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bukojuiice · 3 years

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the way of the househusband — levi ackerman

ೃ pairing: (husband! levi ackerman x ceo wifey! reader)

ೃ There is the “ideal” nuclear family. The one composed of a working husband with a well-paying 9 to 5 job, loving housewife who cooks and cleans, and adoring children who do well in school. However, that idealization is looong gone. What about you and your family? You are the CEO of a Tech Start-up Company who ain’t no trophy wife, Your husband hails from the last line of Ackermans and who temporarily resigns from being a vice executive of your company (just because he doesn’t want to work with young, feeling philanthropist, and genius GenZers) to become a hands-on househusband, and then there’s your little daughter who has the most inquisitive mind and adventurous heart who idolizes her doting father in every shape, way, and form. A month’s absence in your home (due to a business trip) could lead to many many things. But, your husband randomly publishing a self-help book on parenting and being a househusband is not one of those things.

ೃ genre and warnings: modern au, domestic fluff, baby au, husband au,

ೃ my nav → my aot masterlist

ೃ 4k words

ೃ Will be referring to hanji as “aunkling” (a cute nickname that some kiddos use to refer to their non-binary relatives <3) because there are no official non-binary terms for aunt and uncle! + your daughter with levi is named amelia and she is just the most precious cinnamon roll

It’s done.

The Business Trip is finally over.

A long and painful month of no hugs and playdates with your little princess, Amelia and no time to be pampered with love and affection from your husband, Levi was finally over!

Sometimes, you wonder how you were even able to survive these long-ass trips and conferences. Sure, these month-long trips only happened once a year, but the thought of Amelia getting older and having to miss a day of seeing her grow up and discover the world, really hurt you as all mothers would. Video Calls were enough to satisfy you and give you happy hormones even for just a short while, but still- the longer you’re not with them, the more the yearning lengthens until you’re just riddled with endless thoughts of wanting to get home as soon as possible.

First, let’s set things straight: You are the CEO of a Tech Start-up company who was born into a middle-class family and rose her way up to success. It’s as cliche as it gets but hey! Living a life as if you were in a romantic comedy was the best compliment you’ve ever gotten.

Along with that, as far as rich families in rom-coms and coming of age movies go, are they all dysfunctional in reality? Not really. Or at least you and Levi promised each other not to end up like that. The Rich Girl meets Poor Boy (with a tragic backstory) cliche however? Yea, that’s a pretty accurate way to describe your love story. Meeting the love of your life in a Coffee Shop is actually pretty common and happens to a lot of people apparently. When Erwin Smith, Levi’s best friend (who is too smart and self-aware to fit the role of a rom-com sidekick by the way) approaches your table to ask if he and Levi could sit with you. (Because of all the days the cafe would be packed, it would be that day.) You said yes of course, and Erwin began oversharing details about the raven-haired man and you were all too invested in learning more about him anyway. Levi grew up in the orphanage after his mother had died and his father was the biggest asshole on the planet for never showing his face, he had to fend for himself after he outgrew the foster system. Starting out as an espionage in an illegal underground gambling empire to a bookkeeper at the Smiths’ bookshop. (Although this is a story for another day)

Internally swooning over his pretty eyes and resting bitch face...it didn’t take long until the two of you fell in love and... the rest was history!

You come home to your lavish yet homey apartment in 21 West End Avenue Manhattan to be surprised by your father-daughter duo absolutely knocked out on the couch. Amelia was snuggled up to her father, her feet on his lap and a sleeping position you could not possibly comprehend, a Disney movie playing in the background, and both of them were wearing matching Minion onesies whilst yours was folded neatly on the coffee table just waiting to be worn by you when you got home.

It was a rare sight to see and you can’t help but just stare lovingly at the wonderful scene before you. Not only was it rare to see Amelia asleep before seeing you (or in the case of your business trips, during your daily video calls with them) but it was also rare to see your husband sleeping so soundly and his insomnia not kicking in.

Amelia hears your footsteps, her eyes are still shut as she tries to predict what you will do next. She finally assesses when she will make her move and surprise you when you place another fleece blanket on top of them and plant a kiss on both of their temples. your daughter’s eyes suddenly flutter open. Her eyes beaming and glowing off the same light that twinkled in her father’s as she jumps off the couch, making sure not to wake up Levi.

“MOMMY!” She screams in the most quiet volume her cute voice could muster. She runs up to you and envelops you in a tight hug, jumping up and down as she does so. “I missed you Mommy! I missed you soooo much! How was sandbox in K-korea!? Was there a lot of sand!? Did you have a lot of pwaymates there!?”

You giggle at your daughter’s enthusiasm, combing your fingers through her hair. “Lili, Sandbox is like the Silicon Valley of Korea. It isn’t necessarily a sandbox like in a playground, baby.”

“OOOH! JUST LIKE SIWICON VAWWEY!” She chirps, tightening her hug and reaching for your hand and squeezing it. “AH WAIT!” She gently pushes you away and makes a beeline to her room. “ME AND DADDY HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU! BUT CLOSE YOUR EYES FIRST OWKAAY?!” She calls out from her room and you shout back a “yes!” to her in between your giggles, unable to contain the sudden rush of serotonin your daughter had given you from her simple yet adorable antics.

Another trope that you can debunk is that rich moms can be a hands-on parent too! After your maternity leave ended and when Amelia had finally reached her toddler years, you absolutely made sure that you were going to take care of her every second, minute, hour and day of your life. As soon as she turned two, she became the inquisitive, smart and ever so curious little girl you and Levi had always hoped for. She had your (h/c) hair and Levi’s icy yet warm and loving milky grey eyes. If the color of Levi’s reminded you of dark and stormy clouds, Amelia’s was gleaming. Like that of the clouds after a terrible storm. She was an absolute blessing and although you weren’t a perfect mother, (spoiling her more than you should) Levi was an amazing father. Growing up without parents was tough for him and he was going to make sure that Amelia is going to have an amazing childhood and be surrounded by the love of two parents that he never had and never got to experience.

You always and will forever have trust in Levi. There has never been a day where you doubted him. Despite the impressions and assumptions that people have of him. How he was cold, scary, and even calculating. But, you are always quick to shut down those rumors. They don’t know the Levi Ackerman behind the cold and mighty front he shows. He is a man who has gone through so much and yet has so much love and care to give. How he notices and remembers the littlest details, how he never takes anything for granted and how he loves and cherishes everything so wholeheartedly.

When Amelia turned six, you sadly had to go back to work formally. Right timing too because your genius (with very himbo tendencies) younger cousin, Eren, was about to be part of your start-up company and he had a lot of amazing plans that had to come into fruition. Even bringing in a group of his own friends (who all graduated in MIT by the way!) who are willing to contribute so many amazing ideas and hackathons that were just waiting to happen.

The entrance of these youthful and hopeful genius entrepreneurs also brought about the temporary exit of your very own husband from your very own company. Apparently, working with newly graduated Gen Zers (as a millennial) was too much for him. They were nice and they were going to be a very integral part of the company. But, the boomer inside Levi can’t just can’t keep up with this sudden surge of energy and youthfulness within the higher-ups. It was also a great opportunity for him to take care of Amelia even more. So, you didn’t stop him from doing so!

It’s been a year since he temporarily resigned and became an official-unofficial househusband. Or as your best friend Hanji likes to put it, You are the Girl Boss and he is the Male Wife. Amelia is now 7 years old and she’s currently taking Ballet classes (Levi picks her up during the weekdays, and the both of you pick her up on the weekends) and has developed a hyperfixation over Sanrio Characters and the Disney movie, Frozen. She was growing up to be a wonderful girl and you just can’t wait to hear what she and Levi had done during your absence.

She skips her way back to you, a book tightly clutched in her hands. “SURPRISE!” Amelia gingerly places a book on your hand. You open your eyes and tilt your head in question at the piece of literature she had just given you as you read the title aloud. “The Way of the House Husband… written by Levi Ackerman.” Your eyes shift to a little circle on the lower side of the cover, “The husband of (Y/N) Ackerman, the CEO of Survey Corp Tech…!?”

“Daddy and I made a book while you were away!” She claps her hands together and grabs the book back from you, turning it to the first page. “See there’s even a dedication! To (Y/N) and Amelia! The two brightest stars in my galaxy!”

“Oh that’s too cheesy. No way would your dad write something like this out of the blue, Lili.” You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. Your daughter looks at you with downcast eyes while you were still trying to process that your husband literally just wrote a whole-ass book while you were away. “Who helped publish this so quickly, Amelia?”

“Uncle Erwin of course!” She’s frowning for one second and now she’s beaming at you again. “Please please read it mommy! Me and daddy worked really really hard on it!” She taps the hardbound cover of the book in rhythms. “This is the Amelia Edition! Daddy said he cut out some stuff so that it would be okay for me to read and for me to give to you once you get home! It’s my come back home gift for you mommy!” She moves the book to your lap and hops up next to you on the loveseat that you were sitting on. Before you know it, Amelia is resting her head on your shoulder and coaxing you to start reading to her like it was a bedtime story.

You clear your throat and hold her by the waist so that she can feel more secure in her seat. “Okay… okay… let’s begin shall we? In a kingdom far far away…”

“That’s not how the book is like mommy! Read it properly like the way daddy did!”

“I was just joking, honey. Let’s get started. Rule #1 of the House Husband is…”

Rule #1: Fathers, be good to your children. You are the weight of their world.

“One thing I learned as soon as I was at home practically 24/7 is that your child will be more cautious and weary of you. They will observe you because they look up to you. They will watch your every move, follow you around, and will imitate whatever you say and whatever they hear from you. Talk to them, teach them things they need to know, support them in their hobbies, interests, and even if you have to be the extra princess in her tea party, do it. The thing is, you will leave an eternal mark on the hearts of your children.”

Amelia got even more closer to Levi when he was finally stationed at home. Always grinning from ear to ear and boasting to her classmates how cool her dad was whenever he would pick her up from school. She was proud to tell them Levi’s heritage even if Amelia never got to meet her Grandma Ackerman and Grandpa Ackerman. When Levi would take her out for errands, may they be groceries, cleaning the house, baking, cooking, laundry, or just going on his morning jog, Amelia would be there to accompany him. In fact, she’s gone shopping with Levi so many times that she has memorized the brand names of cleaning detergent and bleach before she could even memorize the multiplication table.

She’s even caught up with her father’s cynical sense of humor. And because of that, Levi had to tone down on his sardonic jokes around the little girl. Levi wasn’t necessarily physically affectionate but he does soften around Amelia as the little girl never fails to supply him with endless hugs and kisses on the cheek. She may be both a Mommy’s and Daddy’s girl, but the way she looks up to Levi is the kind of father-daughter bond that you hardly see in real life. She aspires to be like him. Even if there were times where she would be scolded by you both, (most especially Levi) she never took that against you. She sees all the good and positive sides of your husband that others outside of your circle fail to see.

Rule #2: Let your children know that they have other “guardian angels” who they can rely on aside from their parents.

“My daughter has both my wife and I’s best friends to learn from or to look up to. Her kooky aunkling and her blunt uncle have become one of the most precious people in her life. Even the young ins working at Survey Corp Tech have become older siblings to her and get along with her so well. Remember that there will always be close relatives or friends who can and will help them when they lose their way. Let them spread sunshine and love to others.”

Whether it’s a regular trip to Coney Island or your monthly trips to Disneyland, Hanji or Erwin would totally tag along. Amelia absolutely loves and vibes with Hanji’s quirkiness so well. They would wear matching Mickey Mouse ears, ride the kiddie roller coaster that Amelia wanted to ride on a million times per visit, buy her all the ice cream and treats she wants (despite Levi’s warnings and the reprimanding that Hanji has to suffer from the both of you right after.) They just want Amelia to experience all the fun, the joy, and innocence of living in the moment. As a kid, it’s better if she sees how precious life is, how she should cherish it and that she doesn’t have to grow up so fast just yet.

Erwin on the other hand, brought out Amelia’s intellectual side more. As soon as a new and critically acclaimed children’s book hit the shelves, you bet Amelia has a copy right away. Whenever Levi would take her to Erwin’s bookstore, she wanders around like it’s this huge mysterious archive that can only be accessed by her. The Adults section is forbidden, so were the cheap romance novels in the back, and the books written by youtubers. God forbid she read those. When her Uncle Erwin got her into reading Roald Dahl’s children’s books, you had to watch Amelia run around the penthouse with a little red ribbon tied on top of her hair, wanting to be referred to as Matilda, along with you and Levi having to pretend that she had telekinetic powers for 6 months straight. It was her cutest phase yet and you just know there were many more to come.

There were also Eren and his friends who loved Amelia dearly whenever she came over to visit. Your little cousin refused to be called Uncle Eren and instead wanted to be called big bro, and in which Amelia happily complied. Whenever it was Amelia’s weekly “Visit Mommy at Work” day, she had her own room in your office where Eren and your other young associates would babysit her. In fact, they would actually take turns in babysitting at your condo whenever you and Levi went out for date night. Amelia was introduced to playing video games like Animal Crossing and Pokemon solely because of them (more specifically because of big bro Jean, big sis Sasha, and big bro connie.) They even ended up influencing her to watch anime when her big brother “Minmin” and big sis “Mimi” accidentally left the TV on and Amelia literally binge-watched half of the existing Studio Ghibli movies to this date.

Rule #3: Your children will think that you are Superman or Iron Man. Make sure to act like them and never let them down by ruining their innocence and imagination.”

(A little note was attached to this page: Please don’t let Amelia read this. Read her a fairy tale instead while skimming through this.)

“It all started when my daughter found an entire encyclopedia on ancient and legendary family clans around the world. The Ackerman clan was on the very first page after the intro and she read through all 50 pages of it. The look of awe on her face when she read that her dad’s ancestors exhibit physical abilities much higher than the average human. In a 7 year old’s mind and vocabulary, that automatically translates to a superhero akin to that of Superman.

Ever since then, My daughter has forced me to become more creative with doing very mundane tasks and chores. I pretend to have superpowers. Such as teleporting around the house whilst cleaning. I tell her to close her eyes or else my teleportation powers won’t work. Then when I cook in the kitchen and she watches me intently, I tell her that the salt and pepper have magical properties that only I can touch and hold because to her, at that moment, I was “Doctor Stwange.”

and one time, when I picked her up from school, she was babbling on about how she told her friends and playmates that she had two superhero parents she was very proud of. Then one of the other kids asked if I was a strong soldier who killed huge humanoid monsters using sharp blades. To which I replied that could have possibly happened in a different universe. Her hearty laughs and giggles whenever she sees me using my superpowers makes me anxious over the fact I have to tell her someday that my powers never existed.”

Whilst you were on your monthly trip, you and Levi would have private video calls whenever Amelia was finally put to bed. There, he told you about what happened in Amelia’s ballet classes that week and how the single mothers were more persistent than usual.

They could clearly see that Levi was not interested but apparently the fact that your husband waving his ring finger every single time someone approached him wasn’t obvious enough, apparently the fact that he was married made the risk even more worth it to these prying moms who had nothing better to do. It wasn’t until Amelia had enough and respectfully called them out by saying that his dad was married and he was never going to be interested in Karens (a slang word that she learned from Eren and friends) Since then, the invasion of parent to parent boundaries had finally stopped. Levi was very relieved and at ease whilst telling you the story yet you were laughing your heart out at the ingenious remarks of your very own daughter on top of the irresistible charm and looks of your own husband that made single mothers be damned.

Rule #4: The most important rule of all: Love your spouse as you want your children to be loved in the future.

“Since my wife is on a business trip right now as I type this and she may or may not know that I had written this book for her to read when she comes home, my daughter came up to me a few days ago and told me how she missed her mom so much. The video calls we had every night were not enough to satisfy her for the remaining days her mother would be gone. She then proceeds to tell me that she loves the way I love (Y/N). My daughter loved how patient I was and how I supported her through every endeavor that her mother had ever thought up with that brilliant mind of hers. She mentioned how I was there for her through every success and failure, through hardships, difficulties and misunderstandings. My daughter was happy because I stuck with her mother through everything. All the pain, suffering, conflicts that we both experienced individually and as husband and wife. Little ears and little eyes are watching and observing the actions and sweet gestures of their parents. Make sure to remember that.”

“What is gravy (grief) if not love persevewing?” (persevering) My daughter had even recounted a quote from the Disney Marvel show, WandaVision just to prove a point to me. That was when I realized something and decided to list down a few things:

1. The best lovers are the best of friends.

Levi’s relationship with you was rocky at first simply because the two of you didn’t have a lot in common. Your personalities clashed and the two of you could barely make things work in the beginning. He was always well-dressed, on time, and was very prim and proper. However, Levi was cold, strict, and unapproachable. You on the other-hand were quite the opposite. You used to arrive late, didn’t care too much about your style as long as you wore the appropriate outfit, but you were carefree, laidback and friendly. Having to set aside your differences was a process that required sacrifice, time, and effort. It took long and a lot of petty arguments before the two of you fully understood each other, accepted each other's faults and quirks, and became even closer. Both as friends and lovers. You and Levi treat each other not as just the “person I love and I’m married to for the rest of my life”, but also as a best friend for life. Soulmates

2. Their dreams are just as important as yours.

Levi’s dream was to open up a tea shop and start a family with you. That was all he ever wanted. The blissful simplicity of his in comparison to your techy and out of this world ambitions, goes to show how much they weigh as aspirations and wants in life. You have to value your significant other’s dreams and ambitions just as much as you highly value yours. No matter how hard or how simple they are, the both of you can achieve it with the help of each other. The only thing left in your agenda was to open up his long-awaited Tea Shop. You were about to surprise him with the plans of opening one up on the day of his birthday, and you just can’t wait for that day to finally come.

3. You have to let them be free.

Levi absolutely knew what he was getting into when he met you. It was love at first sight when he met you, He drunkenly admitted that one time when he’s had too much champagne on your friday date night. He knew that you were an adventurer. A wandering soul who had a goal and a purpose set in stone. He always knew you were going to reach greater heights and he knew that you would never leave him behind and would always have him go on a ride. He’s always known about your capabilities and your potential and he didn’t want you to stray away from that. And, if the time were to come that you had to leave him behind to soar greater heights, he’d understand that. He’d always let you be free and make sure you don’t fly too close to the sun. That was just how selfless Levi is. The thing is, he knows you would do the same for him. It was a perfect balance.

4. It is an honor to love and to be loved by them.

To be wrapped in the arms of someone who feels like home or has become the definition of home, To be stargazing with on a chilly summer night in where you talk about your future and your plans, To be sharing a cup of coffee or tea with in the morning and begrudgingly dancing with you against his will, To be watching your child playing in her room and do nothing but look adoringly at the most precious soul to have ever been produced by your encompassing love, and to be spending the rest of your life with someone who has done nothing but be with you through every pivotal moment in your life was such an honor.

It is an honor to be loved by Levi, as he is honored to be loved by you.

“...The end.” You close the book with a deep but contented sigh. Tears were welling up in your eyes and you’re trying your best not to break down in front of Amelia.

“Mommy… are you crying?” She tilts her head in inquiry. “Is it because you’re tired from work?”

“No. baby. These are happy tears, Lili. Don’t worry.”

Before you could speak up once more, you notice Levi had slowly sprung up from the couch, and began to stretch his arms. His eyes widen when he sees you from the opposite couch. “(Y/N)... you were supposed to arrive at 6 AM right? Amelia and I were supposed to pick you-”

Amelia opens her mouth to speak as she jumps down from the couch and crawls up to sit next to Levi. “Daddy! I showed Mommy the book you wrote! She loved it! Right, Mommy?”

“You did?” Your husband perks up from his seat, clearing his throat. “T-that’s not the entire book yet by the way. We had to give back the original copies to Erwin for reprinting. The self-help book is currently rising up the charts to be a New York Times Best Seller.”

Before Levi could properly react, you move to the free space on the couch next to him. Holding his hand and gazing into his forlorn yet loving eyes, you muttered. “Love, that’s amazing. I’m really really proud of you. Next time though, please do tell me that you’ve written a self-help book and dethroned all those mommy authors from the bestselling charts.”

Levi stifles a laugh, stroking your thumb and bringing you and Amelia closer to him for warmth. “I will. I will.”

Amelia looks up at the two of you, squeezing out of the sandwich, so that you and Levi can have your quality time with each other. “Goodnight Mom! Goodnight Dad!” She approaches the two of you so that she can be given her nightly kiss on the cheek as she retreats to her room.

“What if I write a novel too?” You joke, snuggling up to Levi, your husband wrapping his arm around you. “The title could be… The way of the Wife boss?”

“That could be a good sequel. A shared book universe. Then, Amelia could continue the collection when we’re old and sour as hell.” Levi mused.

“Pfft. I guess only time will tell. I love you Levi.”

“I love you too (Y/N).”

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk fluff #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman

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mandoalorian · 3 years

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Javier Peña SFW Alphabet

Because the world needs more soft!Javi.

Warnings: 16+. allusions to sex, depression mention, cigarettes mention, alcohol mention, food mention.

Masterlist

Reblogs appreciated!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

So, Javi hates PDA. It makes him cringe. Javier can be pretty affectionate but only when you two are alone and spending private one-on-one time with each other. However, if he sees another pair of eyes on you, he can get protective pretty quick. He’ll guide you around with his hand placed on the small of your back, and he’s not afraid to slap your ass if it means he gets to assert his dominance.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I mean, just look at Javier & Steve. Javi is an amazing best friend. He’s hilarious, and always jokes around, although most of the time, his humour can be quite dark and self deprecating. None the less, he’s super funny and never fails to make you laugh. He’s perfect to have around when you need to be cheered up. He’s also super supportive and will constantly look out for you. If you’ve fucked up and made a mistake, Javi will take the blame and have your back. You don’t even have to ask him. He really steps up for you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

At first? No. Javi struggles to show his feelings, and he’s not the biggest hopeless romantic, as you might’ve guessed. He’s never really given out cuddles (or hugs for that matter), but if you’ve been together for a couple of months and you’re going steady, he doesn’t have an issue with getting into it. He learns to really like cuddles. Especially after sex.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He has no interest in getting married. Never has, never will. He doesn’t see the point in a piece of paper from city hall to confirm that you two love each other. As long as he can feel it, in his heart, that’ll be good enough for him. But if you absolutely want to get married, he’ll allow it. It won’t be a big ceremony though. Maybe just a few guests and a store bought cake. He doesn’t like the fuss. He doesn’t cook, ever. He had a pretty bad diet that consists of snacking on chips at the bar or ordering take-out. He has a cleaner too.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Honestly? Javier can be pretty brutal. If you’ve hooked up just a few times and he’s lost interest, he’ll probably just not call you back. If you’ve been together a while, he’s gonna be really torn up about breaking up with you. He’ll be sulking and moody for a few days and you’ll know that somethings up. Then he’ll go distance and ghost you, hiding out in a few motel bars leaving you worried about where he is. When you find him, there’s a big fight and he snaps and tells you he wants to end it all. When he misses you, he’ll pick up a girl from the brothel who looks similar enough to you, and he’ll think of you while he fucks her. He feels gross about it, but it’s just what he does.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Oh Lord, Javier has the biggest commitment issues. He’s terrified, as we seen with Lorraine. It’s gonna take a lot for him to settle down. He tries to reassure you that it’s not your fault and it’s a problem he needs to work out himself. It might take Javi a few years of steadily dating before his commitment issues become resolved, but as long as you’re willing to wait for him, he’ll be happy.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s definitely rough at first — in every way you can imagine. But you teach him how to be more gentle and considerate, both with yourself and the people around him. He can be pretty blunt which can cause a lot of hurt sometimes. When he sees that you’re upset though, he will show a surprising softer side. He’ll wrap his arm around you and smooth out your hair, and he’ll lull you to sleep by whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

The first time you hug Javi, he stiffens up completely. He has no idea how to react. The last time he received a hug must’ve been from his mom when he was still just a young boy. He often gives you hugs though, especially when you’re seeking comfort. Javier has big strong arms and he holds you so right. He runs at your flesh in soothing motions and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You can always smell the honeyed scent of his cologne, and cigarettes, when he hugs you. But you wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

You’re probably going to say it first... and that’s okay! Javier does love you, he knows that for sure. It’s just... it can be hard for him to actually admit it and come to terms with it (with his commitment issues and all). You assure him it’s okay and he can take his time. But he ends up not taking long at all. Once you tell him you love him, his whole world feels complete and it’s suddenly pretty easy for him to tell you that he loves you back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

To be honest, Javi is pretty confident in a relationship. No woman has ever left him before. So, he doesn’t get too jealous. Besides, other men know better than to get too close to you because Javier isn’t afraid to throw a punch or two. He is, by nature, extremely protective, though.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

So passionate. A clash of tongues and teeth. He often moans into your mouth and the vibrations from that alone are enough to send shivers down your spine. When he kisses you, he struggles to keep his hands to himself. With Javier, kisses often lead to making out which often leads to sex. He loves to kiss you anywhere. Along your jaw, down your neck and the valley of your breasts. He’s a biter too (this is canon). He loves to nibble at your skin and give you little lovebites.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Surprisingly decent. Kids aren’t his favourite thing in the world, and he does his best to avoid them, but on an occasion where he finds himself with a child, he can handle them pretty well. Olivia Murphy loves her uncle Javi.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Weekdays are the worst because Javi has to head to work pretty early. Weekends though? You and Javier will sleep in until around midday, just lounging in each other’s arms and basking in the morning sunlight as it seeps through your curtains. It’s soft and sweet and almost always results in morning sex. You and Javi find yourself indulging in tired conversations and soft touches as you both fall in and out of sleep.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Javier will be drinking beer or whiskey and the two of you will mostly likely be on his sofa, watching a movie together. Fancy dinners aren’t his style but he likes to treat you to them now and again on date night. And trust me when I say you two will be going at each other until the early hours of the morning.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s an enigma to everyone he meets, and this doesn’t exclude you. It can be exhausting at first— how much he keeps to himself. He doesn’t talk about his childhood, or what he did at work today. He talks about very little. But once you express to him that you wish he’d be more open and vulnerable with you, he tries. He really does try. In the end, he’s a lot more confident and can talk to you about practically anything.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has 0 patience, as we see on stakeouts. He gets angry and frustrated super fast. He’s not too loud and he’s rarely a shouter, but when he’s pissed, you’re sure to know about it.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

It’s going to take him about three years for him to remember your birthday. But he remembers the exact shirt you were wearing the night you and him met. He forgets your mom’s name, but he remembers the brand name of the perfume that’s displayed on your dresser. Point is, he remembers very menial and silly things about you. Sometimes, he’ll bring up a random fact about you that he’s remembered and it’ll truly surprise you. Even though he struggled to remember the important things, you find is so endearing how he remembers the smaller and finer things.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you and Javi slept together, something just hit him like a ton of bricks. He’s slept with plenty of women, that much is clear, but with you, it was different. Right from the start, something felt different, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. Truth be told, it terrified him... this unknown feeling. But it excited him too, and only spurred him on more. It takes him a while to realise, but that feeling was love. That was the night he fell in love with you. And so for that reason, yours and Javi’s first time is his favourite memory.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective. There’s no reason to elaborate. Due to the nature of his job and the shit he sees on a day to day basis, he makes you his number one priority. If anything ever happened to you, he couldn’t ever forgive himself. So he’s constantly at your neck and call. Anything you need, he will provide.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Javier is pretty low maintenance. Like I said, he will occasionally take you out for a meal at a fancy restaurant, but this is usually for anniversary dates. He’s taken a liking to going to the movies with you, and he also loves to go dancing with you in nightclubs. Javi’s job is well paid and he has a surprisingly good eye for jewellery. He always picks you out the most beautiful diamonds. You worry about him spending too much on you, though.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Smoking. You don’t like the smell of it. And when he has one too many beers. He tries to cut down though, for you.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Yeah, he looks after himself. He keeps himself well groomed. He even has a little toothbrush he uses to comb his moustache.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He really, really would. Say you and Javi have had a big fight and you are both spending some time away from each other... he’ll be really struggling. You’re always there to ground him and make him feel safe. He never realised how much needs you until you’re not with him anymore. He’d probably cry himself to sleep, but he’d never tell anyone.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He has a vision. It’s a pretty distant vision, well into the future. But once he retires from the DEA, he’d love to take you back to Texas and show you his fathers farm. Maybe even have a farm with you someday. A suburban house with a white picket fence and dog. It’s the last thing you’d expect from Javi, but in a sense, he craves the normality of it all.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Uh, he doesn’t like drugs? DEA agent and all. He doesn’t like the rain because it ruins his hair and he hates the way his colourful shirts stick to his skin. You tell him it’s sexy, though. He doesn’t like big events where he has to see and interact with a bunch of people.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He snores so loud. For the love of God, he needs to see a sleep therapist or some shit. Thankfully, you grow used to it, but you don’t know how he doesn’t wake himself up!

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javi peña #javi pena #javi peña x reader #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The Regular: Part 1 - Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re a dancer at a club, but that doesn’t mean you have to put on a show for everyone. Especially not if Geto’s paying.

word count: 2.6K

tw: nudity, small nsfw thoughts

Lipstick? Check.

Eyeshadow? Check.

Eyelashes? Check.

The eyes that stare back at you are your own, but for a minute, you’re lost in your own brown, doe-eyed gaze. Transfixed, you wish you could see what they saw when they looked at you. You wish someone would fix every mirror in your vicinity to display the person people thought you were. Maybe then you’d understand.

“Y/n!” The manager of the club - Mrs. Lampton - bursts through the dressing room door eagerly, pushing against the weighted frame with ease. “We have a lot of new faces out there. Are you ready to go on in ten?” The look in Mrs. Lampton’s eyes had never been brighter, and you blink at her twice, wondering if the woman had forgotten that you walked into the strip club without coercion, and you would do your job just the same.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” The rhetorical question makes Mrs. Lampton laugh, her amusement ringing out in the mostly empty dressing room.

“You’re funny, girl. I’ll make sure they play your favorite songs.” Without another word, she leaves, and you’re alone again, placing a single pastie on each nipple. New faces…

You hadn’t seen very many new people in the club since you’d been hired three months ago. It was always the same four men that came to see you during your weekday four o’clock shift, and a mix of the same faces during your ten o’clock dance on Friday evenings, when the club was full of men looking for an escape between the valley of your B-cups.

There was Aiko, the man who had completely given up on love and decided to get his affection from you when he got paid every two weeks with a simple lap dance. Then you helped Kohi with his fantasies: he had admitted to you that he could only fuck his girlfriend with his eyes closed and couldn’t think of anyone else except the girls in the club, you especially. Takeru was no different, just a little more handsy than you had originally expected when allowing him into the VIP room. And finally, you had the pleasure of meeting a new regular named Yuma just last month. Yuma was young, bright-eyed, and had a carefree attitude that also affected his wallet. Out of the four, he was the best tipper and admittedly, the sweetest… but those were your only four regulars.

The rest of the dancers at the club had at least enough regulars to count on both hands, but you were stuck with the smallest group. As such, you were given the shittiest shift, but you didn’t mind. The pay was enough to make up for rent and some extra expenses, but during the day, you were dedicated to working with your aunt in her flower shop.

You saw an array of men there, too, and the regulars there were almost as frequent as the ones here. Thankfully, this club was on the other side of town - the richer side - and you would go unnoticed in your ink black wig and heavy makeup in the dim lights.

You adjust your garters in the mirror, and slide the matching black lace bra over your pasty covered breasts. Tonight, there are new customers, and one of the new faces might potentially become a regular. Your regular.

You swing the door open and walk through the blue-lighted hallway to the carpeted space before the stage steps, watching the girl before you - a tall, thin blonde named Hannah - slide down the pole upside down, earning a few cheers from the gathered crowd. You don’t get to see her finish due to the obstructed view as you gather your towel and spray it with rubbing alcohol, but you do hear the DJ call her name as she exits. Hannah brushes past you without speaking, shaking her head at the wad of cash and solid red bra in her hands.

“Slow night?” you ask, and she turns around to face you, her blonde braid swinging over her shoulder. She raises a brow and then - in a rare show of kindness - mumbles:

“There’s a real spender in that crowd, but he wants nothing to do with me. Watch out for those blue eyes; they’re really distracting.” You whip your head back to look at the pole, your fingers tightening around the damp terry cloth. When you look back, Hannah is disappearing into the dressing room, too far gone to ask about the blue eyes comment.

