after taking a good look at the man. “Yes sir, that’s me.”

Breaking into a smile the man opened his arms and pulled the man outside, “Nice to meet you, son! It was about time my daughter found someone.” Taken aback, it took time for August to snap back and hug back Y/N’s father. “Dad! Stop embarrassing me!”

Her shout made the break out their hug, “My name’s Y/F/N, by the way.” The two men then walked inside the house. “Nice to meet you, sir. And I think it’s about time I found your daughter as well.” Y/N skipped her way to her boyfriend and hugged her tightly; this was the first time they’d seen each other after their previous date and she really missed him.

“Jesus, get a room you two. And son, call me Y/F/N,” He joked as he grabbed a bottle of beer; offering a bottle to his daughter’s boyfriend, to which he turned down. “Okay Y/F/N, can you both excuse me while I go to the bathroom?” Y/N nodded as she too untangled from their hug, “You know where it is, Hen; I’m gonna go check the food.”

As August locked the door of the bathroom he fished his phone out and opened the text from Sloane that read:

Team’s in position, at your signal we’ll come in.

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, he spoke to where the small microphone was, “Signal is we had such a great dinner last week. Do you copy?” He heard the voice through the earpiece he had, “Affirmative, we copy.” The Hammer nodded even though he couldn’t be seen; he took a few deep breaths before heading out of the bathroom.

Once he returned to the dining room, Y/F/N turned to him as he was speaking on the phone, “Has Perez found out about this yet?” August was reluctant when pointed towards the living room — indicating that he was willing to go there should he be interrupting something important — but what he overheard just confirmed his connections to an illegal drug and firearm trade. Shaking his free hand, Y/F/N told him there was no need to do so.

Sitting down on one of the dining chairs, he pretended to not tune in to his phone conversation but he really listened intently. “Well we need to get through this without his knowledge; I can’t afford to mess this up.” Though the topic or context of their exchange was unclear, it provided just the right lead for his mission.

“Here’s dinner!” Y/N happily cheered as she carried the casserole, placing it on the middle of the table. Y/F/N was quick to wrap up his phone call and it had August’s clench his jaw. “Sit beside me, Hen,” She patted the seat beside her and faked a stiff smile as he scooted over to her. “So how’d you two meet?”

Y/N giggled as she placed a serving on her boyfriend’s plate and hers before pushing the casserole to her father, “We met because he was my driving instructor.” Her father recalled that, “Oh yes, he was the one the school sent?” August nodded, involving himself in the conversation so as to not cause suspicion, “I was, and after her lessons were through I asked her out on date.”

Y/F/N smiled when he saw how giddy his daughter was, “And I can see how happy you’ve made her.” She agreed, “We’ve been going out for almost a month now, right Hen?” Internally, August let out a deep breath before he nodded before he dreadfully let out, “We had such a great dinner last week; didn’t we, love?”

Feet rushing in through the front and back doors were heard, “What the hell?” Y/N panicked as the dining room was suddenly invaded by men and women who had guns strapped to their belts and bullet proof vests. She was held back by two agents as was her father; but no one held back who she knew was Henry. “Y/F/N you are under arrest,” The agent read him his Miranda rights Y/N had tears running down her eyes as her father was calm and not resisting.

“Great job, Agent Walker,” Y/N whipped her head to the direction of the voice and saw that a woman was praising her boyfriend. “Agent Walker?” She whispered in disbelief as the man approached her and she took a step back once he stood in front of her. “Y/N, love I’m sorry,” He tried to touch her but she squirmed against the two agents’ hold.

“Let her go,” Walker, as she now knew, ordered the two and they did so. Her hand moved quicker than her brain and she slapped his cheek, “Who are you?” She yelled and looked over to where her father was being taken away, “Dad! Dad, wait!” August wrapped his arms around her middle, preventing her from following him to wherever he was being led to.

“You can’t go with him, Y/N,” He told her as she squirmed against his hold. “Let me go! Where are you taking him?” She questioned as she pulled against his hold; she would have loved having him close to her but now she just felt betrayed and couldn’t stand him. “I’ll answer your questions if you promise to settle down.”

She stopped struggling against him and he let go of her, turning her around to face him. “He’s gonna be detained. The least you can do is find him a lawyer to defend him.” Though it clarified a bit of her confusion, but she still had to ask, “So everything was a lie? You didn’t really like me and you only jumped at the chance to meet my father to arrest him?”

August had his mouth opened, but struggled to come up with a coherent answer; which just broke Y/N’s heart even more. “Just leave,” She sounded crushed with her shoulders slumped and face damp with her tears, “Just get out of here, Henry, or Walker. However the hell you are.” The selfish part of August wanted to stay here with her to guide her through the whole ordeal or even just hug here goodbye; but he knew better that doing none of them would be for the best.

Nodding his head at her, he ordered for the other agents to promptly leave the premises. They all followed him and headed out the door. Once alone in her house, Y/N shook her head and removed Henry, or Walker, from her mind and instead made herself productive. She cleaned up the casserole and cutlery, leaving them on the sink for her to wash later on.

Heading to her home office, she immediately searched on her laptop the best lawyers that could prove her father’s innocence. She also made an appointment to meet with her father so she could talk to him. As she was deep in her work, her phone chimed and she glared at the text message she received:

I’m really sorry, Y/N. I didn’t want to lie to you. Please give me a chance to explain?

Without even thinking about it, she deleted her entire text thread with him. But she didn’t stop there as she blocked his number and deleted all pictures she had with him or of him. Right now her top priority was her father and proving he wasn’t guilty.

#quietmyfearswith #august walker x reader #august walker x fem!reader #august walker fanfiction #august walker imagines #august walker imagine #august walker fluff #august walker angst #august walker smut #august walker fanfic #august walker x you #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader

182 notes · View notes

arieswonjin · 3 years

Text

open seams; full

pairings: ham wonjin x femme!reader

genre: fluff, angst, friends to lovers au

word count: 8.6k

navigation: teaser

warnings: alcohol and intoxication, use of sharp objects, minor injury

song inspo: all my love | playlist

a/n: this is for a fic exchange with @cravitywriters' first batch of members :> apologies this came a bit late >

masterlist | request here! | how to request |

it took close to forever to find the perfect spot for the shop of your dreams. in this city and in these times, it took a lot of guts to even decide to run one.

the rent uptown was crazy expensive and the high-fashion atmosphere dimmed the charm of your minimalist garments. the spots downtown were cheap, yes, but you had to deal with creaky and moldy floors, noisy air conditioning, and rude neighbors. it was a definite no-go. but after months and months, with pages of crossed-out vacancy lists and even deeper sighs, you found just the perfect home for your handmade pieces.

the small studio was a few minutes away from the main street and the subway station. the road it was on was lined with street art on both sides, there was decent foot-traffic, and a good number of cars passing by—a haven for independent brands. plus, the landlady who lived upstairs was a middle-aged woman who, as it seemed, made it a habit to bring you her homemade rice cakes almost daily. you liked to think that this, along with the reasonable rent, was a bonus from fate.

you found the place on a random walk with a close friend. it was his idea—wonjin said you needed some fresh air after only having fruitless searches for weeks. at least that’s what you thought he meant by “go home and shower, at least,” and “c’mon, let’s go on a walk before you start to have nightmares about landlords.” who would’ve thought you’d find this place when you weren’t even looking?

the meager amount you saved up from commissions and tips while you took up different part-time jobs and sold custom pieces was enough to pay for a few months as you got your new brand established. the place wasn’t much—just enough to hold five racks of clothes, a tiny storage room, a display area, a bit of walking space—and you had to rely on your old equipment for now, but you already loved the shop dearly because it was your own.

it took a lot of heart, a lot of meals consisting of just ramyeon, a lot of needle pricks…

and a very willing model.

“ow!” a cry of pain followed by a trail of childish laughter from the same person echoed off of the walls of your empty shop. it was almost evening and the clear glass door let in a ray of orange sunlight, shining over rolls of fabric, spools of thread, and several sketches that littered your shop’s floor. it was the typical scene: you with your eyebrows furrowed in focus and your noisy yet undoubtedly helpful friend wonjin with unsewn fabric and pins over his own clothes as he stood on a small platform. even your bickering was part of the routine you’ve established the past few weeks as you prepared for opening day. seven days left!

“i’m sorry!” you withdrew the hand holding the tiny culprit, looking closely at the spot on wonjin’s shoulder which you pricked. “i promise i’ll be done in a quick minute. maybe if you put your phone down for a while…” you muttered the last part, meaning for him to hear it anyway. inside, you were thankful that he has been patient with you as you did your thing, but you just couldn’t resist an opportunity to jab at ham wonjin with your remarks. after such, he was nearly impossible to shut up.

but that’s just wonjin being wonjin and that’s what always made you want him around.

“y/n, i came to be your volunteer model, not a pin cushion.” he jabbed back and teased you, waiting for the reaction he now memorized and repeatedly coaxed out of you just for kicks: a roll of the eyes followed by a swing of the hand aimed at him which you never followed through with. nonetheless, he fake-dodged on instinct and laughed, as you knew he would.

“stay still or i’ll prick you intentionally, wonjin.”

“‘young male found pricked to death by owner of up-and-coming clothing brand…’ imagine that headline.” he trailed off and now stayed still as he chatted you up. you appreciated this, the light and familiar company as you worked to enter the unfamiliar territory that is your new business. you shook your head at his nonsense and smiled to yourself.

it was only when you locked the final stitch that evening that you leaned back and realized just how long your day has been—your eyes and back were sore, your hands were all tight and in need of a break, and your head refused to recall your designs anymore. your body was telling you to wrap the day up.

“what do you want?” you sighed and opened one of your eyes after a satisfying stretch. wonjin was standing in front of you with his palms extended and an unreadable expression on his face. what did he want?

“your hands. hurry.” a momentary pause with your mind almost going blank. my hands? “i want to try that thing you do with your knuckles when you’re done with work.” he finally stepped forward and grabbed both of your hands, making you take a few seconds to comprehend what he meant. it must be the exhaustion that’s making your brain function slower than it usually does. or maybe it’s this proximity.

“you mean cracking them?” you asked as you looked up at him from your seat.

“mhmm.” wonjin started to crack your knuckles one by one, commenting on how loud the sound from each finger was. this was an absurd scene, really, but you couldn’t deny how amusing it was to watch him and how such a simple gesture relieved a good amount of your tiredness.

“tsk.” it was all you could say after he cracked the last pinky, his hands lingering on yours a few seconds after. “okay, that’s enough, you’re going to injure me,” you grunted as you stood up and walked past him towards the storage room, hiding a now pink face.

“opening day is in exactly a week.” wonjin thought aloud as he started to pick up the clutter on the floor. “that’s still a lot of time, you know. why don’t you take tomorrow off? go to a sauna or something.” he offered the idea even though he knew so, so well that you were going to be fast to turn it down. it was too bad that you had no plans of pausing until opening day. maybe then he would’ve found the time to show you a little something he was working on. it was worth a shot, he thought. i’ll give it a few more days.

“no can do. i still have to work on jungmo’s piece. you’re bringing him over tomorrow, right?”

“if the free barbecue for us is still up… then, yes.” wonjin beamed, proud that he landed a good deal after convincing one of your friends to model for you. honestly, you believed the effort he’s been exerting for you and your shop was worth far more than a barbecue treat, but he insisted that he would accept nothing more than that.

ham wonjin always had a knack for being thoughtful without being obvious about it and it has indeed grown on you although you were quite slow to admit it to yourself.

“i’ll tell him to brace for the pin pricks.”

“pft.” you rolled your eyes at him and started to help clear out the shop before both of you got ready to leave. “let’s get coffee before walking home? it’s on me.” with a casual ruffle of wonjin’s hair, a silent thanks from you to him, met with a subsequent shake of his head to rearrange it, you closed the shop up with an unexpectedly light heart.

it was just another one out of many nights you spent walking home to the same neighborhood and it went by as it always did—seeing the bold words and symbols spray-painted on the walls of the street you were in, hearing him tell you about how cool they looked at night to which you responded as enthusiastically, pointing out newer and smaller details every time you walked past them—yet it never got old or boring.

silently, you wished the next seven days would unfold perfectly, just like how things were then and there in that small city street.

help, he’s been talking about you since we sat down. come quickly.

a text message from jungmo pulled you out of your sleepy train of thought as you stood on the crowded subway, three stops away from your destination: to a breakfast cafe where you planned to meet with wonjin and jungmo before working on the piece for your new model.

from a face that was barely awake came a blush that’s been finding its way there quite often recently. you’ve been trying to send away your suspicions that you were growing fonder and fonder of wonjin and your attempts would usually be successful if not for text messages like this. a fraction of the blame for your confusion goes to your friends for their persistent hints and teases. they may as well be just that: meaningless hints and empty teases stemming from the constant bickering that your friends found cute and endearing. the fact that you and wonjin were almost joined at the hip for the past few months didn’t help. neither did his clinginess which you suddenly start to look for on days he was too busy with his own matters to drop by.

the casual offers to walk you home, the few seconds he spends wordless and silent when you get too close as you worked on his pieces, or the smallest gestures to help you out with the shop were all subjected to your overthinking. but nevermind all that. you didn’t have plans of telling anyone about this anyway. a short reply would suffice for now.

bleh. i’m almost there.

your face glowed as you got closer and closer to the cafe. no one would have been able to tell that you were stressing over a million little things about the imminent opening day. for reasons you couldn’t put a finger on, you wanted to at least overhear a hint of what wonjin was saying about you before you sat down and kept a straight face in front of him again. anything; the smallest compliment, the most mundane story about how you spent time together, anything that could fuel you up for the next few days knowing that thoughts of you lived in his head too. all that after denying to acknowledge any feelings. way to be fickle, y/n, you thought to yourself.

entering the packed and brightly-decorated cafe, you approached the two friends who’ve already ordered their meals. huh, thanks a lot. from behind the booth table they picked out, you slowed down, planning on intentionally not making your presence known until you were almost seated.

your face dropped the very second their conversation reached earshot.

“it’s beginning to become burdensome. i don’t think we even match. it’s never going to happen. just a few more days and i swear—i’m done,” you heard this in wonjin’s unmistakable voice, with a tone of annoyance that went straight through your chest.

“i see.” jungmo nodded and the two continued digging into their breakfast, still unaware of your arrival.

you took this as an opportunity to turn your heels and retrace your steps to the subway station, sending jungmo a quick text before you wallowed in your scattered thoughts. you felt the heat radiating from your face but now for a much different reason.

if there were two things you hated the most in the world, it was being lied to and unnecessarily troubling the people you cared about. it felt worse hearing both from wonjin’s mouth. this was the same person who’s been there for you for months while you built the shop from the ground up, the same person who’s seemingly been helping you unconditionally. you were at a loss about who to blame: yourself for not noticing how much your shop was demanding from him or wonjin for keeping all this pent-up annoyance behind your back.

last night, when you imagined how the rest of your week would pan out, you didn’t expect to see yourself inside a packed subway train, desperately keeping your tears from pouring.

“that’s weird. y/n just said she went directly to the shop instead. urgent.” jungmo perked up at your sudden message, eyes on his phone as he ate the last slice of his pancake.