Barefoot, you step up the stairs, and the DJ croons, “Next up is our loveliest newbie, y/n…” A slow song begins as you work your way around the pole with your towel, cleaning off any and all dirt and grime left behind from the previous girls with seduction. It was simple, really: twirling your hips and dancing around the pole was enough to make even the most stoic man soften. You were every man’s fantasy in that moment: a cleaning whore. When you finish your work, you find the cold, slick surface of the spin pole, and work your way up, feeling the pressure against the tops of your bare feet. It wasn’t unusual for you to leave with slightly bruised ankles or a “pole kiss” at your thigh. But it was all worth the extra money. Bruises faded away. Bills did not.

When you invert and grab the pole behind you, there is a sense of calm as you spin around like a siren, looking for the infamous blue eyes. It isn’t until you’re back on the floor that you see them - he’s across the room, eyes staring directly at you with white furrowed brows perched precariously above them.

As you keep track of the single dollar bills being deposited on the stage in front of you, you notice another new face beside him, leaning in to whisper something while his eyes flick away. When you fan kick around the pole twice, you see the face - black eyes and black hair in a half-bun - turn towards you with a smile. The smile isn’t innocent, but when were smiles in the club anything less? You return the smile with sincerity, finding the two men completely captivating.

But you have other customers to attend to; most notably, Yuma. His cherub face and tender green eyes are watching you from the bottom of the stage, his face in an entranced smile.

“Y/n!” he yells over the music, holding up a one-hundred dollar bill. You dismount from the pole and crawl on your hands and knees toward the youth, whose lips quirk up in a playful smirk.

“It’s good to see you here,” you breathe, dropping your voice an octave to seem more alluring. Yuma buys it hook, line, and sinker - as he always did - and slides the dollar bill between the garter and your see-through stockings. “See any good movies lately?” you wonder, letting him pet your leg tenderly.

“You’ll really like the newest addition to the Hanged Man trilogy,” he begins, eyes roving over your figure salaciously. Yuma hooks a finger around your garter and gives it a gentle snap; you huff out a laugh before rolling your neck around. “I’ll take you to see it, if you want.”

“That would be so nice,” you purr back, arching your hips until he can practically feel your ass pushing into his hand. “I would love nothing more than that.”

“I’ll buy a dance tonight and give you the details.” Yuma knows his time is short and waves a hand over your spine before retreating, his eyes staying with you as you unfurl from the floor. You have no intention of meeting Yuma outside of the club, but you have to admit that if you hadn’t met him in here, you probably would have attempted to pursue him.

A fast song means that you’re coming to the second part of your three-part dance, and your fingers make quick work of your pointless bra. When it drops to the ground, you can feel eyes drawn to your unclothed upper body grinding on the pole. Your eyes flick back to the blue-eyes man in the corner, and you find he’s alone staring at his phone in the darkness.

Why is he even here? you wonder, hooking a leg around the metal before swinging your back leg up. As you swing around with your head leaned back, you catch his handsome companion at the bottom of the stage, arm muscles rippling under his white button down. He’s counting his money, you realize, and take that as a sign that he might be beholden to making a generous donation. It isn’t until he holds out two hundred dollar bills that you stop, and he places it on the stage, patting it twice. You make your way back over to the stranger, eyeing him carefully under your heavy eyelashes as he leans in to speak.

“Very generous,” you note, and he gives a sheepish smile as he tucks the bills into the side of your g-string. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“You can call me Geto.” His voice, calm and strong, washes over you like a burst of fresh air, and you notice he doesn’t seem nervous at all, despite appearing shy.

“You can touch me,” you offer, but he places both hands back on the stage, staring into your eyes.

“I’d rather do that privately. How much for a VIP room with you for the evening?” Your eyes flick to Yuma, who is happily downing a drink at the bar and settling his tab.

“I… have one dance I have to --”

“He hasn’t paid yet.” Another one-hundred dollar bill slides across the stage. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Another bill. “All of this,” Two more bills. “for one night.

Six hundred dollars. That was three times as much as you made on a regular night.

“And take this off.” You think he’s going to tug at your lingerie, but instead, he tugs a strand of your wig, and you frown.

“I…”

“Your real hair is brown.” He offers, raising his brows as if to challenge the denial working its way up your throat. You are a brunette.

“P-pay the red-haired lady at the bar. Tell her you’re requesting the VIP room with me,” you stammer.

“I’d rather make sure all the money makes it into your pocket.” Your mouth dries up, but you have to finish your last song. The man notices your nerves, and jerks his chin at you slightly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “No worries. I’ll see you in there.”

As you’re wiping down, you feel your chest constrict slightly. Takeru and Yuma were the only ones who had actually been in the VIP room with you, but that had only been twice in your three months there. They had paid the bare minimum - two hundred dollars - to see you fully naked, touching yourself in front of them and allowing them to spread you bare for observation. There were no holds barred in there except fucking, but if this man could afford to drop three times the amount it cost to reserve the room for himself… Mrs. Lampton would most likely let him do as he pleased. For a moment, you consider Yuma being disappointed and downtrodden that you couldn’t give him at least one lap dance before the end of the night, but you had to go with this new stranger, if just for tonight.

“Hey, y/n…” Mrs. Lampton pokes her head into the dressing room again. “The VIP room is ready for you. Your client is in there; you’ll be alone, as requested.” Not even a fucking security guard.

The stairs up to the absolutely private area are steep, but you somehow wobble your way up there in your red, satin teddy and black robe. When you open the door to the room, the wall maps give a soft golden glow to the space, illuminating the couches and mirror on the back wall. One-way glass separates you from view of the other patrons down below, now enjoying another show from another girl. Usually, a security guard would post himself on this side of the wall, observing the free show with the stoicism of a statue.

But tonight, it’s you and Geto. He lazes on a couch, both arms splayed across the light brown fabric as you enter the room. His black eyes follow you as you pad toward him, watching his every move. You stop in front of the man, locking eyes with him as you undo the tie at your waist and let the silk robe fall to the ground. His lips part and he spreads his legs, beckoning you forward with his right forefinger and middle finger.

Silently, you make your way to him, planting yourself between his long legs and looking down. “Kneel.” Your breath hitches in your throat, but you sink to your knees anyways, keeping your eyes on him. As he leans over you, you think the worst is about to happen and squeeze your eyes and mouth shut. When his fingers find the nape of your neck, you flinch, but feel your hair tie slide off of the braid in your hair. He smells like sandalwood - you note - much unlike the other men you encountered in the club. They often reeked of booze and smoke, or something much grimer.

His fingers work their way through your locks, separating the strands with ease before retracting. Your hair cascades around your face like a curtain, and he leans back, resuming his previous position. “You can dance if you’d like.” Instantly, you rise from the wooden floor and begin running your hands up your waist and to your chest, swirling your hips around to the sensual music playing through the speakers. Geto observes you with a tilted head, squinting his eyes when you play with the feathered hem of your teddy. You don’t lift it over your head, opting to tease him to his limit instead of giving him exactly what he wanted right away.

His black eyes roam over your figure repeatedly, watching your hips sway and fingers wind into your hair without changing. He leans forward when you take a step back, lacing his fingers together in front of him calmly. You step back into his reach, and he shifts suddenly, startling you so bad that you stop moving entirely.

“Sorry,” he hisses, adjusting his seating. “It’s a little uncomfortable to sit like that right now.” You let out a nervous chuckle and resume your movements, unsure if you’re ready to remove your lingerie or not. “I’m not going to ask you to take it off.” The admission makes you pause, but you continue to dance anyways.

“Why?”

“Why would I?” He tosses back, shrugging.

“You get to see everything in here. That’s what you paid for, right?”

“I paid for you to dance for me alone. I want a private show; not something anyone can watch for free.”

“Do you want to touch me?”

“Not yet.”

And he didn’t for the rest of the time he spent there that night. Before he left the room, he pressed a couple of hundreds into your palm then opened the door and walked out. You had never experienced anything quite like it, but with the extra cash in your hand as you walked out of the club, you prayed to the stars that you would see this unicorn just one more time.

#geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

Hi! just finished reading your Tumblr request on AO3 and I just looooove your writing ;; if it's not a problem I wanted to ask how you imagine that Lucifer, Mammon and Beel would react to a MC who is usually very quiet and not very expressive, impossible to embarrass or make nervous, to suddenly, one day manage to make her blush for the first time (Also, English is not my first language, so I hope this is okey) I wish you a lovely week ❤

A/N: This is adorable! Sorry for the slow turn around, I hope you enjoy!❤

Lucifer

Stoicism is something he normally finds very attractive in a woman. To be able to keep such a level of calm outlook during even times that might even shake him. He loves the idea of a power couple, and the way you hold yourself. You definitely make one.

It does grate him that he can’t fluster you like you do him, especially during your time together in private. He tries multiple ways to even just draw some color to your cheeks. Flowers in the classroom, hand written invitations to private dining establishments and venues, he even went to the human realm just to find some kind of familiar comfort to give to you. You love them all he knows but he wants, craves to see an uninhibited reaction from you. He’ll get it one day, his pride depends on it at this point.

Luck graces him one evening after a hellish work day. A fight in the school yard leading to property damage he had to do extra paper work for. The only saving grace of that was it wasn’t one of his brothers, this time. Only followed soon after by a report of yet another racket engineered by Mammon. Then, to top off a horrible day one of Belphie and Satan’s little “pranks” blew up half his office.

All his loose or unprotected paperwork, gone. Nothing but smoldering bits of ash. He was now more than ever thankful to have you by his side. Before he could get his hands on the two you stepped in shooing him away to deal with the other fires that needed to be put out while you handled his office.

Things got done, in record time for once. He was able to rewrite his notes for the next council meeting, but at the cost of your weekday dinner together. A pity, but he knew you understood. Trudging up to his room he looked forward to perhaps a few hours of sleep before the next crisis struck. Then he found you.

He chuckles to himself quietly leaning against his door frame. You had beaten him to his favorite resting roost. You sat on his favorite armchair, rolled up tight in his comforter. All he could see was a tuft of hair and the very tip of your nose. Beautiful as always, but he wanted to rest. Well-two birds, one stone and all…

He scoops you up envious of how deeply you could slumber and places you on his lap. Kicking off his shoes he sighs blissfully before resting his head back on worn leather.

Mini fic

You didn’t expect to see Lucifer tonight. Today has been the absolute definition of a shit show, on nights like these it wasn’t uncommon for you not to see him at all. You would normally place your bets on him being unconscious at his desk. Though, he couldn’t really do that tonight. You pat yourself on the back mentally knowing that he would be pleased with the work you and the brothers did cleaning up his office. While you couldn’t get them to apologize to Lucifer you at least got them to clean up what was salvageable in his study.

After a few hours of cleaning his office was back in working order and your feet were screaming for a break. Bidding the two miscreants farewell and making them promise to hold off on the pranks for at least a week you let your body lead you to Lucifer’s room. The room was how you left it that morning. Your slippers next to his by the door and your robe tossed haphazardly on his linen sheets. You make a beeline for the only piece of furniture Lucifer loved dearly. How many nights had you snuck in only to see him melting into the old chain. His long legs sprawled out and tangled in his foot rest, while his body sinks into the imprints he has left from years of use like a lover's embrace.

Yanking the thin comforter from his bed you curl into the divots with a yawn. Before you know it your eyes close and the crackling of the fireplace lulls you to sleep. You awake with a jolt, confused and disoriented for a moment before your sleepy brain catches up. You fell asleep alone on the soft leather but woke to something unyielding beneath you now.

Lucifer sits underneath you snoring softly. His arms rest around your blanketed body. His head tilts down over you, his nose tickling your hairline. Like always he sports a mild look of annoyance. His lips were drawn in a scowl, brows crinkling in displease. You could tell his jaw was tense even while he slept.

Freeing your arms from your cocoon you reach up from him moving to cup his twitching jaw. With practiced ease you began to message the pin joints. You smile to yourself moving down to his tense neck and shoulders. This had become a nightly ritual for you when you shared a bed. When you knew he was asleep you would start trying to work away some of his tension from the previous day. You swear in the morning that he looks better on the nights you get the chance to.

This was your little secret though. You couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing you did this. Not that you thought he would disapprove. Lucifer appreciated acts of service, but just the thought of him knowing made your whole body heat in a flush. You push the thoughts away focusing instead on the extremely tight muscles underneath his brow line. It amazed you that he didn’t have any wrinkles after all this.

So engrossed in your perusal of his features you didn’t notice him stirring till his warm palm traps your hand to his cheek. Before you realize it his lips push a firm kiss into the flesh of your palm. Scarlet eyes meet yours crinkling around the edges. They were warm and radiant. “You’re blushing.” His voice was deep and husky from what little sleep he got.

“What?” You stammer.

Lucifer leans in tapping his forehead on yours. He studies your wide eyes and pink face for a moment before cracking a smug grin. “I’ve never seen you flustered before. Your blush looks good on you.”

“You caught me off guard.” He nods, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly taking impish glee in your squirming.

“Good-I will strive to do so more often. I wish to see you as undone as you make me.”

Mammon

Stoic MC? Rare pair? Rare pair. Mammon wears his heart on his sleeve. Nothing about him is slick. From week one everyone knew he had it bad for you. He is so open with his affections whether he likes it or not. Unlike you.

Honestly, how were you always so controlled. Ain’t the dame supposed to be all blushy and giggly too? It-it makes him think he isn’t doing something right. Is he not treating you right? Were you unhappy?

So he goes to do what he does best. Scheme. There has to be someway to crack that stoic disposition of yours. He gets clingy-well clingier now. He starts springing random vacations on you. Expect to skip class whenever he thinks he won’t get skinned alive for it.

He’ll take you anywhere all his internet research tells him to. Black sand beaches, crowded boardwalks to see the lights, deserted hiking trails late in the evening to watch the fireflies. He is sure it will work. But nope, nada. You love every moment of it and show him with a soul searing kiss and sweet words of praise. But damn you if you aren’t always so cool about it.

He is about to throw in the towel when he finally gets what he wants. At work no less. It was completely by accident but he isn’t one to complain. Perhaps he should go to work more often.

Mini Fic

“Pucker up!” Mammon’s make-up artist orders, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “And for Diavolo’s sake put your phone down.”

“Shove off Cazzin.” Mammon sputters around the sour tasting lip stain and plumper. His eyes still glued to his screen. His freshly done nails swiping at picture after picture of fancy hotels and spas. Just thinking about taking you a private spring got his blood boiling in the best ways.

“Woooow.” Cazz whistles through her fangs looking at his screen. “Who is the lucky lady you are trying to impress this time?

“Mammon bristles, shooting her a murderous glance. The smaller demon blanches, purple skin turning ashy with fear. Her eyes drop to the floor immediately in submission, a sincere apology falling from her lips. “My girlfriend.” He says finally after cooling down. “I’m-I’m trying to impress her or something.”

“Well, pretty sure with a price tag like that anyone would be impressed.” Mammon only grunts barely glancing at the excessive amount of zeros on the page. Any other girl he knew would be a blushing mess after getting a gift like this. Hells, even Cazz was eyeing the site with open envy and excitement. Yet, this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this with you. Every time he did all he got was a blisteringly radiant smile and kisses that probably could send him back to heaven if he didn’t have a life long ban there. Not that that was a bad thing...but he just wanted more.

“You would think so…” He trails off clicking his phone off to focus on the rest of his routine. No sooner had his hair and make-up artist finished then his director was stomping and shouting down the hall for him to get his ass on set. Grimacing Mammon slides off his seat stretching to spare himself a few more seconds of peace. He stops at the door taking one last look at his get up for this shoot.

Damn, he looks good. It was time for a new spring collection, but more importantly, his most popular season. The light spring colors always brought out his best features. The pastel cotton shirt they “fashionably” threw him in hung casually around his frame. Buttons “tastefully” undone to show the smooth planes of his freely waxed and oiled skin. The linen board shorts and finishing touch of leather sandals gave him the perfect beach vibe. At top dollar mind you.

Hmmm-perhaps he could borrow this outfit for your next beach outing.

Unable to tone out his bosses shouting anymore Mammon makes his way to set. He thinks hard on what else he can go or take you to impress you, ignoring the poking and prodding of his camera men and set designers. His partners today, two incubus twins stood sourly next to him. They had been at this for hours and even he was ready for a break from the sweltering heat of the lights.

“Alright! Alright!” The director broke an hour later tired of the twins whining. He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “We’ll break for an hour for lunch- lost the light as is.” He huffs stumping off for a smoke break.

“Finally,” Mammon sighs from his pose on the ground. “Think I got sand in my ass.” He gets up from the ground grimacing as he tries to brush the grit off his legs. “Shit starts to burn when they get hot.” One of the twins nods looking down at their own arms. Tiny burn marks showing on their fair skin, they will heal by the time the shoot resumes, doesn’t mean they will be happy about it.

“Want to grab lunch?” The twins ask tossing him a towel to blot at his sweating brow. “New food truck is coming in today.” Mammon shakes his head. You had packed him something to eat this morning and he kind of wanted to enjoy it in peace for once.

Waving the two off he hurries back to his room already salivating at whatever tasty food you got him. Halfway to the door he stops, the fine hairs on his neck standing up. Someone was in his dressing room. Devil’s please don’t let it be another rabid fan. He pleads before creeping forward to check. Whoever it was left the door ajar, peaking in he stares enraptured.

When did you get here? It wasn’t abnormal for you to just drop by while he was working, but you usually waited for him on set behind the cameras. You sit humming to yourself reading something on your lap, feet kicking out innocently while you wait for him. Flipping a page he gets a glimpse of what you’re reading. His feathers ruffle in satisfaction. He had plans on showing you these shots before their release date. They still needed approval from his director but he knew they were great. You flip through shot after shot humming or nodding at some. One shot makes you stop fully, eyes growing wide.

Mammon snorts to himself, knowing exactly which photo you stopped on. The next issue was focusing on “Elegance in the work space”, whatever that means. His designer for the projects went a little overboard with the cuts and designs of the business suites he was to model. The sketches and drafts she had thrust at him had made his head spin. They were all amazing in his opinion, but one had been killer, everyone had agreed on that. If he didn’t know any better he was certain that it would put him on the cover. By the way you were looking at it, he was hoping it would.

That suit really complimented all of his features. It was form fitting accenting his slim waist but hid the slight sloping of his shoulders. The gold of the threading of his vest was done up in soft floral patterns that popped against the dark navy blue of the suit's fabric. The dark blue really brought out the lightness of his eyes. The look was topped off with a bright yellow silk pocket square, polished leather wingtips and gold cufflinks. He was about to interrupt you when he saw it, that one thing he wanted more than anything.

The pink starts at your ears swiping across the bridge of your nose before blooming on your round cheeks. It was breathtaking. Thinking he was being sneaky, Mammon whips out his phone for a quick picture, no one would believe him unless he had solid evidence. But the flash gives him away.

“Mammon!” You jump caught, hands flying to cover your warm face.

“Oi! None of that!” Mammon moves quickly snatching your hands away from your face beaming. “I’ve been waiting for ages to see this face on ya, an’ all it took was a picture of me?”

“You- you clean up really nicely, Mammon.” His hearts flutter at your soft admission.

“Huh,” Mammon scratches his neck, feeling his own blush coming forth. “Well- I mean I could do that more often, so long as you keep looking at me like this when I do.” He picks up the stack of photos from the floor where you dropped them in surprise. “Ya know- I still got that suit.”

Your face turns molten- oh he was going to have a field day with this.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t even notice at first. He is kind of the same way with expressing himself too- unless food is involved. So if you are content then he is content, so who cares if you don’t show it on your face?

Well- he didn’t care, until Belphie brought it up. His twin didn’t mean anything by it; he knew that, but it made him wonder. He trusts you when you say you are happy, you have no reason to lie to him. But date nights, game nights, and family dinners you were always so impassive.

It makes him wonder, not enough to ask you though. Truthfully, he is a little embarrassed that he can’t read you as you do him. He won’t force it like his brothers might. He is patient and hopes one day it will just come naturally like it does for him around you.

Mini Fic

Beel watches you over his lunch. You two were silent as you ate, but that was to be expected on days like these. The school cafe was packed with students all jockeying to get a place in line for today’s special. He had gotten there early for the both of you to gap a few of the specials and sides before they were gone. “Are you ok?” He puts his fork down leaning in close to speak to you across the small table. It creaks dangerously under the weight of his elbows on it. You look up from your tea mug. He smiles at your perpetually mild expression, your eyes were hard but your lips and brows were relaxed giving away nothing.

“Of course.” You smile up at him, face smooth and controlled. “Just excited about tonight.”

Hmph, could have fooled him. Beel leans back, studying you intently. He hopes you were as excited as he was for tonight. A new arcade had opened on the edge of town last week and he thought it would be a great date night for the two of you. He had expressed to you on several occasions how he was looking forward to the roller rink and the hoop games. You seemed eager, giving him a closed lip grin every time he brought it up. “Me too.” Beel says finally turning back to his food. “Think we will win any prizes?”

You snort dismissively. “Us? The dream team? I would be surprised if we didn’t win something. Have you seen the plushies?” You pull out your phone and show him their Devilgram. “I want to try and get the hydra one…” You prattle on and scroll through all the cute prizes on their site. He nods along taking a mental note of all the ones that you pointed at, determined to get each and every one for you.

School goes by quickly, far too quickly for him. Each tick of the clock caught him by surprise, jacking his nerves up more and more. It wasn’t like it was his first date with you, but it never stopped the butterflies from starting in his stomach. After school he changes quickly and waits for you by your bedroom door. He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket until you finally open your door.

“Ready?” The smile you throw up at him is breathtaking. “Hope you don’t mind my get up. You mentioned a roller ring so I figured something sporty and functional would be appropriate.” You kick out a leg waving a hand over your bright sport leggings.

Beel chuckles offering you his large hand. “You look adorable as always.”

Being with you was as easy as breathing to him now. After all your time together in the house getting to know you you became one of his closest friends, even before you started dating. You shared many of his interests and wasn’t afraid to argue your point if you saw fit. You fill the train ride to the arcade with idle chatter, goofy selfies to send to his siblings, and annoying the other passengers with your ill-contained chuckles.

The place itself was packed but well spread out to handle the massive throngs of demons and beasts coming for drinks and a good time. “Come on!” You shout over the other very drunk and very loud customers tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s get some coins and find an empty station.” He lets you lead. You take full advantage of his impressive frame to part the crowds around you as you hunt for a free spot. “See anything?”

Beel peers over the heads of most of the demons and looks out. In the far corner sat a few jump rope games that were free. “Stay close.” He murmurs in your ear wrapping a protective arm your shoulders so you wouldn’t be swept away in the flow of the crowd. The games were...hard. Mentally Beel kicks himself. Of course an arcade in the Devildom wouldn’t be geared for humans. They were built for demons' fast reflexes and inhuman strength. You were a good sport about it though, cheering him on when the games began to move too fast for your senses. If a game broke in his zeal to get you tickets, well you were both fast walkers.

“Think we have enough?” Beelzebub asks hours later around a popsicle. His jacket pockets bulge with multicolored tickets screaming to be spent.

You hum around a scoop of ice cream. “Possibly-” Your eyes flick to the prize booth. “And extra, you want a plushie too?” He shrugs. No doubt the moment it got into his room Belphie will steal it to add to his horde.

You end up getting your stuffed hydra and a giant fuzzy minotaur to keep it “company”. You clutch them close to your chest, seemingly happy with your bounties. After that you spend a bit at the roller ring before you finally had to call it a night. Exhausted you lag behind Beel as you make your way back to the train station, feet dragging with each step.

Wordlessly, Beel stops just in front of you. “Here,” He squats, offering you his back, arms stretched out behind him. “I can take us the rest of the way to the stop.” He feels you hesitate for a moment before climbing on to his back.

“Thank you.” He thinks nothing of how soft your voice was, just barely a tickle at the base of his neck. Beel treks one once you are secure, stuffing his hands in his pockets to lock you in place. The rest of the walk was quiet but he didn’t mind it, your warm body and soft breathing in his ear was a comfort.

He stops at the benches with a few minutes to spare before your train. “We are here. Do you want-” He gasps quietly, cutting himself off before he could accidentally wake you. You sleep on unperturbed by his voice. Your hold on around his neck was tight, your head buried in his neck.

It seems only when you're sleeping do you let your guard down. A blush sweeps across your face, your lips pulled up into a serene smile. You looked-happy. Happy in a way he never saw before. He won’t say anything about it, he decides. He’ll cherish this tiny expression all the same. Perhaps one day he’ll see when you're awake too.

#Request #om beelzebub #om lucifer #om mammon #im slowly cranking them out!!!#obey me shall we date

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laequiem · 3 years

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boys ain't shit - chapter 1

Jurdannet Folktober 2021- Day 09. Love potion no. 9 @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Taryn Duarte/Nicasia

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1,039

Taryn Duarte, in a desperate attempt to gain Locke's True Love, has brewed a Love Potion. But will the potion actually work?

read on ao3

masterpost

chapter 2 • chapter 3 • chapter 4

Chapter 1. Love potion number 9

Taryn POV

It was no small thing to gather the ingredients I needed. For months, rosehip has been fermenting in a bottle of faerie wine under my bed. I snuck in the gardens to gather fresh rosemary. I could have purchased the items, of course. However, the grimoire I read stated that the more work you put in, the stronger the potion. So I collected honeycombs from a wild beehive and extracted the honey myself. It was messy and exhausting, but there is little I would not do for true love.

Even if Locke says faeries do not love like we humans do, I can make him love me and only me.

It’s not that I don’t want Jude to be happy. I do. They’re just… not right for each other, you know? Locke is all smiles and games. Sometimes I wonder if Jude ever lets her guard down. I have not seen her laugh in years.

The glass vial containing the potion sloshes in my dress pocket as I make my way through Locke’s maze, towards the center where I know today’s festivities are taking place. It’s a regular weekday—Locke and his friends never need a reason to celebrate. Prince Cardan’s bad mood is reason enough, and he’s always in a bad mood when sober. Not that he is any better when intoxicated, but he usually doesn’t pay me any mind when he is and that is fine with me. As I reach the center of the maze, I see that today is no exception. He’s sprawled out on a fine blanket, a whiskered girl braiding his hair. He gives a quick look my way as I emerge, but quickly snaps his head away with a sneer.

The usual.

Nicasia is hovering near him, not approaching but clearly hoping he notices her. She’s breathtaking in an opalescent gown, the sleek plunging neckline showing a large expanse of flawless skin sparkling with glitter. Her hair falls in voluminous blue curls decorated with aquamarine gems and string. On her head sits a crown of shells and pearls.

“My dove,” a familiar voice croons behind me, “you came! I was starting to worry.”

I turn to face Locke, ever handsome in a wine-colored doublet. They’re all so beautiful, I stand out like a horse at a wedding banquet. How could I possibly stand out when they’re so ethereal and I’m, well… human?

“Sorry for the wait,” I tell him, smiling. “I had to sneak past my sister.”

“Jude is always welcome, too,” he tells me as he pulls me in his arms.

I try not to react, not to show him his words affect me. He loves to remind me that he’s dating both of us. It’s part of the challenge he gave me, I suppose. If I can share him with Jude, then he will agree to marry me soon.

“Not Jude,” I tell him.

“I always forget you have two sisters,” Locke says, a hand brushing against my cheek. “You’re all I can see.”

I can feel myself blushing, and he gives a quick kiss to my cheek.

“I’ll go get us drinks,” I say, shrugging out of his arms. “I’ll be right back.”

I saunter over to the banquet table and grab two cups. I fill them with the darkest wine available, hoping it will hide the deep scarlet of my potion.

My hands shake as I reach in my pockets for the vial. I try not to look suspicious as I uncork it, hiding it under the table as I do. A quick look around tells me that nobody is looking my way. I dump the contents in one of the cups and give it a quick swirl, watching as the potion disappears into the wine.

I am really doing this. It’s wrong. It’s the stuff of fairytales, but when one mingles with the fae, one can only win by playing by their rules.

A manicured hand grabs the glass meant for Locke from my hands. I don’t need to look up to know who it belongs to—it’s of a paleness only the fae can achieve, with green undertones that would look sickly on anyone else. On her, however, it’s elegant.

“And here I thought Locke had no human servants,” Nicasia says, gazing down at me with ocean-deep eyes.

I swallow, willing myself not to react. Not to roll my eyes or scowl, no matter how much I want to. Nicasia places a hand to her breast, faking surprise.

“Oh, silly me! It’s no servant. It’s only one of the worms.” She gives me a once-over, her upper lip slightly pulled back. “Could have fooled me.”

I reach for the cup she took from me, but she lifts the goblet above her head, too high for me to reach.

“That is for Locke, give it back,” I say, trying to sound less irritated than I am.

Nicasia waves a hand dismissively. “Just get him another one.”

I try to reach the glass, but she waltzes away. Once out of arm's reach, she brings the glass to her lips and I watch wide-eyed as Nicasia drains the glass containing the love potion meant for Locke. The potion I spent months working on.

“What is it, little wormie?” Nicasia croons.

The potion is supposed to make the person fall in love with the first person they see. It’s fantastical, unbelievable, but my relationship with Locke needs it. And now Nicasia… I hope that all of this was for nothing. I hope the potion was nothing but a hoax.

“You look sick,” she says, tipping her head slightly to the side. “Perhaps you should retire for the night.”

Nicasia reaches out, her fingers slipping through a strand of my hair. I flinch away from her, suddenly afraid that the potion worked and that she is about to kiss me. As I do, I bump into something—someone—behind me.

“There you are,” Locke says as he slips his arms around my waist. “What’s taking you so long?”

He kisses my temple, then looks over at Nicasia. “Nicasia. I hope you are not trying to steal my lover.”

Nicasia snorts, but it sounds fake. Loaded. “It takes one to know one.” -

tag list: @figonas @kingandfireheart @godgavemelou @lizziebxnnet @hazelsheartsworn

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#Jurdannet #jurdannetfolktober2021 #folktober #the folk of the air #tfota #nicaryn #nicasia #taryn duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #rarepair

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maybe-itll-be-someday · 3 years

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After The Rain

For my beautifully bright friend, @sequinsmile-x.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. I’d only ever be able to pull 2.5k words out of my math riddled brain for you.

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Aaron always did hate the rain.

The rain always meant that he would have no choice but to stay inside, a witness to the bottles of whiskey that his father would consume and his mother’s indifference to the situation. The rain meant that he’d have to stay home from the library, where he spent hours perusing through books and living in between worn out spines. Instead, he’d stay holed up in his room until his father’s booming voice beckoned him out, the rain aggravating his already delicate temper another notch.

It drizzled the day that they lowered his mother into the ground. Barely 25, his only suit hanging off his shoulders and circles under his eyes from nights he spent reading through cases and making his life more than his father’s ever was. He doesn’t cry as her casket gets lowered six feet beneath them, so the sky softly weeps on his behalf.

It rains the day that Haley leaves him. He comes home to their apartment, a light smattering of rain drops on their window as he takes in the empty space of their living room. Jack’s favorite toys are gone from the living room floor, where he spent hours stacking blocks and attempting to shove shapes into the wrong holes. The clothes she left in their closet were non-essentials - not anything they needed to live their everyday lives.

(It’s only fitting that he gets left behind too.)

It storms the day he makes the decision to send Emily off to Paris, his heart in his throat when he tells their superiors that the only way they could keep her safe is by letting everyone think that she was dead. Tears sting in his eyes and his fingers cramp from the intensity in which he’s holding the pen as he signs away to her new life, one that just recently slotted him in like a neat puzzle piece.

Thunder rumbles above them when he squeezes her hand, promising her that he would find Doyle and that he would bring her home. The skies crack open and the rain starts to fall when he gets to stamp his affection for her on her lips, sealing whispered promises he had no idea if he could keep.

So he takes the assignment in Pakistan, because when the sky splits open on a Wednesday night, he feels like he’s drowning.

At least it didn’t rain in the desert.

It rains on their third date, much to his dismay.

He should’ve checked the weather forecast before committing to taking her on a picnic in the park on a rare weekday off. He even goes to a boutique wine store in DC, asking for advice on what kind of wines would go best with which cheese because he wants to impress her. He wants the flavours to melt on her tongue to be the same sharp contrast of salty and sweet that lingered on his tongue when he tasted her. He buys her favorite wine, wrapped in a label that’s worn with time, because he wants to show

He just wants to tell her how he feels, but it’s way too soon. She’s only been back in the States for a few months, their romance rekindled in the past few weeks.

So instead, he tries to plan every moment of their date to the perfection she deserved.

If only he had checked the weather.

Emily had shown up at his door, white linen flowing down from thin straps and cinching around her waist, delicately draping right above her knees and his mouth going dry at the sight of her. She wrapped her fingers around his neck and kissed him in greeting, his own hands greedily grabbing the fabric under his hands and internally debated if they could forgo the picnic and instead eat the overpriced cheese he bought off of her skin.

But her eyes brightened when she saw the picnic basket he had prepared, running a finger and reading the labels of everything he bought in perfect intonation to their native languages.

“Where did you get all of this?” She had asked, cheeks dusted in a light pink at the realization that he had done this all for her.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll tell you.” He’s always been attuned to her movements - a careful eye thrown in her direction. It had started just as a precaution, his opinions on her joining the BAU still up for debate.

It had slowly and too easily transformed into something else completely. It was probably the reason why he had gone to four different delis in DC, tracking down cheese he couldn’t pronounce the names of and two bottles of wine that he thinks cost him more than all the wine he’s ever bought in his life.

He remembers the first time he caught it. Reading a report from over her shoulder, their relationship refining its rough edges as they slipped closer and closer together. He remembers the smell of her perfume, the soft scent of something floral in his nose as he read through her report.

“Good.” He had said, a soft hand on her shoulder in approval when her shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Not in annoyance, or in anger, but in a frustration that he thinks had to do with the way her hips shifted in her seat. He was just starting to learn about her, of the mole that was tucked on her collarbone, of the small rose tattoo on her ribs and the dove that flew across her hip bone.

He spent his time exploring which patches of skin produced which noises, which angle of his caused her to grip whichever part of him she was holding tighter, and which words caused his name to roll off of her tongue in a sweet cacophony of moans.

Her pupils darkened at his approval, his touch igniting something under her skin that when he said it later that night, wrapped in her silk sheets - the words good girl dropped in the middle of unintelligible mutters - she had arched into him and her thighs clamped down around his hips as she urged him to go deeper and faster, chasing her release by embedding him under her skin.

Another button he’s learned how to press and his delight grew as her pupils widened at his words.

“As long as I can hold you to that.” He wanted to tug her back into his bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that his apartment was kid-free for once but she just cackled and tugged on his hand, telling him to grab the picnic basket because she was starving .

They find a secluded area of Potomac park and he asks her to explain whatever it is he bought, because he really was only working off of the recommendations of the elderly Italian woman at the first deli who had written down all the cured meats and cheeses that he should buy when he mentioned it would be for his girlfriend.

Emily tells him which wine would go best with which cheese and he feeds her grapes and cherries that stained her lips in a soft pink, stealing soft kisses when he lingers close enough and enjoying the blush that spreads on her skin when his hand draws soft circles on the inside of her knee.

The dark, grey sky looms over them without warning, the clouds splitting open to let fat drops of rain land on the very expensive cheese that he thinks is an absurd amount for pressed curds of milk. Aaron starts to quickly pack their picnic, calculating the amount of time that it’s going to take to get to the car that they’ve parked on the other side of the road and wonders why the rain was determined to ruin what was going to be one of his favorite memories.

“Aaron.” She says, chuckling and running a hand down his back. “It’s only the rain.”

But she also notices the way his body has gone rigid, jaw set in a tight line as he continues to pack the food back into the basket. He flinches when a particularly fat raindrop hits the back of his neck and she frowns at his reaction.

But she doesn’t press, instead helping him pack away all of their food and letting him coral her under a nearby tree just as the rain pelts the ground in heavy, loud waves. The rain was torrential, their visibility limited to the first twenty feet in front of them and Aaron already knows that they won’t make it back to the car without getting soaked, if they could find it in the downpour.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He mutters, fists curled tightly and Emily pushes the wet curls across his forehead and brushes off his apology.

“It’s not like you can control the weather.”

“I should’ve checked--” He protests.

“It’s okay, I actually like the rain.” Her head cocks, appraising him with a careful eye and Aaron knows that he doesn’t have to tell her that he isn’t a big fan of the rain. She stares at him for a moment longer and as he is about to suggest they sprint back to the car, her hand slips into his and she tugs him out from under the shade of the tree and right into the downpour.

“Emily, what are you doing ?” He asks, his voice loud to try and compete with the rain that was battering the ground beneath them. Emily doesn’t respond, instead keeping a firm grip on his hand as the drops of water soaked her skin, causing the white fabric around her to cling to her skin.

“Dance with me.” She says, a gentle tug on his hand pulling him closer.

“There’s no music.” He says and she just laughs, his pedantics having the opposite effect on her as she steps closer to him, lifting the hand in hers as his arm loops instinctively around her waist. He’s about to protest again, because they really should be getting back to the car because the food is in a wooden basket under a tree, but she tips her lips on his and effectively stops his protests before they begin.

Her temple brushes against his cheek, and the taut pull of his muscles releasing slightly. She curls into him, her hand resting on the small of his back as his palm flattens across her shoulders, his thumb edging the outline of its blade. A shiver runs up her spine at the contact, the warmth of his fingers a sharp contrast to the rain that slid on their skin. She starts leading him in a gentle sway, their movements oddly on beat with the beating of the rain.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never danced in the rain, Hotchner.” He shrugs, a playful smile gracing his lips.

“I’m not in the habit of catching a cold or freezing in wet clothes.” Emily laughs, the soft lilt of it wrapping his heart in a warmth that causes those three words to curl dangerously at the end of his lips.

“The rain isn’t all bad.” She says, glancing up towards the dark sky as she lets the rain pound on her skin. “It brings the flowers. It cleans the air. It helps us savor the sunshine just a little bit more.”

Her fingers twine around a damp strand of his hair at the base of his neck, the scrape of her nails eliciting the release of the tension in his shoulders. He pulls her a little closer, taking the lead her in a soft shuffle

“The rain brings the rainbows.” She says, a soft smile curling at the edge of her lips, as if she was telling him a secret he wasn’t supposed to know about.

He didn’t think he’d ever find himself dancing in the rain. The torrential background of some of his more unpleasant memories is the same background that makes his chest want to split open to let all the light that was building inside of him out. To let the three words that curl dangerously at the edge of his lips to tumble out laced in a million promises and praises he wanted to give to her.

He didn’t think he’d find himself here, her soft figure pressed against his as the rain soaked their skin. He didn’t think he’d get to imprint his affection for her against her lips, tasting the sweet tartness of the cherries that stained her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever get to have her.

The words slip from his lips, his affection for her pouring from him with no warning or forethought. He just needs to tell her because he’s happy, and he doesn’t think he’d ever be this happy in the rain .

“I love you.” He says breathlessly, panic rising in him as she stiffens in his arms. “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”

But she giggles, bright and brilliantly, and tugs his lips right onto hers and says that she loves him too.

If this was his rainbow, he’d happily let it storm for the rest of his life.

The next time it rains, he is the one to tug her into the park across the street. He takes her hand and leads her in a waltz he definitely doesn’t know, the cadence of her laugh sweet and light in the air. He sings Blackbird in her ear, low and whispered, because she’s always brought out a side of him that he thought he could keep buried under steel-reinforced walls.

He’d give every side of him to her, if she asked.

Maybe they’d make enough of these memories, of the rain soaking them to the bone but they would laugh and he’d make her hot chocolate after and he’d peel the heavy fabric of her dress off of her skin as she laughed and tell him to hurry up because Emily Prentiss was anything but patient.

Maybe they’d make enough memories to clean the stained ones that followed him whenever it rained.

Aaron always did hate the rain.

But with her, he hated it a little bit less.

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron x emily #ckbwrites

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smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

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Good Morning - Chapter 5

Coffee shop!AU

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, owner of Dean’s Beans is living a humble and quiet life. Roasting beans and selling coffee in his little shop is what makes him happy. When she walked into his shop four months ago, his life changed, but is it for better or worse?

Chapter Warnings: Angst, mention of physical abuse, fluff too

WC: 2820

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Wednesday, September 9th

Dean’s up before the alarm. It doesn’t happen that often since the alarm goes off at 5 AM and waking up before the set alarm doesn’t feel human to him.

But this morning it happened because he laid awake the whole night. He laid awake last night too, if he’s honest. Sleep is not something that comes easily since he came back from the fishing trip with Ben and had time to be alone with his thoughts again.

He thought it would be better if he sees her on Monday, that his heart would be calmer when she walks into his shop, and sets up her little workspace Dean had promised her she could have. But that never happened. She never showed up. And it irritates the shit out of him.

Dean pushes it off as she’s probably been busy, has gotten up late, and didn’t manage to come in to grab a coffee. And that she might have forgotten that he told her she could work in his shop. It’s just— it never happened before? She never stayed away on weekdays. Not in the four months he’s served her.

So yeah, he’s worried and he’s grumpy.

The whole day went by and now it’s almost closing time. He had sent Benny home. Maybe because he had gotten on Dean’s nerves the whole day. Driving him nuts and pulling his leg because Dean’s overly grouchy. But maybe it’s also because it allows him to be alone with his thoughts without having to pretend as Benny’s rants about his girlfriend of the week. Dean’s sick of that too, not that he judges but maybe, if you don’t want to commit, then don’t? Benny’s not one who likes to be tied down, yet he always lets the girls talk him into it, only to dump them several weeks later. There had been scenes in the shop, not nice ones until Dean had had enough and told Benny to never bring a girl here ever again.

Dean doesn’t know why he’s so sullen, alright? All he knows that it has been five fucking days since she was here last. It’s crazy how hung up he is on her. It’s not really a good thing.

He switches off the lights, only leaving the one at the coffee machine still shining brightly down at him while he starts to clean it. He thumbs over his phone, searches for some tunes to rock out to while cleaning. Because that’s also what he does. He likes to sing while cleaning, which annoys the fuck out of Benny.

His fingers work swiftly on the big machine, every move is programmed into his head, every motion sits right. It’s really mechanical. He's used to it, does it every day and by now, he thinks he’s able to do it with his eyes closed. Dean whistles to the tune of the music as he does, shaking his head, and mumbling the chorus.

The art of coffee. Roasting the beans, grinding them, making coffee, cleaning the machine. It became his forte, his solace and form of therapy.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door.

Dean looks back, thinking it’s the back door. Thinking that maybe Benny’s forgotten something, and Dean has left the key in the lock so the other man can’t get in. When he looks back, there’s another knock and he realizes that it doesn’t come from the back.

He turns back around, sees a shadowy figure by the glass door. It has started to get dark outside, so he can only make out a shape.

Abandoning his task, he walks towards the door, the face of the person who’s knocking is hidden by the sign hanging on his shop door.

When he gets close enough to peek over the sign, Dean’s heart damn near stops beating.

He smiles, his hands are shaking and his legs almost give out, and yet, he still manages to turn the lock and open up.

Y/N looks tired, she looks a little thin. Looks like she hasn’t eaten for a couple of days. Her hair’s up in a ponytail, the circles around her eyes are dark. She hasn’t bothered with any kind of makeup. Dean doesn’t think that she needs any anyway.

“I’m sorry, I—, I didn’t,” She says, and pulls at her too large zipped hoodie that she’s wearing against the chill of the evening.

Dean can’t help but wonder if it belongs to a man. Gets a little weird feeling deep down in his guts.

“Shit,” She mumbles, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come, you are closing and… god, it’s stupid, I’m sorry,”

She turns around, and he knows that he has to stop her, and has the feeling that if he doesn’t, it’ll be a while until he’ll get to see her again.

So, Dean clears his throat, pushing words past his lips, “No, Y/N, wait,” He’s proud of himself for bringing anything past his lips, to be honest. Dean watches her turn back towards him and looks at him with that little frown as if she’s not sure. He grins, “Do you want a coffee?”

There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It makes her face light up and he watches in slow motion as the smile spreads into something bigger. She exhales, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “Yeah,” She nods, “I’d like that. Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

How can he say that it’s the least of his troubles? How can he say that he would do so much more if it means that he gets a chance to see that smile again?

Dean doesn’t know, so all he does is shake his head, “Not at all,” He smiles back and waits for her to walk in.

Locking the door behind her, Dean follows her in further, and he notices that she’s looking at the dismantled machine.

“Oh no, you already cleaned,”

“I’m not finished,” He says and slips back behind the counter, “It’s really no trouble. Go sit, I’ll be right up,” Dean reassures her, sees her frowning at him and he has to chuckle, “Really, Y/N. It’s no big deal,”

“‘K,” She nods, bites on her lips.

He notices that there’s no gloss on it, notices a little cut too. He wonders what caused it.

As she walks further into the shop, Dean turns the music down and switches on some overhead lights. Not all of them of course. He doesn’t want to give people the impression that he’s still open, but just enough so they wouldn’t be sitting in the dark.

Dean screws the parts back to the machine with skilled fingers. He risks a glance over, sees her sitting at the same table as last time. She’s watching him too, and he feels his face warm up.

Returning to his task, Dean refills the beans and waits for the machine to warm up. When he finishes heating up the milk, he sets two mugs below it and screws the piston in. Soon, the delicious smelling black liquid pours out.

He makes her a cappuccino. Honestly, he doesn’t know if she drinks any other coffee, but he wants to find out some time.

Dean drinks his coffee black.

Carrying over the two mugs, his heart thumps a little faster the closer he gets.

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to,” She says, her head is a little lowered. It sounds like she genuinely feels bad for stopping by.

“Really,” Dean sits down, “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He waves her off, takes a sip of his coffee as he watches her wrap her hands around her mug, and tips it to her lips.

Y/N closes her eyes briefly as she swallows, probably letting the taste flood her nerves and mind. It shouldn’t affect him, but it does because there’s the drumming in his chest that gets slightly faster.

“I’m sorry, really,” She apologizes again, and keeps her mug at her lips, taking another sip, “I just… you know, I… Oh my god,” She sets the mug down and rubs herself over her face, “I can’t even talk,”

Dean chuckles lightly because he knows that feeling too well.

“Okay, again,” Y/N says, after she composes herself, “I didn’t know where to go and I kind of ended up here without me even realizing it. I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to hold you up. I’ll just drink the coffee and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Y/N, can you do me a favor?” Dean says with a straight face and a frown that’s not actually meant to intimidate her, but he realizes after he said it that it might have because he can look very intimidating, apparently. He doesn’t agree, but people have told him so.

“Huh?” She cocks an eyebrow at him and he can see the color rise in her face.

“Please stop apologizing? I mean, it’s really okay. It’s my pleasure, I’m actually happy to see you again.”

There. He said it. Without stuttering too. Although he thinks his heart dropped to his balls for a second and is trying to climb back up.

She exhales audibly and there’s that small smile, “Thank you, I just… You must have other things to do.”

He thinks about her words. Thinks about what awaits him after he cleans the shop. Thinks about his empty apartment, his empty couch, empty bed.

“I don’t,” He says truthfully, “Are you okay?” Dean asks, he doesn’t know why he does. Perhaps, because he wants to know if she’s okay. He still remembers the last time when she took off so suddenly.

“I am now, yeah,” She answers, her fingers playing with her mug.

“Why did you say you didn’t know where to go?”

“It’s been rough.” Y/N sighs and swallows. She’s about to lift her mug, but her hoodie gets in the way and she pulls the arms of them back a little subconsciously to be able to grip the mug and that’s when he sees it. Dean can not unsee it even if he would fucking try.

The bruises. It’s a greenish-purple. Meaning that it’s healing.

Dean swallows hard, but he doesn’t say anything, waits for her to set the mug down.

When she finishes her coffee, she has noticed him staring and is about to pull the arm of the sweater back. His hand shoots out, brushes over her wrist, and Dean thinks that she’s going to swat him away but she doesn’t.

“Who did this to you?” He asks with concern in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” She mumbles.

“Y/N,” Dean starts, has to swallow hard because he wonders what other bruises he would uncover if he lets her take off her hoodie. He swallows, because it physically hurts him, it irritates the fuck out of him, too. He calms himself down, at least enough to not burst out in a fit of anger, “I can see you’re not okay. You haven’t been here since Friday.”

“You’ve noticed?” She raises her eyebrow in question.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “I notice when you don’t come and get your coffee. To be honest,” Dean sighs and his heart is beating a little faster, “You’re the highlight of the day, so yeah, I notice.”

She doesn’t say anything, just dips her chin down a little, the color rises in her cheeks.

“Who did this to you?” He asks again, wondering if it the one who left her a message in all caps last time. That Chris— something. Because Dean would like to rip that guy’s lungs out. “Do you need help? Can I help in any way?” He asks, when she still doesn’t answer.

“I—, It’s…. Ugh,” She closes her eyes, “It’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Ex.

At least it’s an ex. Dean can live with that.

He doesn’t say anything. He sits there, perfectly still and waits until she speaks again because there’s no point in him getting angry, even if he would love to bash that guys head in, for sure.

“It’s nothing, Dean. It’s over now.”

“Is that why he hurt you? Because you broke off with him?”

“Not necessarily. I was late getting home on Friday.”

Fuck. It was because of him, wasn’t it?

Dean swallows down the guilt he feels, “Shit, I’m sorr—”

“—No, it’s not your fault.” She’s quick to add, “It’s my fault, too.”

“Y/N, no. Someone hurting you is never your fault, you gotta know that.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap.

“Is that why you didn’t show up? Because you wanted the bruises to heal? That’s why you came here? Because you said you didn’t know where to go?”

Dean sees one single teardrop falling from her eyes to the hand in her lap.

“Shit,” Dean gets up from his chair, walks around, and takes her hands out from her lap. He helps her up to her feet, wraps his arms around her, and lets her cry into his chest.

While he lets her cry her eyes out, he strokes her back, stroke her head, feels fucking anger towards her ex.

“Are you scared to go home?”

“Uh-huh,” She mumbles into his chest.

“Does he have a key?”

“I changed the lock,”

He feels her hand coming around his middle, hugging him back. That’s a start, right? He just wishes he wouldn’t be semi-hard just from that. It’s not the fucking right time.

“Do you want to stay here? I mean, you don’t know me, but I just want to help. My apartment’s right above the shop and I have a spare bedroom.”

Y/N pushes herself away from him and looks up. Her nose is swollen and red, her eyes too. It’s too cute.

“I can’t,” She says, “I—, I mean I can’t invade your space just because I don’t like to be alone at night.”

“What if I insist?”

“Dean, really, it’s too much.”

“Okay,” He chuckles, “What would you do if you won’t stay?”

She looks down, nibbles at her lips as she thinks, “I think I’d go to the diner close to here, they open till 2 AM.”

“The crowd there’s terrible,” Dean mumbles, he’s been in there before, nobody’s usually sober in there.

“I just have to kill some time.” She shrugs and winds herself out of his embrace. He didn’t even notice that he’s still holding her.

Dean lets his hand drop to his side, missing the feeling of her body pressed to his already, “Kill your time in my apartment,” He says, “That way I know nothing will happen to you.”

She lets him guide her up to his apartment, let him show her where her bed will be for the night, lets him show her the couch, and that he has a fridge stocked with edible things.

He excuses himself to go down and lock up his shop, finishing cleaning up his machine in record time.

When Dean comes back up, she’s splayed on his couch, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Netflix is still on, some documentaries about serial killers. He hopes she doesn’t think that he is one. She’s sleeping, and Dean really doesn’t want to wake her, but he does because there’s a perfect bed in the room, she shouldn’t be sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.

“Hey,” He kneels down, hand reaching out to shake her gently.

Y/N stirs just a little before she turns and buries her face deeper into his couch. Dean wonders how much sleep she’d had lately. It might be the safest she felt in days. Maybe, weeks. He doesn’t know, doesn’t even want to think about it because it makes him mad again.

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean tries again, waiting for a reaction.

When none is forthcoming, he decides to scoop her up and carry her to bed. Dean notices as he pulls the blanket from her body that she has stripped to her shirt. Her one forearm is bruised, as well as her upper arm. Fucker must have had a tight grip around her.

He curses to himself as he carries her over to his guest room and lays her down. Dean covers her and the shirt and strokes her hair out of her face. His finger brushes along her throat, catching the collar of her shirt. The lighting is not very good, but his eyes can’t miss the bruise along her shoulder. It goes further down too, but Dean doesn’t dare to look. Doesn’t want her waking up and think that he’s being nosy. Which he really isn’t but he’s just… so fucking mad that someone did this to her.

Goddammit.

Shaking his head, he makes his way out of the room. With a last look back, he closes the door.

Chapter 6

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#good morning #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean x reader #dean x you #nathalie writes

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

Text

i think you should come live with me (1/1)

Summary: Chloe and Beca at age 7 begin to learn more about the notion of family and what that means for both of them.

Part of the daylight au. You can thank @asimplefavors for this because she texted me, inspired by “seven” by Taylor Swift...fic title from that very song.

Word count: 2,345

Read below or on AO3

* * * * *

LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: August/September AGE: 7

* * * * *

Beca’s parents start fighting close to the end of their first year in Brookline. It starts off small. Little arguments here and there, sometimes involving Beca, but mostly involving their own unhappiness with each other.

It only escalates from there, Beca seeing less and less of her father as he stays late at work. Teaching, according to her mother, but she picks up something different in her mother’s tone that she doesn’t like. She often chooses instead to focus on her food, too afraid to ask once more why daddy isn’t coming home once again for dinner.

Now, two years into living in Massachusetts, Beca still kind of feels like she doesn’t belong. Like the kids are still looking at her weird because she doesn’t like running around as much as they do...well, only if Chloe makes her or encourages her. Then she doesn’t mind it so much.

If it weren’t for Chloe Beale, Beca thinks that things would be much worse. It is the new environment and the new house and the new school, Beca’s sure of it. She hates change as much as any other young child, but she feels marginally lucky that she has Chloe.

Chloe, who consistently manages to drag her out of the house every day leading up to the first day of school at the end of each summer, mostly because she simply knows that Beca is nervous and she wants to make her feel better.

That, to Beca, is more than she could have ever asked for.

She watches Chloe hum to herself as they both sit under the big tree in Chloe’s backyard. It is their favourite spot to get away to, especially after a long day at school. Beca likes when Chloe’s mom brings them snacks and lets them play outside until they’re tired and Chloe has to practically drag Beca home, usually to the sight of Beca’s father’s disapproving stare looking down at both of them.

“I don’t want to go home,” Beca announces. She isn’t quite sure where it comes from, but she lets it out nonetheless because she has seen Chloe do it before. Chloe always speaks her mind and always makes sure her voice is heard.

Chloe sits up, propping herself up on her elbows. She frowns at Beca. “But we can’t have a sleepover. There’s school tomorrow, Bec.”

“No...I just...don’t like...going home.” She hates how timid she sounds, but it’s the truth. She waits for Chloe to process that.

Chloe takes a moment to stare at her. Beca notices that Chloe does that frequently, like she understands exactly what is going through Beca’s mind at any given moment. Beca finds it both terrifying but oddly comforting. It is comforting knowing that Chloe cares so much about her and they are, as Chloe puts it, best friends forever, but the intensity of Chloe’s gaze is sometimes just…

“Is it...your dad?” Chloe finally asks, severing Beca’s train of thought. She doesn’t sound judgmental, not even close. She simply sounds concerned, eyes fixed on Beca with sympathy.

Beca’s eyes widen. She hadn’t told Chloe. At least, she didn’t remember telling Chloe. “I...I just don’t like it when they fight,” she admits quietly. “Your house is nicer.” She feels guilty that her immediate thought is that Chloe will judge her or even get upset at her, but she knows that Chloe would never.

“I heard them once,” Chloe confesses. She sits up, wrapping her arms around her knees so she can peer at Beca more closely. “The window was open and I was outside.”

“Oh,” Beca murmurs, embarrassed mostly. “I don’t know. I just…when they yell…”

Chloe immediately pulls her in for a hug, startling Beca into silence.

Beca squeezes back—hugging is still an art form she’s learning from Chloe herself—but she finds herself sinking into the hug.

It is as easy as breathing, especially with Chloe.

* * * * *

When Beca leaves that night, Chloe mulls over what Beca had said earlier. She pushes her food around her plate, pouting mostly, as her brother chats animatedly with her parents. She wants so badly to fix things for Beca, but she has no idea how.

She glances up when her brother begins talking about how his friend’s family just began to foster a couple of puppies.

“Mommy? Daddy?” Chloe chimes in, ignoring the dirty look Max gives her when she cuts him off. She places her fork primly next to her plate and fixes her parents with the most innocent expression she can muster.

“Suck-up,” Max mutters, kicking her under the table.

She ignores that for the time being. “Can Beca come stay with us?”

Alice tilts her head, staring with curiosity at her youngest child. “For a sleepover?” She glances at her husband. “Baby, you know it’s a weekday. You have school tomorrow.”

“No, not for a sleepover.” Chloe pouts at her plate. “Forever.”

Chloe glances up when an extended silence follows her statement. She wonders if she said something entirely inappropriate or wrong.

Max scoffs, but otherwise stays silent, choosing to let their parents handle it.

“Chloe,” her father states. “Beca can’t stay with us forever. Why would you ask that?”

“Because Beca’s so unhappy at her house. I want her to stay here.”

“Chloe, she can’t,” her father reiterates.

“Greg,” Alice murmurs. “Chloe,” she calls across the table. “Baby, Beca can’t stay with us even if she is unhappy.” She smiles sadly at her daughter. “I know you want to protect your friend, but Beca has a family of her own and they would miss her very much if she lived with us.”

“Beca’s mom and dad are always fighting,” Chloe confesses. “I hear it sometimes.”

“You do? What have you heard?”

Chloe shrugs, picking up her fork again. “I don’t know. Stuff. I just know Beca’s sad.”

The topic is put to rest for the remainder of dinner.

Later, as Chloe climbs into bed, a worried expression still on her face, her mother joins her in her bedroom, gently shutting the door behind her. “Chloe, my sweet, sweet baby,” she murmurs, sitting on the edge of Chloe’s bed as her daughter continues to pout at her. “You know that Beca is always welcome over.”

“Yes,” Chloe mumbles. “But why can’t we just keep her?”

“She isn’t like a pet, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“No, she’s my best friend,” Chloe corrects.

“I know, Chloe. You are, of course, very very sweet to think of her best interests.” At Chloe’s confusion, she smiles. “You care a lot about her,” she amends.

“I do.”

“Sleepovers on weekends are fine, but we can’t just take Beca from her home. People get in trouble for that kind of stuff, okay?”

“I don’t like seeing her sad.”

“I know.” Alice’s heart breaks for her daughter’s best friend. Beca is small and quiet, but she has seen how lively and happy Beca could be. Usually only around her own daughter. She adores little Beca Mitchell because of how happy the girl makes Chloe. She wonders what Beca’s own parents think of her daughter’s influence on their daughter’s life.

“I want to keep her,” Chloe declares, though with a tinge of sleepiness, finally.

"I know," Alice repeats, pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "I love you."

* * * * *

The next day, Beca and Chloe go about their days at school as best as they can. They didn’t manage to stay in the same class for their school year, so Chloe can only really see Beca at recess, but she’s excited just to see Beca and drag her over to their house after school.

Chloe has long stopped asking why they rarely go over to Beca’s house. Beca just likes her house better and Chloe hasn’t complained once. She loves having Beca in her house. She loves seeing Beca giggle over the fun snacks her mother always brings them. Fun dinosaur-shaped nuggets. Tater tots. Nicely sliced fruits.

Today, Alice Beale has bright smoothies waiting for them when they trudge through the front door.

“Shoes off, girls!” she calls as they rush through the front foyer.

Chloe pulls Beca into the living room where their smoothies are waiting for them. She gasps excitedly upon seeing them. “Yay! Mom never makes smoothies!”

“These look good.” Beca smiles at Chloe’s mother. “Thank you, Mrs. Beale.”

“Beca, you are so much more well-mannered than my own child.”

Beca blushes immediately under the attention and turns back quickly to the television where Chloe is loading up recorded music videos.

“Girls, I have some fun things for you, if you want to play dress-up.”

Chloe turns quickly. “I want to see!”

“I have some old dresses and shirts and clothes. Maybe you can put on a fashion show for us later. Or just figure out which things I can throw out. Hm?”

“Okay!”

* * * * *

“These are so big,” Beca says, holding out her arms with the sleeves flowing freely over her hands. “Maybe too big.”

“We look funny.”

“I kind of like that,” Beca says shyly. She smiles at Chloe in the reflection of the oversized mirror.

“Beca,” Chloe says slowly. “I asked my parents yesterday whether we could keep you.”

Beca pauses from where she is attempting to tie a very large belt around her waist. “You what?”

“I don’t know,” Chloe says quickly. It sounds silly now, but she wants Beca to know, at least, that Chloe cares so much about her. “You were just sad about going home. And I thought...maybe...what if you just never went home. But my mom and dad said no. I’m sorry.”

Chloe sounds so genuinely distressed that Beca nearly trips over herself to quickly pull Chloe into a tight hug. “Don’t be sorry!” She feels affection well up inside of her—affection she didn’t even know she had for Chloe—and she quickly squashes it down, focusing on the feeling of Chloe hugging her back. “Thank you,” she murmurs, as Chloe’s arms tighten around her.

In all honesty, Beca hadn’t considered that. Not even while they had been sitting out by the large tree in Chloe’s backyard the day before. Or any of the days before that. But now, she kind of wonders why she hadn’t considered it before. It seems kind of pointless now, since Chloe’s parents said no...but…

Chloe draws back from the hug and grins widely at Beca, missing teeth at all. “Want to play house?”

Beca smiles back, excited already at the prospect of a new adventure with her best friend.

* * * * *

Later that night as Beca settles down for dinner with her own family, she can’t quite wipe the smile from her face. It had been somewhat freeing—so fun, of course—to play house with Chloe. Being silly with Chloe, trying on oversized clothes. Then letting Chloe’s mother take pictures of them together with silly expressions on their face.

It is Beca’s mother who notices the smile on her face first. She stands at the stove, stirring something slowly while Beca sits quietly with her father at the table. “Did you have fun at Chloe’s?”

Beca thinks her father clears his throat, but he doesn’t say anything, so she keeps her eyes on her mother’s face. Well, the side of it anyway. “Yeah. We played dress-up and did our homework.”

“That sounds fun.”

“We played house too. I like playing house with Chloe. She makes me laugh a lot.”

“You played house,” Beca’s father echoes, putting his mug down on the table with a small amount of force. It startles her and she looks to him guiltily, though for what reason, she still doesn’t know. “Rebecca, you know that you can’t play house with another girl, right?”

“Warren, please, not now. She didn’t mean it that way.”

“Of course she did. It’s because you let her spend time with those damn leftist hippies,” he growls back. Beca winces, shrinking in her seat. “Beca, listen to me carefully, okay? Two girls cannot play house because that game is about pretending to be a family. Being married, Beca. You can't do that."

“Why can’t Chloe be my family too?” Beca asks, confusion her tone. She is mostly just confused, which is why she's arguing back. It feels wrong, what her father is saying her. She could have sworn that Chloe’s mom said—

“Because to be family means that you two would have to be married and you can’t have that, okay?”

“Mrs. Beale said that—she said that one day—”

“She said that one day, what?” her father demands. She quickly looks away, tears stinging her eyes. She isn’t even sure why she had bothered arguing or talking back to him. “Do you see what happens when you let our child do whatever she wants?”

“Warren, not now.” Beca hates that tone her mother uses. It means that the fight will likely last well into the night.

“I’m tired of you constantly challenging the way I want to raise our daughter. This is what’s right and you know that. Those people aren’t good influences. Look at what they're turning her into! What’s the matter with you?”

“It’s rich that you want to have a say now that you’re home for the first time in weeks. When was the last time you tucked her in? When was the last time you picked her up from school? I’m running myself dry here, Warren.”

Beca stares forlornly at the table in front of her, thinking back wistfully to what Chloe had said earlier. The thought of being part of Chloe’s family. Or even just a family with Chloe herself. That would be nice.

Beca thinks it would be nice, maybe, to spend the rest of her life being friends with Chloe, as long as she gets to keep her in her life.