“what? y/n didn’t text me anything after she said she was a station away. she would’ve told me.” wonjin looked around the cafe, sure that jungmo was mistaken and half-expecting to see you meters away from their table. “i already ordered for her though…”

“she’s asking me to come by quickly so she can finish fitting the pieces. it won’t take until lunch, right?” jungmo’s question went unnoticed as a now preoccupied wonjin kept his eyes on the untouched plate in front of him.

“so stubborn, tsk. really can’t get her hands off her work. one of these days she’s going to get sick. and you know she lives alone so—”

“dude. now that we’re back to y/n, you’re chattering again. just finish your food so i can go get fitted.”

wonjin sighed and furrowed his eyebrows, inwardly worried about your sudden change of plans and ready to nag at you for not giving yourself even the slightest break. what is she doing not giving herself even half an hour for breakfast? this fool.

there was barely any room for the sound of the shop’s door chimes, which signaled the two’s arrival, with wonjin’s trail of nags starting before he was even entirely inside. hearing all this from the storage room where you were distracting yourself by reorganizing your fabrics, you let out a deep sigh and hoped your eyes did not look too red and swollen before you stepped out. this is stupid, you thought. you had no time for delays but your emotions were getting the best of you. if you were going to finish your work, it had to be without him.

“y/n, at this rate you’re going to tire yourself out and get sick on opening day. we agreed last night you’d be at the cafe to at least stuff yourself with this before the long day,” wonjin took no breaths in between, placing the paper bag containing your forgotten breakfast on top of your work counter. “then suddenly you say you aren’t going anymore. did the racks arrive early? why did you suddenly—“

“thanks for coming, jungmo.” you greeted the older male, cutting off wonjin's monologue without even looking at him. jungmo just nodded and shrugged, obviously used to the dynamic between his two friends who were in front of him. he simply sat down on one of the wooden stools and started keeping himself busy with his phone. you felt bad that he had to be caught in the middle of this, but between confronting your feelings and doing what had to be done for the shop, you were sure you were much more ready to do the latter. “this won’t take that long, don’t worry.”

“did you hear me just now…? sit down and eat first, y/n.” wonjin started to sense that something was up with the way you paced around busily as you got your materials ready and purposely avoided his eyes.

“i thought i texted you not to come,” a muttered statement was finally sent his way—a weak acknowledgment of his presence—but you were still looking at anything but him. from your peripheral vision, you saw wonjin getting his phone out to check what you meant.

“huh… i didn’t see that…” his usual speaking volume started to drop, a sign that you knew meant he was genuinely puzzled.

“now that you have…” you kept a straight face and mustered the heart to look at him, trying to act as nonchalant as you could even though you knew that the next words out of your mouth were not you. “go home. or somewhere else, at least… spare yourself the burden of being stuck here again.”

“what are you talking about?” he started to laugh to try and lighten up the rising tension, a habit of his. is this some kind of prank? he thought to himself and searched your expression for some giveaways. “is jungmo replacing me?” when he saw that you weren’t laughing along, he paused.

“no time for questions, okay, wonjin? it’s time to go, i need to get to work and this isn’t helping. please go.” it took everything in you to keep yourself calm and collected and you didn’t know how many more questions you could dodge. why am i being so emotional, damn it.

“what do you mean ‘go?’” wonjin tried to laugh again, albeit a softer, less confident one. “this shop’s practically home... did something happen on the way here?”

“go as in...you don’t need to drop by anymore. i’m almost done with everything.” a total lie.

“i know you’ll do well by yourself, y/n, but you know i don’t mind helping. it’s not a big deal.” wonjin reassured, stepping forward as if this would prove his point. to your annoyance, he went on to bring your takeout breakfast out of its bag and proceeded to prepare the food on your work counter, all the while nagging at you for being the stubborn person you were. “it must be the hunger, y/n. come here and eat.”

you, on the other hand, kept your distance and contained a painful laugh. it was almost funny comparing what you heard earlier to the words he was saying right now. what was he playing at? “it must be tiring, huh? just go, okay? you don’t need to do all this. no one’s forcing you. i’ll be fine here.”

he sighed. “just tell me what’s going on. pushing me away like this when i don’t know what i’ve done? you’re being a bit hurtful right now,” wonjin’s last strands of patience were barely keeping him together, matching your slowly rising temper.

“trust me, i’ve heard worse. go.” your gaze pierced through him for a good few seconds until jungmo, who’s been slowly realizing that things were getting serious, pulled wonjin away before he blurted things out in frustration. the way wonjin looked right now was as if his questions were visibly jumping out of him. there’s never been an exchange this intense between the two of you no matter how much you bickered and everyone in the room knew it.

reaching his limit, wonjin shook free from jungmo and briskly walked out of the shop, leaving a strange silence after the chimes died down.

the next couple of days consisted of wonjin keeping himself from going back to the shop and you trying to dodge jungmo’s probing questions as you worked. even after countless attempts to rethink what he did that day, he was still clueless about what prompted you to deny any help or to avoid him entirely. the years of friendship you had meant that he knew you were not the type of person to dismiss others without any good reason.

but his pride went head to head with his worry and this led him to spend consecutive late nights with unsent messages, apologies written and deleted, calls not made, and questions not asked. after all, what was he going to apologize for? if anything, he believed he deserved an apology for being sent away without explanations. with this thought, wonjin would pull on his hair in frustration because of how childish he sounded in his head.

just when i thought things were going well between us. just when he was ready to tell you how, with your passion and perseverance and, he admitted, maybe a bit of your friends’ little remarks on how you two looked good together, you’ve slowly made a friend fall for you in the span of the past few months.

“okay, get this. there’ll be new collections every month and they’ll all be themed after the zodiacs. but i wonder if i can come up with pieces that fast? or how about i do quarterly collections? maybe that’ll be better, releasing three designs altogether…i just wonder if i can keep that up for the whole year. would anyone even show up to buy my stuff? what do you think? god, i don’t even have a name for my shop yet.”

several months ago, when the shop still seemed out of reach and it felt impossible to settle on a place to start your business, you would cheer yourself up by picturing the ideal: your shop all decked and ready, packed with people shopping for your new collections, appreciating the hours of hard work that went into each handmade piece. with every spurt of excitement, wonjin would just be the constant cheerleader and voice of reason, both supporting you and bringing you back down to reality.

“why are you looking at me like that, ham wonjin?” you turned to get a view of the boy seated beside you on the bus stop, an uncharacteristically wordless wonjin, his head slightly tilted away with a downward gaze at you, an amused look on his face. the day was almost coming to an end, a full day spent walking around town, lists of units for rent on hand.

“nothing. i think that’s a good idea.” he smiled and looked up to think. “but it sounds like you’ll be wearing yourself out. what about doing monthly collections when you find more help?”

“you’ve got a point.” you considered this but you were nonetheless excited about the potential this little shop holds. “anyway, let’s go. i still have a lot of open seams to sew.”

“open seams.” wonjin repeated.

“yeah, the unfinished pieces. remember? the shop? me? sewing? clothes?” you teased, acting out every word like a mime.

“no, dummy. open seams. the name of your shop. it sounds catchy doesn’t it?” it was wonjin’s turn to get excited and your turn to find amusement in his enthusiasm. “didn’t you say open seams look unfinished but that’s what gives them the edge?”

“wow, i can’t believe you actually listen to me blabber about seams.”

wonjin whined at this, defending himself and saying that he always listened. you said the new name, again and again, testing out how it felt to say and how it sounded. “open seams. it does sound great...”

that hug out of nowhere and the strong tug at his hand pulling him towards the bus that just stopped in front of the both of you was all he could remember as he walked home that night. the very next morning after that encounter, he set off to a certain street art-lined street with your shop in mind after finding an online listing for a vacancy that was just the perfect price, the perfect size, and on the perfect street that would soon be housing your pieces of art.

pulling his mind back to the present and attempting to keep it from wandering to you again, he made himself busy with the only other thing he had going on: the last few days of a low-paying multimedia job he impulsively committed to and is now regretting. he stretched in his chair, his phone kept in place with his cheek and shoulder.

“how’s that media job you were talking about the other day? still a burden?” jungmo’s calls have been the only thing keeping wonjin in touch with what’s going on in the shop. even if he didn’t ask, the reliable hyung kept him up to date with the last set of preps and your occasional breakdowns.

“it’s a definite no-match. i’ve got three days left and i just want to make a run for it.” wonjin looked at all the uninteresting piles of manuals haphazardly stacked on his home desk, a reflection of how much he despised working this job from home. truth be told, he would much rather be working with you downtown. “how are things?”

“you mean, how’s y/n?”

“you know what i mean.”

“she’s out to eat with yuna right now after refusing a hundred times. we’re staying with her until tonight, though, so don’t worry.”

“alright.” wonjin sighed, feeling powerless that he was of no help to ease your load yet still refusing to do anything about it.

“just talk to each other, for god’s sake! you both sound terrible-” jungmo shouted through the phone, pleading to his younger friend. “do you even know how many times i tried to ask y/n about what happened between you two? seventy-seven times, wonjin. seventy-seven times. yes, i counted-”

“i’m hanging up.” wonjin tossed the phone away making it land somewhere among the stack of items on his messy desk. a few seconds after he rudely ended the call, a text message from a persistent jungmo. dinner still on tonight. you have to come with us, dude.

you didn’t know what came over you. there were only three days left until your shop’s opening day. there were still several patterns to cut up, clothing pieces that needed to be sewn together, and more people to invite for your brand to gain traction, yet you were here at a nearby barbecue place, giving in to your friends’ requests for you to let loose for a few hours with a couple of shots of alcohol, good food, and conversations that held until several hours after midnight.

anyone would’ve noticed how tense you’ve become in a span of a few days—from the tired yet happy y/n who’s excited to get to work every morning despite the imminent deadline to an irritable, downcast y/n who wouldn’t keep their eyes and ears off of their work and nothing else.

and yes, everyone knew the reason behind this sudden change in work attitude. it was an open secret: the sudden and unexplainable drift between you and wonjin, previously an inseparable pair of friends, and both of your unwillingness to patch it up. your friends decided that mentioning it to either of you was just like nudging a rock on the side of a cliff, especially with an important occasion happening soon.

for wonjin, there was a mix of pride and confusion. why were you suddenly pushing him away when he was closer to you than he ever was? he never left your side as you built your shop from the ground up only for you to passive-aggressively refuse any further help a week before opening day. he deserved a proper explanation, but he would almost worry himself into sleep deprivation thinking about how important opening day was to you. it was either he asked you directly and tip the delicate mind balance you had as you got things in order or he could wait it out and almost go crazy at the mere thought of not hearing a peep from you.

for you, it was pure disappointment. in yourself or him, you were not sure. all you wanted was to stay sane for the time being and you told yourself that this was only possible if you didn’t see or hear him anywhere near you. you’ve heard how he truly felt, you heard it crystal clear, so there was nothing else to talk about. after all, if he saw you as a burden, why push any further?

so alas, there you were, with a small group of friends and a whole night to spend without any of your handmade pieces or clothed mannequins.

slow down? you repeated in your head once you heard jungmo and yuna’s invitation to tonight’s mini get-together. slowing down just made you remember how dull the days have been ever since you sent wonjin away that morning. stupid, talkative, playful wonjin who gave you the best, most comforting company. slowing down made you miss him, but you weren’t going to say that out loud.

this was probably what the sober you would have thought, but your slurred speech and buffering mind, now clouded with the two bottles of alcohol you’ve consumed that night, begged to differ. you were now in a state of zero filter and total unawareness of the faces swimming around you.

“burdensome? tsk. so i was burdensome to him, huh?” you laughed bitterly and roughly downed another shot of soju, using the back of your hand to trap any spills from your lips. “idiot. wonjin is an idiot. if you didn’t want to stay close to me, just tell me, damn it!” you shouted, repeatedly stomping your feet on the floor like a child.

your incoherent sentences, flushed cheeks, and unfocused eyes were what welcomed wonjin when he arrived at your table, half-jogging. jungmo, who has been carefully watching you since you asked for your second bottle, gave him an apologetic look and shrugged, gesturing to the empty bottles in front of you. “look, i know you refused to come and eat dinner with us but i had to call you. you live the closest to y/n.”

wonjin shook his head and laughed, half in disbelief and half in amusement. and here he thought he was going to spend his night cooped up with work to get you out of his head. “has she been calling me names all night?”

“you have no idea. good luck.” he patted wonjin’s back and watched as he pulled you up from your seat,

“let’s go, y/n. you can continue talking shit about me on the way home, okay?” wonjin’s tone was gentle as if he was testing the waters. the last thing he wanted was for you to lash out at him then and there. first, he needed to get you home. you two can talk some other time. hopefully.

“who’s this purple-haired clown? why is your hair purple like wonjin’s? are you his twin? is that idiot your twin?” it was a surprise you even managed to get those words out in between hiccups.

“idiot? you’re the idiot, getting drunk like this.” wonjin muttered under his breath. he still struggled to pull you up and support your body weight but what he found was that the best way to keep you conscious was to indulge you in conversation.

and that he did as he walked you to the usual bus stop where you two always sat and waited for the last trip.

“…if you see him around, tell him this for me.” you started, unknowingly leaning your head on his shoulder, giving into the heaviness you felt around your temples. in your drunken state, you genuinely thought you were talking to a pure stranger.

“hmm?” wonjin looked down at you, softening as he saw you with your eyes tightly shut as you repressed nausea. “what should i tell him?

“tell him—tell him i need to know how to forget him… he needs to tell me— how to do that…even for just a few days… okay? you’ll tell him?” there was no way you could have stopped your subconscious from pouring out. it was the truth told as it was: all you wanted was to get through the next few days without the hassle of whatever emptiness it was that you felt.

“why don’t you tell him yourself?” wonjin let his head lean against yours, sighing the millionth sigh between the both of you since a few days ago. “and what if he doesn’t know how to do that either, with you?”

“why do you have so many questions?!” you grabbed his arm and shook it non-stop, making him laugh at how ridiculous you looked and sounded with your unfocused eyes and the non-sense you were spouting. “don’t ask me questions because i don’t know, okay?! i just miss ham wonjin!”

wonjin froze for a few seconds, simply blinking at you and at the words you were saying over and over again. when he finally recovered, he calmed you down and leaned your head on his shoulder again. “he says he feels the same way.”

a head-splitting ache woke you up at ten in the morning the next day, only two days before the most awaited opening day. the last thing you remembered from last night was being halfway through your second bottle of soju and your friends jungmo, yuna, and serim telling you to slow down. it didn’t really take a lot to guess that you didn’t listen to them.

after a few slow minutes of debating whether or not you can get up and get on with your day in one piece, you eventually pulled your blankets off of you and figured that you'd live with the consequences of last night’s choices. besides, you couldn’t skip a crucial preparation day. after sending your three friends a quick thank-you message for getting you home safely, your phone lit up again with a message. you did a double-take at the new notification that just arrived; it was a text message from wonjin. are you up?

three days of silence and all he asks me is if i’m up? you grunted, refused to open the message in question, and, seeing no point in dwelling, went on with the rest of your routine. you didn’t know what else you wanted to read from that text, but you sure weren’t expecting to see such a casual question after literally not having heard a peep from each other for days. if you were being honest, you half-expected him to arrive at dinner last night.

but whatever that text meant, you didn’t want to use your head, which at the moment felt like it weighs a ton, to think about it.

your forehead in your hands as you navigate around your now-sunlit studio apartment, you hoped that the last-minute invitations, quality checks, and tidying up would keep you busy enough to forget the fact that, last night, you could’ve sworn you dreamt of wonjin and how he sat beside you on a bus ride home.

“and there she is, fighting through the aftermath of alcohol.” yuna greeted loudly and met you halfway as you approached your shop on foot. last night, the three offered to be your manpower for the next few days which is why she, jungmo, and serim were all waiting for you out on the sidewalk, eyes squinted because of the sunlight and their mild hangovers.

“do we get some kind of prize that we arrived earlier than you?” serim asked as the four of you entered.

“coffee, as always.” this was met by a cheer from jungmo who wasted no time in attending to the shop decor which was still packed in boxes. “don’t worry, guys. if my shop does well, it’s meat for everyone.”

“it’s settled then.” yuna clapped and got everyone’s attention. “okay, team. to your usual tasks. serim, light fixtures. jungmo, decor. me, storage. y/n, create.”

“jungmo’s taller, why do i get the light fixtures?”

you smiled sincerely for the first time in a few days, touched that they’re taking time off from their days to get the shop together, to get you together. “oh, and guys, sorry about last night. feel free to curse at me. i must’ve been so heavy.” you sat down in front of your work counter, fighting back a cringe. after numerous nights out, you just knew they had a treasure chest full of embarrassing stories to haunt you with. you were thankful no one else was there to see you wiped out.

“hmm, you must’ve.” a knowing smile from a mischievous serim to jungmo and yuna. “but we wouldn’t know. right, guys?”

“yeah, y/n. i don’t know, i brought serim to his home.” yuna shared, trying to sound innocent but failing as she shouted from the storage room.

“and i went home alone because i wasn’t drunk.” jungmo followed without missing a single beat. now you were utterly confused. did these three just call a cab on you or did you walk yourself home? you looked at the three of them one by one, their questionable smiling faces met with the most puzzled look on your face.

“all i know is…” jungmo started, keeping himself from breaking out in laughter before he could get his words out. “you called him a purple-haired idiot. that’s it.”

“what?!” you stood up abruptly, making your chair tumble back with a thud.

and just then, you started to recall bits and pieces of last night, starting from the vague bus ride that, until a few moments ago, you thought was just a dream. what in the world did i do now?

“y/n, i’ll help you up, okay? we’re almost at our stop.” wonjin pulled you up from your bus seat where you’ve been half-asleep on his shoulder. putting his arms around you as he guided you down the vehicle and onto the sidewalk, he repeatedly apologized to the bus driver for the delay. wonjin could only nod and laugh at the friendly reply from the middle-aged man who shouted ‘take your girlfriend home safely!’ he silently wondered how sober y/n would have reacted to such a remark.

just as the two of you stepped down, a splattering against the ground made both of you stop in your tracks.

“good heavens,” wonjin muttered as he rubbed your back and looked at the part of his shoes that was now covered in whatever it was you had for dinner a while ago. “you know, y/n, i wonder if you’d remember this once you pass by this mess tomorrow morning. looks like you enjoyed your barbecue too much.” wonjin joked, still not halting the backrubs as you were doubled over with your hands on your knees.

when you looked up at him after that spiel, all you could do was smile apologetically and giggle, eyes half-open. “let’s go home. i’m tired.”

“are you all done? you’re not going to throw up on my shirt or anything?” wonjin pulled you away from the side of the road, leading you to the direction of your apartment. “you have to tell me your apartment password so you can go in, okay?”

“you have to guess it. you’re never going to guess it!” you pulled away from his hold and ran around him in circles, getting a thrill from how light you started to feel after letting some of the alcohol out.

jogging to catch up with you, wonjin shouted, “y/n, slow down you’re gonna hurt yourself! aish. this child.”

“i threw up on him.” you said out loud to no one in particular. the text from this morning, your friend’s teasing smiles, and the blurry, dream-like memories on the bus meant that wonjin did make it to dinner last night just when you were in no state of mind to remember when exactly he arrived. “i threw up on him outside my home... jungmo, it was you who called him, wasn’t it?! guys?!”

the laughter that filled the room after that and the whines of a terrified jungmo who wanted none of your punches were muffled by the sound of the door chimes tingling, signaling someone’s arrival. you almost snapped your neck as you hurried to see who it was.

“hi, dear.” instead of a particular young male, you were met with the sight of the friendly landlady from upstairs, a plate of her usual handmade treats on hand, and a welcoming smile on her face. you mentally flicked yourself for involuntarily expecting someone else. “rice cakes?”

“oh, auntie. it’s you.” the relief in your tone made your friends snicker. “thank you, you didn’t have to...”

“why so surprised, dear? were you expecting someone?” she asked, waving at the set of friends bustling away inside the shop with the same annoying smiles on their faces. “oh that’s right. where’s that lovely boy, wonjin?”

“lovely boy,” serim whispered and bit back a laugh, earning him a glare from you.

“he can’t make it today, auntie,” you explained shortly, politely getting the plate of rice cakes from her hands.

“that’s too bad. it’s almost opening day.” she looked around the shop, satisfied by how it’s starting to look compared to the bare and boring unit she used to clean every day. “you worked your magic in this place. it feels just like yesterday when he was begging me to keep this small spot reserved for a day.”

“what do you mean?”

“wonjin, that boy! remember? he was here the day before both of you passed by to finally rent it? ”

“i- i didn’t know that, auntie.”

all this time, you thought you both found the place by chance and now here you were finding out that he was the one who made sure open seams happened. the walk you took that day wasn’t such a random one after all. what was up with the universe today and its not-so-subtle way of telling you to let wonjin back into your mind and your life? him taking you home last night and now this; whatever happened to the burdensome y/n he was talking about?

“aaaand, another secret’s out.” yuna walked out of the storage room, a box of spools in hand. she beamed at the landlady who took a few seconds to figure out what she just revealed.

“oh. oops.” the landlady sheepishly turned back and started to push the door open, ready to take her leave. “i think that’s my cue. see you around, dear.”

“see you around, auntie!” your three friends greeted her when she was out of the shop. they turned their heads back to you who had nothing but a blank stare and mouth agape, the gears almost visibly turning inside your head.

“so now will you tell us what’s been going on between you two? it’s just weird knowing about all that and seeing you guys refuse to make up. both of you aren’t looking so good either, you know?” serim asked after giving you a few seconds to think.

you sighed, leaning on the side of the table for support. “that day at the breakfast cafe, he said all this was getting kind of heavy and burdensome. that he couldn’t wait for it to end.” you decided to tell them once and for all about how you felt. “and that we were never going to happen.”

“y/n. you’re so stupid. ow!” jungmo concluded, earning him a smack to both shoulders by serim and yuna. “he was talking about that job he had! if you stayed longer and ate with us, you would’ve heard how smitten he was even if he wouldn’t admit it. i can see right through him.” jungmo explained in a high-pitched tone that reflected how frustrated he has been with the two of you. “now that i think about it, you’re both stupid.”

smitten? you took in everything jungmo just said and remembered every word you blurted out when you sent wonjin away that morning. finding out that he had another job all while helping you out with the shop for the past few months made you regret how you acted even more. it frustrated you that you’ve been too preoccupied to even ask about him. this is all on me. why did i act so rashly? “i’m so stupid.”

“are we just now finally finding out that this was all a big misunderstanding?” yuna piped up, breaking the silence.

“and are you telling me that it almost took a fallout for you to finally see the feelings you had for each other? these kids,” serim added, raising both hands in defeat.

different variations of ‘i knew it’ and ‘it’s about time’ as well as ‘idiots’ filled the shop as you were still frozen in place. you knew you had to apologize to wonjin, but where were you even going to start? with that encounter at the cafe? with how bad you felt for invalidating his heart to help you and rudely pushing him away? with everything you think you blurted out on that drunk night? or maybe how you actually felt for him?

can you meet me here in 30 minutes?

it took wonjin less than a heartbeat to reply to your message asking about where he was. even though you were the one who was out of it last night, he couldn’t help but worry over his own impulses. if you remembered everything he told you while he thought you were drunk and asleep, he had no choice but to explain it to you while you were fully-sober. and the thought of finally confronting you about everything made the usually-confident and talkative wonjin tongue-tied.

“hey.” you turned the corner of the small side-street where wonjin asked to meet and found him leaning against one of the street art-ridden walls, waiting for you. it was a spot near your shop but one that you didn’t pass by as frequently. an odd choice of a meeting place, but you figured he wanted to talk to you without your friends overhearing.

“here of all places?” you struck up a conversation albeit awkwardly, buying yourself time before the long apology.

he pointed to the wall behind him, looking at it up and down. “i was supposed to show you this sooner since they finished it early but…”

behind him was a small piece of street art. open seams, it said in the colors you usually used for your handmade pieces and in the style you designed for your simple logo. you softened not only at the thought that this shop was becoming a reality but also at how wonjin did this despite your missteps the past few days. at this point, you no longer knew if you were even worthy of him and his thoughtfulness.

“...you were supposed to show me this sooner but i was terrible to you, and i’m sorry. you didn’t deserve that. after everything... i don’t know if saying thank you would even be enough. that morning-”

“you look like you just lost a million won, y/n.” his reply cut you off, earning him a roll of your eyes to which he merely responded with a playful laugh. “auntie told you, huh? i knew i couldn’t trust her and her rice cakes.” wonjin joked again, now more relaxed than he was moments ago now that things are starting to look up between the both of you. if there was anything that he needed for comfort the past few days, it was the presence that he’s gotten so used to.

“i’ve had quite the morning, you know.” you told him as you eased into the conversation. “finding out you were the one who brought me home last night, finding out i wouldn’t have gotten the unit if not for you, and finding out i was mad at you over something i misunderstood. all this time.”

what proceeded was a detailed apology you practiced in your head beforehand. wonjin just laughed at how fast you were talking and he didn’t forget to give the occasional side comments to reassure you that he was still the old, talkative, and witty ham wonjin that you didn’t have to act differently around. you knew in yourself that this was one of the things you missed badly.

the weight you felt in your chest turned lighter as every bit of misunderstanding cleared out. “...all that because i didn’t even stop to think that one morning. i’m sorry…”

he delayed his response for a while, suddenly making you worry that he had more to be upset about. but he eventually nodded and waved away any remaining tension. “apology accepted.” wonjin ruffled your hair just like you always did with his. “we’re good. but do you remember anything else?”

“except for the fact that i threw up on your shoes, no, i don’t remember doing anything else.”

“the shoes were one thing.” he scratched his head and talked in such a low volume and such high speed you couldn’t even comprehend what he was saying just to tease you. “but not even me telling you i liked you while you were all leaning on my shoulder at the bus and that whole speech i said about falling for you after i tucked you in?”

“what? you said what when i was tucked in?!” you leaned in to hear him, only catching remnants of what you suspected was a confession.

“ah, too bad. it was a one-time subscription, so you’d have to pay to hear it again.” he shrugged.

“you little- just tell me! it’s not like it’ll be any more embarrassing than me pouring out my stomach contents on the sidewalk for everyone to see.” you stepped forward wanting to hear more from him but he shook his head and refused to tell you anything further. the mischievous smile on his face as he paced around to avoid your probing weirdly made your heart beat faster. “fine. i was planning to tell you about something important but i guess you don’t want to hear it-”

“i don’t need to. i already know your apartment password is my birthday.” he stopped pacing and expectantly searched your face for confirmation despite not needing it. “right, y/n? 032201?” he repeated the numbers again and again just to coax a reaction out of you, his favorite thing to do.

“wh- what are you talking about?” holy-. if there were any more of this kind of surprises today, you didn’t know how much more of the shock you could take, but it seems like wonjin was enjoying just watching you all flustered. “i opened it myself-”

“y/n, you were too drunk to even see the keypad last night. when i tried my luck, we got in. 032201? who else could that be?”

you were about to protest but as you were stuttering your poorly-made excuses, wonjin took your hand and slowly pulled you into a tight hug, all the while laughing at how ridiculous each of your statements was starting to sound. after the initial embarrassment passed, you realized there really was really nothing to hide anymore.

“are you done?” wonjin asked, still not letting go of his hold on you which you returned willingly, hugging him tightly and hiding your face in his chest. “because to put it simply, i like you.”

you sighed in content, feeling all the exhaustion from the past few days seep out of you with just those three words. “i like you, too, ham wonjin.”

“and one more thing…” you added. “jungmo told me you were smitten.”

it was wonjin’s turn to get flustered and defensive, you pulled your face away and leaned back to watch as he cursed at jungmo for describing him in such a way. wonjin trailed off in his usual rants while you looked up at him with no plans of stopping his lovable nonsense.

opening day

it was noontime on opening day: the ribbons have been cut, your mini-opening show went smoothly, friends have visited and selected their favorite pieces, and most of all, you have led the toast that officially marked the start of this journey. it felt utterly surreal.

“all i can say is…” wonjin put his arm around you as you stood beside the racks of clothing you spent months perfecting. “it was certainly worth the hundreds of pinpricks.”

“well, then. if you want more…” you pinched his side and laughed as he dodged you and made his way to your three other friends who were also admiring the work they did for the shop.

a few nights ago, on a nighttime walk home in this same neighborhood, you wished for a perfect week to unfold in front of you. and maybe it did; just not in the way you anticipated, but exactly the way you wished it would end.

#cravitywriters #cravity scenarios #cravity imagines #cravity fluff #cravity angst #wonjin angst #wonjin fluff #ham wonjin #wonjin scenarios #wonjin imagines #cravity #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

79 notes · View notes

hajimewhore · 3 years

Text

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 1.6k words ➷Humor, fluff, awkwardness ofc ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, ✈Part 2

Thankfully, Hajime’s parents had busied themselves in the morning. Probably out grocery shopping, he’d mentioned off hand.

With Hajime the one blindfolding you now, you can finally place yourself in his shoes, an uneasy humiliation enveloping your bones.

“We can’t exactly dress each other everyday for school, can we?”

You mumble, as Hajime lets you tug the loose tee overhead. It seems he wanted little to do with this dress up game scenario, while simultaneously attempting to save himself from the embarrassment of you catching an eyeful of his junk.

He pulls off the blindfold and stares with an uncomfortable expression and blush. You’ve been doing a lot of blushing today since... well, since you woke up in each other’s bodies.

“I guess not. But I’ll respect your body, don’t worry.”

He huffs, folding his arms across his chest.

A short gasp comes from his lips, clearly not used to having a set of breasts, and he pulls his arms away quicker than you’ve probably ever moved yourself. Hajime awkwardly settles for resting his hands at his hips, and you stifle the snort that threatens to escape.

“I trust you, Hajime. Don’t worry. And same goes for me! I won’t eat junk food before bed, and I’ll work out a lot too!”

You announce while fist pumping the air, and he rolls his eyes.

“You better. Come on, let’s go before my mom and dad get back.”

A lot of changes had to be made to accommodate your... new lifestyle.

You decided it was best to swap phones, considering you each have the same model and should probably be conversing with your classmates and friends with some sort of vague continuity.

You also had a rather short lived and awkward conversation about bathroom time and changing.

And on the way to the park, you discussed the people you each talked with the most in class, how to talk to them, and to take notes properly.

You’re thorough if anything, trying to make this awful situation as easy as you can possibly make it.

“This is exhausting... and we haven’t even gotten to play volleyball yet.”

You bounce the volleyball in the grass, huffing at the torture this body swap is turning out to be.

“At least you can spike, and have a mean serve. It would have been way worse for me if you were a libero.”