It is a nice imaginary escape for the moment.

It is an escape until she can see her best friend again under that big tree where they both feel invincible.

fin.

#mine #bechloe #bechloe fic #now i see daylight #my fanfic

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calpalirwin · 4 years

Text

Package Deal

Summary: Ashton starts dating a single mom

A/N: Originally this was a request I made to @talkfastromance4, but after her full blessing, I’m writing it now. Thank you so much Hailey! I hope we can collab Luke & Lily with Ash & Mase sometime!

Word Count: 5.2k

And away, and away we go!

Finn and Vanessa had been excited to become parents. It wasn’t how they expected to start their lives together straight out of college, but they were excited nonetheless. They had spent their four years of dating talking about this exact moment, and now here they were, welcoming their son, Mason Nicholas, into the world.

While Finn reveled in all the things he would be able to teach his son, Vanessa became almost obsessive, worrying herself over every development milestone.

“He’s not babbling, Finn. Mase should be babbling…” she would stress.

“Maybe he just doesn’t have much to say,” Finn would reassure her. “Huh? Just not the talkative type, ain’t ya bud?” he’d coo at Mason. And when Mason would smile back, Finn would turn to her in triumph, “See? He’s fine, Nessa. You’re worrying too much.”

“Finn, I’m scared,” she told him in a broken whisper months later when Mason still seemed to show no interest in babbling no matter how many books they read to him, or how often she sang.

“Me too,” he had confessed, holding her close. “We’ll see what his doctor says, okay?”

It was a long, grueling year, filled with more tests than they could count, and a lot more could-be’s than actual answers.

While Vanessa threw herself into any research she could get her hands on, Finn retreated into himself. The overly affectionate couple from their past transformed into a mom fighting for her son, and a dad with an ache in his heart that grew bigger and bigger as Mason grew older and still didn’t say a single word.

“Get dressed,” Finn announced one evening shortly after Mason’s second birthday.

“Why? What’s going on?” Vanessa asked, looking up from where she sat, children’s books scattered about the living room floor, Mason’s eyes glued to the cartoon playing on the television.

“When’s the last time we went on a date?” Finn asked, already headed to the bedroom to change out of his work clothes.

“A date?” she asked, and was immediately ashamed of the hope in her voice.

“Yes, a date. My mom offered to watch Mase overnight at her place. Just one night, Nessa. Please?”

Clothes were changed, and a bag was quickly packed for Mason to spend the night at his grandma’s.

“This is actually really nice. Thank you,” Vanessa told Finn, smiling softly at him from across the table.

He returned the soft smile, reaching out to squeeze her hand. Then, he swallowed thickly and sniffed back the tear about to slide down his cheek. “Ness, I-”

Her heart cracked in her chest at the defeated look in his eyes. She nodded slowly. “I know,” she whispered, nodding again. “In taking care of Mase, we lost each other.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen… Nessa, I’m so sorry. But, this is just really hard. I can either be a dad to Mase, or I can be a partner to you. And…”

“And Mase needs you more than I do,” she finished for him, her voice choked.

“Nessa, I’m so sorry…” he repeated, not bothering to brush away the tears on his face this time. “I love you. Please know that.”

She squeezed his fingers. “I know. I love you, too. But it’s like you said, Mase needs us more than we need each other right now. You can have Mase whatever days you want, and we can all move out of the apartment so nobody has to feel like they left.”

“No,” Finn cut her off. “We can’t give up the apartment. There’s one for rent down the hall from us. I’ll get it and we can just switch off living with Mase. It’s gonna be hard enough on him with us switching back and forth, we don’t need to make it harder by putting him in an entirely new environment.”

“You’re right,” she sniffled. Then, “Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we still pretend we’re in love with each other? At least until tomorrow?”

~~~

The one bedroom apartment was lonely, and even though Vanessa knew she could go down the hall to her normal home and be with Mason like she wanted, it hurt too much to know that her time with him was now split evenly with Finn. Finn had been right though. Without the stress of trying to maintain their own relationship, they were both able to give much more to their non-verbal son. It was actually shocking how the toddler- who shrieked bloody murder every time there was the slightest change to his sense of normal- adjusted to his parents flip-flopping every week to be with him. Maybe it was true what they said about children feeding off the stress of their parents.

While her job kept Vanessa busy enough during the weekdays Mason was in Finn’s care, it was the weekends that dragged on endlessly. She knew in time it would hurt less. She also knew that they were doing right by their son with their decision to break up, because the pain in Vanessa's chest was from being away from Mason, not Finn.

It was only the beginning of her second week in the quiet apartment. After a night she was sure she spent more time staring up at the ceiling than actually sleeping, she rolled over on her side and checked the time on her phone. It was a little after seven in the morning. Last week at this time she had been making Mason pancakes, chatting up a storm with the little boy, and hoping like always to get a response. All she had gotten was him pointing at the bag of chocolate chips on the counter before holding out his hand expectantly.

She smiled warmly at the memory as she got up out of bed, fueled by a desire to do something, anything. And that’s how a half hour later, she found herself at a small coffee shop a few blocks down the road.

The barista called out her order and as she got up from her seat to go get it, she collided with a body. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Vanessa rushed the apology as she stumbled back a step.

“Whoa,” the person said, wrapping a hand around her arm to keep her steady. “You alright?”

She looked up at the stranger with his slicked back hair and eyes like green tea and honey. “Sorry,” she apologized again, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “I should’ve watched where I was going. I didn’t spill your drink, did I?”

The man looked over at the drink in his hand that wasn’t still holding onto her arm. The coffee inside swirled slowly before settling, and there was a darker spot on his black shirt from the cup pressing into him. “Nah, we’re all good. I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Vanessa,” she told him.

“Vanessa,” he repeated, and she felt something flutter within her at the way her name sounded on his lips. “I think your drink’s ready.”

“Yeah,” she stammered, stepping to the side to go around him. “Yeah, I’m just gonna, thank you,” she told the barista as she grabbed her cup. “Again. So sorry,” she told Ashton as she stepped back past him on her way to her seat.

Ashton chuckled, watching as the woman sat down and took a hearty sip of her coffee. “Mind if I sit with you? Everywhere else is full.” He gestured about the basically empty cafe.

Her cheeks flushed more at his lie, both flattered that he wanted to share a table with her and also conflicted by his affection. It felt wrong somehow to be viewed as a potentially romantic interest, if that was how Ashton was viewing her anyway. Because it was possible that her assumption was wrong; that Ashton could just be the friendly sort. But, she was short on both romantic interests and friends at the moment. And she had knocked his coffee into his chest. It’d be impolite if she told him no. “Sure, go right ahead,” she told him, moving her laptop to the side.

“Working on the weekend, huh? Catching up, or getting ahead?” he asked as he turned the chair around so he was straddled around the seat, his arms crossing over the back of the chair.

“Oh, no. Not really.” Vanessa closed her computer. “Just personal research.”

“Mmm,” he nodded. “Mysterious girl doing mysterious research. Should I be worried?” The flecks of green and gold danced playfully in his eyes.

Vanessa laughed. “No? Because I’m not mysterious, nor is my research.”

“Said the mysterious girl hiding with mysterious research.”

“What makes you think I’m so mysterious?”

“The fact that I come to this coffee shop damn near every morning at this time, and I’ve never seen you here once.”

“That doesn’t make me mysterious, it just means I don’t have the luxury you seem to have.”

“Well, you seem to have the luxury today.”

“Lucky me,” she sighed into her cup.

“Aw, don’t sound so down about it, Vanessa.” He frowned momentarily as she thought she’d never seen something more tragic on such a beautiful face. “You had the sense to start a good day nice and early. Make the most of it.” The frown was replaced by a content smile that showed off dimples in his cheeks.

“Gonna certainly try,” she told him, offering forth a tight-lipped smile. As much as she appreciated Ashton’s kindness towards her, and the way it evoked a feeling in her she hadn’t felt in longer than she realized, her heart still ached for the way she would much rather be spending her day.

“Alright,” he conceded, holding up his hands. “You don’t have to bare your soul to me. Fair enough. We can just be two strangers sharing a table while they enjoy a good cup of coffee.”

Despite the softness in his eyes and smile as he wrapped his lips around his straw, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d offended him by being so “mysterious” as Ashton had put it. “Sorry, I’m being rude, I know. I just… don’t do this, I guess?”

“Get coffee, or flirt with cute strangers?”

“Oh, we’re flirting?” She wasn’t sure which surprised her more. That he willingly admitted that they were flirting and she hadn’t misread the conversation, or that he had called her cute in the process.

He chuckled, giggled really, and he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Was trying to anyway…”

“Sorry,” she apologized for what felt like the millionth time. “Like I said, I don’t do this.”

“Boyfriend?” Ashton guessed. “In which case, it’s me who should be apologizing. I’ll, uh…” His fingers tapped against the seat as he moved to stand up.

“No,” she shook her head. “No boyfriend. It’s, uh… a bit more complicated than that.”

He sat back down in the chair. “More complicated than not having a boyfriend?” His eyebrows quirked in question, his lips quivering with held back amusement. What could complicate him possibly standing a chance with this woman? “Girlfriend?” he tried again.

She laughed, a small nervous sound, and Ashton felt his heart jump at the sound. “Nope. Definitely single. Complicatedly so.” Her eyes darted around them. “I’m not keeping you, am I?”

He shook his head, a shock of his red hair falling into his eyes. She fought the urge to reach out and slick it back into place for him. “Nah. So, what’s this complication? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She pushed a hand through her hair, deciding to just cut straight to the point. Ashton seemed like a nice enough guy to be choosing to spend his morning with her when they didn’t know a thing about each other. And it was better to let him make his choice with all the facts at hand, rather than risk potentially spending more time together and getting more invested than just a schoolgirl stomach flutter. “I have a son. He’s two.”

“Oh… and the dad? Is he…?”

“Finn’s in the picture, yeah. But we just broke up about a month ago.”

“Shit, I’m sorry to hear that. That’s gotta be rough. Is that what the research is? Tips on how to co-parent after a breakup?”

“A little bit yeah. But it’s mostly new studies about nonverbal communication. Mason, my son, doesn’t talk.”

“Oh, shit…”

“Yeah… so that’s the mystery girl with her mysterious research for ya.” She took a last sip of her coffee before grabbing her laptop and placing it in her bag. “Well, thank you. For listening I guess. That’s very kind of you,” she started to say goodbye.

“Off so soon?” Ashton asked, standing up when she did.

Vanessa fiddled with the strap of her bag, not meeting his eyes. “I- Look, you seem really nice. And it really was sweet of you to sit down and have a conversation with me. It’s been awhile since I’ve had time to be Vanessa, not Mason’s mom. But, that’s my reality. I am Mason’s mom. And right now, that person is trying to adjust to living down the hall from him every other week, so he doesn’t have to adjust to having a second home on top of his parents splitting up. And yeah, sure, one of these days I’ll figure it out. I’ll learn how to balance being a mom to a kid with special needs while also being a woman with needs of her own. But today’s not that day. And I certainly don’t expect anything from you based on a single twenty-minute conversation, no matter how handsome I do find you to be.”

“Wow… rejected before I can even ask…”

“I’m not rejecting you, Ashton. I’m saving you from the mess of the woman that I am.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved. Maybe I like messes. Did you think about that while you decided our entire future in 30 seconds?”

“I-” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking a slow, steady breath.

“Look. I’m here every morning for the most part at about this time. I’m not saying we have to go out on a date. I’m not saying you have to introduce me to your son. I’m just saying that what you’re going through doesn’t make me want to get to know you any less.”

For the rest of the week, before heading into work, she made a pit stop at the little cafe three blocks for her apartment complex. And every time, Ashton was already waiting for her.

On Saturday, he even had her drink waiting with him. “You didn’t have to do that,” she smiled, greeting him with a hug.

“Yeah, but it was worth it to see that smile of yours,” he replied as they took their seats. “So, you get to see Mason today, right?”

She smiled bigger as she nodded. “Yeah, Finn and I switch off on Saturdays after we all go out to eat.”

“Oh, you guys all have a family dinner? That’s nice.”

“Yeah. It’s a way for us to touch base with each other about what the week was like. We do daily check ins too, but that’s mostly just a quick text that things are going okay.”

“That’s really good. I mean, I’m not a parent, so I don’t know what that dynamic must be like. But it seems like you guys got a healthy system.”

“Yeah. I mean, we’re not perfect by any means. We lose our temper with each other, and with Mase. But ultimately we’re both just trying our best for our son, and that’s all I could ever ask from Finn. I don’t need to have a romantic relationship with him, I need one that works. And right now, this is what works.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever actually said it, or just thought it a lot. But you, Nessa, blow me away with the strength you possess. I may not actually know Finn or Mason, and I know I still have a lot to learn about you too. But I also know that they are lucky to have you.”

She blushed at the compliment, muttering a small, “Thanks.” Then, “I know I was skeptical at first, but I’ve really come to enjoy having coffee with you. I’m actually gonna miss it this coming week.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll still be around in a week. I’m not going anywhere for awhile.”

“Right,” she teased. “The famous drummer who decided to use his break between tours to slum it with the single mom. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

He laughed. “1.) I’m hardly famous. 2.) I’m not slumming it with a single mom, I’m trying to date a woman I’m interested in trying to date.”

“Well, 1.) you show up Google and have paparazzi follow you around, so definitely famous. And 2.) I still think you’re crazy for trying.”

“But…” he pressed.

“But, I’m glad you’re trying. And I’m hoping that a week apart doesn’t make you come to your senses, because I really have enjoyed spending time with you.”

“Well, here,” he said, pulling out his phone and unlocking it. “Put your number in.” He slid it across the table to her. She quickly did so before placing it back in his hand. The keys made the clacking sound before making the little whoosh of him hitting send on whatever he had typed. Then, her phone pinged in her purse. “There,” he grinned. “Now we can Facetime our coffee mornings instead.”

~~~

“So, how was everything?” Vanessa asked as she slid into the booth across from Finn and Mason.

“His new color is yellow,” Finn answered with a wry smile. “Went through all the macaroni.”

“There were like 10 boxes…”

“I know… I bought more when we went to the store this morning.”

“Yeah?” she asked, looking at Mason with pizza sauce smeared on his cheeks. “Did you go to the store with Daddy, Mase? How’d that go?”

“Not too bad. I told him all week that on Saturday we were gonna go shopping, then we’d go to the park before seeing Momma.”

“No fits?”

“Besides him screaming about not being put in the seat of the shopping cart, no. Pretty quiet. How was your week?”

“Pretty quiet.”

“Yeah,” Finn agreed sadly. “It’s an adjustment. But we’re doing the right thing for him, right?”

“Of course,” Vanessa replied. “Finn?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you miss me?”

He thought about it for a beat before shaking his head. “No,” he confessed. “God, that’s so fucked… After 4 years and a kid, you think I would, right? That I’d miss you. That this should hurt. But I don’t, and it doesn’t. Do you miss me?”

She chuckled a sad, defeated half laugh. “No. The only part of this that hurts is being away from Mase.”

“Yeah…”

Later that night, after putting Mason to bed, Vanessa rummaged around in the cupboard under the bathroom sink for a new roll of toilet paper, knocking over a box of tampons in the process. Her movements stilled as her eyes went wide. How long had it been since she had last reached for that box? Too long. “Shit…” she cursed under her breath. She straightened up and reached for her phone, opening her period tracker app. “Fuck…” she swore again as the little blood droplet happily reminded her to input the start of her period because she was two weeks late.

~~~

It was a slow week of trying to figure out to break the news to Finn that she was pregnant again. A dilemma heightened with every Facetime session with Ashton in the morning for coffee, because Vanessa knew that she would have to tell him too. She hadn’t even told Finn that she was seeing Ashton, because it was all so new and she didn’t want to jinx anything.

If Ashton picked up on how she seemed to be more in her head than normal, he made no comment, instead distracting her with funny stories from the latest studio session he had with his bandmates. Like how Luke, their lead singer, had ended up having dinner with his girlfriend’s daughter’s dad and someone had mistaken him and Cory for a gay couple.

She laughed at the story, but it didn’t have the fullness to it he remembered. “You okay?” Ashton asked her.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m good,” she smiled into the camera, and again he took notice of the ways her eyes didn’t crinkle in the corners.

“So what’s on the agenda today before you meet up with Finn?”

“Grocery shopping, and then the park. Mase?” She flickered her eyes over to the toddler sitting in his chair at the table with his plate of scrambled eggs that had thankfully ended up mostly in his mouth than on the table and floor. “Finished?” she asked, pretending to dust her off her hands.

Mason pushed his plate away and copied her hand movements. All done.

“Okay. Shoes,” she said, pointing at her feet first and then his.

He lifted his feet to show her he had on socks.

“To put on over your socks. Can’t go shopping in socks, Mase.”

No.

“Yes. No shopping in socks. Need shoes. Can you please go find some?”

No! The movement was followed by a throaty whine.

“Mason Nicholas,” she warned. “If we can’t go shopping, then we can’t go to the park.”

“You know the drummer in Pink Floyd was named Nick Mason. Was that intentional, or just random happenstance?” Ashton’s voice asked from the phone.

“Intentional. Good catch.” The throaty whine in Mason’s throat grew in volume. “I know, Mase, but you need shoes to go outside. I’ll help you, okay? Do you want me to help?”

The little boy folded his arms over his chest, and titled his head back, screeching loudly in anger.

Vanessa winced at the sound. “Duty calls. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Ashton giggled. “Yep. I’ll be here. Bye, Mase!”

Vanessa smiled gratefully at Ashton’s face before hitting the button to end the call. “Okay, you,” she said, turning to Mason. “Do you want to go to the park?”

Mason’s wail cut off at the word “park,” and he pointed tearfully out their kitchen window. Outside?

“Yes. We’ll go to the park after we go shopping. But you need shoes. Can you show me where your shoes are?”

The boy climbed down from his seat before toddling over to the shoe rack beside the front door. He reached for his pair of navy rain boots decorated with green and yellow dinosaurs, and jumped like he was pretending to splash in a puddle.

“You can wear those,” she told him. “But look,” she pointed out the living room window. “No rain. No puddles.”

He pouted and jumped again.

“Yes, we can still jump.”

He pointed at her own pair of rain boots and then at her feet.

“Okay. Momma will wear her rain boots, too.”

He jumped for a third time.

~~~

“Rain boots, huh?” Finn asked with an amused look as he looked at Mason and Vanessa’s feet as she helped Mason out of the car.

“Yes, because he wants to jump, and these are his jumping shoes.”

“Is that so?” he smiled down at Mason, pulling his hand back right before he went to ruffle at the boy’s hair. “Mase? Hi-five?” Finn laid his hand out palm up.

Mason jumped and then pointed at his dad. Your turn.

Finn bounced up on the balls of his feet.

Mason pointed again, this time at his dad’s sneakers, then at his and Vanessa’s boots. He grumbled.

“Tomorrow,” Finn promised his son. “Jumping shoes tomorrow. C’mon, let’s go eat. Hungry?” He brought his hand to his lips, signing “eat.”

The two year old nodding, repeating the action. Eat. Yes.

“So, beyond jumping now, anything new I should know about?” Finn asked Vanessa as they walked into the pizza parlor.

“Not with Mase. Still on his only eating yellow foods streak. Only apparently bananas don’t count because it’s not the same yellow that is on the inside like it is on the outside.”

Finn laughed. “Yep. Had that fight too. Wait… is something new with you?”

“Yeah… um, last week when you had Mase, I started to go to this coffee shop on the corner of Fifth. And there was a guy there, Ashton. And we’re sort of seeing each other.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s great, Nessa. Why didn’t you tell me last week?”

“It’s still really new. Like we’re just talking. He knows about Mase and us, so we’re just seeing where things go. We’re not like official or anything. We haven’t even been on like a real date.”

“But that’s still good. Just because it didn’t work with us, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to try, and be happy with someone else. Do you like him?”

“Yeah. I really do. He’s really sweet. I think you and him would get along. But, I don’t think it’s gonna work out.”

“Why? It sounds like things are going pretty good? Why wouldn’t it work out?”

“I’m pregnant…”

“Oh, shit… have you guys…?”

She gave a fast shake of her head. “No. We haven’t even kissed.”

“So, it’s mine?” Finn gulped.

Vanessa nodded, her bottom lip quivering. She blinked rapidly to keep the tears in.

“Fuck…” Finn sat back against the booth, looking over at Mason. “I’m barely getting this right, and now there’s gonna be another one?” He wiped a hand down his face. “Oh, fuck…”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, biting down to stop her lip from quivering. “I’m scared, Finn. I know we used to talk about having kids in the plural sense, but… this wasn’t how I pictured it happening. Like, not even close. And what am I gonna do about Ashton? Being okay with starting a relationship with a single mom is one thing. But a single mom who’s pregnant with her ex’s kid? Like there’s a line of acceptability, and we are so far over that line!”

“Whoa…” Finn’s hands grabbed at hers as she spiraled. “Look, you have me, okay? You’re not gonna do this alone. I’m here every step of the way. I’m still gonna keep being the best dad I can be to both our kids. And if this is all too much for Ashton, then he’s an idiot because he’d be walking away from a goddamn super hero of a woman.”