At least Hajime is looking on the bright side.

“We just have to get used to our bodies.”

You attempt to reason alongside him, amping each other up.

By the time the sun sets, you’re both panting in the grass next to each other. All former encouragements and hype lost, replaced by the dread of the coming Monday.

“We’re so fucked, I’m not used to being this tall, or having these limbs.”

You wave your arms around in the grass for emphasis, turning to gaze at your partner in this disaster.

“I feel like I’ve been launched back to middle school, it’s hard to get used to being short again.”

Hajime hums in agreement.

“I’m not that short! You’re just tall!”

“Not that tall!”

He grimaces, and you think you hear him mutter something about one more centimeter.

Before you can delve back to wallowing in misery, Hajime speaks up again,

“Whatever, we actually started doing pretty good by the end. It’s not the level we’re usually at, but I’m sure we can fake it in practice well enough. Chalk it up to being sick or something. We’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

Sitting upright, he musters a confident look that warms your chest. You’re glad he’s being optimistic, pushing away the negative thoughts that keep rearing up.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Now let’s get food, I’m starved.”

“Agedashi tofu is the best after practice.”

He’s gleaming, and you think it looks more natural on your face than the stern countenance that seems trademark to Hajime. Though, you do miss the rare occasions you got too see that expression on his normal face... so you make a mental note to take plenty of happy face selfies while you’re in this body.

You can’t help the soft laugh, imagining all the faces you could make in Hajime’s body he wouldn’t be caught dead making normally. When he eyes you warily, you shake your head and respond before he catches on to your plan.

“The katsudon here is way better, you’re crazy.”

You grin, mouth watering as you bring a pork cutlet to your lips.

When you bite in, it turns out to be less satisfying than you remembered.

‘Weird, this place has really good katsudon.’

When you peer over at Hajime, he seems to be sharing a similar dilemma.

“How is it?”

You tilt your head up, gazing cautiously at him.

“It’s... okay.”

He frowns, can he seriously not enjoy agedashi tofu right now? Or was it just made bad?

“Right. Same here.”

The two of you pause, stewing for a second at the disappointment of your favorite meals, before both having the same idea to swap plates.

When you bite into your newly swapped dishes, you both simultaneously break out into wide grins.

“Whaaat, this is so good!”

“’katsudon’s not so bad either.”

You burst out into laughter,

“I guess our tastes have been swapped too.”

“I was beginning to think this would just be a nightmare. But there’s some fun things involved.”

Hajime hums, taking another hearty bite from the katsudon. You smile at his enthusiasm, before returning to your dish.

You continue to idly chatter about things that might be important to know, before walking home together.

When you reach the end of the street, Hajime almost makes the mistake of turning to the Iwaizumi residence. When he freezes, you realize you were equally ready to freely waltz into your own house.

You both awkwardly switch sides on the sidewalk, silently acknowledging the blunder with a light laugh.

“I’ll text you if I think of anything else. Have a good night,” you pause, “Y/N!”

You wink at him, chuckling at the sour expression. If you thought referring to yourself as Hajime was weird, it’s even more unsettling to call yourself by name.

Hajime rolls his eyes before waving goodbye.

“Yeah yeah... Hajime. See you tomorrow.”

The interaction certainly is odd, but you laugh with a grin nonetheless. Despite the fucked up situation, it’s kind of cool to have a secret to share with Hajime.

You just hope it isn’t permanent.

When Hajime turns to the your household, he feels the nervousness come back full force.

The two of you spent all day with each other, not really worried about a stranger’s perception of them.

But now he has to deal with the people closest to you, your parents. And he’s actually quite fond of your parents, they’ve always treated him like the son they never had (as well as Oikawa), but he’s not exactly looking forward to living out their wish for a son vicariously through you.

He swings open the door, kicking his shoes off before stepping inside.

“I’m home!”

‘Remember to be enthusiastic, and keep that RBF in check!’ he hears your insistent reminder echo in his mind, almost catching himself scowling.

“Welcome back darling! Did you eat?”

He hears your mother’s voice from the kitchen.

“I had something to eat with Hajime.”

He sweats a little, your mom is oddly calculated, always in tune with your emotions. Sometimes even his, but there’s no way she’d figure out what was going on, right?

“Good. If you get hungry later, there’s left overs.”

He calls out a thanks, almost sighing in relief, looks like the panic was for nothing.

Hajime casually (yet so, so, eagerly) heads for the stairs.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you going to say hi to Tooru? He and his mother came for dinner!”

WHAT.

“Y/N-chan! You and Iwa-chan were hanging out today? We’re you practicing volleyball?”

As if on cue, Oikawa rounds the corner and cuts Hajime off at the stairs, eyeing the athletic attire he’s wearing,

“I have something I want to practice more, you should’ve texted me.”

He huffs, arms folded as he leans against the stairway’s frame. Clearly a trick, Oikawa blew up both of your phones all day long despite being told you were busy. Hajime resists the urge to scowl at the backhanded comment. Brat.

Wait a second... how exactly do you talk to Oikawa again? Hajime should know, he’s spent a majority of his life with the two of you, but he’s currently drawing blanks.

He seems to have wracked his brain a little too long for a normal interaction, as Oikawa’s eyeing him again with an inquisitive look.

“Sorry... Tooru. You were sleeping in, and we both just happened to wake up early. Besides, you shouldn’t be practicing so much.”

He’s glad he didn’t let the ‘Shittykawa’ slip, that wouldn’t have been on brand for you at all. Out of habit though, he did punch Tooru in the arm.

“Yow! So mean, why are you hitting me?!”

Oikawa cries out, looking utterly scandalized as he rubs the sore spot on his arm.

“Because you deserve it.”

Hajime rolls his eyes, hopefully you won’t become aware of this interaction or he’ll get an earful from you. He’s still slightly convinced he’s an innocent bystander affected by some sort of cosmic punishment on Oikawa Tooru.

“Are you mad at me?!”

Hajime ignores Oikawa’s cry of complaint, jogging up the stairs. It’s hard being you, he grimaces as he beelines for the safety your room.

Finally in the comfort of privacy, he collapses into your sheets with a sigh of relief.

It could barely be considered a conversation with your mother, and Oikawa, but he’s already feeling mentally exhausted from the social exchange.

And tomorrow marks the start of the school week. Great.

Hajime slumps into your absurd amount pillows (seriously, you only need one). If he feels a little disappointed that he can’t recognize your scent anymore, he certainly doesn’t admit it, and definitely doesn’t entertain the intrusive thought longer than a moment.

A/N: I’m actually having so much fun with this au it’s adsklag;hj, I just like to watch my faves suffer in a chaotic mess I can not lie

Masterlist, Part 1, ✈Part 2, Part 3

#hqradiostation #haikyuu!!#haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime/reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader

48 notes · View notes

benscursedkid · 3 years

Text

*title from the song of the same name by mansionair and a continuation of this post*

synopsis: rebekah and ben’s relationship progression throughout their second year at hogwarts. (plus some bonus of other characters too.)

pairing: ben copper x mc; ben copper x rebekah roberts

genre: angst, fluff, etc.

words: 5.160

a/n: is it 5am rn for me? yes it is. did i skip the ice vault scene because i’m tired and lazy? you bet. also, i know they’re in second year and thus supposed to be around twelve years old but i’m pretty sure i forgot what being twleve felt like (must be all the repressed embarrassment yikes) so i apologize if this seems slightly too heavy or at times mature for that. but then again, this is hphm so y’know... trauma <3 also be warned, i’m tired so this is unedited as of rn. i’ll come back and edit it maybe tomorrow or the next day but if you’re reading this then i have not done so yet. pls, enjoy anyway!

She woke up that morning with a spring in her step. Her bags had been packed for weeks, her robes already ironed and an outfit laid out for the morning. She discarded it, choosing instead to pull another one out of her trunk and switching their spots. The young girl ran all over the house, picking up anything that had been thoughtlessly left out and almost forgot to take time to sit and eat breakfast.

It was a thing her parents still tried to insist on. Eating meals as a family despite the fact that they are indefinitely one member short. Their motivation usually wore off by lunch only to be half-heartedly reignited by dinner.

The effort is just what she’d wanted except…Rebekah hates it, truth be told. They do nothing more than inquire about Rowan and Ben, occasionally touching on the weather before falling silent again. And that’s how they remain for the rest of the night. Disappearing into their room seems to be more habit than pastime for them now and Rebekah is left to her own devices. They don’t watch her father’s favorite movies, they don’t make any plans for the next day, they don’t laugh over old jokes. Sometimes, when the moon is high and her spirits are low, she wonders why they can’t try like she does. To fix their family. Her brother may no longer be around, but surely she is enough to keep them going, right? Surely, knowing that they still have their daughter left is enough...isn’t it?

Her thoughts often took those turns at home, but today she hadn’t let them get to her. Her parents could be heard getting ready for the day in the solace of their quiet room while Rebekah finished brushing her teeth and gathering some last minute research she had done the night before. Mysteries might be fun, but it’s about time this one got solved.

They were even quieter on the way to King’s Cross than usual—even by their new standards—but Rebekah didn’t care this time. Her mind was too busy running in different directions to spare a moment to anything else.

“You be careful, ‘Bek,” Her mother whispers presently into her hair, her thin arms wrapped around her small body in the tightest hug she’s received since she came home two months ago. Her voice is uneven and Rebekah can feel the quivering of her lips against her dark hair. “Stay in one piece, alright?”

“I will.” She promises swiftly, the words leaving her mouth without much thought.

Her father tries for a smile that even he has to know doesn’t land. “Say hi to your friends for us, yeah? Let them take care of you.”

His voice was gentle, his tone and intentions soft and well-meaning, but Rebekah can’t help but bite her lips to keep back a frown. It is glaringly something he would never have said before and for whatever reason, she doesn’t like the fact that he says it now.

Her father’s hand reaches the back of her head, his palm cradling her cheek affectionately as she pulls away from her mother. He seems about to hug her himself, but in a move strangely unlike him, he doesn’t. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t come. Somehow her heart breaks just a little more anyway.

The train whistles and she notices that her trolley has already been taken to the luggage compartments. Sound and perception come back to her all at once as the atmosphere seems to crack. Students mill about them in tandem and the heavy scent of the train’s engine prickles at her delicate nose. Her mother and father find their place again, stuck together like glue, and take a small step back. When they look at her their eyes are tired.

“Have fun, Rebekah.” Her father offers as her mother struggles to keep up her already thin façade of a collected person.

She nods at them in farewell, her body already turning towards the train. “I will.” She says again.

She hated the summer holidays this year, yet turning her back on her parents is still a stinging betrayal that quells the breath in her throat. She makes a point to not look behind her lest she fall apart all together.

Fortunately, there are still some reunions to be had today, the first of which she walks into before even stepping onto the Hogwarts Express. With her arms held tightly around herself and her eyes cast downward, Rebekah doesn’t notice it when a familiar head of blonde hair sticks itself out the window as she approaches the steps.

“Rebekah!” Cheers a soft voice, one that is usually not heard over the ring of the crowd.

On instinct, her eyes follow the sound, landing on the sight of Ben Copper with his neck stuck all the way out a compartment window. Unwittingly, all her claustrophobia melts off of her and a giggle even falls like a trickle from her lips. Her hand comes up to cover it but she doesn’t miss the way Ben’s cheeks flush deep with pink.

The sight only strengthens her smile.

“Ben,” Rebekah greets with a grin, moving out the way of the steps to instead walk over to stand directly in front of his window. Her hand still hesitates between covering her mouth and balling into a fist at her side. She swallows the uncertainty down. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing? Doesn’t your neck hurt?”

He blushes again and Rebekah gets the overwhelming urge to ruffle his already messy hair which clearly still shines with product. “No! Well, not before you mentioned it…”

She chuckles. “Looking for the best view?”

“Not anymore.”

Emotions grips her throat and her smile hesitates between freezing and growing even larger. For his part, Ben simply rubs at the back of his neck shyly, unable to meet her eye now.

His mouth opens to respond when she doesn’t immediately say anything back, only to be interrupted before he starts by a much higher, much more enthusiastic voice.

“Rebekah? Is that you?” Rowan gasps, pushing Ben slightly to now fit her head through the window. The blonde grimaces next to her, his nose scrunching up in discomfort and the scene is so comical Rebekah has to laugh. It comes off her chest like a heavy secret she hadn’t known she’d been carrying.

“You’re here!” Her friend gushes, her lips splitting with a grin so wide Rebekah fears it may cut her face in half. ‘What are you doing standing out there? Come in, the train will depart soon!”

Rebekah doesn’t mention how absurd she looks with her head popping out of a window like a cartoon character. She merely shakes her head and does as she’s instructed.

It doesn’t take long to find her way to the compartment, even with the onslaught of students now hurrying to board the train. The whistle sounds off again somewhere, but the happy chatter of children and teens mute the sound of it. She’s barely taken a single step into the compartment when Rowan launches herself at her for a hug. Rebekah returns it gently, ignoring the way the rim of the other girl’s glasses press intently into the skin by her ear.

Rowan releases her quickly, her arm looping through hers and already beginning to speak a mile a minute about something or other Rebekah doesn’t quite manage to catch yet. Perhaps she would, if her eyes hadn’t caught on Ben’s. His own are a warm and welcoming gold with the rays of fading summer sunshine catching on them through the window screen. They cast little squares across his face that Rebekah finds difficult not to count before—

Welcome back, he mouths to her silently, not daring to interrupt Rowan now that she’s started on another one of her tangents.

Rebekah grins, a slight blush of her own rising to her cheeks. She nods to signal her acknowledgement before turning back to Rowan, barely catching the end of her complaint about the library near her house.

It’s good to be back.

~✾~

I haven’t seen him since we stepped off the Hogwarts Express, Penny will tell her later but only after Ben has already been gone. Why hadn’t she noticed his absence sooner? I’m a little worried, Rebekah. Especially after what happened last year with the cursed ice.

She tried to bring it to McGonagall’s or Angelica’s attention earlier, but Dumbledore called for everyone to go immediately to their dorms after dinner. No exceptions.

They were ushered to their rooms like cattle, their prefects doing their best to calmly give them orders. Chester, for his part, seemed to pay her some extra attention. In hindsight, Rebekah knows that he has good reason to be suspicious, but at the time his scrutiny only served to further agitate her.

How could he have disappeared already? Why did no one see him leave?

Why didn’t she?

And why is it always those closest to her?

~✾~

Her sleep that night was fitful and her appearance the next morning was even worse. And just her luck, her least favorite person caught her at the door to Transfiguration the next time she tried to see McGonagall.

“You look worried, Roberts.”

Rebekah sighs, her usually level temper flaring at the mere sight of her troublesome classmate. “What do you want, Merula?”

The Slytherin smirks, looking nonchalantly at the black polish chipping from her fingernails. “I was just wondering if you’d had any luck finding that cowardly mudblood friend of yours.”

Her eyes snap sharply over to Merula’s. Green meets magenta in a swirl of anger and pride, each of them holding onto both. When Rebekah speaks, her voice is low and measured. “Do you know what happened to Ben?”

“I know more than you,” The other girl mocks but suddenly she doesn’t seem so teasing anymore. She takes a taunting step closer and despite the daylight peeking through the windows, her eyes darken with mirth. “I know that sometimes even when people are missing, they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.”

The words are more than just a punch to the gut. It’s bad enough to be reminded of Jacob’s absence, but implying that the world is better for it is…

Merula takes this moment of hesitation to drive her point home. “There are things happening at this school you could never begin to understand, Roberts,” Jacob did. “Trying to uncover those things is going to get you killed.” Like Jacob?

“No,” Rebekah shakes her head, her hands balling into fists she just barely manages to keep at her sides. “Trying to get in my way is only going to end up hurting you, Merula.”

Merula glowers at her, her lips twisting up into a snarl. “You’ll learn everything soon enough.”

“If you’re not going to help me find Ben,” Rebekah snaps, her glare sharper than she thinks it's ever been before. “Then just stay away from me, Merula.”

“As you wish, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rebekah finally pushes past her, but her words linger in her head far into the rest of the day.

~✾~

“Please, Madam Pomfrey,” Rebekah pleads, pouring all of her worry and concern into the five syllables. “Someone should be with him!”

But the healer just arches an unconvinced eyebrow, refusing to move from her place blocking her entrance into the hospital wing. She crosses her arms at Rebekah’s comment. “And you’ve come to the conclusion that a skilled healer is not enough company, Miss Roberts?”

Rebekah makes a noise of frustration that sounds strangled in her throat. “He needs a friend, Madam!” The woman does not budge and Rebekah runs a fraught hand through her short black hair. She’d wrestled her Ravenclaw tie loose earlier and discarded her robes at her dorm the second she’d gotten back from the fifth corridor, figuring that it was only a matter of time until Ben got seen here.

“I won’t bother him. I won’t bother you. I won’t bother anyone, I promise.” It’s been days since she’s heard from him, she was starting to worry... “Please,” She says eventually, the weight of all her troubles finally managing to drag her down. “I just want to see him.”

Pomfrey studies her closely for a long time before something close to recognition flashes across her face.

She steps aside.

~✾~

He doesn’t wake up for another four days. By then the weekend has come along and not so easily, might she add. She’d spent much of her time after and between classes sitting in the hospital by Ben’s bedside. In the back of her mind, she knew that she should have been more worried about the notes and the quills and the clues, but every time she thought about that doubt crept into her mind.

Surely, her luck couldn’t be that bad? How likely was it really that one of her very few friends was conspiring against her? And that it could be Ben? Of all people?

It wasn’t just unlikely as far as Rebekah was concerned. It was impossible.

Ben would never do that to her.

Rowan and Penny had been worried about how thin she was stretching herself. Between classes and clues and uncomfortable hospital wing chairs. After her honesty in his class, Flitwick had given her a small extension on the last homework assignment, given how often—and how commonly known—she visits Ben when she can. Even Chester had taken to checking in on her, not that she was the one who needed it.

And yet in spite of all this, she was not with him when he woke up.

She’d been resting in her dorm with Rowan after being kicked out by Pomfrey the day before. The matron claimed her worried frowns and her frequency in the wing were beginning to scare some of the other students and instructed her to take the weekend away from the smell of pumpkin juice and disinfectant. She hadn’t wanted to leave, but she had been able to get Pomfrey to promise to alert her if anything changed.

The rest of her and Rowan’s roommates had quickly vacated the premises when it became clear that Rebekah was not going to leave. She thinks they’re afraid of her, like many other people she’s noticed. Thinks that she’s mad. Like your brother, some of them say. You’re cursed.

But Rowan stayed. For a while she tried to distract her with art or wizard’s chess, but eventually they settled on a book. Rowan sat on her bed, the book spread out on her lap as she read it to Rebekah out loud while she sat on her own bed upside down in boredom. Rowan had the better voice for it, they decided, and a longer attention span.

It was like this that they found her. The poor frazzled student Pomfrey had apparently sent to fetch her. It’s Ben, they exclaimed and she swears the whole common room fell quiet behind the half-opened door. He’s awake. And he’s asking for you.

Before she knew it, her legs were moving. She wasn’t really thinking—they knew where to go—as they ran her down the corridors. The pale morning sun blinked at her as she passed each window. Until the door came into view and she only just had enough wits about her to slow down, steady her now labored breaths before entering the wing.

She pushed the door open and Madam Pomfrey was on her immediately. “That was quick.” She says matter-of-factly, her hands folding in front of her the way they commonly do, her shoulders straight and expression relaxed.

Rebekah ignores her. “Is he alright?”

“I believe so,” She answers quickly without preamble and she heaves a sigh of relief. “His memory is erratic, but I have seen patients in far worse condition in my time as Matron of Hogwarts.”

“You said he asked to see me?”

“Many times, along with other strange requests and proclamations. I believe he’s experiencing some state of delirium.”

“Can I talk to him?” She asks, ignoring the way her heart flips painfully in her chest at her previous words. She doesn’t want to think about how disoriented he must have been. She should have been there.

“Mister Copper has been through quite an ordeal and still remains in a very delicate state—” She begins but one look at Rebekah’s face tells her that little she can say will matter. She sighs in something that sounds like sympathy before gesturing over to his bed. “Make it fast.”

She smiles briefly in lieu of thanks before she’s moving again towards the familiar spot by his bedside. Pomfrey hadn’t even moved her chair.

Despite his clearly groggy state, Ben smiles weakly as she approaches, recognizing her immediately. His voice is meek and scratchy when he says, “Hi, ‘Bekah…”

Her lips pull up slightly at the unfamiliar nickname and she allows herself to fall habitually into the chair beside him. She reaches out to take his hand, but thinks better of it and wrings them together nervously underneath his bed instead. “How are you feeling?”

As she says this, Ben frowns, his whole body slumping further into his bed at the reminder of his condition. Dark spots can be seen beneath his eyes despite being unconscious for the past four days and his skin is still pasty and almost as pale as hers. Not for the first time, Rebekah wonders just what happened in the near week and a half it took to find him in the corridor.

“Cold. Tired. Sore,” He laments, but his mouth manages to pick up just slightly anyway. “Not that different from usual to be honest.”

Rebekah wants to laugh at his attempt at a joke—no matter how self-deprecating, acknowledging the effort it must have taken, but she doesn’t quite manage it. Instead, her brows knit together even more in worry for his health and well-being.

“Are you comfortable?” She finds herself saying, her eyes flicking to his rather flat looking pillow and the cold bars of his bed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Ben smiles and this time it takes. He still looks tired and he still looks ragged, but not so lonely anymore. The sight reminds her of what a twelve year-old boy should look like as his round cheeks wrinkle with the change of expression.

“Seeing your face is enough,” He admits a bit sheepishly, fiddling with his fingers purposefully, ducking his head down to look at them. “Madam Pomfrey is very helpful, but she doesn’t have the most comforting bedside manner.”

This gets a chuckle out of her at the truth of it and Ben’s smile returns victoriously.

Now it is Rebekah’s turn to look away and she nervously crosses her ankles before uncrossing them again. She shifts only subtly in her seat. “She said you asked to see me?”

His face twists in confusion. His head tilts in tired frustration. “Did I? I feel like I’m losing it…”

A small part of her is left disappointed with his lack of remembrance, but it is far overshadowed by the full force of her concern coming back at his clearly patchy memory. Just what did that cursed ice do?

Her hand twitches again to reach out to him but this time she listens to it. Her hand wraps cautiously around his wrist in what she hopes is a consoling manner. “What were you doing in that corridor, Ben? How did you get trapped in the ice?”

The Gryffindor shakes his head in anguish. “I don’t remember. I can hardly remember anything at all. Madam Pomfrey thinks it has something to do with the ice.”

Emotion lodges itself in her throat and for a moment she can’t speak. Ben looks away from her, seemingly in shame, but shame for what she isn’t sure. And she hates that she questions it. This isn’t fair! Why must these things always happen to her?

Paranoia pricks at her conscience and climbs up her spine. She has no choice but to press further. “I found a letter to you in the artefact room,” She explains and Ben still refuses to look at her directly. She isn’t sure whether to take that as a bad sign. “It led me to another one that told you to go to that corridor…”

“I’m sorry, Rebekah,” Ben whispers as though he doesn’t have the strength for anything else. “I just don’t remember…”

Something pulls at her chest. “Ben—”

“That’s enough for today, Miss Roberts,” Pomfrey announces, having snuck up behind Rebekah while she’d been distracted. “Mister Copper needs his rest.”

“But—”

“It’s okay,” Ben grabs her hand, his own not much bigger but it still offers her the reassurement that is intended. “I’m kind of tired, anyway.”

Rebekah frowns half in suspicion and half in confusion. “You just woke up.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Pomfrey clears her throat and Rebekah sighs, reluctantly releasing her hold on Ben’s hand and offering her friend in question a wave as she disappears back behind the privacy curtain.

She doesn’t see him for the rest of the day, but her mind stays stuck on the hospital wing and the missing week and a half of Ben’s memory of how he got there.

~✾~

In hindsight, meeting Bill had been, thankfully, one of the only good things to come out of that term. At the time, she couldn’t have ever guessed the way that things would soon be playing out, but one thing that was a constant in her life when nothing else was is Bill Weasley.

Her surrogate big brother—and arguably the best one she ever had—went on to get her through the worst of times. Even when he couldn’t be there, he always lent her his support. Rebekah doesn’t know where she’d be without him.

And to think she almost met him for the first time with a book about Patricia Rakepick. She knows now that hindsight isn’t always funny.

~✾~

Speaking of older brothers, she never quite expected to find comfort in dry as wood Chester Davies of all people but—What are prefects for?

Rebekah’s grin comes surprisingly easy, all traces of her nightmare forgotten. “Badgering everyone about house points?”

“Hey!”

~✾~

Rebekah groans as her face plants into her textbook, her head feeling like it holds nothing but bricks. Certainly no useful curse-breaking information.

A light, breathy chuckle is heard from beside her and if she weren’t stressed out of her mind, it might have brought a smile to her face. Her shoulder is cautiously poked as her study companion regards her fondly.

“You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

She lifts her head just high enough off the potions book to glare at him through the dark strands of her hair now stuck to her face. “Remind me again why we didn’t invite Penny to teach us this instead?”

He hums as though in contemplation, but the smile threatening to lift his lips tells a different story. “Because I need the extra study time and you were just bored enough to join me?”

It’s mostly a lie. She knows that she needed to study some possible potions her and Bill could bring into the vaults and ever since he got out of the hospital wing, she hasn’t been able to see Ben too often lately...but yes, he also did really need the study time. Unfortunately, the hospital wing isn’t the most convenient place to do homework and even though he did every assignment his roommates brought back to him, Ben had fallen a bit behind in Snape’s class.

Though, really, she doesn’t think anyone but Penny is exactly ahead.

Still, she frowns as Ben reaches to brush some of the hair out of her face. The tips of his fingers graze over her skin and he clears his throat before looking away.

Rebekah does the same, casting her eyes around the room. Truthfully, there’s not much to look at. It’s the same potions classroom it's always been: dark, dreary, and slightly dingy. Though, she must admit that the faint green light coming from the dungeon corridor does cast a rather lovely reflection across his face.

“Well now I’m even more bored.”

“I’m sorry.”

Instantly, her brows draw together in slight disappointment and surprise at the sudden sad apology. When she looks back over at him he’s already turned subtly away from her, but his eyes are somewhere else. Somewhere distant and far away.

“Ben, are you sure you want to deal with the cursed ice again?”

He actually barks out a laugh, but’s hollow and strained. “No, I am absolutely unsure,” He huffs, chewing anxiously at his lower lip. “This potion makes me feel better about my likely injuries, but I’ll learn a new charm to try and avoid injuries and trouble altogether—”

Without thinking, Rebekah allows her hand to fold over top of his and Ben stares at it for a second, his cheeks going a little pink again before continuing.

“—s-sorry, Rebekah,” He stutters out for a moment and she finds it more endearing than she thinks it really is. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Somehow, I find that strangely hard to believe.”

They laugh together effortlessly, most of the weight from before gone. As always, the expression transforms his face into something more youthful and unburdened—the way she thinks it was supposed to be. The sound of their laughter mixing together like paint sounds like music to her tired ears.

“But seriously though,” Ben adds as it winds down, all thoughts of potions and textbooks forgotten. “I’m still going to do it.”

She can’t help but ask. “Why?”

And when he answers her, he says it simply. As simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you need me to.”

~✾~

She fell asleep on the train.

Ravenclaw had a huge celebration the night before for winning the house cup. Rebekah hadn’t the energy to join in on the festivities—the cursed ice had really done a number on her, not to mention that bloody knight—but it was rather amusing to watch Chester run around trying to put out the fires of adrenaline. With all of that joy and creativity in one room, she’s sure he was up all night.

Her and Rowan had their own secret celebration too. They congratulated themselves—and Bill, Penny, and Ben internally—for making it past the ice vault… and then spent the rest of the night theorizing on what the next one could possibly be. They certainly weren’t left empty-handed after all.

But her brother’s voice haunted her well into dawn. She saw his face every time she closed her eyes. And she missed him.

She missed him so much it hurt.

“Rebekah,” A whisper. A tap to her shoulder. When did she fall asleep? “Rebek—”

“Don’t just poke her like that!” Mocks another voice, one equally as familiar yet in her groggy state she is unable to place it.

“Well, the train has stopped, Rowan—”

“But you’re not gonna wake anyone up poking them like porcelain china, Ben—”

“Please tell me the two of you didn’t argue the whole time I was out?” Rebekah croaks out, her throat tight from recent disuse, attempting to blink herself fully awake.

Rowan huffs slightly but doesn’t disagree while Ben remains still and silent and Rebekah suddenly realizes she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. She sits up to give him his shoulder back and he offers her an understanding smile.

“I’ll have you know I was perfectly civil—”

“—You threw your muggle studies book at me—”

“—well it’s the one I like the least, so—”

Rebekah whines petulantly and throws them both a pleading look, her lower lip pulled over her other one in a pout. “C’mon, guys, summer holiday just started. Can’t this wait?”

Their frowns remain on their faces but they don’t object and Rebekah supposes she’ll have to start taking that as a win.

“Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long to gather their things and leave the train. Given that it has been stopped for the past few minutes, most students have already left. Only the slow stragglers remain. Ben and Rowan take up a spot on either side of her as they exit their compartment and descend the few short stairs to the King’s Cross platform.

Immediately, the warm rush of summer air hits Rebekah as her foot touches the ground. With most of the families gone or leaving, it’s not as noisy as it was the last time she was here, but her ears do manage to catch on a voice calling out to them from her left.

Rowan laughs from beside her and waves at her parents and cousins, her grip on her trunk nearly going white with how hard she squeezes it in excitement. She turns to give the shorter girl a quick hug and promises to write to her frequently, stopping only to throw Ben a hesitant nod of farewell before she’s skipping off to join her family.

Rebekah takes a look around but does not immediately spot her parents. Or Ben’s.

His throat clears and she turns back to him. His blue t-shirt ripples a little in the soft breeze, his hair waving with it, and his eyes bore into hers with intent. His brown eyes shine with something that feels like a goodbye and a hello all in one.

She smiles.

He opens his mouth but his attention catches on something behind her and she knows what he sees as an expression of fondness and recognition crosses over his features. His hand comes up into a small wave before looking back to her and sending the universal wait gesture.

“Thank you,” Rebekah speaks before he can and catches him off-guard. “For all your help this year. I...I’m sorry about your memory. I’m sorry you couldn’t get it back.”