“Thanks, Finn,” she told him with a watery smile.

~~~

Vanessa awoke early the next morning, a churning in her stomach. It was a different churning than the one she had the last time she woke up in the empty apartment two weeks ago. This wasn’t a not- knowing-what-to-do-with- herself churning. It was a not-knowing-how-Ashton-would-react churning.

But she got ready anyway, and went over to the coffee shop. And despite the churning, she still felt a flutter when she found Ashton already sitting at their table with 2 coffees. “Hey!” he greeted, giving her a warm hug hello. “Gotta say, as much as I liked our Facetimes, I missed seeing you in person.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled softly as she stepped out of his embrace and sat down. “You know, if you keep buying my coffee, I’m gonna change my schedule so I beat you here.”

Ashton laughed. “Well, I’ll just get here even earlier then. See, I’m trying not to push my luck by asking you out on a real date, so this is the next best thing I got.”

“What makes you so sure I’d say no to a real date?”

“The fact that you can’t let me buy you a simple coffee. How the hell am I gonna get you to let me take you out for a full meal?”

“Asking me would be a good start.”

Ashton laughed again. “Alright. How’s Friday sound?”

She swallowed, watching the way he leaned on the table towards her, a shock of his slicked back hair threatening to fall forward in his gorgeous eyes. “I don’t know if we’ll make it to Friday…” she whispered.

Ashton’s eyebrows furrowed together in concerned confusion. “Why won’t we make it to Friday? We could go tonight if that’s better for you.”

“No, Friday’s fine. It’s just um… okay, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna say it.”

Ashton pursed his lips together and sat back. “You’d rather we just be friends. Okay… that’s fine. No harm, no foul, right? We can dial it back and be friends.”

“No, it’s not that. I really do like you. It’s just… I’m pregnant.”

“Whoa… that was… not what I was expecting. I’m assuming it’s Finn’s?”

“Yeah. So, if you want to take back your date offer, I won’t blame you. Hell if you left right now, I’d get it.”

“Why would I take back my offer?”

“Because I’m pregnant with my ex’s child, and we’ve only been seeing each other two weeks. I like you. I like seeing you. But this isn’t your life, Ashton. You don’t have to keep seeing me if this is all too much for you.”

“Are you getting back with Finn?”

“No… I mean, he’s going to be involved, but no, we’re not getting back together.”

“Well, I’d hope he’d be involved. So, how’s 7 sound?”

“How does 7 sound for what?”

“For our date on Friday.”

“You still want to go out? I- I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand? Did you think this would be a deal breaker for me?”

“I mean…” she stammered.

He leaned forward again, “I get that your life is crazy. My life’s crazy, too. Crazy doesn’t scare me. I like crazy. I like you, Nessa. I’m not sure how much clearer I can make that.”

“I like you too,” she confessed, leaning in to meet him halfway. Her eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips against hers. Flutters erupted inside both of them and he was about to deepen the kiss when her phone rang, making them jump apart. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” She blushed as she dug around her purse for her phone. “Finn?” she asked in confusion as she answered. “Is everything alright?”

“MASON CALLED ME ‘DADDY’!” Finn whooped in glee.

She held her hand out away from her ear as Finn broke into happy laughter. “He actually said it?!” she asked, matching his enthusiasm. “Like he actually said the word?”

“YEAH! Oh, my God, Nessa! Our boy talked! C’mon, Mase! Tell Momma what you said.! Who am I?!”

“Daddy,” she heard Mason say slowly.

“OH, MY GOD! I’m coming home. I’ll be right there.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you in a bit! That’s my boy, Mase!”

She hung up, throwing her phone in her bag and rushing to her feet.

“Is everything okay?” Ashton asked, a thumb reaching out to brush away the tears on her face.

“Mason called Finn ‘daddy.’ He talked, Ash! Mase talked! I- I gotta go!”

Ashton laughed, wrapping her tightly in a hug. “Oh, that’s great! Go. Go be with Mase.”

She smashed a bruising kiss on his lips. “I’ll call you,” she promised.

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” He watched Vanessa take off running out of the shop, chuckling softly to himself. She made it very hard to not be totally smitten.

Tag List

@frontmanash @goeatsomelife @flameraine @creator-appreciator @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @sparkling-calm @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short @aquarius-hood1996 @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @philthepegacorn @boomerash @teenwolfss24

#package deal #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton&vanessa #ash&mase #galcal irwin

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years

Text

to the man who let her go | p.p.

a/n: i highly recommend listening to this song while reading!! it’s on youtube as well as all platforms :)

summary: fuck brad davis. yeah

warnings: cussing (why do i even put that as a warning at this point), slight angst, my Signature Fluffy Ending cause what's new

KINDA IMPORTANT LOL: normal text is narration/present time, bold is lyrics, and italics is flashbacks!!

+ + +

brad davis is a dick.

peter saw the trap you were walking into when you said yes to the date. he saw the sparkle in your eyes, smile too bright for him to tell you that you were too good for brad. that he would end up hurting you in the end.

it started off great. brad would walk you to school, give you kisses every time he got the chance, hold your hand and be sweet. brad davis really was a good boyfriend, but that was only in the beginning.

peter parker watched from the sidelines as brad started drifting more and more, becoming more preoccupied with his own life and pushing you away. he saw the way your smile faded as the weeks went on, the way you started walking to school alone more often, the way brad's appearances at your locker became less and less frequent. and peter was there for you, as your best friend and the boy who loved you, if even you weren't his.

bring her flowers on a weekday run a bath just to let her know just to let her know she means the world to me

"peter? why did you need me to-"

a sympathetic yet mischievous grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you into his apartment. he pulls the bag off your shoulders, guiding you into his bathroom.

you gasp.

candles surround the bathtub, filled with lavender scented bubbles and warm water. a bouquet of your favorite flowers sits on the counter, sat next to a pile of clothes; the pair of peter's sweatpants and old band tee you always wore when you came over.

"peter, i-" you choke.

"i know brad has been kinda distant lately and i've seen how it's affected you. i just thought you might like a little break."

way to melt a girl's heart, peter parker.

you turn, wrapping your arms around his chest and hugging him tightly. "this is some boyfriend type shit, you know that?"

his face burns. "we'll call it me being a close friend while your boyfriend is being a shithole."

peter almost felt as though he was overstepping. he wasn't your boyfriend, no matter how badly he wished he was. brad was. all he could do was be there when brad wasn't.

which became more and more frequent.

make her dinner when she's home late pull her close when she's getting cold just to let her know she means the world to me

"shit," peter seethes, shaking his hand in the air and sucking on his finger. "come in!"

you cautiously open the door, met with the sight of peter, donned in may's 'whip it good' apron (with a little drawing of a whisk) and finger in his mouth as steam rises from the pot behind him. he looks at you, anxious.

"holy shit, peter. you made me dinner?"

he shrugs. a smile breaks on your face and you drop your bag, walking over to the boy and giving him a tight hug before pulling back, taking his hand into yours and examining his finger.

"yikes," you whisper. "touch the pot?"

"yup," he sighs.

peter makes you sit at the table and fixes your plate with perfect portions of pasta, vegetables, and, of course, an extra piece of garlic bread. your heart swells as he sets it in front of you.

if only brad would do this for you.

"at this point, it's almost like you're my boyfriend."

"heh. yeah."

it wasn't the best meal ever, but it was filled with love. after a prolonged moment of silence between the two of you, one look into peter's soft eyes was all you needed to break. you pour your heart out, ranting about how brad was drifting away, treating you worse. how you saw him sneaking looks at other girls, and how he even went as far as texting mj behind your back. you only knew because she told you.

eventually it became too much.

"fuck," you hiccup, choking on a sob.

peter boils with anger and sadness and regret. "come on."

he walks you out onto the fire escape: your favorite place to hangout with peter. the cold air seeps into your lungs and calms you down, but you shiver, cursing yourself for only wearing t-shirt. the boy notices and wraps his arm around you to warm you up.

"thank you, peter."

and then there was the end. it had all become too much for you to handle, and by the time you'd fully realized just how poorly you'd been treated, brad had gone to someone else.

you'd walked in on them in the girl's bathroom during passing period.

it was some freshman you didn't know. you didn't care. as soon as you were met with the sight, a sigh fell from your lips. the noise startled brad, pulling him from the lips of the lesser-knowing girl.

"shit, y/n, i-"

"figures," you shrug, walking out and sticking a middle finger up at the pair, frozen in each others arms. the poor girl looked like she was going to shit herself.

you told peter you didn't care. it was brad davis; you were stupid to have thought he cared, anyway. the boy didn't buy it one bit.

that night, peter went as far as suiting up and swinging over to brad's apartment, fists fueled with anger and a craving for revenge. but that wasn't peter. as soon as he'd tapped on the window, brad's face twisting in confusion and then excitement, he knew he couldn't just beat the crap out of him out of nowhere. especially as spider-man.

"holy shit," brad exclaims, pulling up the window with a bright grin. "spider-man! what are you-"

"i, uh," peter cuts him off, lowering his voice and mildly panicking. he didn't exactly come to talk things out. "i was just wondering if you had a glass of water? or, like plastic bottle, or something?"

smooth.

"oh, yeah, of course!"

it ended with peter swinging away, bottled water in hand, a signed sticky note in brad's hand that read "be kind to others. - spider-man."

the message was all peter could say. all brad did, though, was furrow his brows and stick it to his wall, taking a picture and posting it to his snap story.

and now here you were.

peter slides in through the window, met with the sight of you sitting on his bed, expression blank. you turn your face to look at the boy.

"i got here and couldn't find you," you breathe, pulling at your fingers.

he pulls off the mask and shakes out his hair. "sorry, i was patrolling."

it was a few days after the breakup, after the night peter visited brad, and you felt weird. you weren't exactly heartbroken- some part of you always knew that it wouldn't work out in the end- but you were hurt. no one deserved to get cheated on.

peter breaks as looks at you, slumped over on his bed, messing with your hands and biting the inside of your cheek as you stare up at him, helpless. "okay, uh, stay here."

within two minutes, peter stumbles back into his room, arms filled with a massive assortment of junk food. a goofy smile pulls at his lips as he waddles towards the bed, shutting the door with his foot and setting the pile in front of you. you laugh, looking through the snacks. "you're insane, parker."

"only for you," he shrugs.

the two of you get set up, putting on a funny movie and snuggling together. his arm was wrapped around you, his sweatshirt adding extra warmth as you sigh into his chest, shoving a handful of chips into your mouth. his thumb traces patterns along your back.

"thank you, peter. brad was shit anyways."

"now that's what i'm talking about," peter nods at your statement, words muffled by the cookies in his mouth. a laugh bubbles from your throat and he grins, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

it was him all along.

now she's beside me, can't stop thinking why did you ever think to let go? not complaining, i'm just saying your loss is mine to hold so to the man who let her go i'm thanking you the most, you the most

+ + +

this one was cute i enjoyed it

a bit different format with the lyrics n shit but it was cool!!!!!!

THIS IS YOUR REMINDER TO GO DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE! SHOWER, EAT SOMETHING, DRINK WATER, BRUSH YOUR TEETH, GET SOME EXERCISE, CLEAN YOUR ROOM, READ A BOOK, GET SOME SLEEP, ETC! I LOVE YOU GO KILL IT <33

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

V. Twenty Years and a Month*

Summary: You spend four summer weeks with Steve, but some things are too good to be true. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader A/N: Modern AU, Teacher reader, Dad/Baker Steve… lots of pining, slow burn, romance. Enjoy!

Slow Like Honey Masterpost

Your first thought when you stir the next morning is that someone is cooking in your apartment. The second thought you have is purely frantic as you realize that no one should be cooking in your apartment, and then finally, that this isn’t your apartment at all.

The comforter is gray under your clenched fingers, not cream, like your own. The bedsheets are too smooth and silky, and the pillow under your head is much too nice to be anything you’ve bought for yourself. In the distance is the quiet hum of a range hood as well as a peppy whistling tune. Your heart begins to slow as you realize… it’s only Steve.

The alarm clock on top of his dresser blinks six-fifteen back at you and you wipe the sleep from your eyes with a traitorous yawn. From the commotion in the kitchen, he wasn’t joking when he said that he only slept four hours a night.

You only hope that you’re somewhat decent as you hear his footsteps coming closer to the bedroom. Should you pretend you’re asleep? Should you run to the restroom? It’s been so long since you’ve woken up next to anyone that you’re grasping at straws.

“Hey…” Steve greets shyly as he steps in, as if he’ll scare you off. “Good morning.”

He’s wearing grey lounge pants and an off-white tee, feet nestled in a pair of green house-slippers. His hair is slightly ruffled from sleep, but he is otherwise just as magical as ever. Glowing, almost, as he scratches his beard.

“I, um, made breakfast, if you’d like to join me? Monday’s my day off… so… no rush.”

You nod with a smile, but then point towards the restroom door. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

He dutifully dips into the room and pulls out one from the cabinet before picking up his own as well. You ease yourself from the warmth of his sheets, not quite ready to start the day, but hopeful that you can return to the plush fabric that smells fragrantly like him.

And, you think suddenly, like sex.

You become introverted like a timid maiden, blatantly aware of your nakedness in his bedroom. You slip on his shirt from last night—a faded, speckled grey jersey knit that hangs on you like a dress. You have no idea where your underwear is, so you’re glad Steve’s as large as a door because the hem swings a few inches above your knees, just enough for some modesty.

He’s already gently scrubbing at his teeth by the time you start, and you tilt your head forward so that he can’t see the shyness that’s determinedly crawling up your neck.

He rinses and spits. Then moves to the door but stops.

“I… really like this…” He says quietly, trailing a finger down your spine. You rinse and spit too, standing up and wiping your mouth, catching his downcast eyes in the mirror as they trail over the shape of you through his clothing.

His gaze flickers upward, holding your own eyes steady in the reflection of the glass. Steve clamps his minty fresh teeth over lower his lip and takes a step forward until his knee is situated between the back of your two thighs.

When he presses his body against yours, the sudden shyness that seized you in the bedroom is nowhere to be found as the two of you watch each other in the glass.

“You should have more days off, I think...” You sigh distractedly as his hand reaches under the shirt. Steve smiles into the back of your neck, hums a musical agreeance, squeezes your sides.

Breakfast is cold by the time you make it to the kitchen, but you eat it anyway, both giggly and alive with newfound energy. Steve pulls your chair so close to his that you end up practically in his lap and nuzzles his nose into your neck any chance he gets.

The sunlight pours in from the opened blinds and cuts across the table and your legs with streaks of bright white. Scents of coffee, bacon, and spices fill the air. Steve licks frosting from your mouth as the two of you share a cinnamon roll and when you gasp at the way his tongue tickles, he promptly takes you back to bed to show you what else his tongue will do to you this morning.

It’s blissful like a dream, your time with him now that you’ve crossed this bridge. He makes love to you ardently, cradles your body like it’s made of glass, and breathes sincerity onto your extremities until all you feel is the warmth of Steve Rogers.

You spend the next few Monday mornings like this: lazy, indulgent, with sleepy eyes and roguish smiles.

The weekdays are spent mostly apart with Steve’s schedule of waking up at three to work out before he starts baking at Cap&Co. His timetable is strict and nothing like your own, so you don’t see him until he gets off work for dinner— when he still makes the meals. You try your best to help, washing the dishes afterward and wiping the counters. He’s usually so tired that he’s asleep before he hits the bed at nine, so you let yourself out and lock the door behind you.

And it’s not like you don’t have your own life. You see Heather for dinner and get together with some other co-workers when they go out for drinks. You also visit your mother—a five-hour drive away, and even slowly begin to add more furniture into your world.

Steve also gifts you a small watercolor kit and four very expensive brushes. When he’s busy at work, you continue practicing your painting. It gets better, slowly, and you branch out to different types of still-life: fruit, knick-knacks, silly arrangements you scrounge together with the items in your house.

Your days are spent looking forward to Sunday evening, when you meet up with Steve early, help him close, and trail him enthusiastically back to his house. The nights are full of fingertips and wine, knees knocking together following the rhythm of unhurried kisses and husky breaths, exultant laughter and pillow talk after the fact. Then, you both fall asleep in each other’s arms, naked as the day you were born.

Eight-thirty blinks on the clock when you finally settle on your side the third Monday of this divine ritual, tracing the lines of Steve’s face with your eyes. His room is rosy with daylight as the beams catch on his drawn curtains and scatter over the walls.

“Mm…” He hums, smiling, returning the gesture with his own inspection of your face. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly, praying to every known deity that you looked okay, just as you do every morning with him. This new love still blooms butterflies in your stomach. “Just, appreciating you—you’re really handsome.”

He laughs, eyelashes landing on his cheeks before he begins to scrub his beard with his fist, “Thank you.”

“So you agree?” You ask mischievously, “You think you’re really handsome?”

His brow furrows before he pops one eye open and asks carefully, “Mean Girls?”

You shriek with laughter, turning over on your back and holding your sides- encased in another one of his shirt, “Oh my God!” You cry, “You’re perfect!”

He shares a lopsided grin with you, pulling you into his arms that you playfully take a bite of.

“So…” Steve croons, “You don’t just like me for my arms? You also like me for my knowledge of Mean Girls, is that right?”

You nod eagerly along, cheek pressed against his chest, and he gives you the equivalent of a noogie with his chin, the thick hairs on it scrrtch-scrrtching as the sound echoes along your skull.

It’s more of this bliss for the next half hour. Joking, playing, burrowing beneath the covers to stare at each other under diffused light. Your fingers are linked in his, and he’s telling you a story about his childhood when you start to nod off, dreaming about Steve as a boy, catching bus rides all over Brooklyn.

“Bucky and I would get into all sorts of trouble,” his disembodied voice floats over your fuzzy state of mind, “Bucky with the girls, and me… well, with everybody else.”

You chuckle softly as he kisses the top of your head.

“—we’d forgotten the fare—“

Back and forth, like floating on a Caribbean current, staring into the clouds, you sway.

“—and the dog chasing—“

You can almost hear it, a little terrier’s yelp. You’re warm and full of sunshine and affection for him. The young man, troublesome, and the grown man, tender and loving. Both blonde and blue and beaming at you with a smile brighter than any star. A sluggish smile spreads over your lips when Steve tilts his head down to check on you. He presses his nose into your scalp, breathing in the fragrant scent of his shampoo in your hair and a lingering aroma that’s solely yours.

“Love you.”

His eyebrows raise at your sudden admission. The words sound so nonchalant that he thought they might have belonged to someone who’s been in his life more than a month. He checks on you again because he was sure you’d fallen asleep already. And you are, heavy sighs caressing his sternum.

He rolls your words around in his mouth silently, the syllables making his chest swell with every touch of tongue to teeth. It’s new love, and he hasn’t felt a new love in over two decades. The excitement, the unknowing, the thrill of discovering, he’s never thought he’d look forward to ---

A shrill ring jerks you from your slumber and Steve from his musings.

He paws around the bed for his phone. Peggy’s number lights up and he knows it’s Sarah requesting a video chat. They’ve done this at least twice a week, but it’s the first time that you’re here, too. You rub your eyes and scoot to the edge of the bed, making sure that you’re out of sight when Sarah comes on screen.

“Daddy?” Her voice calls when he picks up.

You watch Steve’s profile light up with a grin as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. You smile too as you watch him beaming. “Sweetheart! I’ve missed you so much.”

“I miss you too daddy! I’m about to eat dinner and mummy is setting the table. Today mum, she took me to see this big clock thing and it’s name is Ben! And didja know? Didja know in London, the money is called a quid? Like a squid, daddy!”

Steve chuckles as Sarah rambles on, telling him more about her sightseeing in London. You hear her blow kisses and can’t help but smile because you also miss her.

“Daddy when I come back I’m gonna bring you some squids and—“

Your heart leaps when she asks if you’ll be there at the airport too. Steve sends a quick look your way and you reply with a nod. He reaches over to squeeze your hand before pulling it back.

“—Yay! I’ve been taking lots of pictures I want to show! Look, look! Here’s me and grandma and mummy—“

“Mummy, huh?” Steve asks, “Why, Sarah, you’re a certified Brit now, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m half!” Sarah cries, “Here’s mummy and I put this flower in her hair. Isn’t she the most beautiful person in the world?”

A pang of jealousy hits your chest as soon as Sarah’s words leave her lips. Steve looks on, sadness eroding his formerly happy features. He doesn’t say anything, though, and you know it must be to spare your own feelings as you lie perfectly still only a couple of feet away. It feels like leagues of ocean as you float unsteadily, waiting selfishly for the moment to end. The rocking of the Caribbean is gone. You sink down like Atlantis now.

“Sarah, my dove,” A voice calls on the other line, growing closer. “Sweetheart, could I have the phone?”

“Can you talk to mumma today?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he sits up quickly, back against the headboard. You watch him run his fingers through his hair, patting down the sides that have become disheveled. He’s become fearful like a deer in headlights.

“Hello, Peggy.” He says quietly when the screen shifts. If you weren’t motionless before, you certainly are now. A perfect frozen statue, steely and cold, drained of even your own breath.

“Steven,” she responds, “You look… healthy. I… I’m glad to see you. Have you been well?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

Even her voice sounds beautiful—polished and refined with that fantastic English accent Americans are so easily attracted to. You’ve seen pictures of her, of course, ones that Sarah has shown you all those months ago when the kids did a project over their parents. You only wish you felt the way you did then—appreciative of Peggy Carter’s loveliness in a completely disengaged way, rather than how you do now. Sick. Ill with envy and dread.

“That’s excellent. I just want to, well, I just want to let you know that she’s doing well on our little holiday.” You hear her voice lift a little, tell-tale sign of a smile, and you can only imagine just how radiant her smile is. “She’s very impressive, our girl.” Peggy says, “She’s really grown so much.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees quietly, “She has. I’m glad she’s having fun. Thanks for letting me know, Peg.”

“Of course. Well, I’ll leave you be. Sarah’s already at the table so perhaps we’ll call you later tonight? If that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah... of course.”

A moment passes before they both say their goodbyes carefully and Steve tucks the phone face-down under the blanket next to his thigh. Yes, you know this feeling, you think as you watch him slide his palm over his forehead until the heel of it is the only thing touching his temple. His eyes are closed as he inhales deeply.

You don’t want to be the first to speak, so you wait for him to acknowledge you.

“I’m sorry about that.” He whispers, staring up at the stationary fan overhead.

“No, it’s nothing.” You respond. Your hand moves to take his, but you stop yourself. It suddenly feels wrong, and you feel wrong—like an unwelcome guest in his home, in his life. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“I- I, uh, sorry!” He laughs bitterly, “Don’t know what’s come over me.”

“No, I understand.” You pluck up the courage to hold onto his hand, but it lies heavy over your own.

“I haven’t talked to Peggy in months,” he sighs, “It’s… it’s hard. You know? Being with someone for half your life and… now my life is… this.”

Of course, he doesn’t mean it that way, but you take his statement like a slap to the face because you are the this that he’s talking about—the other, the unknown thing that he’s fumbling with. There’s not a lot for you to compare what he’s feeling to, because your previous relationship is a blip compared to Steve and Peggy’s marriage.

Even though this new relationship is fun and thrilling, full of electricity and warmth, you know that the comfort of being with someone you know, someone you have loved, someone you can fall back to so easily… is just that. So damn easy.

Steve and Peggy have spent nearly two decades together. They know each other just as well as they know themselves. If this recent conversation is the beginning of a reconciliation, then, who are you to stand in the way of their family?

You’re full of concern and self-hatred as you suddenly feel like… like this: like four short weeks, like nothing at all.

“Y-yeah.” You breathe, because it’s all you can do.

Twenty minutes later you’re heading out the door, much earlier than your usual Mondays together. But the call from London had left a painful thorn in your side and a haze of discomfort over Steve. The two of you stepped around each other when you go to the restroom to shower, bumping into the doorframe and wall on accident. He reached for the curtain first, but you had the same thought, and your hands both retreated. Then you accidentally elbowed him when you tried to take off your shirt and, in his attempt to dodge the rest of your arm, he knocked into the sharp corner of the countertop.

Steve had snapped at you after that—asking you harshly to be more careful with what you’re doing, and it made you physically take a step back, cheeks burning with ire. He was so caught up--merely minutes later after talking to Peggy—that it was all he was thinking about.

“I think I’ll just go.” You said, hastily pulling on your clothes from the night before and sweeping your hair up into a bun.

He doesn’t even stop you, which makes it all the more painful.

He doesn’t text or call the next day. Or the day after that. And you conclude that both of those days signify the death of your new relationship. He doesn’t need to tell you it’s over for you to feel it in your heart. You think it’s better like this anyway and begin trying to sweep the memories of him into the back of your mind.

You spend the mornings sleeping in as late as your body will allow you to because any moment awake would be another moment that your mind will wander to Steve. You feel beyond torn, oscillating between accepting the fact that the man has a family and a history, and then growing infuriated that you let yourself fall into his trap in the first place.

What were you expecting, anyway? That he’d marry you? That he’d fall in love with you and you would live happily ever after in his cozy Four-Square sanctuary? You wish you had never said yes to him, never gone to the bakery, never given him your number, never kissed him or made love to him. Your body aches to think of him.

Less than thirty days ago, Steve Rogers was the absolute least of your worries. And now, you can only blame yourself.

You cry at the end of your jogs and into your bowls of oatmeal. You throw the watercolors against the wall. You stare angrily at the black hole of your phone screen. Your eyes burn into themselves any time you catch your reflection in the mirror.

“Idiot.” You chastise yourself to the emptiness of your apartment. “You goddamn idiot.”

On the phone, Bucky Barnes rolls his eyes and gestures incredulously to his girlfriend. Sometimes he can’t believe that Steve is capable of being so senseless.

“Rogers, you goddamn idiot!”

“I’m serious, Bucky.” Steve retorts, “It’s—you know it’s more complicated than that.”

Bucky scoffs loudly and disapprovingly, “I don’t think it is, man. Run it through for me again. C’mon—from the top.”

Steve sighs loudly and leans back on the couch, craning his neck to the ceiling as he cradles the phone against his ear. “For the last month, I’ve—“

“You’ve been seeing the teacher—someone you’ve pined after for like, a year.”

“Am I telling this? Or are you?”

Bucky snorts. “Go on, then.”

“We’ve been seeing each other the last four weeks—it’s been wonderful. She’s yeah, she’s exactly how I thought she’d be.” Steve mumbles almost apologetically, “Sweet. Kind. Hilarious. Beautiful… Listens to my shit. Takes me up on my painting lessons.”

“Good in bed.” Bucky supplies.

“Jesus, Buck.”

“Wasn’t she?”

“Jesus—yes, fine.” He groans forcefully, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment. “But—I don’t know. Peggy’s been calling me again. She’s been… talking to me. A lot.”

“A lot being… two times.”

“Yes, but… God, Bucky. We talked for hours yesterday and—“

“And you’re convinced it’ll just snap back together like it used to be?”

“We were together for almost twenty years! That’s the equivalent of some people’s lifetimes. We have a daughter, Buck. Sarah wants her mother in her life. And Peggy is her mother.” A quiet passing of your name goes through the receiver—so softly Bucky almost misses it. Steve sounds like he’s grieving when he says it, “She’s so young— And she doesn’t even want kids, Buck. How can that work? I already have one.”

“Hey, man.” Bucky cuts him off, “Twenty years is somebody’s lifetime, sure. But so is four weeks. You get me?”

Steve doesn’t.

“Buddy, you called me every night for almost eight months. You spent days on my couch in shambles—you lost fifteen pounds! I still can’t look at Peggy. A lifetime is… fucking nothing to me. Nothing when I’m looking at you crying on the floor.”

The venom in Bucky’s voice stings Steve even from hundreds of miles away. He remembers those days—when Peggy first started pulling away from him, from Sarah, and he felt his heart begin to chip away until it crumbled all over the divorce papers as they finally slipped under his nose.

“You know Peggy’s only there when it’s convenient for her. You two brought an entire person into the world and she still left. This… this isn’t real, man.”

“But what if it is?”

“What if it is?” Bucky asks back, “What if what you already have is real, too? I know you think time and security is reassuring, but nothing about Peggy reassures me. I’d rather you raise Sarah on your own than get back together with Peggy and watch her leave for weeks at a time again. Did she say she’s going to quit her job?”

“No.” Steve admits, that’s the one thing they haven’t reached yet when they talk on the phone late into the night. They’ve reminisced about all sorts of things--- high school, their first dates, their wedding, Sarah’s birth, her interests, and even future ruminations—what she might be when she grows up. But not once did Peggy bring up the topic of her career as they discussed their broken little family. And Steve had been too scared to prod—too complacent in just enjoying the relief of her familiar voice, her laughter, like falling backwards into his own bed at the end of the day.

“If that wasn’t her first topic of discussion,” Bucky cuts through his thoughts, “Then it’s not one at all.”

Steve snatches his hair in frustration because Bucky’s words on a side not invested in Peggy’s happiness or comfort, rings with deafening truth.

“And it wasn’t just a month, Stevie—you’ve seen your new girl for a year. And you’ve seen her through Sarah. Throw that not wanting kids thing out the window, pal. You said it yourself—you already got one, and they already know each other. What? You want another baby?”

“No! God, I don’t think so.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. Rogers, I swear to God—don’t be a sentimental idiot.” Bucky huffs angrily, “Twenty years…” He sounds like he’s rolling his eyes, “Those fucking years crushed you. Last month, man. I haven’t heard you that happy in almost ten years. If you care so much about numbers, think about that some, you dumbass.”

Steve hangs up minutes later when Bucky grows even more frustrated with him and groans loudly as he stares at his screen of recent calls. Bucky. Bucky. The bakery. Peggy. Peggy. Peggy. You. Bucky. You.

And then the trend is--- You. You. You. Peggy. You. You. You. You.

You.

He throws his head back once more. Steve Rogers hates himself. He hates himself so much. It’s been three days since he’s talked to you, and he knows, in his goddamn bones, he knows it’s wrong. He’s a coward. And he’s desperately clinging onto some hope that maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow and his whole life will be figured out and nothing will hurt anyone anymore. Steve shuts his eyes with a wretched whimper.

He wants what’s best for Sarah, which is her mother. The possibility of having his family back to one semi-chipped but almost-perfect piece is killing him, because that’s all he’s ever wanted.

But, it’s made him a selfish fucking asshole, he thinks. Because he convinced a perfectly happy woman to date him, and then ghosts her after four sublime weeks, right after she says that she loves him. And maybe it would have been forgivable if she was just any random woman.

But she’s not.

She’s the kind of woman who loves his daughter so much she spends twenty extra minutes at every parent-teacher conference to tell him as much detail as possible about her. The kind of woman who shares her lunch with her. Who advises him at every arbitrary panic-induced question he flings out about her. Who gifts his daughter her own camera so she can have fun on vacation. Who coaxes her out to apologize to him—something he can never do on his own.

She’s the kind of woman who conceded to quietly slip out of his life when he turned his back on her. Because she understands that he loves his daughter.

Because she loves his daughter too.

And he’s not even brave enough to apologize. Or say goodbye. Or do anything.

Steve’s fists land on the coffee table with a slam as lurches forward.

He needs to do something to get his mind off all this—even for a few minutes, because any more of it and he might just lose it. He clambers to the kitchen and starts tearing out cleaning supplies because that’s the kind of stupid domesticated shit that he does when he’s distressed—cleaning. Like a fucking giant, idiot Roomba.

He sprays and scrubs. Mops and vacuums. Polishes and dusts and scours every single surface of his house for any single speck of grime that he can wipe out of his sight. The more he cleans, the more he imagines doing it to his own conscience because it is so saturated with filth that he can hardly stand it. He doesn’t even bother to use gloves because maybe the solutions will simply eat the flesh of his hands right off because he fucking deserves that, too.

In the third hour of punishing himself, Steve ends up in the kitchen—the last room. Both his and Sarah’s bedrooms are spotless. The spare bedroom that he’s transformed into a study is immaculate, and he’s even rearranged the bookshelves so he can dust everything behind them. He’s cleaned out the garage, too, Jesus Christ Almighty, he’s thrown away so much crap that he’s been stupidly hoarding—at least three old mixers with broken paddles and frayed wires. The two bathrooms are bleached so brightly that they’re nearly blinding. The dining room looks like it’s been pulled straight out of an IKEA magazine.

He gets to work on the stovetop and the sink, spraying the ever-loving crap out of it before he grabs the rags from out underneath the cabinet. Then he moves objects off the bar counter, putting Sarah’s favorite potted plant on another surface and reaching for the next when something catches his eye.

Steve leans forward curiously as he finds a little plastic rectangle that had been hidden behind the plant’s pot, sprinkled lightly with soil. His chest seizes with guilt. It feels like it could collapse right into his guts.

Inside the tiny plastic rectangle between his fingers, there you are. Wearing that yellow summer dress with the flutter sleeves that he held onto so desperately. You’re sitting on your knees, leaning back and putting your weight on your hands as you grin fondly at Sarah.

And at him, now, four weeks later, after he’s broken your heart.

Steve doesn’t even bother washing his slightly burning hands as he drops the rags and runs back to the couch where he left his phone.

On the fourth ring, Peggy picks up—voice dazed and crackly as she breathes out an unsteady “Hello?”

“Are you quitting your job?” Steve says with as much confidence as he can.

“Steven? Goodness—what time---“

“Are you quitting your job?” He demands before she can finish.

“What?” He hears her rousing, pillows and sheets sliding around as she tries to catch onto his train of thought.

“Are you quitting your job, yes or no.”

“Steven what are you—I—what?”

“Why have you been calling me? Why have you been talking to me?” The longer he speaks, the louder his voice becomes, and the more assertive he grows as he stands next to the coffee table, absently nudging it with his shin. “This friendliness—it’s confusing Peggy. Because you know that what I want-- more than anything-- is for us to be a family again.”

Steve pauses, listening to see if she’s still there before he asks calmly, even though he feels like he could burst apart and erupt into tears following this mission. “So I need you to tell me, right now. Are you quitting your job?”

And she knows that he doesn’t mean for her to not be employed at all and live as a stay-at-home mother, but that he needs her with him, if this is to work. He needs her with Sarah. Stateside, at least. Home for more than a couple weekends a month, at least.

“No,” she whispers, after a silence, “No, Steven. I won’t be quitting my job. It’s my career—you know that. It’s my--”

“Goddamn it, Peg!” He cries, “What the hell has this been, huh? You just yankin’ my chain around? Watching me fall apart again?” Steve’s voice catches in his throat as it fizzles out. Tears spill from his eyes and he falls backwards onto the couch, placing his throbbing head in his hand. He tries to speak, but his voice only comes out as a raspy whisper, choked by a sob that shakes his whole body.

“You know I’d do anything for her.” He weeps. “You know that. I’d let you tear me apart again.”

Six hours ahead of his time, Peggy sighs deeply into the phone. “I’m sorry, Steven.” She says, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s… hard for both of us. Please believe me… I’m sorry.” There’s a short breath being taken, as if Peggy would continue, perhaps explaining herself or continuing to apologize, but Steve’s had enough. His heart hurts so much he can hardly breathe.

Steve shakes his head, as if she can see it four thousand miles across the Atlantic, “Goodbye, Peggy.”

It’s eleven-thirty. He washes his hands and face in the immaculate guest sink and stares at himself unsteadily as he takes deep breaths. He should go to bed because he needs to wake up early tomorrow. But instead, he stares at his phone again.

The list of recent calls stares back at him. Peggy. Bucky. Bucky. The bakery. Peggy. Peggy. Peggy. You.

He hits the last number as time stops completely. He runs through every possible scenario in his head. What is there to say that could remedy this situation? How does he even begin to apologize for being such a selfish coward? Steve clutches onto your polaroid picture like a lifeline.

It goes to voicemail.

He tries again, only to receive the same automated tone— the phone doesn’t even ring. Have you blocked him? Of course, thinks, he deserves it.

He grabs his keys from the table and slams the door on the way out, chewing viciously on his lip the entire drive to your apartment complex. He even angrily punches the power button to turn off the radio because he’s punishing himself with silence. It’s only fair.

It’s dark and crickets chirp as he plods up the steps, reaching your door with the curling numbers hanging over mahogany paint.

Steve knocks.

Nothing.

He tries again. Nothing.

First, he thinks, it might be for the best. Then, because he’s an overreaching asshole, his mind leaps over into the conclusion that you might be in trouble. He rushes down the steps, as quietly as possible because it is midnight and normal people are asleep—not stalking their girlfriends. Steve winces at the thought. Perhaps ex-girlfriend is more fitting.

He whirls around the parking lot for any sign of your car, air whipping through his beard and hair as he searches frantically. It’s not in your usual spot, and for the life of him, he can’t find it anywhere.

Steve’s heart pounds. It’s midnight. Other than his house, where the hell could you go?

Defeatedly, he trudges back to his car where the quiet rumble of the engine rocks his body gently. There are a million and one thoughts racing through his mind. But he knows now, none of them are true other than the fact that you’re ignoring him. And he deserves it. Goddamn, does he deserve it.

He sighs and picks up his phone again. As expected, it cuts off before it even rings.

“Hey.” Steve sighs after the beep, “Hey. I—I’m so sorry.” He scrubs his beard and lays his head against the top of the steering wheel, letting the ridges press into his face.

“I know there’s nothing I can say that will actually express just how sorry I am. I... I really messed this up. I messed it all up, honey.”

He’s sniffling shamelessly at this point, letting the tears blur his vision as he stars blankly to the empty passenger seat and out the window. The streetlights look like fireflies. The sky an inky black sea staring down at him. Infinite twinkling eyes, asking what he’ll do next.

“If you’ll ever talk to me again—which I hope you will, please know... I want to make this better. Any way I can, I will.”

And then he pulls it out—the confession he’d been holding on to as soon as he heard you half-mutter it in your sleep. It’s desperate. It’s perhaps not the right time. But he blurts it anyway.

“I love you. I know how that sounds. I... just.. It's true. Please call me back when you’re ready.”

He uses when and not if because maybe the connotation will persuade you into calling him back sooner. He doesn’t want if. He wants when. He wants now.

Steve lingers in the car a few more minutes after he hangs up, holding as tightly as he can to the far-fetched hope that you’ll pull up in the empty space beside him. He thinks he’d jump out of the window if he could and fall to his knees. He’d beg. He’d cry and beg until both of his kneecaps bleed.

It would be another week before you hear his message. It would be even longer for you to actually listen to it.

It’s eight when you wake up. There is a tray of breakfast on the vanity to your right and the big gold mirror stares your reflection right back. Pink eyes, a little blue underneath, much better than last Monday, at least.

Your mother had let you stay with her when you showed up Wednesday night. She didn’t ask any questions and has been consistently accommodating by cooking, letting you have your space, watching movies with you in silence, and rubbing your back when you suddenly burst into tears. You return her kindness by picking up groceries, doing the dishes, watering the plants, anything that allows you to stay busy.

It’s been nice. Peaceful and dumbly idyllic back home. Old neighbors wave to you and remind you of when you used to run around under the sprinklers as a child. Your brother even comes by with his wife and daughter and at the sight of her little pudgy 6-year-old cheeks you almost crumble right there in the front yard.

They ask you what’s wrong. You lie and say you just really love children. Your brother knows you better than that, but he doesn’t say anything more of it.

His daughter only reminds you that teacher workdays begin in two days, then it’s back to school the following week. You’re absolutely not ready because you know you’ll see Sarah’s sandy blonde head and pudgy cheeks. You’ll see her father’s blue eyes and beautiful lashes in the carline. You’ll see the weeks you’ve spent with him, reflecting back at you.

Next Chapter

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #marve #mcu #fanfiction #slow like honey heli0s #reader insert

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punkscowardschampions · 3 years

Text

Amber & Cosmo

Amber: [Okay so I’m just gonna write my diabolical idea here so we know how it’s kicking off, basically whenever Dash and Amber hooked up- which was long ago enough that he should but hasn’t given her the stash back but literally never long enough ago that it won’t be gross to Cosmo that this happened, soz boy- she thought they were doing so in Dash’s bedroom but it’s actually his brother’s so when she comes back looking for her stash/anything she can replace it with, she’s actually ransacking Cosmo’s room and we know it’s blatantly because he lied that he didn’t have any drugs when he in fact did so he’s an all around lovely boy]

Amber: [picture the scene of him walking into his own room like wtf and then she has to hurriedly explain all of the above and then I figure I can start this convo when she’s for real in Dash’s room searching the right one lol]

Amber: I’m so so so sorry

Amber: I can’t find the words…

Cosmo: [The levels we would’ve been like GET OUT without terrifying her into fully leaving, in our room fuming rn]

Cosmo: Did you take any of my shit?

Amber: I’m not here for anything that isn’t mine, I told you

Cosmo: You said a lot

Cosmo: and fast

Cosmo: You’ll excuse me if I was more distracted by the more pressing issues like the stranger in my fucking room

Amber: Because you were saying the same thing again and again

Amber: and loud

Amber: my pressing issue was, and is, me not getting arrested

Cosmo: That’s your life choices

Cosmo: maybe don’t break and enter if you don’t wanna be worrying about that, there you go, pro-tip

Amber: Passive aggression towards me is understandable but please don’t threaten a real act of, you know I’m no burglar

Cosmo: I don’t know that, I don’t know who the hell you are

Amber: If you need to empty out my pockets to be sure, I’ve not left

Amber: yet

Cosmo: I can’t see anything missing

Amber: I feel stupid for not realising it couldn’t be his room

Amber: stupider

Cosmo: It’s an unpleasant way to find out he’s a piece of shit for you but you’ll be better off for knowing

Amber: Typically unfair of the universe not to let me have the information before we had sex

Cosmo: I might be more willing to extend sympathy if it weren’t in my fucking bed

Amber: Take mine because it was

Amber: but believe me that I didn’t know

Cosmo: Doesn’t change the fact

Cosmo: He’s fucking dead

Amber: I can’t change it now, but I’ll bring you some new sheets to show you the sorry was meant

Amber: and knock before I come through your window

Cosmo: Or you could just not, on both counts

Amber: if you want

Cosmo: Funny when someone breaks in you don’t really get much say

Amber: It’s your choice from here on though, I was being pushy when I thought it was your lying brother’s window

Cosmo: Generous

Cosmo: What are you even looking for?

Amber: 🌿 I borrowed my dad’s stash

Amber: borrowed is the important part

Cosmo: How does that work

Cosmo: except for not, clearly

Cosmo: You may as well go, ‘cos that will be long gone

Amber: Empty handed!? I can’t do that

Cosmo: Help yourself to any crap he’s got in there

Cosmo: doesn’t bother me

Amber: I don’t think there’s anything in here my father would accept as a 🕊

Cosmo: No shit

Cosmo: Unless he’s also got the taste of a wannabe hippie

Amber: Their wardrobes are unsurprisingly similar but he’d kill me if I brought home new items to replace the handful of old clothes he already owns

Cosmo: You’re one of them

Cosmo: Figures, only people who’ll associate with him at this point

Amber: Them?

Cosmo: You live in the compound

Amber: oh right 👽

Amber: yes, I’ve lived there for a few months

Cosmo: My sympathies on that one

Amber: 😂 Thanks, but even going back empty handed wouldn’t result in a RIP 🥤 ending, it’s okay

Cosmo: There’s hardly a shortage where that came from

Amber: or of worse places I could or have lived

Amber: Have you always lived here?

Cosmo: I’d phone social for you but the case is well-established already, I reckon

Cosmo: Dublin? Always

Cosmo: Better postcode for a bit but now just on the weekends

Amber: better because…?

Cosmo: All the reasons they put on the listings

Cosmo: price, location, near to whatever amenities you might want, idk, you know what better means

Amber: You forgot no strange girls climbing in your bedroom window, it was the perfect opportunity to stay angry at me

Amber: but this is better, agreed 🙃

Cosmo: I’m still angry, don’t worry

Cosmo: you’d not get anywhere near my dad’s windows

Amber: so you get the weekends off from me

Cosmo: I’m definitely not doing his dirty work for him, he doesn’t deserve that but neither do you so

Cosmo: If stealing your stash and not letting you in his room wasn’t hint enough, he’s not gonna make you his girlfriend, okay

Amber: I’m not THAT stupid, I don’t know what you got from first glance or this on going impression but it sounds like I don’t want to know

Cosmo: You aren’t going to be here every weekday then, that’s what I mean

Amber: I could be, I found a lot of spare rooms on the way to his, they’re not as nice as yours but they don’t have horrific memories attached

Amber: yet

Cosmo: We’re not looking for lodgers and you just moved

Amber: over half a year ago isn’t a just

Amber: Why don’t you want to live with me?

Cosmo: 😂

Cosmo: You’ve got jokes, at least, if not your stash

Amber: if you had manners you’d help me

Cosmo: You and my brother desecrated my bed

Cosmo: Why’d I owe you anything, like

Amber: You’re 🤬 at him, he’s owed us both getting our own back and I can’t do a good enough job at it on my own

Cosmo: You’ve got a point, alright

Cosmo: [Come in]

Amber: [picture her buried in this carnage because she’s so smol and his room was such a mess before she even got there, just looking at him as she’s trying unsuccessfully to like throw this mattress out of the window like hello]

Cosmo: [just walking over and taking that off her with ease because you’re tall, lean it against the wall like not gonna happen babe, because as much as we’d like to throw your mattress in the stinky pond, we don’t want to cause hassle for Ali or Billie because we’re a good boy unlike someone, rifle through the mess of clothes and put aside any that might be worth something, indicate as much by doing the money thing with your hands like kaching]

Amber: [at least she’ll be too busy being shamelessly impressed by how tall and strong you are to pout about it, so you’re welcome but also lowkey not because like I said shameless haha]

Cosmo: [at least you can maintain eye contact and look at her right back as you’re like ‘what?’ ‘cos you don’t not know what you look like lol]

Amber: [sitting down on a skateboard that’s on the floor because the bed would be off limits even if the mattress wasn’t on the lean ‘what are we doing?’ like we need do more than raid his clothes if we wanna really annoy him but also the saucy undertone is obvious especially because eye contact hasn’t been broken remotely]

Cosmo: [shrugs ‘he doesn’t care about anything’ but not as offhand as that sounds because we are constantly and entirely at a loss with him ‘take what will make it worth it for you’ break that eye contact to look around like hmm]

Amber: [rolls the skateboard at him but obvs in a playful not aggressive manner cos we’re getting up as if to leave like ‘it was nice to meet you’ because not at all unspoken vibe of that makes it worth it for me]

Cosmo: [pick it up as we raise a brow half like was it and half yeah it was ‘cos duh ‘these are pricey-’ gesture to all the skateboards lying about with the one you’re now holding ‘and easier to get out the window’]

Amber: [sitting on said window ledge rn because even if it’s a tiny one so is she and we were gonna climb out before he made that suggestion DUH ‘maybe but what’ll I do with them’ looks down at self and her aesthetic because we’re nothing if not self aware baby ‘other than string one of the wheels onto a necklace’]

Cosmo: [a small lol but in a yeah that’s true look at you way without being THE RUDEST ‘put ‘em in a sock and you’ve got a weapon’ does the thing where you pick something up with your toes on some laundry ‘I’d supply your own sock though’ like ew]

Amber: [a lol of her own at his monkey footed antics and opening the window like that sock is THE GROSSIEST and it stinks in here which lbr isn't that much of an exaggeration 'the creativity doesn't sweeten the deal enough that part of it would be allowing me to use violence for conflict resolution, sadly' a pout 'but admitting you want me to stay here instead of trying to get me kicked out of there remains an option, thankfully' a grin like 😁]

Cosmo: [at least you can throw some of his clothes out the window without affecting your mother and grandmother so doing that without touching anything truly DISGUSTANG but giving her a look as if that suggestion is, but with a 😏 ‘cos don’t need to go that hard with the rudeness rn ‘we’d charge more rent’]

Amber: [looks around at the stuff he has already said is worth money before hopping down from the window to pick up a guitar Dash has obvs left lying around 'how much?']

Cosmo: [shrugs because not our bag ‘aren’t all instruments kinda expensive?’ ‘cos true unless it’s like a play guitar lmao]

Amber: ['instruments in this condition are, sure' because we're blatantly holding a flashy electric guitar rn not a beat up acoustic like she's used to seeing all the hippies play 'but it can't have any sentimental value' like there's no point taking it if he's not even gonna notice]

Cosmo: [‘good luck with that’ like he don’t care about anything ‘cos that’s how it seems hen]

Amber: [such a face on because even though he's proved they weren't friends and he's a dick she at least thought his hippie vibe wasn't total bollocks but all this expensive shit hard-core goes against that so with a sigh and a shrug she's going back to the window like well I might as well leave then 'thanks anyway, and sorry, again']

Cosmo: [a noise like that’s simplifying things a bit, a psh if you will, ‘guess he fucked you over first’ but a sincere face to show we know he did ‘just don’t do this again’ gestures vaguely like what bit do you mean sir]

Amber: ['it's my dad's stash, not mine' as if that's the only thing Dash did wrong because we're not gonna get into the fact you've known him for months you thought and likewise thought you were friends as everyone just thinks you're a slutty hippie stereotype so you have no reason to believe it's not the same assumption here 'I'll find a different way to replace it']

Cosmo: [reach in your pocket like how much even though you are a bit 😒 because essentially paying for your dickhead brother’s habit rn]

Amber: ['no!' such a fierce shake of her head and such a fiercely angry face because it's not his debt or problem even if it was actually about the money/ drugs instead of the lies and Dash's shitty behaviour which turns into a sad face/head in hands moment when she says 'I was beginning to think I couldn't feel any worse about how I've treated you' and just really quietly basically under her breath adding 'stupid' because @ herself for everything including thinking this was a good idea and still being here]

Cosmo: [‘hey’ and moving forward but then moving back awkwardly just as fast ‘cos we don’t really know what to think about you rn, as is this weird situation you find yourselves in ‘forget about it, I’m fine’ add ‘and the bit that ain’t fine is on him so don’t feel bad, honestly’]

Amber: [at least you can't see that awkward move back and feel worse for that gal because even though he's right and it's not really your fault you feel bad 'it's my fault he used your room, plenty of other girls from the commune wouldn't and haven't insisted on going anywhere else, and mine too that I'm at your house again today...I should've let it go' because we're never gonna be the peace and love cliche soz parents but we know that's what you want]

Cosmo: [‘he’s owed worse’ like I get why you didn’t let it go, even if your method is dubious babe]

Amber: [a smile that’s genuine relief because who else gets it in your life remotely but then you remember that so you’re like ‘retribution delivered karmically not by me’ but we still haven’t left and we obviously don’t mean it and aren’t trying to pretend we do with our tone because we’re not at the commune now bitches fight us]

Cosmo: [‘good luck with that’ ‘cos same energy of that’s bullshit]

Amber: [a little lol because he literally typed exactly that earlier like okay boy I get it ‘I’m owed worse’ than bad luck or being called out on bullshit that isn’t even hers but he thinks is, both definitely]

Cosmo: [‘undoubtedly’ and a shrug like soz, life’s shit]

Amber: ['where did you get it?' Meaning the money he just tried to give her obvs because she's thinking she might have to get a job to pay her dad back and even though she's clearly worked out from what he said about a better postcode at the weekend and how much stuff Dash has and how he treats it that it's likely from his dad but we hate when people make assumptions about us so we're not trying to do that]

Cosmo: [‘I go to a football academy’ not in the braggy way that sounds just stating the fact, she’s probably not aware that means you get paid boy but go off ‘if you need the cash, you should just take it’ like seriously gal, looking at her like]

Amber: ['What's that like?' SO surprised and intrigued in all the ways not like you could NEVER boy but she's obviously never met anyone else who does anything like that and even more importantly just really driving the point home that we don't know a thing about you and how wild it is we are here having this convo not to mention you're literally offering us money again which we are gonna shake our head to again as we make yet more eye contact 'when I need the money, I'll figure it out for myself' not angry tone this time just stating a fact]

Cosmo: [When you don’t really know how to answer that ‘cos the assumption always is that it’s a dream come true obvs because it is a big opportunity but it’s still a job at the end of the day, one you start much younger than most kids even get a part-time so we’re kinda like what do you mean lmao ‘yeah, it’s great, better than wasting my time at normal school, like’ asking a question back ‘cos not rude ‘you go to school?’ ‘cos undoubtedly aware loads of the commune lot don’t]

Amber: [‘I'm picturing the hunger games with a football' cos we are and that's what we mean lol because normal school is savage enough never mind something so focused on talent and competitiveness like 'are you a scorer?' Bringing back her adorably not knowing football terms and it's like it makes sense you would thrive there if you are and that type haha, nodding our answer to his question 'my dad teaches the kids who don't go' as if that's the only reason we go to school]

Cosmo: [little lol ‘maybe when you’re younger’ ‘cos obviously not all of you make it ‘but we all have pro contracts now, the deadweight is gone’ pop off with the basic explanation of your position on the team for her, we know the vibe hun, nods back ‘better than nothing, I guess’ but we clearly don’t really think so ‘you’re in his year?’ part sympathy part disgust lmao]

Amber: [obviously gonna ask him who his contract is with and if she can see him play but I won't commit you to picking a real team if you don't want to it's just to show that she's genuinely interested because likewise asking him other relevant questions when he's explaining the position he plays etc 'I don't mind school, being in the year above him definitely helps’ because my vibe is she would like school for lots of reasons but she's also Lowkey struggling a lot with it hence she doesn't really have time for a job rn very past me energy of having to do schoolwork until you literally go to bed]

Cosmo: [‘I don’t think it’ll be your scene’ and such a look of confusion that she asked like what do you want, suspish lol, smile though ‘that’s something’ ‘cos no one should have to suffer Dash in our opinion lmao]

Amber: ['Why not?' Such a genuine question but we aren't mad yet because we've clearly never been to a football match before so he might have a valid reason for thinking that and gonna give him the benefit of the doubt and obviously gonna throw something vaguely school related out of the window but nothing that would inconvenience your poor mother or nan though like yeah it's gonna be very important to me that we don't have to cross paths at school as well cos livid lol]

Cosmo: [‘Come on, you don’t think it’s all meat pies and

misogynists, like?’ with a 😏 energy ‘people like you are more likely to run onto the pitch with a sign than sit in the stands’ shakes head ‘sure he skives loads anyway, as the rest of this house actually has places to be and can’t keep a constant eye on him like the kid he is’ like you’ll barely have to see him, don’t worry, probs true]

Amber: [a lol ' are you saying it is or just that you don't want someone like me waving a sign with your name on from the stands?' Ignoring the Dash stuff entirely because now we know what a knob he is we are so over him]

Cosmo: [who can possibly say energy because that’s amused us lowkey]

Amber: ['I wanna see you play' because we do]

Cosmo: [‘why?’ because the levels we’re like WHAT DO YOU WANT cannot be overstated lmao]

Amber: [' Because I think it sounds fun, why don't you want me to?']

Cosmo: [‘if you want to go to a football match, you can’ like you don’t need to come to mine, which sounds ruder than we mean it, just pointing this out]

Amber: [the poutiest because rude and also we aren't stupid we're aware of that thank you boy 'and hold up a sign saying what, for who?' Because duh the fun is cheering you on sir]

Cosmo: [‘We don’t do cheerleaders’ but looking at her slightly less suspish and more curious]

Amber: ['okay, I won't wear the outfit, your loss' accidentally very saucy mental image soz not soz]

Cosmo: [we’re getting such slag vibes ‘cos of how this has all gone down so we’re like steady on gal ‘cos we’re not trying to put out that we’ll get on you ‘cos we know you’ve got previous, not that kinda boy, very #awks on your behalf ‘funny’]

Amber: [Ngl love that because she’s really not but he’s gonna keep thinking this for ages if she hooks up with a random at the clerb again this time and when she dates this old ass dude despite the fact it’s the first time she’s done either haha ‘Pom poms are usually plastic’ spoken like plastic is a swear word lol ‘and tissue paper isn’t recyclable either, environmentally responsible arts and crafts are the limit’]

Cosmo: [rolls eyes but not in the sarky energy of the emoji ‘what the fuck would you wave, some broccoli?’]

Amber: ['I can cut the cardboard into any shape’ so amused genuinely ‘so yes, if you like’]

Cosmo: [‘sure I wouldn’t wanna hinder your creativity, express yourself’ in a faux hippie energy]

Amber: ['I wouldn’t want everyone to think I was there protesting the pies and misogyny’🤔 ‘What number are you?’]

Cosmo: [‘hopefully I don’t mess up or you’ll have to add the racism to the list’ but tell her your number obvs]

Amber: [do a tick on the palm on her hand with her finger like noted ‘Does that mean I’m invited?’]

Cosmo: [‘it’s not an invite event’ shrugs ‘cos we still do not get this lmao ‘can’t stop you’]

Amber: [‘Unfriendly’ because I’m bringing that pun back thank you]

Cosmo: [my boo says I can and I will, ‘so weird’ kinda under our breath but not in a snide way so she could hear]

Amber: [‘it being weird to be interested in getting to know you says more about you than me’ like 😏 energy of what you’re so unlikeable are you as if the weirdness doesn’t come from the fact you hooked up with his brother and then broke into his house but okay babe]

Cosmo: [‘we’re not going to be friends’ like that’s a fact, bit rude but also I understand]

Amber: [‘We could be’ again so genuine as if there’s not reasons why you wouldn’t]

Cosmo: [‘no’ very simply even if we’re a bit #conflicted ‘cos don’t want to be a dick to you]

Amber: [‘okay’ because you literally can’t and wouldn’t argue with that so just actually go to leave for real this time gal]

Cosmo: [gonna have to let her go for now but let some time pass but like 15 mins ish not like a long time, enough that she’s gone though]

Cosmo: I didn’t mean to offend you

Amber: You didn’t, it would have offended me if you’d said no after your first 👀

Cosmo: Good

Cosmo: because it’s not about you

Cosmo: it isn’t a problem with you personally, I mean

Amber: it’s about your brother, I know, I’m not a real 👽 I understand why

Cosmo: Amongst other things, yeah

Amber: other things you don’t have to explain to me, it’s okay, I meant and mean it

Cosmo: alright

Amber: Thanks for trying to help me

Cosmo: There’s other ways to screw him over, if you want to

Amber: are there?

Cosmo: ‘course

Cosmo: there are things he cares about, even if not his things

Amber: like…?

Cosmo: think about it, he made it obvious

Cosmo: access to drugs and hippie girls

Amber: I don’t have a way to take either of those from him

Cosmo: Yeah you do

Cosmo: you live there, they’re your ‘family’ or whatever nonsense

Amber: not the girls he goes for, they’re always new

Cosmo: you can’t put it in the welcome pack

Amber: I’m not going to draw more attention to him, there’s already too much, and some of these girls would be more attracted to any negatives I pointed out, for reasons I don’t need to explain

Cosmo: drugs then, the new girls won’t be the source of those

Amber: Neither am I

Cosmo: it’ll be blokes

Cosmo: or at least adults

Cosmo: braindead or otherwise, they can’t all be fooled by him and his bullshit

Cosmo: get him cut off

Amber: I’m flattered you think my word is worth more than money to a dealer, but I’m not sure it is

Cosmo: I thought it was nature’s bounty with you lot only

Cosmo: and you pretended to have morals about it all

Amber: pretended being the key word, but I’ll try and get him blacklisted

Cosmo: I’m just saying, fuck up his spot there, that’s the only thing that would bother him

Cosmo: If you can’t then you can’t, sorry

Amber: I just don’t want him to think I care about his behaviour because of the bad sex we had, which he probably will

Cosmo: Yeah, probably

Cosmo: he loves himself enough to believe everyone else does

Amber: If they were my sisters this would be a lot easier

Cosmo: It’s a big enough place to avoid him, yeah?

Amber: But letting him get away with this is giving him free passes for as long as he wants to lie and treat other people the same, I shouldn’t allow it when the only reason is because I don’t really have time for a full blown vendetta, who am I if I do that?

Amber: …sorry for the vent, this isn’t your responsibility

Cosmo: You’re clearly a decent person

Cosmo: You can’t be responsible for all the ones that aren’t

Cosmo: I should do something because he’s my brother, right

Cosmo: but I can’t

Amber: I’m taking the compliment, after that we can stop talking about him

Cosmo: You wanted help with it

Amber: And the dealer angle is helpful ⭐️

Cosmo: Alright, I didn’t have to like but I felt bad for you

Amber: You could’ve stopped there and not made me feel bad about myself

Cosmo: I was trying to do the opposite

Cosmo: you got sarky with your ⭐️s

Cosmo: I didn’t fuck you over

Amber: It was genuine, for a genuinely good idea! I also said thank you and sorry, like, multiple times

Cosmo: Who uses gold stars genuinely

Amber: My dad has sheets of them he never uses sarcastically if you wanna start being someone

Cosmo: Alright, teacher jokes

Cosmo: You understand that it looks sarcastic though

Cosmo: To standard people

Amber: To people who don’t think it was a good idea, you mean, but who are they? It makes sense and will probably work

Amber: and I understand why it’s easier for you to take this stance with me, sure, we’ve been through that

Cosmo: What stance?

Amber: close to argumentative without crossing over the line, defensive

Cosmo: You broke into my house, I dunno how you aren’t getting that

Cosmo: unless you’re purposefully pretending not to, which is your dick move, not mine

Amber: I know I did, but you have no reason to feel unsafe because of me, which we’ve also been through

Cosmo: I don’t, feel unsafe

Cosmo: I don’t think that means we need to talk or get to know each other

Amber: It’s not going to happen again which means you don’t have to see me again, and we can stop talking any time too

Cosmo: You’re acting like I’m being rude

Amber: No, I said it was fine when you asked me if I was offended

Cosmo: What were you trying to do, asking about me

Amber: get the answers

Cosmo: 🙄

Cosmo: Yeah but why

Amber: Why wouldn’t I want to leave you with an impression which isn’t me as some BIG BAD coming through your window? Because I’m not and you wouldn’t think so if we bumped into each other in town anywhere ‘normal’

Cosmo: So you was trying to get yourself out of trouble

Cosmo: Yeah, okay, that makes sense

Cosmo: I just wanted to know why, that’s all

Amber: I don’t wanna be in trouble but it wasn’t that calculating

Amber: isn’t

Amber: meeting new people, striking up conversation in situations that other people often don’t think are natural, kinda are to me

Cosmo: It’s not a bad thing, I could’ve called the police on you

Cosmo: obviously you don’t want that

Cosmo: you don’t need to worry, I won’t, even if it is a bit late now anyway

Cosmo: Sure, but even so

Cosmo: you can’t say you’re doing that on the regs

Amber: You don’t have my name and the description you could give wouldn’t narrow it down very much once you directed them here

Amber: but I’d still prefer you didn’t, I’m not gonna lie

Amber: I don’t get pushed to those extremes regularly, no, because most people who say they’re my friends are and don’t treat me how Dash did

Amber: if you’re waiting for me to say sorry for making the best out of the unexpected, you being there, I’m not going to

Cosmo: I’ve seen plenty of them, they don’t look like you

Cosmo: Well I’m glad to hear you aren’t regularly breaking and entering

Cosmo: I don’t need an apology

Amber: What do you need, besides the ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️?

Cosmo: Ha ha

Cosmo: like I said, I just didn’t get it

Cosmo: and who says I want to leave a bad impression either

Amber: I haven’t met a ⚽️🏆⭐️ before, if I asked too many questions, that’s why, but if I made you feel uncomfortable, that’s a worse impression and you’ll get an apology anyway

Amber: Not you, or you wouldn’t have helped and I’d be talking to the police instead

Cosmo: I’m used to that

Cosmo: Usually from lads though

Cosmo: or girls but it’s more obviously fake

Cosmo: I’m no ⭐️ yet anyway

Cosmo: I’m not being compared to him, even if that means doing shit it isn’t my job to, I’d rather

Amber: I’m not comparing you, in spite of it turning out I only know Dash as well as I know you

Amber: you could’ve told me you didn’t want me coming to watch you play because of the other girls that do, I’m used to plenty at school being jealous of the way I look

Cosmo: And I intend to keep it that way, the lack of comparison

Cosmo: If I say that’s not what I meant will you accuse me of trying to make you feel bad again?

Amber: What did you mean? If you’re not trying to make me feel bad, I won’t accuse you of anything you haven’t done

Cosmo: It’d be weird if you came because my dad will be there

Amber: I’m even more used to that, all my ‘normal friends’ parents are judgmental about my piercings and the tattoos they can see, it’s okay, I don’t have to come

Cosmo: He wouldn’t judge you, but games are about winning, focus, all that

Cosmo: not inviting random strangers

Amber: He’d still be judging me for how he thinks I’ll behave, as a distraction, either way I’m a bad influence 😈

Cosmo: He’d just be pissed off with me, honestly

Amber: I’ll have to wait to watch you on tv one day, keeping it a secret from my parents who’d be 😠 at me

Amber: and if I get too impatient I can always break into the bedroom of one of your teammates, befriend them and cut their number out of cardboard…

Cosmo: You reckon, do ya

Amber: That you’ll be a 📺⭐️ or someone else on the team will be happy to have me appear in their bedroom? Because yes, I do

Cosmo: 😂 Can’t knock the confidence

Amber: Negging hasn’t been considered flirting since approximately the 90s, so no

Cosmo: Reckoning I’m flirting with you borders on delusional

Amber: which borders on what, ableism? Keep going if you have nothing to do but dig to Australia

Cosmo: Entertaining your fantasies isn’t a requirement for being a good person, whatever politically correct label you wanna throw on it

Amber: If my fantasies were that instantaneous I wouldn’t need entertainment from anywhere else

Cosmo: Good luck with that

Amber: Thanks, I am bored enough to attempt construction of a fully make believe world

Cosmo: You have time to get bored?

Amber: it’s not a forced labour camp

Cosmo: you wouldn’t keep around useless stoners if it was

Amber: And as someone who fits that mould, thank god 🙌🏽

Cosmo: it’s usually more exploitation in the name of free love anyway

Cosmo: and that doesn’t sound familiar at all

Amber: Because you’ve never been in any way exploited

Cosmo: I haven’t, actually, but that’s not really the point

Amber: Of course you have

Cosmo: How have I?

Cosmo: You’re chatting shit which won’t detract from the fact that place attracts nothing but predators of one kind or the other

Amber: Your parents sacrificed you to ⚽️🏆⭐️ the same as mine did to me with ✌🏽☮️💙 we’re both indoctrinated, yours just has a definite job prospect attached to it

Cosmo: You don’t know a single thing about me or my parents, you asked a few questions

Cosmo: you confirmed my brother picks off new girls like a opportunist abuser, and I know he ain’t the only one who treats that place like that

Cosmo: I didn’t say fuck all about you or your parents

Amber: Sport attracts predators too, nobody’s condemning it because of how a large number of people in positions of power treat the ones they have power over

Cosmo: Sport is regulated

Cosmo: for fuck’s sake

Amber: We open our doors to vulnerable people, there are always going to be other people who try and take advantage of that, and maybe at the next place they do there won’t also be as many people around who care

Cosmo: Yeah, you’ve identified the problem there

Cosmo: vulnerable people need protection and actual help

Cosmo: not care from a bunch of people who are entirely unqualified to do shit

Amber: They get help from qualified adults, not every person living there is a clueless teenager and you are actually allowed to leave

Cosmo: Yeah, that’s the point, anyone getting enough real help would leave

Cosmo: it’s a half-way house at best and for every ‘success’ and person that gets the fuck out, you have just as many that get sucked into bullshit they otherwise wouldn’t if you weren’t there

Amber: You’ve never even been there

Cosmo: Don’t need to

Cosmo: if the evidence weren’t out my window, it’s in my house and all so

Amber: Dash based evidence would make anyone cynical

Cosmo: You wish he was your only problem

Cosmo: just because he’s a dick, don’t mean he’s not got it from somewhere, or he wouldn’t get away with it

Amber: Nowhere’s perfect or fucked irreparably, you wish it was that cut and dry

Cosmo: I’m not the one who thinks I’m creating a utopian society

Cosmo: no one needs perfect, just not batshit harmful bullshit

Amber: Neither am I

Cosmo: Not you personally

Amber: So stop attacking me personally, get a 📢 and point it out of your window towards someone who really believes all the things you think are harmful bullshit

Cosmo: I’m not attacking you

Amber: You’re saying things I either have to agree or disagree with about my home and way of life that I’ve already had to spend a really long time defending or denouncing in exactly the same way

Cosmo: You don’t like it because it’s true

Cosmo: I can’t help that

Cosmo: but it’s exactly why there’s no point talking again

Amber: I can’t help that my parents like it there and really believe in things I don’t

Cosmo: Don’t they care what you want?

Amber: I go to school, we’ve stayed long enough for me to make friends, as far as they are concerned, I’m getting what I want

Cosmo: Is that all you want though?

Amber: it’s getting my own way more than a lot of my friends do, what 17 year old gets everything they want?

Cosmo: Parents should give a shit about their kid’s happiness

Cosmo: it’s not being a brat about wanting more money and a later curfew

Amber: I care about their happiness too

Cosmo: they aren’t meant to make that your problem

Amber: Putting me first and their own lives to the side would cause problems for all of us, if they’re miserable I’m not gonna be happy, and not expressing it wouldn’t mean it wasn’t still obvious

Cosmo: Are they happy?

Amber: Happier than they’ve been for years, my dad left his girlfriend and my mama has a new boyfriend, they’re both loving their jobs and the people they’ve met here who they aren’t dating too… I’d say they are

Cosmo: You’re scared they’ll want to leave again

Cosmo: or that place will get shut down and they’ll be no choice in it

Amber: They will or it will, what I’m afraid of is when it does I’ll make the choice to stay and they won’t

Cosmo: If they’d rather be helping other people than their own kid that’s fucked

Amber: I’m their 👶🏽 forever but not a child, they’d rather treat me like an adult

Cosmo: Whether you’re ready for that or not?

Amber: Some things you don’t ever feel ready for, but they have to happen anyway and when they do you’re almost always 😁 or at least slightly relieved it’s done

Cosmo: You aren’t old enough to be left anyway, whatever they’d rather do

Amber: An irrational fear for a while longer

Amber: I’m not bored enough for crystal healing

Cosmo: That’s not a thing

Cosmo: you’re taking the piss now

Amber: it’s not something that works, but it’s something that happens

Amber: often

Cosmo: I suppose I don’t even wanna know what that entails

Cosmo: if it’s not good enough for max boredom even

Amber: What are you doing? Now that you’re done making me question my entire life

Cosmo: I really weren’t

Cosmo: I know there’s fuck all you can do but there’s plenty actual adults there could and haven’t long before you showed

Cosmo: I need to go do my run

Cosmo: I’m behind schedule now

Amber: You haven’t really, don’t feel bad, it’s my turn again for putting you behind schedule

Cosmo: Inexcusable, really

Cosmo: If we’d have found a way for you to get back at him and/or get your money back we’d be further behind so win some lose some