Ben seems to shiver at the reminder before collecting himself. He shrugs in a more nonchalant way than she’s almost ever seen him. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, considering where I ended up...I’m not sure I’d want to remember it anyway.”

She tries for a smile at the silver lining, no matter how bleak it is, but it feels cheap so she bites it back instead.

“I’ll write you everyday,” Ben promises quickly, nodding almost confidently. “That way I wo—”

“Don’t do that,” She shakes her head, her smile half of a tease. “You won’t have too much to talk about if you write to me every day. Your letters will get short. Every weekend should suffice.”

Ben nods at the idea. “Okay. Every weekend.”

A beat passes between them. Neither of them speak.

“I’ll see you later, Ben?” She asks somewhat hopefully and strangely somewhat unsure. Where did her uncertainty come from?

But he only nods, a smile finally breaking through.

“See you later, Rebekah.”

18 notes · View notes

notgonnarememberthis · 3 years

Text

The Best Worst Kept Secret

Hello!! I am back with yet another fic! I decided to give y’all some fluff this time as a treat. I wanted to finish this before yesterday’s ep but I got tripped up on one of the sections. So this just kind of ignores canon a lil and takes a path of its own. Enjoy!!

AKA: The one where everyone finds out that Gil and Jessica are together

Gil tries to contain himself for about the hundredth time that night. He should have known she wouldn’t listen to him. It’s in the Whitly’s nature to go against everything he says. The second he knew that Jessica had an invitation to a charity discussion with their latest suspect he should have pulled the plug. It was absolutely absurd to send her in there with nothing more than a wire taped to her to catch anything duplicitous that might be said.

He should have known.

When they heard glass breaking and the connection drop his team rushed in. It was on Dani’s insistence that he stay behind. It was driving him absolutely crazy not to know what the hell was going on in there.

So he paced.

Finally, after what seemed like ages the door opened. She steps out, looking all the same if not slightly more disheveled than when she walked in. He notices she walks with a slight limp, he makes a mental note to wave down a paramedic the second he gets the chance. But it disappears once her eyes meet his.

It feels like the air is sucked out of his lungs as she walks to him, a half smile on her face that masks the fear and exhaustion lying beneath. He wants to ask her what happened in there. He wants to know what the hell went wrong. But all he can think about is that he could have lost her.

That sound could have easily been Wilkes knocking her unconscious, dead before Dani and JT can even reach her. Another missed opportunity. Their window slammed shut for good this time.

He doesn’t think.

She opens her mouth to speak but he just presses his lips to hers, pouring all of his fears and hopes into those few seconds that he loses himself. He’ll be damned if he loses her before kissing her one more time.

But he isn’t losing her. She’s alive and he can feel her heart thundering against his chest as her hands hover between them, unsure of what to do. Then he remembers everything that happened. Her fears and boundaries that he definitely just crossed way too quickly.

He pulls away just as she starts to respond and her face almost makes him laugh, her eyes are blown wide, jaw clenched but then she smiles. That warm, effusive smile that digs deep into his chest every time he sees it.

“Don’t scare me like that again.” For a second he wants her to tease him, that it wasn’t her fault that things went south.

“Yes Lieutenant.” She answers with teasing smirk. Back on her game just as quickly as he threw her off. And god help him.

The sound of a throat clearing makes him remember just where they were. JT stands just a few steps behind her, hands in his pockets. Jessica blushes, her jaw dropping open as she stammers for words once again.

“Mother!” Malcolm’s call saves her from whatever she was going to say, her motherly instincts taking over as she rushes to him, despite her hurt ankle. He shakes his head with a small smile as he watches her go.

“So,” JT strolls up, rocking back and forth. “You two?”

“Not a word.”

“I didn’t say anything!” He casts a look to the two Whitlys, Jessica fussing over her son like she wasn’t the one in a hostage situation just minutes ago. “Just didn’t know you two were a thing.”

“We haven’t been for a long time.”

“Well in that case, don’t let her slip away.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dani

“Do not.” Jessica’s voice dips with the warning, her threatening tone lacing through the words.

“Don’t what?” Gil smiles, mirth sparkling in his eyes. She’s seen that look hundreds of times in Malcolm, she’s more than familiar with what follows.

“Whatever you were thinking, do not.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything.” He puts his hands up in mock surrender and she almost falls for it.

Almost comes a little too late when the jet of water hits her straight in the chest soaking her blouse. “Are you serious?” She tries to be angry but when he tilts his head back laughing it sends blush rushing up her neck and to her cheeks. “I am going to kill you. I didn’t bring any spare clothes.”

“At least I know my murder will be solved if Malcolm’s on the case.”

“Hilarious.” She drawls, trying to suppress the shiver that rolls up her spine.

“Fine, take it off.”

“What?” She stammers for a second. Just as quickly, she recovers, a smirk forming on her face. “I thought we’d at least wait until after dinner.” She watches his eyes go wide when he realizes what he’d said, his head turning as he chuckles nervously. She bites the inside of her cheek as she undoes the buttons, tilting her head in a tease.

He is right behind her though, shucking off the turtleneck he’s wearing and tossing it to her instead. “There. Now you have something dry.” She presses her tongue to the inside of her teeth rolling her eyes at him but puts it on nonetheless.

“How do I look?” She does a little spin for effect, feeling the heat in her cheeks rise once again as he looks her up and down.

“You look beautiful.” He’s about to walk towards her when there’s a knock on the door. They’d been expecting their food to arrive any minute, she’d just hoped he would’ve taken a little longer. Gil steps back leaning against the counter. “This isn’t over.”

“Promise?” She flips her hair over her shoulder before going to answer. She swipes her purse from the table along the way. She doesn’t even look up when she answers the door. “Hi, ok so that’s $29 and-”

“Gil, I thought you were cutting down on the takeout since we order so much at the precinct-”

The two of them stop at the same time realizing that they weren’t talking to who they thought they were. Jessica looks up from her purse meeting Dani’s confused gaze. Why was she here and why did she have their food?

“Ms. Whitly.” Dani seems just as shocked as she was. Eyes falling to the very recognizable turtleneck she was wearing. “What are you doing here?”

Jessica has to bite the sarcastic remark before it slips off her tongue.

It is not helped when she hears Gil slide up behind her. “What’s taking so long?” It only takes a sideways glance to know that he is definitely still shirtless. He goes rigid when he spies Dani and from the look on her face she’s almost certain the poor girl is ready to bolt. “I’ll go get a shirt.” She mentally curses Gil as he dips into the safety of the bedroom and away from the awkward questions.

“How long have you two been…” Jessica frowns when she realizes that her tone doesn’t sound nearly as interrogating as she expected. Rather a little guilty, she partially wonders if she ever found out that Jessica had overheard their conversation all those months ago.

“It’s new.” As in literally under a week, she thinks to herself. She’d hoped that they could keep this under wraps as much as possible. “We didn’t want to tell anyone until we were certain.”

“Not even Malcolm?”

“No.” She sighs. As much as she loves her children, they’re equally nosy and while they want the best for her, she knows Malcolm is still looking to get revenge on her for when she meddled with his first date with Eve. “I just,” She casts a look to where Gil had disappeared to, the fear and sadness momentarily taking over. “I don’t want to mess this up again.” Not for herself. Not for her children who cherish him like a father. Especially not Gil who she’s slammed the window shut so many times. Every single time he just gave her that same understanding smile. Even if it hurt.

“Well,” Jessica snaps her gaze back to Dani, remembering that she wasn’t just lamenting to herself. “He looks happy.”

Gil chooses that time to come back while she’s still locked in her own thoughts. It’s all she can do to excuse herself to the kitchen and leave them to talk. She finds the bottle of bourbon they’d planned on opening later trying to quell her shaking hand as she pours two glasses. All of her ease has disappeared, replaced with the knot of tension pulling her further into herself.

She’s just about to go check when she feels to arms wrap around her from behind. “What’s wrong?” He asks dropping a kiss to her cloth covered shoulder. Of course he could tell something was wrong just from her standing there. He’s always known her better than anyone. “Talk to me.”

She spins in his arms, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She bites the inside of her cheek. “Are you happy?”

He drops his head, shaking it with the same soft smile that makes her heart skip. “Of course I am.” One hand moves from her back brushing the hair that had fallen across her face. “I’m happier than I’ve felt in a long time. I’m with you.”

“Even if-”

“Yes.” He stops her before she can ramble off any scenarios. He’s not letting her push him away, not this time. His thumb strokes her jaw and her eyes fall to his lips. “Even then.”

Finally he kisses her, and it tastes like a promise.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Edrisa

“Are you certain there’ll be nobody here?” Jessica grasps Gil’s arm as they step into the restaurant. By all means, it was perfect. Out of the city, away from prying eyes of photographers looking to get a shot of her, far from the legacy of her name. Just a nice, fancy restaurant for a first date.

That thought send a whole new wave of anxiety through her.

Gil had asked her to dinner, officially, to celebrate his closing of a case and her sealing the deal on a new realtor’s space. Finally they have some time to themselves again, maybe for the first time in weeks they can see each other for more than fifteen minutes for a quick meal before she’s called off to a meeting or Malcolm calls him for an update on the case.

He seems to sense her unease as he slips his hand over her’s giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just me and you.” She softens at his smile, her hand reaching up to trace his jaw. For a moment she thinks she could say the three words that have been stuck on the back of her tongue ever since they’ve started this again.

“I-” Her breath catches, choking on the words once again. She quells the frustration before it can even cross her face, instead pushing away from him. “I have to go to the restroom. Will you get our table?”

“Yeah.” If he caught what just happened, he doesn’t let on. She steadies herself by focusing on each step. Gaining back her control with each careful stride. That is, until her eyes fall on a booth across the room.

It’s the laugh that draws her attention. A sound she’s become familiar with the more the woman hangs around Malcolm. Her laugh has been something that made her son smile brighter than she’s seen in years. It’s instantly recognizable.

Edrisa.

She’s sitting with a group of women, from what she can tell they’re sisters. Similar in appearance enough to be related at least. They’re so caught up in each other that Edrisa doesn’t see her. If she’s quick enough she can just slip right into the bathroom and be back to Gil where she requested a private booth.

She’s so focused on the group of women she doesn’t see the waiter round the corner talking to a coworker. Not until she crashes into him, wine glasses tipping from the tray and spilling all over the front of her dress. The force knocks her to the ground flinching as the glass sprays across the floor around her.

“Jess, oh my god!” Gil runs up to her, careful of the shards to help her back to her feet.

“Ma’am I am so sorry. I didn’t- I wasn’t-” She barely hears the rambling apologies when she can see that the person she was trying to hide from is now looking straight at her, along with everyone else in the damn restaurant.

“I’m fine.” She dismisses with a hand. “I’m going to clean up.” She knows her tone betrays everything. She hasn’t caused such a scene since smashing the camera of the man who tried to sneak pictures of Malcolm while he was sitting on the swings with Gil only months after Martin’s arrest.

The quiet of the bathroom is a welcome change as she steps in front of the mirror. She’s an absolute scene. Hair rumpled, face flushed with embarrassment. The dress that she spent hours trying to pick out by herself all but ruined. The stickiness of the wine already making her uncomfortable.

What if she can’t do this?

The knock startles her out of her thoughts. She shuts her eyes gathering herself, “I’m fine Gil. Really, I’m not hurt.”

The door opens slowly and the person in the doorway isn’t him. Rather Edrisa who swallows heavily before stepping inside. “Do you need help?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, cause yknow wine stains even black clothing- which is, awful, right? Like, how dare it? Isn’t that the fundamental rule of black?”

“Edrisa-”

“You should probably start blotting, that looks like expensive velvet.” She passes her a cloth napkin that she must have snagged from the table when she got up. “That’ll clean up better than the paper towels. Trust me.”

Jessica wants to put up a fight but just sighs, accepting the help. “Thank you.” She carefully blots the stain, eyes falling on the woman who rocks back and forth looking like she wants to ask a hundred questions but is barely refraining. “Before you ask, yes. We’re dating. No, it hasn’t been for long. This is our first actual date. Yes, we were trying to keep it secret.”

“I knew you two were together!”

“What?!” Jessica’s head snaps around, her tone coming out angrier than she intended.

“No! I mean- No!” Edrisa stammers. “I didn’t know know but I knew. You know?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s like. It’s like in the movies. It couldn’t be more obvious that the two people who’ve known each other for decades are going to be together in the end but it’s this will they won’t they. It’s the miscommunication and the boundaries. He’s a widower. But there’s all this tension.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’d have to be blind not to see how you look at each other.” She smiles tilting her head. “You’re head over heels for each other.”

“Are we really that obvious?” Edrisa gives a half shrug and Jessica lets out the breath of frustration. “Well, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell Malcolm.”

“Oh! Yeah, totally. I mean, wouldn’t want it getting out before you’re ready.”

“No, we wouldn’t. Not yet at least. It’s new and I don’t want to mess this up. I just want to keep everything discreet.”

“One hundred percent. My lips are sealed.” The silence falls between them and for a moment Jessica wonders if she’s going to tell her something else. A thought passes across the woman’s face before she waves it off. “Well I should get back to my family. Have fun! Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want your kids to hear about.” She laughs and Jessica just chuckles nervously. “Right. Going. Bye!” Jessica follows her out the door relieved to see Gil standing there with a worried look on his face.

“Sir.” Edrisa nods at him passing him, but as she’s about to round the corner, she spins around giving him a double thumbs up with a wide grin and a wink.

“Do you think she’ll tell?” Gil asks once he’s certain she’s gone back to her family.

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ainsley

“Gil.” Her warning comes out huskier than she intended it to. She’s trying to focus on the paperwork in front of her, stacks of royalty agreements, press issues, and editor’s notes scribbled on the words of her own writing are enough to drive anyone mad. She partially wonders if this is how he feels when pouring over case files.

He hums against her neck and her control almost snaps. His arms wind around her torso scooting her closer to him on the couch.

“Don’t you have a case to work on?”

“Just finished.” She feels him smile and she sighs putting down the file she was studying. “Not my fault you look so good in glasses.”

“They’re reading glasses.”

“Doesn’t matter. You still look good.” She bites her tongue, cheeks blushing with the compliment but she leans further into his touch. “Take a break.”

“We’ve taken 3 breaks in the past 2 days.”

“Are you complaining?” She tilts her head, pretending to think about it for a minute. That only encourages him more as he trails his kisses down her chest.

“Gil,” She tries again but all of her will is gone the second he hits that spot on her collarbone. “You’re horrible.” She pushes him back using the momentum to swing a leg over his lap so she’s straddling him. His wide eyed look of wonder is enough to make her laugh before she captures his lips with hers. Her hands rest on the back of the couch while his slide down her thighs pulling her impossibly closer.

She begins tugging at his turtleneck that he has carefully tucked in. “We should move.” He whispers in between kisses and it’s her turn to split into a wicked smile.

“I dismissed everyone this morning. We’re all alone.” His jaw drops and she tilts her head back with a laugh.

“Who’s horrible now?” But his lips attack her neck again and she just laces her fingers through his hair letting the sensation take over.

She’s ready to lift his shirt over his head when the sound of the door opening and shutting calls her attention. They both freeze, chests heaving trying to catch their breath. “Mom?”

Jessica lets out a stream of curses under her breath at the sound of Ainsley steadily approaching. She pulls herself off his lap, quickly fixing the buttons that she didn’t notice he’d managed to snap open on her blouse. Gil does the same, tucking in his shirt where he can and taking a file to drape over his lap. She runs her fingers through her hair and picks up the file she was working on as if nothing had happened at all.