Amber: I’m sorry x 9

Cosmo: I get it, I don’t deserve the sincerity of actually bothering to type it out

Cosmo: Call it even then?

Amber: I’d prefer to call us odd but okay

Cosmo: ‘course, got to keep it 👽 I know

Amber: Tempting fate slightly, unless you want to get abducted on your run

Cosmo: I was clearly after an invitation, yeah

Cosmo: I’m alright, tah, only one dickhead who looks like me will be showing

Amber: Is that my invite to a race? Because I don’t think I’d be able to beat you

Cosmo: Is that humility? Doesn’t seem like you

Cosmo: you’ve already been abducted yourself, obvs

Amber: Or shameless untrue flattery

Cosmo: Hmm

Cosmo: Possible, yeah

Cosmo: but you never would beat me so we’re at real delusion again

Amber: Distance or speed?

Cosmo: I have unfair advantages for both

Cosmo: I run up and down a field for 90 minutes a time, and I have about double the leg length you do

Amber: It’s really cute you think I’d let anything happen fairly when I could just cheat

Cosmo: There’s no point having any kind of competition if you don’t follow the rules

Cosmo: take your hollow victory then, see if it feels good

Amber: You’ve made me not want it now! 🥺

Cosmo: N’awh

Cosmo: right buzzkill, I know

Amber: Besides leg measuring, what do you do for fun? And don’t say run up and down a field for 90 minutes

Cosmo: Just what us footie lads are like, good clean fun, unlike rugby

Cosmo: what do you actually do, when you’re avoiding crystal healings?

Amber: The big 🚿 at the end can’t be what makes you happiest either, I don’t believe that’s true of anyone

Amber: other than shopping, I’m sure I do mostly the same as the rest of the girls you know

Cosmo: IDK I’m sure it makes the predatory coaches buzzing when we’re all lathered up 🧼

Cosmo: but shopping is all the girls I know do 😜

Cosmo: I’m the same, is your actual answer, what every 17 year old lad with some disposable income does

Amber: Great, I’ll need the healing to erase that visual…

Amber: It can’t be, because then I’ll have to feel sorry for you AND the girls you know, they’ll have other interests they’re avoiding telling you about, like I am

Amber: the boys I know our age definitely don’t seem like they do much of anything, besides get drunk and high, so there must be A LOT of other hobbies they’re keeping secret from me too

Cosmo: Maybe you’ve uncovered the truth there

Cosmo: Girls and boys don’t tell each other everything, or anything

Cosmo: Or we both know poor examples

Cosmo: Who’s to ever be sure

Amber: But now it’s been uncovered, either way, we can change it

Amber: I’ll go first, the childish faves I was keeping from you are swimming and dancing, because they make me sound about 9 years old

Cosmo: I don’t think so

Cosmo: depends on how you frame it, swimming is great cardio and underwater is a great place to think or not think as much as you need

Cosmo: dancing, likewise great cardio, and good for the soul, sure your lot would put it, mood-boosting for the rest of us

Cosmo: you sound very well-⚪️ed, if anything, not 👶

Amber: It’s your turn

Cosmo: alright, bossy

Cosmo: you already know I like football and I like to run

Cosmo: I like the gym too, swimming as well, actually

Cosmo: going out for meals, drinks, all that stuff

Amber: Nobody likes the gym, the effects and ego boost maybe

Cosmo: I do

Cosmo: it’s a building with workout equipment in, not a torture chamber

Cosmo: and the one at the academy is really good

Amber: you like how much you can 🏋🏽‍♂️ and having your friends to compete against

Cosmo: is that a question or an assumption

Amber: I’m changing it to a question because you caught me in an assumption, which I hate, so ?

Cosmo: 😏

Cosmo: competition is a good motivator, so is seeing progress in your abilities, sure

Cosmo: exercise makes you feel better, whatever form you like doing it in, it’s that simple

Amber: I’m not gonna lie and pretend I do yoga for any other reason than how flexible I am as a result, I guess we finally agree on something, even if it is something shallow

Cosmo: It’s not shallow

Cosmo: giving a shit about your body and your health isn’t just because looking good is nice, it also feels better

Amber: but if I cared about my health there are vices I’ve picked up that I wouldn’t have and things I wouldn’t put into my body which I do, you’re on a journey and I’m doing the occasional day trip

Cosmo: Very hippie-approved

Cosmo: songs about it and everything, right

Cosmo: I do drink, I just try not to get wasted

Cosmo: it’d be unsociable not to at all

Amber: You’d look like a 👽 and you’d have to move somewhere that isn’t Dublin

Cosmo: And change my occupation

Amber: drastic avoidance tactic to stop me from meeting your dad or watching you play

Cosmo: 😂 Not all about you, hippie

Amber: That’s the rudest thing you’ve said to me so far!

Cosmo: And WAGs are meant to be high-maintenance…

Amber: meaning they put time and effort into their appearance, which you just applauded as a virtue in yourself

Cosmo: No, meaning you have to put a lot of effort in to maintain the relationship

Cosmo: but it was a joke before you get all soapbox about it

Amber: a joke I’m not gonna let you get away with making, boy

Amber: but if we need to talk about anything it’s that you don’t think all relationships require a lot of time and effort

Cosmo: I didn’t, it’s a joke that’s made, by people in general

Cosmo: it’s more 🤑🤩 maintenance people are implying, not 🥰😘

Amber: You repeated it, like it’s funny or true, or both

Amber: after I told you I hate assumptions, and stereotypes aren’t any different

Cosmo: They’re inevitable and you’ve made loads about me, my friends and my family so

Cosmo: that sounds like your problem

Amber: The difference is, I’m trying to not and I apologised when I did, you’re doubling down

Cosmo: I’m not doubling down because it’s a joke, which means I didn’t mean it in the first place

Cosmo: You did and that’s why you’re mad

Amber: Why are you like this?

Cosmo: Like what?

Amber: 2 seconds away from an argument at ALL times

Cosmo: You’ve started every one

Cosmo: People like you reckon you can say whatever bullshit you want like you’re so knowing and zen and then I’m the arsehole for not just letting you chat shit on me

Amber: You keep saying people like me, when I’m obviously not like that

Amber: zen or all knowing

Cosmo: I said it was bullshit

Cosmo: It’s what you wanna project

Cosmo: that you’ve got it figured out, which is why you live such a mental way of life, because it’s actually the RIGHT way of life and we’re all stupid and brainwashed, not yous

Cosmo: ⭐️

Amber: I told you why I live there and that I don’t believe in it

Amber: using ⭐️ against me is bullshit

Cosmo: Maybe you can’t help it

Cosmo: you don’t even know you’re doing it

Amber: Do you know you’re being a fucking asshole?

Cosmo: Yeah

Cosmo: do you?

Amber: now I do

Amber: It’s not an intention, but you’re right, sometimes I open my mouth to speak and either of my parents come out

Cosmo: I know the feeling

Cosmo: maybe that’s inevitable too

Cosmo: how individual are any of us really, we’re all just a mess of the people we know

Amber: Better not be! Or I’ve really wasted years fighting to think for myself, carving out compromises to end up not even wanting them

Cosmo: Won’t say good luck with that but

Cosmo: it’s a nice thought, anyway

Amber: A nicer thought than becoming them, living like this forever and being happy with that

Cosmo: What do you want to do?

Amber: It’s stupid

Amber: but I wanna eat 🍕 and buy a new 👗 to wear out somewhere and come home and sleep in a 🛏 on my own or with the same fucking person

Cosmo: That isn’t stupid

Cosmo: I think that’s what a lot of people want

Cosmo: Some variation of, when it comes down to it

Amber: It’s what my school friends already have, that’s why it’s stupid, because I shouldn’t have to fight for it, it’s stupid because they think I have the type of freedom they daydream about

Cosmo: Maybe you do have things they don’t have but want

Cosmo: maybe they’re not as close to their parents, or they’re an only-child who would kill for all the people around

Cosmo: or maybe some people are lucky from the start and some have to make their own

Amber: maybe x 9

Cosmo: If you’re keeping count

Cosmo: You’ll be able to get all those things

Amber: Not for a while, but one day, maybe

Amber: because if I’m keeping count that’s only 4

Cosmo: There’s time for a few more

Amber: If you introduce me to the girls you know who do nothing but shop, I could get a new 👗 in no time, right?

Cosmo: Or you could go with your own friends

Cosmo: the non-commune ones, that won’t cry at a plastic bag

Amber: Maybe… if I hadn’t had the fast fashion rant at them all, I don’t even know I’m doing it, I told you you’d got that right

Cosmo: Ah

Cosmo: I see

Cosmo: I could take you if you want

Cosmo: you’ll have to take cover in the rails if you see one of them coming

Amber: I don’t wanna mess up your schedule again, you’ll have to fit me in when it suits you, not when I’m pouting

Cosmo: Right, so when are you not pouting? 🤔

Amber: When you stop being mean to me

Amber: maybe

Cosmo: Good use of a maybe

Cosmo: How about Saturday lunchtime

Cosmo: I have to eat, after-all

Amber: Teeth off me and my 👗

Cosmo: Not a cannibal

Cosmo: or a moth?

Cosmo: I’m just saying, that’s a free hour, if you’re worried about my schedule

Amber: okay, 1 shop, I promise

Amber: less than an hour

Cosmo: I’ll take that as a maybe

Cosmo: I’m not going to put you on a timer, like

Cosmo: Saturdays are pretty flexible and you’re going to wanna take time to enjoy yourself and all

Amber: You don’t wanna race me, I know

Cosmo: You don’t wanna cheat no more

Cosmo: maybe

Amber: I won’t

Cosmo: Alright

Cosmo: I still don’t wanna make you sad

Amber: I’m not gonna cry because you take 🥇

Cosmo: As long as that’s a promise

Amber: it is, maybe I didn’t know anything about ⚽️ before today but I understand sportsmanship`

Cosmo: What shops do you want to go to?

Amber: I was kinda hoping you’d know the answer

Cosmo: I do, I’ve got you covered then

Cosmo: Pick you up [time]

Amber: from where?

Cosmo: There’s a phonebox outside there, right? Go there

Amber: 🦸🏽

Cosmo: I’ll look for the 🤓 then

Amber: When you asked me what I wanted to do, my first thought was my homework

Cosmo: Serious?

Amber: I have a LOT and it’s really hard to concentrate here

Cosmo: You remember what window is actually his?

Cosmo: ‘cos he’s never in so

Cosmo: You could

Cosmo: as long as you don’t come in the rest of the house, my room included

Amber: Are you serious?

Cosmo: It isn’t my room

Cosmo: just keep to sociable hours, why not

Cosmo: you said homework, not wild party

Amber: thanks

Amber: I’m almost as speechless as I was when you were telling me to leave

Cosmo: I know

Cosmo: I’m not saying I didn’t say some harsh things

Cosmo: It’s been weird but there’s no reason you can’t have somewhere quiet

Cosmo: and apart from me and him, no one really comes up to the first floor much

Amber: weirder than my usual daily life deserves every ⭐️ my dad has

Amber: and so do you, for this and everything else you’ve helped me with

Cosmo: Nah, it’s nothing

Cosmo: not my finest hour, actually

Cosmo: but it’s alright

Amber: it’s not nothing, it’s definitely something

Cosmo: We’re even

Cosmo: it wasn’t all ⭐️s so

Amber: plenty of it was

Cosmo: That don’t make it alright

Cosmo: I don’t make it a habit of being a fucking asshole, believe it or not

Amber: Neither do I

Amber: we’re even

Cosmo: 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

Amber: that’s a weird visual, thanks for it

Cosmo: You’re welcome for the artistic inspiration, like

Amber: if your idea is that your teammate bans me from matches too, there are gonna be easier ways than encouraging me to show up with 9 thumb shaped cardboard signs…

Cosmo: My theoretical teammate

Cosmo: That you ain’t gonna meet

Amber: Yes, him

Cosmo: 😏

Amber: The entire squad can’t all have pushy parents and intense girlfriends

Amber: ⚽⭐🏆🥂🤵

Cosmo: You’re doubling down on the whole stalker thing then, yeah

Amber: The positives speak for themselves

Cosmo: Maybe you’ll be offered a better place to do your homework

Amber: for when you’re spending your weekends in a better postcode and Dash’s room’ll have to be off-limits unless I make no noise and write my essays in the dark

Cosmo: Of course

Cosmo: unless you really wanna explain wtf you’re doing to my nan

Amber: Is the 🍊 thing real? To win over your friends, not your grandma, necessarily

Amber: I’d go for a different fruit in that case

Cosmo: It’s more of a thing when you’re a kid but it’s not not a thing

Cosmo: And fruit baskets too, very retro

Amber: okay, there’s my in

Amber: using the wonky ones would help my cause if we’re pretending to your nan I’m in that dire need of sanctuary, but find out her favourites, if she’s not gonna fall for the SOS

Cosmo: Would you rather not be incognito

Cosmo: She might think you’re Dash’s girlfriend or something

Amber: It wouldn’t take long to correct the assumption, but I only would if I had to, like, if she’s suddenly scared she’s living somewhere haunted

Cosmo: Wonky veg at the ready 👍

Amber: Always

Amber: but I’m actually excellent at hiding, which makes me sound how old? 3 maybe

Cosmo: It makes you sound deluded, definitely

Cosmo: I found you well easy

Amber: Because I wanted you to

Cosmo: Not me

Amber: yes you, Dash enters a room very differently, I knew it wasn’t him

Cosmo: You didn’t know me, you couldn’t want me to

Amber: You’ve heard of curiosity, right? I didn’t have to know you to want to find out who you were

Cosmo: I’ve not got 9 lives 🐈

Amber: that you know of

Cosmo: You think that’s a theory to test?

Amber: I’m not dangerous, remember

Cosmo: Allegedly

Amber: You can allegedly run away at the speed of light and even though you haven’t bragged about it, could probably also pick me up and throw me out 💪🏽⭐️

Cosmo: I’m not going to do that

Amber: I’m not a test

Cosmo: Debatable

Amber: Today’s events, maybe, but that isn’t what you should define me by

Cosmo: It’s okay, I won’t

Cosmo: we said we were even, I meant it

Amber: make your mind up on Saturday when I test your patience by trying on every dress I like and ask you what you think

Cosmo: That’s your prerogative

Cosmo: delegated to the bench with the other men

Amber: 🥼👖👟👓 I know you have the money to get a new outfit too because you were willing to give it to me twice

Cosmo: I might

Amber: I won’t tell you what I think if that’s what’s putting you off 😶

Cosmo: I think I can handle your fashion critiques 🤣

Amber: Because I don’t have any fashion sense or because yours is ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ and above criticism?

Cosmo: We have different styles

Cosmo: I’m not going to dress like a stoner, you’re not gonna dress like a WAG

Amber: Like a stoner? Really?

Cosmo: I went for the male and female equivalents

Cosmo: so you can’t pout

Amber: Yes I can, you’ve seen me in 1 outfit, which I wore to climb through a window

Cosmo: And I ain’t said nothing bad about it

Amber: there’s nothing complimentary in the tone of us having different styles when you follow it up with I’m not gonna dress like you

Cosmo: Are you going to get your own footie strip? No

Cosmo: It wasn’t an insult, not towards you

Amber: If they weren’t ridiculously expensive, I would, if only because it would annoy you now

Cosmo: Now that sounds 👶

Amber: it’d be worth it to see your face

Cosmo: 🙄😏

Amber: Besides, we’re the same age, I don’t have anything to prove

Cosmo: Am I a test?

Amber: you’re a boy I wanna know, it’d put me to the test if you hadn’t said no already

Cosmo: Somehow I doubt that’s ever been a challenge for you

Amber: I don’t see it as a challenge, no means no, and if you change your own mind, it means you’re open to it and there’s no obstacles to get over

Cosmo: A PC response but a fair one

Amber: I can’t complain when boys take my no for a maybe if I do the same, and I don’t like it, so keeping my mouth shut would be hard

Cosmo: Your mind just jumps to some weird places

Cosmo: I just said we’d make no sense as friends

Amber: That’s your mind leapfrogging to the strangest possible place

Amber: thinking all your friends have to be like you

Cosmo: It’s easier

Cosmo: like you and your school friends, you already put your foot in it

Cosmo: that doesn’t happen when you’re the same

Amber: Nothing happens when you’re the same, nothing ever changes

Cosmo: You want things to change for you, it makes sense for you

Amber: why don’t you?

Cosmo: Why would I?

Cosmo: I’m set up in ways people would kill for

Amber: Why wouldn’t you, even if you love everything that’s happening in your life right now, change can still be good

Cosmo: I’m not anti change

Cosmo: as long as it’s in the right direction

Amber: and I’m the wrong direction?

Cosmo: No, you’re like

Cosmo: a completely different path

Cosmo: we run parallel

Amber: I’m not gonna force you down any paths

Cosmo: I know

Cosmo: and I know it’s rude

Cosmo: but it’d be ruder to waste your time, I think

Cosmo: and I don’t want to do that

Amber: What do you wanna do?

Cosmo: I don’t know

Amber: I can go by myself on Saturday, to make things easier

Cosmo: There’s no need

Cosmo: It’s not like we need to be besties to do that

Amber: besties

Amber: maybe if we were 👶🏽

Cosmo: Well exactly, you get my point

Cosmo: we can just

Cosmo: be aware of each other

Amber: Thanks for not asking me to become unaware of you

Cosmo: Be unfair of me to ask when I won’t

Amber: and when you hate when I pout

Cosmo: That too

Amber: you’d especially hate being at school with me, pouting’s all I do

Cosmo: I thought you liked it? 🤓

Amber: I like learning new things, but not how many new things there are that I have to, what feels like all the time

Amber: progress doesn’t just apply to fitness, I wanna see some with this

Cosmo: That’s understandable

Cosmo: It’s a lot, leavers cert

Cosmo: Do you get any help or whatever?

Amber: Extra work whenever I ask for it, but none of the teachers are expecting me to still be here by the time we take exams, which means I’m another school’s problem or success story, and that could be a different country, so they aren’t gonna work hard to get me through leavers cert, are they?

Cosmo: No, I guess not

Cosmo: They should but you’re right they probably won’t

Cosmo: Do you think you’ll be here?

Amber: No, we’ve been here for months already

Cosmo: If you was leaving you’d be gone already, like

Cosmo: Maybe get another student to tutor you

Cosmo: they’re better than teachers ‘cos they’ll let you know what you actually need to know to do well on the tests

Amber: We’re not leaving while my parents are happy and feel needed but nobody at the commune wants summer schooling and my dad will get restless

Amber: but that’s a good idea while I am, I’ll find someone

Cosmo: I’m not smart enough or I would

Cosmo: I just did what I had to to coast by but it’s not the focus

Amber: You don’t have the time, boy

Cosmo: True

Cosmo: Speaking of

Amber: Oh sorry! 🤓 rant over

Cosmo: You’re alright, I need to actually get a decent workout in now though or it doesn’t really count

Cosmo: Saturday though, yeah

Amber: I’ll be at the phonebox at [just before whatever time he said]

Cosmo: 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

Cosmo: You’ll remember what I look like and not get in a random car, right?

Amber: I’m not a goldfish

Amber: and if I did forget I’d stalk your 🏋🏽📷

Cosmo: Oh right, I forgot you were a dedicated creeper

Amber: I wouldn’t be 😠 if you did

Cosmo: Too bad 😏

Amber: goodbye x 9

Cosmo: 👋

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vixxscifiwritings · 3 years

Text

coffee and cream

Length - 3460 words

Characters - Taekwoon x Original Female Character, VIXX Ensemble, Original Characters

Rating - General Audience

Summary - Minah doesn't know why Taekwoon shows up to her games when he doesn't know anyone on the team. Or rather, she knows why but finds it quite incredulous.

Tag List - @tomatoholmes @merlionmen @seraphistols @k-craze-97 @blossomtearsleo

“Taekwoon is here again” Miya points out as she laces up her shoes tighter.

Minah doesn’t dignify her statement with a response as she ties up her long braided hair into a bun because she knows what will come next.

“I think he likes you” Miya whispers conspiratorially. She wiggles her eyebrows and Minah shoots her a deadpan look.

“I don’t know what gave you the impression,” Minah says, pushing the freshman kid physically onto the field so she can focus on the game and not the audience. Although it’s not hard to wonder why the captain of the basketball team is at the football match in a rival school. As far as Minah knows, Taekwoon is not friends with anyone on the team. But the boy in question is here with his best friend Jaehwan and watching the game.

Minah wonders if the measly support they do have is of any use because the girls are huddled up and giggling about their audience today instead of brainstorming strategy.

“Get your head in the game girls” Ara calls out when she notices Minah scowling. She offers her an understanding look before jostling everyone into a huddle to get them to focus. Their team is one goal behind their rivals and at a risk of losing if they don’t get their act together.

Minah makes the mistake of looking at the audience and Jaehwan catches her eye to cheer her on. She watches as Taekwoon tries to hide his face out of embarrassment and almost chuckles if not for the indignation over the entire affair. She feels his eyes on her as she joins the huddle and they cheer before breaking off and returning to the field for the second half. She shakes it off because she has a game that she wants to win and that requires her entire focus. Not silly boys who are in random places for reasons she can’t fathom.

Their coach cheers loudly when they score a goal and tie with the other team. There is fifteen minutes still on hand. If Heeyeon can push through the defense line on the other side, she can easily score with Miya’s help. Minah focuses on going on the offensive. They have thirteen minutes and nothing to lose if they don’t score. Her team is good at penalty shoot outs if it comes down to that.

The regular time ends in a draw but Heeyeon and Miya pull through in the over time and score, leading their team to victory. Minah gets thrown into the air as a long running victory tradition of the team and lands on her butt and is surrounded by a rush of girls apologising and pulling her to her feet and a frantic coach yelling about injuries mid season when they should all be in top form.

“I hope you’re not actually injured,” Taekwoon says and Minah is surprised to see him here by the benches instead of by the bleachers. Jaehwan is off talking to Ara and Minah is surprised because she didn’t know they were on talking terms. There is clearly a lot she needs to catch up on with her best friend and team assistant.

“Nothing that I’m not used to” Minah shrugs. Injuries and roughhousing are a part and parcel of being an athlete. Taekwoon sports his own knee brace and is no stranger to this knowledge.

“And here I thought only the boys team got this rough,” Taekwoon says, sitting down next to her. He hands her a water bottle and she accepts it with as much grace as skepticism affords. Why is he here again and why is he offering her a water bottle?

Miya’s words echo through her mind but she brushes them off. The rough landing has affected her brain more than it has affected her body clearly if her mind is willing to entertain such ridiculous thoughts.

“I need to go,” Minah says, standing up when Ara calls everyone to round them up for the bus trip back to school.

“Right,” Taekwoon says, standing up as well. He pushes his hands into this pocket and awkwardly shuffles his weight from one leg to another as Minah gathers her things.

“That was a good game. You… play good” he calls as Minah walks away and she freezes. A nod is all she can manage as her cheeks flush warm on the words. He likes how she plays. That’s… something, she supposes as her brain goes haywire trying to figure out what in the ever loving fuck she must do with this knowledge.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him hit his head and sigh in embarrassment that mirrors her own and feels marginally better. She boards the bus and tries to avoid how Miya and Ara both shoot her knowing looks.

“I don’t know why cheerleaders can’t attend away games” Qiuyue huffs as she leans over the sink and fixes her lipstick. The maroon shade suits her lace blouse and Minah thinks that it's incredibly high maintenance for a normal school day compared to her own sweater and jeans combo.

“It’s common sense that you would need cheering the most at an away game. You already have a large audience that supports you when you play at school” she adds, frowning at Minah.

“You can apparently attend away games so I don’t know what is stopping you from just accidentally showing up in your cheering uniform with pompoms to boot” Minah throws a suggestion out to the wind.

“I’d need someone to drive me there” Qiuyue huffs. Knowing Qiuyue, the cheerleader is not going to give up till she convinces the coach and Minah thinks she can pull it off if she begs enough. Or if she shows up with the sweet apple tarts from the local cafe that their coach likes so much.

“Speaking of people attending games, I heard from Hyojin who heard from Ara that Taekwoon showed up at your game again,” Qiuyue says, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“He did and before you ask me, no I don’t know why” Minah replies with a roll of her eyes. Jung Taekwoon is popular and hot news wherever he goes but Minah doesn’t fancy ending up on the gossip network that the entire sophomore year runs on.

“That’s easy, silly. He likes you and so he comes to watch your games” Qiuyue reasons as if it is the most perfectly normal thing in the world. And maybe it is for boys who like girls but Taekwoon doesn’t like Minah because that is not the sane course of action for anyone involved.

“Yes well not everyone is as obvious as Hongbin when it comes to wooing you” Minah retorts and Qiuyue chokes on the water she is drinking.

“Hongbin is not ‘wooing’ me. He shows up to the games because he likes sports. He even tried out for Taekwoon’s team, remember? And by that logic, you are admitting to Taekwoon showing up to your games to woo you” she points out.

“No one is wooing anyone in my case” Minah retorts with a half snort.

“Well no one is wooing me either and I think we’ve said wooing too many times because the syllables sound weird now” Qiuyue says, repeating the word to herself with a grimace that makes it look like it left a sour taste in her mouth. Minah thinks it is more denial than sourness but doesn’t push the other girl further.

“We have a free period next. Do you think I can copy your math homework before submission time?” Minah asks, changing topics.

“You’re still not done?!” Qiuyue exclaims in shock. “That assignment is the longest we’ve had!! You better be good at power writing or just be plain simple fast.”

Qiuyue pulls Minah out of the bathroom and off to the library and Minah thanks her lucky stars that Qiuyue has never stopped Minah from copying her homework.

Minah thinks that the only thing that makes school on Saturdays bearable is the fact that they can arrive an hour later and leave two hours earlier. It gives her time to avoid the weekday rush and pick up coffee and that does wonders for her morning mood.

She finds Miya and Jungkook sitting at the stairs and listening to music on a shared ipod. The two of them are lost to the world and very likely to miss the first bell in ten minutes but she doesn't want to be the one to disturb the bubble they are in.

She finds Taekwoon by her locker and is surprised. He's waiting for Kyungsoo to pick up his books. Kyungsoo who has a locker right next to hers (a fact that greatly helps Ara when she wishes to stop by and drop letters to the one she admires while drawing no attention to herself).

"I didn't know you liked coffee," Taekwoon says, looking at the cup in her hands. It's long cold and empty but has the drawing of a teddy bear face that the barista who works on Saturday mornings likes to draw for everyone.

"Isn't caffeine the lifeblood of every rational human?" Minah asks and Taekwoon laughs a bit. It's a pleasant laugh that sounds like wind chimes on a windy summer day and is infinitely more pleasant than the warning bell that rings a moment later.

Minah grabs her textbooks and slams the locker shut because the lock is faulty and does not actually lock without the use of force. Taekwoon helps by re-slamming the door when it swings open and jamming it in place. Minah gives him an awkward smile because the locker is embarrassing her now and hopes he hasn't seen the insides which she meant to clean up lastonth but never got around to.

"There's this really nice cafe near the public library" Taekwoon starts before Kyungsoo yells and exclaims he will be late and interrupts their non existent conversation. Taekwoon sighs and yells at him to go along first and turns to Minah who is already balancing the coffee cup on top of the books she needs to carry.

"I can help you with that," Taekwoon offers, gesturing to the growing pile of books and notebooks in her hands.

"I'll be fine" Minah waved him off. He watches her with concern as she walks to her classroom and narrowly avoids bumping into Sanghyuk and Wonshik by the door.

"I see why you insisted on accompanying me" Kyungsoo comments with a smirk.

"Shut up" Taekwoon replies eloquently before turning around and walking to his own classroom, leaving Kyungsoo to carry the huge pile of assignments on his own. He deserves it for the interruption.

"How did you know that you liked Kyungsoo?" Minah asks Ara as she paints her nails. Light purple is a lovely colour on her and Minah has half a mind to borrow it for herself.

"I just woke up with a deep bottomless pit in my stomach and a feeling of dread and knew" Ara replies. It matches how Minah feels every time she sees Taekwoon in the hallways so it must be right. It still unnerves her.

"But how do you know it isn't just a stupid crush that will go away?" Minah asks. Taekwoon is the first boy to show interest in her in a very long time. The first boy ever actually.

"That's the beauty of it. You don't. You could wake up the next day and not like the same person you were obsessing over the day before. You take every day as it comes" Ara explains.

"You've liked Kyungsoo for a while," Minah remarks. Ever since freshman year if her deduction skills have any merit.

"What does it mean if you like someone for a very long time? Even if it is just a simple crush or just being interested in them?"

"You should ask Qiuyue that. She's liked one person for the longest time I've ever known. Even if she says she doesn't" Ara replies.

"Qiuyue thinks Taekwoon likes me" Minah confesses, coming to the topic that's actually on her mind.

"Do you think so? Do you like him too?" Ara asks in return.

"He talked about this really nice cafe he knew and I… kind of liked the thought of spending time with him," Minah admits.

"Was he trying to ask you out on a date?" Ara gasps.

"Stupid, I know. And he never really asked because Kyungsoo interrupted us but I thought he would" Minah says, flopping onto Ara's lap with a sigh.

"On the contrary, I thought he would ask you to come see one of his games before asking you out on a cliche cafe date. And rest assured that no one will find Kyungsoo's body after this grave crime" Ara tells her, frowning heavily at the offense.

"I guess it's because he saw me with my Saturday morning coffee" Minah says as Ara fixes her hair and applies some lipstick on her. It's a shade of brown that's lighter than she usually wears but it doesn't look half bad.

"He has the right spirit, I'll give him that" Ara says, checking her work. She adds eyeliner and glitter blush and Minah lets her experiment because she's lost in thought.

"You look super cute!" Qiuyue exclaims when she sees Minah. It's a Saturday evening and she would rather be sleeping at home but Ara insists that Minah accompany her and Miya to the basketball game so they can support Qiuyue who's cheering for the home team.

"Besides, it's only fair that you go to one of Taekwoon's games since he attends yours," Miya says as she pushes Minah to wear a skirt instead of jeans. It's a decision she regrets because it makes her legs freeze. At least she looks cute, she thinks.

"We'll go grab some seats and you can get snacks?" Ara asks.

"Please get candy that I can steal" Qiuyue adds on, strapping her pom poms on her wrist bands so that they don't fall off during the routine. She takes off before Minah can respond and Minah sighs, knowing her motherly instinct will make her feed Qiuyue anyways.

She grabs popcorn and a bar of rice crispies and chocolates that Qiuyue likes and treks over to the bench before heading over to the seats Ara found. She finds Hongbin kneeling down and helping Qiuyue with her shoelaces and the girl in question coloured the deepest shade of red she has ever seen her.

Minah approaches her with a smirk and Qiuyue shoots her a warning look before thanking Hongbin and practically running from him to Minah. "Careful or you'll fall and then Prince Charming will have to carry you" Minah teases and Qiuyue punches her shoulder.

"Don't worry I've got her" Hongbin says, slinging an arm around her waist and Qiuyue starts.

"Lover boy, you can flirt after the game" Taekwoon yells and the entire cheerleading team breaks into giggles at the expense of the two. Qiuyue scoffs and leaves to hide behind any kind samaritan since her own friends are of no help.

"I was going to give this to her but maybe you can for me" Minah says, handing over the chocolate to Hongbin who takes the excuse to follow Qiuyue.

"You're ruining my teammate" Taekwoon complains when he walks over to greet her.

"I'm helping the cause of love" Minah replies with a bright smile.

"Cupid is grateful I'm sure" Taekwoon says sourly with a frown. Minah laughs and watches the cheerleading team get into formation and Hongbin wistfully push the chocolate into his pocket and save it for later.

"I think that's your cue" Minah points out.

"Will you stay till the end?" Taekwoon asks before leaving.

"Hard to say. I was supposed to be Qiuyue's ride home but I don't think she'll be leaving with me and I am sure you guys would be busy celebrating the end of the season" Minah reminds him.

"I'm still glad you came" Taekwoon says.

"Me too" Minah agrees even though it hasn't even been thirty minutes since she arrived.

"Taekwoon asked me for your number" Qiuyue texts Minah after the game. "I guessed you both looked friendly enough so I thought it was okay to give it to him."

"He hasn't texted me so I guess he didn't really need it for anything" Minah responds because what else can she say.

She wishes she hadn't told her because now she checks her phone every five minutes. Much to her disappointment, her volume is up and she just has no notifications.

Her phone chimes two hours later with a simple text saying " hey, did you get home safe after the game ?" and she almost screams in the middle of putting a facemask on.

" I was not the one at a wild party after the game " she replies.

" Touché "

" Mango ice cream or strawberry?"

" Mango "

" You have terrible taste "

" Says the man who chose milk chocolate over dark "

" I am offended "

" Guess what I felt when you chose lattés over black coffee "

" Not everyone has an edgy bitter dark soul "

" No, some people have souls full of cream from the designer coffee they consume "

" Ha ha ha "

In hindsight letting Qiuyue dress her up for her date is a very bad idea because Minah finds herself in a floral dress ("It has pockets!") and a white jacket that Minah is worried will stain very easily. Qiuyue does let her wear her flat sandals in place of heels and agrees that they will be easy to run in if she gets cold feet and Minah gives her extra friendship points for that.

"You look… really pretty" Taekwoon says when he comes over to pick her up. Minah meets him downstairs on the street instead of the apartment so that her sister won't see that she's going on a date and hopes Taekwoon doesn't mind.

"Thanks. I don't usually dress this fancy" Minah says because she has a habit of putting her foot in her mouth.

"I think it looks nice on you" Taekwoon says, blushing because he feels honoured and happy that she put in the effort for him. He might even giggle into his phone if he wasn't serious about impressing her on their first date.

"We should get going. We'll be late for the movie" he tells her. They're going to watch the new indie romance movie. Though if Minah is honest, she's just going to watch Taekwoon who looks stunning in plaid shirt and jeans. He is wearing the long earring he considers lucky and it's Minah's turn to blush now. He doesn't need luck for a date with her. She already knows they will get along well from all the late night conversations they've had till now.

Movie is followed by a late lunch in a McDonald's that both of them feel overdressed for. The lunch also coincides with a child's birthday party and they forsake conversation because talking over sugar induced screaming is a futile exercise.

They do end up talking about whether it is possible to kidnap the baby toy poodle that is left unattended for a minute by its owner. Minah thinks Taekwoon just might follow through with the plan if the owner doesn't return soon. She laughs when the owner does return and Taekwoon's face falls.

It's a pleasant afternoon so the two of them end up in the cafe by the public library. The small cafe is covered in wall decals of cat figures and there are cartoon stickers on their cups and Minah laughs at how childish but pleasing all of it is. It's not a side of Taekwoon that she expected but is happy to get to know.

The conversation flows smoothly despite Minah rolling her eyes at the amount of cream in Taekwoon's coffee and his wariness over the strength of her coffee.

"Sleep is for the weak" Minah whispers and he sighs.

"Never considered you weak" Taekwoon replies but occasionally looks at her coffee like it would sprout two extra heads at any moment.

"Just pretty" she teases, mixing the sugar in.

"Beautiful" he corrects her and smile triumphantly when she blushes. He's smooth and she marks him down as a player and bad for her health in her book. Her heart is not going to survive if it is going to flip-flop at this inhuman rate every time Taekwoon compliments her.

She still doesn't know why he's here in a cafe with her, looking at cat stickers and drinking bad coffee and fighting over ice cream flavours but she quite likes it. Even if he's going to be clearly bad for her.

#vixx fanfiction #vixx leo #high school au #romance

3 notes · View notes

hobiwonder · 5 years

Text

A vase of flowers | (m)

Genre: Smut, enemies to lovers.

Pairing: Wealthy art student!taehyung x art student!reader

Warnings: slight angst. language. foreplay, descriptions of unprotected sex, dirty talk. it’s pretty tame otherwise.

Words: 10k

Summary: Art prodigy Taehyung comes to your art store out of desperation when he doesn’t have enough paint to finish his latest piece. That wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t hate his elitist ass.

a/n: this was just to get back in to writing. Its not edited and probably doesn't flow the best. But it did get me writing so here u go!! feedback is much appreciated :)

(he’s a work of art himself!!1!!!1!)

The hustle and bustle of students – females in particular – in the hall outside the lecture theatre was more infuriating than you had anticipated. What else did you expect though? The one day you don’t come late to the lecture is the day Kim Taehyung had decided to show up to class so the hallways outside the room being cramped like a chicken farm was inevitable. Even Minnie sitting beside you was craning her neck forward to catch a glimpse of the artistic prodigy – never mind his out of the ordinary good looks – before the class started. He was very much a superstar at your university but you will never understand why people were so obsessed with people who were not actually that great if you just looked past the good looks and the talent. Talent didn’t automatically make someone a good person and everyone’s obsession with the teal haired artist really pissed you off.

“Ugh, when will these bimbos shut up. He’s not a god!” Your words are muffled against your sweater clad forearm as you try and rest your head before class started. Having the closing shift the night before was one of the few things you despised when you had a class this early in the next morning. But you still showed up to every one of them. Unlike someone else.