“There you are! You won’t believe what happened today! Oh, hey Gil!” Her eyes bounce between them for a moment, but if she suspects something she doesn’t let it show. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m helping your mother with her book.”

“You’re letting Gil read it?” Ainsley pouts, reminding her of when she was little and she didn’t get what she wanted. “You told Malcolm and I we’d have to wait until it was released.”

“I believe I told you I didn’t want you reading it at all, but nevertheless. What’s happened today?”

“What do you mean?” It takes Ainsley half a beat to remember she came home for a reason. “Oh. I just got the word that they want to kick off Joseph Lassley after the whole incident. You remember, right?”

“Yes?”

“Well they want to give me his spot! I’m going to be the head reporter!” Jessica jumps up going to hug her daughter.

“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful!” She squeals. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Congratulations Ainsley.”

“Thanks Gil.” She beams practically bouncing back to the door. “I have to go. I just stopped by to tell you in person, didn’t feel like over the phone news.” She hugs Jessica again and she squeezes her daughter back just as tightly. “I have to go tell Malcolm.”

“Go! We can celebrate tonight!”

“Belluci’s?”

“Whatever you want, darling.”

“Can Gil come?” Jessica looks back at him and he seems shocked at the request but nods with a soft grin.

“I’d love to.” The look of adoration makes her chest feel so tight that it hurts.

“Awesome. Love you. I’ll see you later.” With that hurricane Ainsley is gone. She lets out the breath she was holding turning back to Gil again.

“That was close.”

“Um, Jess?” Her eyebrows furrow when she realizes he’s looking at her chest. Her blouse is slanted, having missed one of the buttons in an effort to get them back together quickly.

“Shit.” She casts a look towards the door, fixing the buttons while she does. “Do you think she noticed?”

The scream is distant but loud enough to still carry into the home. “MALCOLM HOLY FUCK.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Malcolm

“Jess if you pace any more you’re going to burn a hole into the floor.” Gil leans against the table, eyes watching her as she walks from end to end.

“He’s late.” She checks the clock again for confirmation, and yes, Malcolm was officially half an hour late. “I told him that tonight was important and that I needed to talk to him.”

“Can you blame him? The last time you said dinner was important was to harass him-”

“Don’t finish that sentence unless you want to sleep on the couch tonight.” Gil raises his glass in mock surrender sipping on the scotch. “Why are you so worked up about this? You know he’ll be thrilled. I mean when he was a kid he basically begged me to move in.”

“It’s not about how he’s going to react. It’s just,” She sighs finally settling in a chair. “He’s the only one we got to tell for real. Everyone else figured it out.”

“For a profiler, he’s shockingly unobservant when it comes to family.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” She smiles with a small laugh. “I thought for sure he was going to catch us that day in your office.”

“I can’t believe we did that.”

“Oh, poor JT.” She laughs, the tension in her chest finally easing a little. It’s enough that she misses the door opening.

“Mother, sorry I’m late. But on the brightside, I’ve got this beautiful 14th century broadsword that-” He stops, his eyes falling on Gil. “And Gil’s here.” He glances between the two of them with a suspicious look. “This isn’t some kind of intervention is it?”

“Not exactly.” She straightens herself, feeling the anxiety bubble in her stomach all over again. Everything up to this point had been amazing. Sure when they were apart, Malcolm tried to help them get back together, but what would he think now? Would he be upset? Hurt to know that he learned last?

“Mom, is everything ok?” Her expression softens, he only calls her mom when he’s worried about her. She’s given him far too much to worry about lately. She takes his hand in hers with a reassuring smile.

“Your mother and I wanted to talk to you. And this is something that’s important to us.”

“Ok you’re both acting weird now. I’m used to her. Please don’t turn on me too, Gil.”

“Malcolm.” She sighs because she knows this is how he acts when nervous. He can’t stop talking, a habit he’s picked up from the medical examiner she’s noticed him lingering around lately. “Sunshine,”

“Oh god, she brought out Sunshine. I’m in trouble.”

“No, kid, you’re not in trouble we just-”

“Gil and I are together.” She finally blurts out, before pursing her lips together. Malcolm’s head snaps towards her with a mixed look of wonder and disbelief.

“Like, together together?”

“Yes.”

“Is it serious?”

“Well I hope so considering he’s moving in.” She tries for the joke but Malcolm just short circuits, leaning back in his chair running a hand over his chin.

“How long?”

“2 months.”

“2 months?”

“Well, kid. Your mother and I wanted to make sure it stuck this time before we told you.”

“Does Ainsley know?” The two of them pass a look and they can practically see as the dots connect in his head. “Oh my god the couch. She called me and was talking about Gil, and the couch. She didn’t make any sense. Oh my god.”

“We wanted to tell you for so long. But it didn’t feel like the right time.”

“Is that the bet that Dani and JT have going? If you two are together?”

“Not exactly.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It’s more like when you’ll figure it out.”

“They know?”

“Well they figured it out the same way Ainsley did.”

“WHAT?”

“Not like that! JT saw me kiss your mother after the Wilkes case,”

“Dani was a few days later. I stayed the night at Gil’s and I answered the door thinking she was our takeout.”

“Did everyone find out before me?”

“Well we were sure Edrisa was going to accidentally let it slip.” Jessica shrugs.

“Edrisa knows?”

“We ran into her at a restaurant where some said it would be safe away from anyone we could run into.” She shoots a playful glare at Gil who raises a brow at the challenge.

“How was I supposed to know the Tanakas were in town?”

“Oh my god.” Jessica turns her attention back to her son who looks as if he’s going over every single interaction he’s had for the past 2 months in his mind.

She swallows heavily, taking his hand again and getting serious. “Are you ok with this?”

The question seems to snap him out of his spiral. His eyes finally fall on her with a clarity and hope she hadn’t seen for a long time. “Ok with this? This is like, something I thought about since I was 12. Gil’s basically my dad. And if you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me. Are you happy mom?”

“Oh Sunshine,” She chokes back the tears building in her eyes, her free hand tracing over his jaw. She wonders how the hell she got so lucky. “I’m very happy.”

He turns his attention to Gil. “Are you?”

The look on Gil’s face almost takes her breath away. “I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

“Good.” Malcolm smiles and Jessica is certain her heart is going to burst right out of her chest. “Now, when are you going to propose?”

“Malcolm!”

“Am I getting a little brother or sister?”

“I am fifty two!”

“So was Janet Jackson.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh I’m just getting started. I’ve got twenty one years of meddling pent up and ready to unleash.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Martin

The sounds of wheels sliding across the linoleum breaks Martin’s deep focus, he abandons his latest project with a wide grin. “TV time already, Mr. David? I felt like I had a good half hour in me still!” The man doesn’t answer, only moving to set up the equipment with the same boring monotony as he did every day. Honestly, you’d think the man could show a little more life.

It no longer matters when the TV powers on, just in time to see his daughter’s smiling face, with a warm greeting that feels especially for him. He bristles, the same sense of pride that fills his chest any time he can see his children in their element consuming him. He can’t help but shift in glee, scooting closer to the screen.

“Is she wearing L’agence again? You know, that’s her mother’s influence right there. I was always more of a Brioni man, myself. Italian. Swear you’ve never felt something so soft in your life.” Ainsley picks up her papers, tapping them against the desk, signaling she’s diving into the latest news. “Shh, she’s starting”

“Why don’t we start off tonight on a good note? Lighting up the social circles and buzzing all around New York, daughter of John and Carrie Milton, Jessica Whitly is engaged! You may know Jessica Whitly as she was the ex-wife of the Surgeon and is my mother.” She grins, and he swears he can see Jessica in her. The mischievous glee of knowing that his world is falling apart sparkling in her eyes. “Tabloids were lighting up after spying Ms. Whitly with a ring on her finger, and it is with great pleasure that I’m the one to confirm the rumors. Ms. Whitly is engaged to the head of major crimes, Lieutenant Gil Arroyo. The two of them met during the arrest-”

“Turn it off.”

“Martin,” Mr. David approaches, ready to apprehend if necessary. It won’t be, he can control himself.

“Turn it off!” He snaps. He blissfully does and Martin revels in the silence, if only for a moment. “How could she not tell me? Me? I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone again!” He pushes the chair back pacing from end to end, or as far as his rope would let him reach. “I had to find out by a broadcast. The news.” He scoffs, noticing that the man across the room’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. “Did you know about this?”

“Yes, I received the news about a week ago.”

“A week ago.” He falls back onto his bed with a sigh. “My boy didn’t even tell me! And I really felt like we were connecting again! ”

“Martin,”

“And my girl! Oh you know her mother set her up to do that just to get at me. Ainsley would never stoop so low as to address tabloids. They’re so beneath her.” He rakes a hand through his hair, “and Mr David, Et tu, Brute. Leave me alone, I’d like to suffer in peace.”

“I guess I shouldn’t tell you I got the invitation in the mail yesterday.”

It’s all he could do but turn his face to scream into his pillow.

20 notes · View notes

hopesbarnes · 4 years

Text

But... I am a good girl

Summary: Based on the song ‘But I am a good girl’ from the Burlesque soundtrack. A dinner date with former sugar daddy!Bucky

Warnings: 18+ Smut, Curse words

At first, it was a lot. The constant gifts and trips. You grew up poor and suddenly you had a closet of heels worth more than a nice car. It made no sense. You were just a girl, did nothing to deserve your new-found lifestyle. You just got lucky one day. James Barnes saw you dance, fell in love, and then you found yourself where you are now.

“Dinner in L.A. Wear the lingerie set I love. -James” The card on your table read. A long time ago the demanding nature of the note would have angered you. But now it made you smile. He didn’t tell you what to do and wear because he was controlling, but rather it was how he showed his love for you. And you loved to be taken care of. He never tried to get you to quit your job as a burlesque dancer. He admired your passion. He also never tried to dictate your life, besides occasionally requesting your presence for dinners, or asking you to wear the lingerie he liked.

Before James, nobody took care of you. You were forced to earn every dime and make it on your own. Now you got to dance for fun and not worry about living paycheck to paycheck. If someone had told you when you were younger married life looked like this you’d never believe them. You would have laughed at the absurdity of that statement.

It was a few hours before you were to meet him at the helicopter, so you dressed in a tight little dress, did your makeup, and fixed your hair. You fastened on a pair of Webster earrings, a Cartier necklace, and a Tiffany tennis bracelet and give yourself a once over in the mirror. You liked to look good for your man and the way it made your heart race when he looked at you made it all the more rewarding. You put on your new Louboutins he got you, a sleek white pair, and headed to the car he ordered you. It didn’t take long to reach him and he’s already standing outside in a light blue Hugo Boss suit that you want to rip off him right there.

“Fuck you look good,” he says rubbing his chin when you get out of the car. “Give me a twirl.” He reaches his hand out above your head and you hold it giggling as you spin.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Barnes,” you say and lean in for a kiss. He smells amazing, and just being near him makes you dizzy.

“How’d I ever get lucky enough to make you mine, Mrs. Barnes?”

“We both know I’m the lucky one,” you remark.

“Now I will fight you for that title any day doll.”

He helps you into the helicopter before sitting next to you. His hand finds its place on your thigh and yours falls on top of his. Your life is a fairy tale, and there’s no other way to describe it. It’s nearing sunset and the view is fantastic.

“Made a reservation at the Polo. I know how much you love it there,” he says softly.

“Any specific reason you’re buttering me up, baby?”

“Can’t a guy treat his girl right?” he asks and you give him a look.

“Fine. Steve needs me to go to the hotel in Bora Bora for a week and I know you got shows.” If Steve, his second in command, needs him then he needs him. Running a hotel empire is tough work, but it’s what lets you afford the lifestyle the two of you live.

“I could use a vacation.” you think aloud.

“Really?” he asks.

“Unless you don’t want me to come?” you say shyly second-guessing what you said.

“No, god I never want you to leave my side. I worship you honey and would love for you to come to see the resort there.”

“Then it’s decided, let me text my boss,” you say and text that you’ll be out the following week. You hardly miss and have tons of vacation time stored so it shouldn’t be a problem.

“Guess I should return that new Valentino bag I got you then,” he says smiling at you.

You gasp, “With the little studs?” He nods “Don’t you dare!”

“I thought you’d be angrier, and I’d need to pad the blow.”

“Now I get a vacation and the Rockstud bag? Amazing!” you say and kiss his cheek.

“Remember when you didn’t know that Louis Vuitton and Louboutin were different brands? I’ve created a monster,” he says teasing and you kiss him again.

“Your monster,” you say and lean your head on his shoulder.

The restaurant is packed like usual. Socialites gossiping at the bar, businessmen at the high tables negotiating deals, and various celebrities in the darker corners. They all eye the two of you when you enter. You’re one of the “it couples” and the magazines love pictures of the pair of you. James spies Tony Stark and his wife Pepper and the two of you greet them. James and Tony were working together to integrate Stark technology into the suites.

The two men pull aside to discuss business and leave you and Pepper to chat.

“Gosh! Look at that bracelet, it’s gorgeous. How did you get him to give you it?” the redhead asks.

“Good girls get rewarded,” you wink back and she smiles in agreement. “Got him wrapped around my finger, and to be honest I’m wrapped around his too.”

“Best thing in life is to have your man ready to kneel for you,” she says and the two of you laugh and gossip about the other upper-class people you know. Then men finish up their business talk and greet you and you kiss Pepper and Tony goodbyes on their cheeks.

“As much as I’m glad that deal is going through, I’m even more excited to spend some time with my gorgeous wife,” he says.

“Still buttering me up?” you tease.

“Just giving her the compliments she deserves.”

The meal is delicious, and the two of you catch up on your weeks and plan details for the trip to Bora Bora. As you leave James whispers that he got a reserved a suite in his nearby hotel. You kiss him on the cheek and get into the town car he arranged to pick the two of you up in.

The car ride is full of contact, his fingers on your thighs, your arm raking through his hair. The two of you can’t keep your hands off each other. Your entire relationship was based on the magnetic pull between the two of you. Once you reach the hotel he’s quick to drag you to the elevator and pull you to the room he booked.

“Such a pretty dress, but if you listened then I know there’s something even prettier underneath,” he says kissing below your ear and you let a soft moan fall from your lips.

He unzips the dress and it falls to the floor to reveal your skin covered in a floral lace set, complete with a matching garter belt holding up stockings. He groans at you and you giggle. It never got old having him look at you with those hunger eyes, and you would wear whatever he wanted to continue seeing it.

“Think I’m winning the lucky game now,” he whistles lowly and places kisses down your chest before removing the bra from your chest. You tug his hair and pull him to your lips and kiss him fiercely. He was yours, and kisses like that just cemented the idea.

You pull his suit jacket off before undoing his tie and letting him remove his shirt for you. There was something about him in his expensive pants against your near-naked form. You push him against a chair in the living room of the suite and straddle one of his thighs.

“You need these pants for something?” you ask nibbling on his ear.

“Nope,” he says grinning and holds your hips tightly giving you permission to grind against him. He pulls down your garter belt and panties and you’re completely bare atop his clothed thigh. God, you’d die for these thighs.

“Make yourself feel good princess,” he says and tightens the muscles in his thigh and you let out a loud moan and grind your clit into him hard and thrust your hips back and forth using the grinding to give you pleasure. James leans forward and takes your neglected breasts into his mouth tugging on your nipple and it’s too much and not enough all at once and you whine loudly. You try and get up but he pushes you back down and moves your hips for you. You give in and rock back and forth letting the pleasure accumulate. He takes your other breast in his hand and tweaks the nipple and the simultaneous nipple play and friction accumulate and you let out a strangled moan and cum all over his suit pant.

“Fuck babygirl,” he says and pulls you into a kiss.

“Your turn?” you ask as you unmount his thigh and kneel before him and he smiles. He was definitely the luckier of the two of you.

#bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #sugar daddy bucky

315 notes · View notes

lvlyhao · 3 years

Text

「PART ONE: HOPE」

Humanity series; Q.K

A/N: this truthfully is a basic ass apocalypse!au but i couldn’t care less so that’s that on that. come talk to me if you wanna tell me your thoughts i’d literally cry out of joy other chapters coming soon!!

important: i know i put minor character death as a warning but it’s not, i repeat, NOT one of the nct members. jesus, i’m not that cruel. having said that, please enjoy it.

word count: 1.3K

pairing: none (yet).

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

next chapter

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

When the world you know is going through an apocalypse, many things become outdated, antiquated, old, or useless. Call it as you will. They no longer serve their purpose. At least, not when one-third of the world population is dead, and you fight zombies daily.

You could probably go over 100 items that fit the description—cellphones, high heels, short skirts, televisions; really, nearly anything that you were once happy or proud to own.

The one thing that stuck to you the most, though, was a heart.

Of course, no two hearts are the same, but you mean yours. People that naturally don’t care about others probably have an easier time, but, gods, look at you! How could you keep that golden heart of yours safe from the claws of despair? How did you plan on picking up its pieces every time it fell apart?

Well, you reasoned to yourself, the week after the virus began spreading. Maybe I just shouldn't.

At that moment, your brain told you it was the right decision. No one has the time to deal with these sentiments when their life is always on the line, right?

You sure hoped so, because that one, fateful night, you blinked back the tears, swallowed hard, and killed every bit of fear that still lived in you, killing, as well, part of your humanity.

Looking back now, contemplating the night sky, you can admit it had been scary. Very scary.

Rumours about a new virus, different from anything the world had ever seen, got out pretty fast. People talked about it everywhere, and even more at the hospital where your parents worked. But, you know, people always talk. A disease that could turn someone into an actual zombie, with no conscience and the need for human flesh? There was just no way in hell that was true.

“Sure, Hendery”, you used to mutter to your friend, not paying attention to his absurd theories.

Not too long later, you came to regret it. Did it take both of your parents dying for you to believe it?

Your lips twisted into a scowl. Life can be an unfortunate thing.

After you had gazed into the eyes of your mother's colleague when he told you the news, nothing was ever that frightening again. Sure, the undead, boo-hoo. Glassy, unblinking eyes, a putrid smell and a keen sense of hearing. Thousands of them slowly crawl across probably every city in the world, hunting for their next meal. Simply terrifying, you snigger bitterly.

To be fair with the people you have come to know, that always seemed scared out of their wits, they were in a lot more danger than you. Why, do you ask?

That is quite simple. You are immune.

You did not waste your time trying to understand the words your father had told you the night before he died. It was something about a specific section of your DNA that stopped that virus from spreading to your brain, or, whatever. You thought he was kidding, laughed it off and headed to bed. You remember having bad dreams that night.

Not being capable of turning into one of them did come in handy later, when you had already found a group of students from the university you used to attend. While you couldn't say they looked well back then, being alive was the most they could do. They were all mostly younger than you—not at all smaller, per se, but more naive, more fearful.

More reluctant to go looking for food when they were running out of it.

The minute they told you about the problem, you took it in your hands to care for them. Chuckling at their protests, you had said someone had to look out for the children, and so you did.

The morning you left to scavenge for food didn’t go half as bad as you expected. Having nothing but a bow and some arrows, and some short knives on you, only getting chewed on one shoulder was way more than you had hoped for. During the fight at the crumbling supermarket building, you thought maybe you were going to lose a finger or two, possibly break a leg. But a bitten shoulder? That was pretty cool.

You were almost pleased with yourself when you marched back to the campus dorms, dragging behind you a cart filled with everything you could get your hands on. Among more essential items like rice, you had even managed to smuggle some jelly beans, dropping them quietly by Chenle’s side with a secretive smirk. However, the lighthearted atmosphere didn’t last for too long—just until Taeyong’s eyes landed on you.

You can almost hear his loud gasp and choked shriek again, yanking at your jacket with rubber gloves to get a closer look. As he visibly paled and grimaced, you could tell it was worse than you thought.

Maybe it was the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, or the small feeling of achievement as you saw your boys eating again, but getting the wound treated did not hurt that much. The weight on your shoulders did not lessen, and you were still very aware of the smell of death that clung to your clothes, but… you were satisfied. As satisfied as a ruthless fighter such as you could be, anyway.

That night, lying close to each other and talking in whispers, you told them about everything that had happened before you found them: the death of your parents, how you found your weapons, and your decision to free yourself from fear. You might have left out the part about the mild numbness that came along, but did it matter? They listened like you were describing to them all of the secrets in the universe, and barely even blinked. It would have been endearing if thoughts about them being on their own for so long had not made you set your jaw forcefully.

About two days later, while you sharpened your knives on the corner of one of the rooms, Taeyong had sat down beside you. His once blond hair had turned ashy, and black, where his roots had grown. His clothes were ripped at strange places and were not at all fashionable. He no longer was the model-like nursing major you used to know, but the caring gleam in his eyes was as evident as ever. His heart was still whole.

He quietly spoke to you about the change you had inspired in his friends. Knowing about your fearlessness had done something to them.

Donghyuck had not cried himself to sleep ever since. Doyoung was not shaking as badly when he had to help Tyong at the med bay. Renjun no longer paced in circles like a lost boy, and Jaehyun was definitely more appreciative of the throwing knives you gifted him. Small but important things had changed, and you could see it in their smiles as they passed by, wishing you a good morning.

Your speech, as improvised and adrenaline-driven as it had been, had given them something not even Johnny's jokes could bring—and that was saying a lot. It gave them hope, sewing together the small pieces of the people they used to be.

Maybe it was not the kind of hope to go back to their old lives, studying their asses off for finals one day and attending 3 frat parties the other. No, going back to those times was ahead of what anyone could wish for, but, maybe, just maybe, they could finally dream of a new future. Things in this future would be entirely anew, most likely different from what they know, but perhaps not all bad.

Maybe it was not the kind of hope to get back what they had lost, but simply hope, and when the world you know is going through an apocalypse, that's enough.

-------

final notes: i??? really like this fic??? soon enough i’ll make a definitive masterlist so you can find the chapters easily tho, so look forward to it~

33 notes · View notes

halfwayinlight · 3 years

Text

I wrote a thing today. It was supposed to be for Valentine’s Day

Title: Holding Space Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi Rating: PG Notes: set between Season 3 episodes The Bonding and The Booby Trap

Commander Will Riker would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was disappointed Deanna had not yet come to the bridge to report she was back on board. It wasn’t an official protocol, but it was a courtesy that the senior staff generally observed. It was, in fact, out of the ordinary that Deanna didn’t report to the bridge officer on duty.

He told himself he would wait a full half hour past her anticipated arrival time to call down to O’Brien. It would be a very long half hour, and he knew that at least some of the bridge crew were very aware he was antsy. So Will had dutifully read through the various daily reports sent in. And he checked the logs three times to make sure there wasn’t some mental health crisis that would’ve pulled her immediately back into work.

Eventually, he’d taken to the ready room, vacant since the captain was off duty at the moment. Catching up on reports was no help in the distraction department because the only remaining reports they were still working on were the reports over the Mintaka III duck blind. It had been an utter failure in all aspects of First Contact. Not that the Enterprise crew had been able to really help it. It was more an Act of Fate.

Privately, though, Will still felt guilty about the whole thing. Guilty for leaving Deanna behind. He knew, rationally, that there was no help for it. Palmer had needed immediate medical care. There had been no reason to think that Deanna wouldn’t be able to slip quietly away and be beamed back on board.

“You’re beating yourself up over it,” she’d observed one night in Ten Forward, about a week ago. Her fingers played with the glass containing her Sumerian sunrise, idly tracing the bands etched around the cup.

He shifted, elbow on the table to lean against it for support, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn this evening was taking. Rather than answer immediately, he took a slow inventory of the lounge. It was a slow night, and they were relatively isolated. As his gaze swept the bar, Guinan had given him a long look and a subtle nod. He wasn’t even really sure what the nod meant, except that they would be given some space. “We should’ve come up with a better plan. One that had less risk.”

“We had limited intelligence. Given what we knew at the time, the risks seemed minimal. In retrospect, I don’t see what we could’ve done any differently. And, Will, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”

He shook his head. “You were almost sacrificed to a non-existent deity,” he ground out, one hand lifting to rub his beard in frustration. “Do you know what it’s like to sit in a meeting with the captain and the current expert in Mintakan culture and hear that under these extraordinary circumstances, they might actually kill someone you care about?”

Deanna was leaning in now, arms resting on the table, hands clasped. He envied her level of calm and acceptance about this. “No, I do not. But,” she quickly added, “I do know what it’s like to sit on the bridge or in meetings and hear about missions where the people that I care deeply about may die. To see you and our friends leave on away teams when there are serious risks. To coordinate evacuations and general quarters, especially sauce separations, that leave me with the low-risk group and people I care for very much on the battle bridge.”

The intensity of her words hit him like a phaser blast, and Will was left speechless for long moments. He’d never taken much time to consider what it looked like from her end of things. And given her sympathetic smile, she realized this.

“It’s the life I chose, Will,” she added quietly after giving him some time to absorb her first statements. “We all signed up for Starfleet understanding the risks. Some of us have already lost loved ones in the line of duty…”

It was the line of duty that was the hardest to absorb. That reminder that her own father had died while serving. Amplified days later when Lieutenant Aster died on the archeological dig. It had impacted the crew, shocked them all because this had seemed like such a routine exploration. Worsened because she left behind Jeremy, now parent-less.

And in the last six days since that incident, Deanna had been on duty, more or less continuously caring for the boy. Worf had wanted to accompany both her and Jeremy to Starbase 24, where they would rendezvous with the boy’s aunt and uncle, but the Enterprise couldn’t spare him long enough. As it was, Deanna would barely make the connection back before they needed to jump to high warp in order to make their next mission. If she was delayed, it would be another week or more before a shuttle or transport would cross their path to bring her back.

In the end, it was O’Brien calling. “Transporter Room 3 to Commander Riker.”

“Riker here,” he replied instantly, straightening in his seat on the couch. He never used the desk in the ready room because it felt too much like the captain’s personal space.

“The counselor is back on board. You can take us to warp now.”

“Acknowledged,” Will replied, feeling a bit silly for not realizing sooner that O’Brien would be aware they were waiting for her arrival before moving on. That he would have anticipated the need to notify the bridge so they could go to warp.

Gathering the PADD he had been using, Will made his way back to the bridge. “Counselor Troi is back on board. Warp eight, on to our next coordinates,” he called to the helm before settling into the captain’s chair. He continued to fight his eagerness to see her back on board for himself. With a few commands from his PADD, he finished the plans he’d settled on the night before in anticipation of her return.

She had sent two communiques to him in as many days. They’d spoken only once through subspace, the first night after Jeremy had fallen asleep in one of the bunks on a small thirty passenger supply ship they’d caught a ride with. Deanna had looked very tired, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep that he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. It had been a rough past few months for her-- the psychological torment on Rana IV, nearly being sacrificed on Mintaka III, and the aftermath of Aster’s death. He’d set a hot bath to run in her quarters and left out some real chocolate that he’d managed to obtain on a recent starbase and kept a secret stash for the rough days when hot chocolate from the replicator wasn’t enough. Will had the sense from their subspace call that this would be one of those days.

And yet the bridge held only the scheduled crew members on a very routine shift. Textbook even. He’d rarely been so glad to hand over command to Data when it finally did end. In reality, he should be finding his way to the mess hall or Ten Forward for a meal. But he was determined not to wait any longer.

It didn’t take long to gain her quarters, and he politely pressed the button to notify her that she had a visitor. They came and went freely from each other’s quarters. They were both visitors with full access at any time. Besides that, as First Officer, he had override access to all parts of the ship. But he was a gentleman and would announce himself.

When there was no answer, he paused for a long moment. A glance up and down the hall confirmed that he was alone for now, and he was grateful. Everyone on board knew they were close. It wouldn't have been the first time either of them had been spotted outside the other’s quarters. Besides, their roles on the ship meant they often worked closely together. But he was also acutely aware that the crew knew their relationship was much more complicated than that.

“Computer, location of Counselor Deanna Troi,” he finally decided to consult on this, instead of simply assuming she was in her quarters. It would be easy enough to gain entry, but he hesitated to simply go in. She might be sleeping. Or she might want to be alone. A few dozen less rational explanations for no answer flitted through his mind, but he dismissed the various scenarios as absurd and unlikely.

“Counselor Deanna Troi is in Commander Riker’s quarters.”

Now that was not something he had not considered. With an about-face, he moved just down the corridor and through his own door. His lounge showed no evidence of a visitor, and he frowned to himself as he scanned the room to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He gained his room and came to a full halt at the doorway.

There was a Betazoid in his bed. Soundly asleep. In the chair in the corner, her maroon uniform was folded neatly and her boots tucked out of the walkway. He was pretty sure he’d left at least a few articles of clothing on the floor, but it had been cleared out, most likely tossed in the laundry.

But what caught his breath was how small and worn out Deanna looked under the silvery Starfleet-issued blanket. The shadows under her eyes were more pronounced in the low light seeping in from the lounge. He wondered if she had even gone to her own quarters at all, and he suspected likely not.

For now, he was too awake to sleep. So he let himself linger for several moments more, absorbing that she was back on board. That she was getting the rest she so clearly needed. There would be time to catch up later. Will finally returned to his lounge and found something in the replicator menu that sounded appetizing and was able to focus enough to wrap up his daily report and close out two older reports before his mind wound down enough that he could think about sleeping, too.

A quick sonic shower relaxed him enough that Will knew meant he could finally get some rest. When he went in search of his usual blue pajamas, he found the top missing but tugged on the trousers and eased in beside Deanna. And he quickly found his missing top, which she had appropriated for her own sleepwear.

That particular realization touched on a mix of new feelings. Attraction. It wouldn't be the first time she had swiped something of his to sleep in. Secretly, he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time, either. And it touched on something tender, which surprised him all the more. That she was tired enough to borrow something, rather than make the effort of going to her own quarters, one room away, for her own things.

“Mmmm,” she murmured now, though Will could tell she remained on the other side of sleep.

“Sssh,” Will soothed, arms banding around her and pulling her closer to him, his body warmer than usual from the sonic shower. She relaxed into the comfort, as he’d hoped she would. “Back to sleep,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m glad you’re back,” he breathed, thumb pressing at the nape of her neck, seeking those pressure points to soothe and relax her. He rubbed small circles until her breath evened out again, familiar and soothing against the crook of his neck and he followed her into deep sleep.

#imzadi #otp: imzadi #will riker #deanna troi #counselor troi #commander riker #my messed up space cinnamon nugget rolls

15 notes · View notes