“Well it doesn’t help that he looks like one.” Minnie is just shrugging while she continues to lean over her chair to watch the girls twirl their hair, throw back their heads in laughter whenever Kim Taehyung says something ‘funny’, nudging his shoulder with their own to show their frankness when really – none of these girls probably knew him past his bedroom since he rarely showed up to class. But news of him being a womanizer was common although slightly more hushed than that of the football team captain and co-caption Jeon Jungkook and Min Yoongi. Those boys were a headache for another day.

Kim Taehyung wasn’t anything special. In fact – he rarely showed up to class, was given special privileges you were sure of it because he was always in the top three students despite showing his face once in a blue moon, had every professor whipped for his pert ass because of how well connected he was in the industry as well as his family being one of the founding fathers of your current university.

Sure, someone like that is bound to be more popular than your regular high achiever or talented artist but the fact that he had everyone absolutely nuts about him was infuriating. On top of th-

“Are you done with your inner monologue? You’re blocking my way.” The unmistakably deep voice belongs to none other than the boy who you wanted to punch so very much. But that wouldn’t be wise given that most of the class was watching. His annoyingly attractive smirk was always there. Like it was just how his mouth was shaped but you knew that he always made the look a bit more condescending when speaking to you. Not that he would let anyone else know though. Bastard knew how to keep his persona up and you just wanted to smack him even more!

“Oh sorry. Forgot your name was on that seat since you barely come to class. I’ll remember for the next time when you make your monthly appearance.” Minnie is nudging you with her elbow no doubt to shut you up and it’s not the first time this exact scenario had taken place. But you wanted to keep yourself in check since no doubt the rest of your comrades would give Minnie a hard time since they didn’t have the balls to annoy you because of your obvious dislike of Kim Taehyung.

“Missed me, did you?” Your little victory smile is slipping off your face when his smirk deepens and you have to physically grab your desk and grit your teeth from snapping at him again while you move your feet out of the way so his smug ass can get to his stupid seat. Thankfully his seat was towards the end of the row so you didn’t have to catch glimpses of his pretentious face.

“You wish trust fund baby.” Alas, he isn’t affected. Not even a bit as he winks your way while walking to ‘his’ seat.

“Leave the pet names for people who actually get to be with me.” That’s it. Youj will break his stupid obnoxious snobby face!

“Calm down y/n. Everyone is watching.” She holding on to your arm while your eyeballs glare at Taehyung’s direction without even blinking.

“All the more satisfying when I kiss him with my fist! Minnie let me go you knob.” While you’re trying to wrestle your arm free; your professor has walked in looking pleasantly surprised with the semi-full lecture theatre. His gaze almost instantly goes directly to Taehyung because even he knows that most of these new faces that show up once in a while as well are because of Taehyung. They nod at each other before he starts the class and your mouth is agape that no one even questions the favouritism in this class. A bunch of ass kissers!

“Are you seeing this? His daddy probably plays golf with the prof. Jung Soo!”

“So what, y/n? You’re forgetting the rest of them also have parents who play golf with Taehyung’s dad. Most of these rats are rich as fuck. Not everyone comes from humbler beginnings.” Minnie is smiling hopefully as she watches you pout but her response only makes you snort.

“Are you forgetting you’re one of these ‘rats’?”

“Don’t remind me.” She falls back in her seat while hiding her face at the mention of her filthy rich parents being business partners with Kim Taehyung’s. When you’d first found out how well off your best friend was it only made you more enraged. If she could be a decent human being and not get any special treatment – despite being extremely talented as well – then why stupid Kim Taehyung? Minnie had a banging body and a face to match not that it should matter but you were so sick of the double standards. Your best friend also deserved special treatment dammit!

“Why? You shouldn’t be ashamed of being rich, hot AND a decent human being. I would so be one of those girls drooling after that canvas demon if I was gay.”

“Bitch I’m almost convinced you aregay but the way you’re ready to drop your panties for Min Yoongi tells me otherwise.” You only try to muffle your laughter while smacking Minnie’s knee, mumbling a ‘shut up’ before you both opt to pay attention to what your professor is going on about. Not before you catch Taehyung watching you like he was about to grade your upcoming assessment. You just send him another glare and try to ignore his overtly attractive physical presence. How could someone just sittingseem attractive, you will never get it. God really favoured some people more than others huh?

“Thanks for coming. Have a nice day!” The chime of the register as it slid closed was a sound you were starting to hate. The smile on your face was tired and probably was becoming very obviously fake. But that was just a typical day at the arts and crafts store – the only one in the near vicinity of the university hence the more than average traffic even close to 7pm at night on a weekday. Since the store was employed with almost entirely all students, it was able to stay open longer than the regular hours to allow the students with day classes to work during the night shifts. You were an exception though. Being on the lower end of the income spectrum among your peers, you needed as much work as you could get. Doing a bachelors in fine arts helped too as you used the tools that the store sold, on a regular basis. It definitely came in handy when assisting first years and some mature aged students who needed extra help in finding the right type of brushes or paints needed for their canvases.

“You good? You can take off for the rest of the night you know?” You know that Sungwoon is trying to sound helpful but you knew his real intentions. Scoffing in his direction you just grab your blue water bottle to take a good swig and wake you up.

“So you can steal my shift and work instead? Not today satan.”

“You’re literally so dramatic.” He says while heaving the biggest breath out like he was any better. “Maybe I genuinely just want you to rest and not have your face turn in to one of those creepy smiling masks from that one movie.” He’s clicking his fingers s if that’ll help him recall the name of the film any faster. Lucky for him, you knew what he was talking about.

“The Purge?”

“That’s it! See, you knew exactly what I was referring to. You need sleep.” Sungwoon is nodding while looking at you like you stank or something. Ugh screw boys.

“If I did, you’re the first person I’ll get rid off.” You deadpan and you can almost pinpoint when he starts to realise you may not be joking. But you were of course. He was a little shit but all in good fun.

“Well,” he’s picking up his bag and making sure to clock out from the app the store used to make sure everyone was getting to work on time, “I’ll be going then. Have fun scaring off rest of the customers and drowning the revenue for today.”

His squealing laughter is the last thing you hear before he’s scuttling out when you try and smack him across his bicep. Sungwoon was probably one of the few boys you could stand and were actually close enough with for them to joke around like that with you because apart from Minnie, there weren’t many people who really liked talking to you. That much was clear when you’d moved near the campus from your town when you’d been accepted to the rather elite Art University.

Coming from a small town – you’d think you were more friendly but that wasn’t the case with you. You’d grown up with a strict father that made sure to discipline you if you ever messed up your tasks at his workshop. Ever since you could remember how to read and write, you had been helping him out with the business as he could not. His own father – your grandfather – had been even more strict on him according to your mother so there was no changing him. You had never really minded in doing the book-keeping for him or making sure the small town client paid on time after having their cars tended to. That’s until you had started your Junior year in high school and had the choice of choosing between subjects now that you were to apply for universities after. Or that’s what the plan was for most children. You had taken Art as a spare since it was the easiest class at the time and you really didn’t need any complicated subjects to study for because you were having to work at the workshop with your dad even more as you were getting older.

Being an only child also meant that all the expectations your parents had fell upon you to see them through. It also meant that the only time you interacted with your fellow classmates was during class. Not even after because as soon as school would finish – you’d have to rush to the workshop to help your dad sign out cars from the shop to the owners on time. He specifically made appointments towards the end of your school day just so you could be there and help him make sure the checks he was given by the more wealthier customers – only a few – were not for an amount less than he’d quoted them with. Believe it or not, it had happened and every time it did you had to stop yourself from smacking the bastards who had tried to take advantage of your father just because he couldn’t read. Ant to make the matter even more ridiculous, most of the people who tried to scam your father had been those who could actually afford his services. Not Joe who had a farm and sold eggs locally as his main source of living, not Jihoon’s father who was a delivery man and needed his vehicle to keep working and provide for him family and certainly not the old lady who had her truck serviced by your father so she could get to her appointments to the doctor, on time despite her only income being what her son sent from the city where he worked as a chef and had his own family to feed.

The world was filled with unkind people and most of them were those who could afford most things but still tried to take the less fortunate’s share too. Your father was a calm man but all his frustrations were usually taken out on you whenever you would rightfully insult those who tried to seek discounts despite knowing that your father wouldn’t be able to afford the tools he needed to do a fair job on the vehicles if he didn’t get paid the amount he had set on the pricelist which was dismal compared the mechanics you have seen in the city.

But of course, he wouldn’t say much to those low-lives because at least he was getting business. And that was better than nothing. When you’d finally let him know at the end of your senior year that you’d applied to an arts university rather than the business school he had hoped you would go to – things had not gone well, to say the least. Of course all his anger would be directed at you that day from the shop as well as finding out that his only child was not interested in business at all. You had done it as much as you could for the sake of helping out and honestly? Just not knowing what was out there for you to study and do with your life. But If there was anything that working with your father had taught you was that if you didn’t take a chance sooner than later – you’d end up having to rely on someone else for the rest of your life. Just like your father relied on you for so long because he just never got around to even finish school because of doing exactly what you had been – helping out your granddad.

The day you had left for university had been hard and was the second time you had cried. Your father hadn’t even looked at you but your mother had clutched on to you until you had to physically pull her away when your taxi had arrived. Even after making sure there was someone to help out your father at the shop, there was still apprehension present in your gut. It had all felt wrong somehow even as you had been unpacking your stuff in your flat the next night. Thankfully, all the hesitancy, all the fights and the sleepless nights had been worth it when you’d gone in to your first class the next day. You’d been excited to meet new people, make friends, make memories you didn’t even knew you had the option to make. But what do you know, getting accepted in to an elite university meant there were more of the same people you had fought off and defended your father from.

Meeting Minnie was almost a miracle. She had been the only one to come up to you being desperate to find a buddy to get lost around the campus with and not like the rest who had taken one look at your jeans and plaid shirt and moved on to find others with the same clothing or designer bags. People were so materialistic in the city it was almost unbelievable. In your town you had been able to find others who were more so on your social and economic status and feel comfortable. But in the city you were outnumbered. Maybe that’s why people like Kim Taehyung got on your nerves even more than usual. You’d noticed his elitist behaviour when invitations had been sent to attend the commencing party at his house in the first week you’d been attending the university and instantly you knew you would never be able to stand him or people like him. Only a certain number and certain looking people – girls to be exact – had been invited to the famous Kim estate. You’d only found out when Minnie had asked what you were going to wear to the party. The look on your face had probably given away your lie that you weren’t actually invited when you’d made up some excuse of not wanting to go. Minnie being the good sport and the only decent person you had known, had made some excuse about not ‘feeling it’ and stayed in that night and watched all of Harry Potter series with you. With you watching them for the first time.

“Bugger.” Your thoughts are interrupted when you almost trip over the bucket of sale items Sungwoon forgot to move. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the relatively heavy bucket that contained tubes of oil paint in colours such as black, white and red that were bought the most and move it to the stock room so it can be displayed again the next morning. Your shift was going to end in another 2 hours so now most of the work included moving display stock to the back room and print out labels for the discounts that were going up tomorrow morning. This is probably why you didn’t completely hate night shifts because other than a few customers – it mostly involved you working silently and most times even able to use headphones without having to worry about missing anyone at the till waiting for you.

“Hello? You guys still open?” You’d just finished putting away the tubes and the paint brushes when the front door had opened – as signalled by the bell atop it – meaning there was a customer.

“Coming!” Quickly getting down from the ladder where you’d been putting the paint in their designated boxes, you rush outside. “Hi, how can I- Oh. It’s just you.”

Taehyung is scoffing towards you when you roll your eyes seeing as it’s not a real customer. It was true. The last few time she’d come in – he’d browsed for all of 5 minutes before making a weird face and leaving. Probably going to buy his pretentious paints from his pretentious shop. It was as if he only came to the store to make fun of all the products most students living on campus – or not filthy rich like him – used.

“Isn’t that against some customer service code? To have this sort of attitude?” His bright hair has somehow made the place look a little less mundane, you hate to admit it. His very clear skin and the various rings he wore didn’t help either in making you feel less than. You hated how much he actually affected your mood.

“For actual customers? Probably yeah.” This time, it’s him who’s rolling his eyes while his hands comes up to have a feel of a synthetic brush that was hanging in front of him.

“What makes you think I’m not a customer?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“I actually am here to buy something this time.” His response only makes you smirk as you hum.

“So you do admit that you only come here to flaunt your wealth. That’s a good sign Taehyung.” But for some reason, the teasing that would usually make you feel better doesn’t feel as satisfying when Taehyung is just looking around like he’s in a pickle rather than through an insult back at you.

“Look, I need some paint and maybe a few natural hair brushes. I would go to-”

“Your overpriced and pretentious art store?”

“-my regular spot but I need to finish this painting tonight.” He completely ignores you when you cut in with a smirk and almost sounds like he is pleading. Wait. He was. The new found info perks you up more than you’d anticipated and it’s almost exciting knowing Kim Taehyung’s fate lies in yhour hands. Okay, maybe an exaggeration but still exviting. So you do what anyhone else in your position would – milk out the entire debacle.

“Well, well, well.” Leaning on your elbows on the counter, you can’t help but feel sort of like an evil villain finally with the perfect opportunity to strike. Except, you weren’t the villain really. You were the good guy!

“For fuck’s sake.” Taehyung mumbles lowly under his breath but you could hear him loud and clear. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

You wanted to be cruel, you really did. You wanted to tell him you had ran out of the supplies but you were too tired and honestly, he was probably going to buya bunch of stuff and if you made a sale above 50,000 won in one transaction then you would make some sweet commission. So whatever.

“Luckily for you, I’m a decent human being so,” stepping out from behind the register, you just deadpan at him, “right this way.”

He seems surprised and so are you. At yourself. Because you’re not sure why you’re being this nice to him when he’s made fun of you on more than one occasion.

“I’m slightly scared you’re leading me somewhere quieter so you can murder me.” His voice is slightly meek and you’re thankful that he can’t see your face because you’re trying to hold in ugly laughter that Kim Taehyung is actually scared of you when alone despite acting like hot shit when surrounded by a herd of girls.

“A good, educated guess. But not today.”

“…. So there is a chance for that to happen another day?” Spinning around to face him abruptly – damn okay maybe you should major in acting because Taehyung flinches but tries to play it off by shrugging his broad shoulders.

“Maybe.” You’re slightly too close to him because you have to crane your neck up to meet his gaze. Just when his own slips down to your lips, you quickly gesture towards the aisle you’ve just stopped in front of. “Here you’ll find what you need. Brushes and paints.”

“Thanks.” You just shrug before turning around to go back to the cash register. That plan doesn’t go too well because a warm grip on your wrist stops you in your tracks and almost on instinct, you’re ripping out your hand from the grasp as soon as you feel it.

“Woah, sorry! I didn’t mean to-” You just cut him off to move past the subject before he even brings it up.

“What do you want now?” Taehyung pauses for a few seconds as if not ready to let your jumpy reaction go just yet but thankfully decides to drop it.

“Look, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate and rally needed the sup-”

“Taehyung, I’m not interested in hearing how you would never set foot in a place where peasants like us – or normal people really – shop so just get to it.”

He however is just biting on the inside of his cheeks as if to burry a smile before it breaks through. “You’re not very patient are you?”

“I haven’t been put in many situations that really require it, so.” You just shrug in his direction but the flash that goes through his eyes that resembled molten dark chocolate sends an involuntary shiver down your spine and thankfully the air con is on and you could blame your odd reaction on to that if he noticed. Why was he looking at you like that?

“That’s too bad. Sometimes the rewards for waiting are quite fulfilling at the end.” And somehow, you’re not sure if he just means that in general or…

His heavy gaze travelling down the length of your body only makes you more eager to move on before you lose all the good comebacks you had at the tip of your tongue just because his looks were making you weak in the knees.

“Whatever.” You turn to leave once again and again, Taehyung reaches out to grab your wrist but pulls himself back before he can. Thankfully, you have already seen him this time so you just cross your hands under your chest, tapping your foot while you wait for him to spit it out.

“Just help me okay? I’m not familiar with these… brands.”

“That’s because none of them are Gucci.” He just rolls his eyes but follows you down the asile anyway.

“You do know that Gucci doesn’t make paint right? If they did it would be amazing though. Maybe I should write to them about this. Hm.” He’s started talking to himself but you start pointing out the different types you had available because you don’t have time to have causal chats with him like you two were friends. Despite his weird behaviour before.

“If you’re looking for oil paints, these ones are smoother and the colour payoff is better than others and if you want buildable colours then go for… this.” You’re about to say they are cheaper than the first brand you had pointed out but then realise that he most likely doesn’t care about the price. Though he doesn’t seem to be looking at you at the moment but only paying attention to the paints just like he paid attention the content in the few lectures you’d seen him at.

“Do they not say the ingredient at the back? That’s peculiar.”

“What’s peculiar is you using the word ‘peculiar’.” You mumble while still watching him inspect the different tubes as if he was going to drink them or something.

“May I get the list of ingredients for these ones here? And the lightfastness rating please.”

“It’s literally at the bottom of the tube.” His eyebrows furrow as he looks back at the tube and looks at the bottom again.

“Oh. Isn’t there like a booklet or something that comes with this so I can check?”

You just continue to stare at him.

“Taehyung, this is a campus arts store and our most expensive paint is 55,000 won. So no, we don’t have fancy brands that make ‘booklets’ for every paint. But if you must know,” You sigh, rolling your eyes at how high maintenance he was with his paints, “I can have a look at the delivery boxed for the ingredients. I know that all of these paints of this brand have a lightfastness rating of II at least.”

“Excellent! And yes that would be great, y/n. I just prefer my oils to be made from pure Linseed is all.” He has a bright smile on his face while he shrugs like that’s just the way it is. But of course, you want to punch him once more for making your job harder than it needs to. He was a college student. What did he need such high quality paints for? Ugh.

So you grit your teeth and walk back to the storage room and fish for the delivery boxes of the brand that Taehyung was interested in. “Stupid rich boy. Used to always getting what he wants.” The mumbling continues on your part while you try to locate the box as quickly as possible so he can go away and stop making your shift harder than it needs to be at almost 8:30 PM at night.

“Aha!” You have finally spotted the boxes that were stacked way at the bottom. Quickly reading through the large ingredient list, you confirm that the paints are unfortunately not made purely from Linseed oil.

“I have some bad news.” When you walk back out to where Taehyung is testing a few brushes, you can see his face drop because you’re sure he can guess what you’re about to say. “The binder used for these paints is a mixture of Linseed and walnut oil as well as a few others.” You shrug but Taehyung seems to be losing it.

“God fucking damnit. I’m screwed.” He’s started to pace around the aisle, looking like his life has just ended and his dog has died. Did he have a dog? You loved dogs.

“Why are you freaking out so badly?” He looks at you like you’re the one who’s acting weird.

“Because I have an auction in three weeks and it usually takes me that long to even finish a painting.” Of course he had an auction. It was common knowledge around campus that he sold his paintings for quite a sum at a few well known auctions. But you couldn’t remember another one happening anytime soon though.

“What auction? There isn’t one scheduled for at least 3 months.” Taehyung is hesitating when you question him. He looks like he would rather not mention it but in the end, sighs and tells you anyway.

“It’s more of an exhibition. Just for my paintings.”

“Oh wow.” Your eyes have widened at the mention of his solo exhibition. He was rich enough to afford to hold one so it shouldn’t be that surprising. But it still was a big deal even for a privileged student like him because you need to have enough credibility and a loyal customer base to attract enough people to an exhibition that is solely filled with your own artwork and not a collection of artists. “ I didn’t know you had your own exhibitions.”

He scratches the back of his head as he shrugs nonchalantly but you see the nerves showing through with how his hands shake slightly. “It’s the first one.”

“Oh.”

“Whatever I’ll just look somewhere else.”

“I use a medium of stand oil, linseed and turpentine, a little wax and add a small amount of cobalt drier to control drying time for my paintings.” You have blurted out your little trick before you could stop yourself. In your defence, he just looked so pitiful. You had to help. He also seems just as surprised at you suggestion and even more surprised when you walk around gathering the supplies you’ve just mentioned.

“Oh… thanks for the tip. I never really thought about that since I never really needed to…”

He silently follows you to the register where you place all the items and scan them so he can pay. Whatever. Maybe you helping him will bring some good karma and give your career a break too and your painting will finally be displayed at the Montero Art Gallery. It was a local gallery but a lot of successful artists you admire had started out from there and you were hoping that your work could be good enough one day to be displayed there too.

“How did you go through all your paints by the way? Should you have a ton of them because you’re supposedly always painting.”

“Supposedly?” Taehyung is smirking while his eyebrows are raised in mock disbelief at your suspicion. “Well, I used up most of them when I had sex on a canvas with Jihyo. Made for a good painting though. Maybe I’ll display that one too.” He’s grinning from ear to ear and you’ve just halted while he pays on the eftpos machine. Okay you definitely regret telling him your trick when he put himself in this position by being a horndog.

“You’re literally so gross.”

“Hey, abstract art is also a thing you know?” He looks serious enough that if he hadn’t said ‘abstract art’ you would think you had actually offended him. You obviously hadn’t when he just winks in your direction while he gathers his items and leaves.

“Asshole.”

It’s been a week since you first saw The Kim Taehyung pop by the little arts store that had previously been too beneath him to even consider buying his supplies there. Though ever since you’d told him about your little trick, he’d been bugging you non-stop on writing tips and you’re almost sure he’s doing it to… well, bug you. It’s as if he isn’t even aware that he’s an artistic prodigy because you’ve seen his paintings yourself and they were hyped up for a reason. Even a bitter person like you could admit that.

So when you get a special request by your boss one Friday evening, you’re surprised to say the least when you figure why you’re even asked to deliver supplies in the first place.

“Are you serious?” Your boss being the sweet old lady she is, is just pushing up her glasses as she nods vigorously at you.

“Of course dear! Must be some poor student who really is in need of help. He sounded quite desperate on the phone.” The old woman was way too nice for her own good. And while you appreciated her big heart, if she says yes to one person that the supplies can be delivered to his house then then word will get around and sooner than later, you’ll have a flood of students ordering their supplies over the phone and wanting them to be delivered. If that was going to be the case then you’ll have to quit since you can’t deliver because you don’t have a car. You relied on public transport damnit!

“Or he’s just lazy Ma.” Yes. Everyone called her ma upon her request. Short for Marion. Not that you minded because she was sweet as honey and really did remind you of your own mother. And she treated you like one too. Especially right now when she just scowls at you and asks you to stop being lazy yourself and deliver the package she’s prepared.

“Ugh fine.” You whine until the very end and she’s just wishing you a safe journey. Thankfully she’d leant you her car for today – it was her idea after all – so you wouldn’t need to spend an hour trying to find the place. It seemed to be quite close to the shop surprisingly. And unsurprisingly, the apartment is in a trendy but expensive neighbourhood. Most kids who went to your school probably lived in these buildings. The one you were supposed to go at though was on the top floor and you’re already angry that this buttcrack insisted on delivery and manipulated poor Marion into having his stuff delivered to his door rather than being at the front reception so the exchange could be faster.

When you reach the top floor, you pull out the receipt to hand it to him first thing as he opens the door and don’t have to spend more time than necessary in this place that you felt so out-of-place in. You’ve already rung the doorbell while you read the receipt and that’s mistake number one that night. It dawns on you who this person must be when you’re reading the names of the exact items Taehyung had bought from you last week. You could turn around and go really. Only if you hadn’t already rang the doorbell and he hadn’t opened it right as you’re setting the heavy bag down.

“Well hello there.” His deep voice is an anchor itself as you stop your movements right then and look up at his smirking face that looking down at you. Ugh. Like always.

“Hi.” Slowly, you straighten yourself up, the bag still near your feet as you step away, trying not to gawk at his perfectly toned skin that is showing way too much from between his unbuttoned shirt. “Here’s your stuff. Goodbye.”

“Oh good. You can set it inside in the kitchen.” You’re gritting your teeth in order to stop yourself from slapping his cheery voice right out of his throat with a punch. Okay maybe that’ll be too much. Maybe. You won’t know until you try though.

“Come on.” He’s gesturing inside his expensive apartment that shinier and cleaner than any place you’ve ever seen. He probably has it professionally cleaned.

“I’m not coming inside you weirdo.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not my type.” Somehow that makes you even more mad and you hate that it does. Fuck him honestly. You knew you weren’t his ‘type’. His type included skinny, rich and bad artists. Just so he could get off on a power-control dynamic you’re guessing.

You just pick up the heavy package without breaking eye contact and step inside, walking straight to the kitchen and placing the materials on the counter. The inside décor is surprising when you take in the various canvases strewn about in the living room on different easels. But what really takes your breath away is the familiar artwork that you’d looked at time and time again when you’d been lacking inspiration. When you’d been in a rut and everything had been too much and all you would want to do is quit. But looking at the work that evoked emotions from a place inside that even you hadn’t still made sense of it was the only thing that had kept you going many times throughout the years you’d been at university.

But how was Taehyung interested in such underrated art? You’d never heard him mention Vincent Van Gogh before. And yet most of his paintings covered the walls of his apartment.

“You like Van Gogh?” Taehyung has gone back to his pallet as he mixes the various shades of reds and oranges together.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Like, all of our school?”

“Nah. They pretend that better artists exist.” His answer surprises you. You’d never pegged him as someone who appreciated the more sombre period of art. His paintings usually were a lot more cheery and sometimes rather complicated.

You’re kind of lost in the long hallway covered with several paintings. The tall ceilings and the dim lighting only making you more excited to take in such beautiful art in silence with the only sound being the bristles of Taehyung’s brushes across the canvas.

“You like his work too I assume?”

“Mhm.” You’re too lost in the various paintings to really properly answer him. You’ve almost forgotten where you are until Taehyung speaks again. But this time, from somewhere far closer as you can smell the musky scent that always accompanied him.

“This one is my favourite.” His voice startles you a little when he appears just behind you, slightly to the side so you can look to the side and watch his long neck fall back when he looks up at the painting.

“I like it too.” Your voice is quieter than before. Like neither of you want to disturb the air surrounding you. It’s probably the first time you haven’t felt instantly annoyed by Taehyung’s presence. When you look besides you again, you don’t realise it’s the second mistake you’ve made that night. Because Taehyung is staring right back at you and this time he doesn’t stop. Your breath hitches in your throat when you catch his dimly lit face staring intensely at you. Or maybe it was the lighting that amplified every look. Every gesture. Whatever it was, in that moment, you’d never felt more attracted to Kim Taehyung.

“I lied.” His whisper floats across your skin and the light breeze that comes with the breath from his words has your eyes closing for just a few seconds longer when they blink.

“A-About what?” Taehyung has somehow moved even closer because you could feel the heat from his chest seeping through your own shirt. It also didn’t help that his shirt was fully unbuttoned and the smooth expanse of his chest was absolutely bare for your traitorous eyes to feast on.

He brings up a hand, slowly as if not to startle you like he had last week, and tucked the stray strand of hair behind your ear. “About you not being my type.”

The only thing your body seems to be able to do at the moment is turn your face back towards the painting, heart thudding in your chest as you feel his hands move all of the hair from your neck out of the way to the other side. Exposing the sensitive flesh to the cool air inside his apartment. “You’re exactly my type and better.”

This time the words are whispered s close to your ear that you have to physically clutch tightly on to yourself so you don’t flinch from his breath tickling the flesh of your neck. You’re biting your lip, trying not make any sudden movements or noise because honestly, you didn’t trust yourself to not jump his bones. How was he this sexy and annoying at the same time?

“I kn-know.” You’re hoping that teasing is evident in your voice but that plan has gone down the gutter as soon as Taehyung presses his luscious lips in to an open mouthed kiss against the side of your throat. So instead, your response comes out way too breathy and you can’t stop the moan escaping you in the end.

“You’re just always looking for trouble aren’t you, y/n?” How is his voice perfectly steady? He doesn’t even sound remotely affected as he brings his arms around you from behind, fully moving behind you as well while he continues to undo the strings of control you had tied tightly around your brain. Because seems like you’re only thinking with your vagina at the moment.

His hand have slipped beneath your shirt after playing with the hem for a few seconds and testing the waters. When you don’t push his hands away – you could barely breath at the moment – he slips them inside your thin shirt, tracing circles across your torso and up until his warm, large – so fucking huge – hands are taking handfuls of your breasts before he’s gently squeezing the mounds.

“Oh.” You feel like you’re going boneless by the second as your head lolls back and on to his shoulder and you’re just praying that your brain shuts up and lets you enjoy these sensations without the red alarm bells going off in your head that you hated him!

You hit mute on said alarms as soon as you feel his index finger and thumbs rolling your puffy nipples through the fabric of your bra into hardened pointy tips and you’ve finally lost the filter on your mouth. “F-Fuck. Taehyung, ungh.”

“Look at you. Thought you hated me, huh?”

“I still, mh f-fuck, d-do.” Being a slave to your stubborn ways, you’re retaliating with your words before you can even keep yourself in check. Taehyung doesn’t seem to be bothered though. He’s just chuckling at your pathetic attempts at trying to hold on to some autonomy even if your body is betraying the fuck out of you. The constant squeezing, rolling and pinching of your nipples has you almost mindless, you’re not sure you can survive much more than this.

“Sure. At least your body doesn’t lie though.” He’s squeezing the mounds firmly this time before he’s slipping one of his hands downwards again. You’re aching and wet and aroused beyond words but finally you’re up to the point where you can easily ignore the rational side of your brain and let your body take control.

Breathing loudly, you’re almost panting with every inch that Taehyung’s hand moves closer to your underwear. You’re so soaked that you can feel your panties sticking to the contours of your pussy lewdly and knowing that Taehyung was about to touch you there had you dripping in more. You can’t remember the last time you were this horny from just foreplay.

Taehyung closes his lips around your pulse point before he sucks a punishing bruise in that patch of skin. “Spread your legs y/n. That’s it.”

He’s cooing at you when you instantly comply, whimpering his name when he presses his entire palm on your clit, rubbing the hard nub in gentle circles while you’re about to cum just from his words alone.

“Look at you. So wet and soaking. Have you always been this wet when you’ve been giving me nasty looks baby? Hm? Tell me.” His pace is increasing and the audible sound of your arousal coming through the layers of clothing makes you want to hide your face from the sheer embarrassment.

“T-Tae. Please.” You’re pleading sounds like you’re on the verge of tears and it’s not too far off from the truth. Your legs are spread but not enough for you to completely enjoy the feel of his hands. Not that he seems to be in any rush though.

“Please what y/n? Please use your pussy as your apology? Are you going to be a mouthy slut or let me use your cunt to milk my cock? It’s the least I deserve after the way you’ve treated me in every lecture.”

He’s pouting in mock hurt as he leans his head forward to look in to your eyes as if you’re not being destroyed by the fast paced circling of your clit under his palm. Your eyebrows are furrowed, eyes half shut as the mind blowing orgasm looms around the corner. You’re about to cry from happiness and relief when he slips your underwear to the side, sliding his middle and index finger in without a warning and without remorse. The force with which he’s pumped his long, thick digits inside jerking back against him. Which only makes matters worse when you can feel the evidence of his own arousal pressing against your back. You’re slightly terrified from the sheer bulk of his erection too because it sits hot and heavy behind you. You just know he isn’t the average size you’re used to and that excite and scares you at the same time.

“Would you listen to that? Your cunt is singing for me babe.” You’d smack him across his chest for being so dramatic and cheesy but the sounds of your excessive wetness just has you hiding your face in his neck. But Taehyung is having none of it when he’s harshly tugging back your head as he weaves his hand in your hair.

“I said listen. You slutty pussy is leaking for me y/n. And you pretend to not even be able to stand my existence.” His words are harsh and said from between his gritted teeth. The sounds of the inside of his palm slapping against your clit with every thrust is obscene and rude. Yet, you can’t seem to care. Only moaning loudly and in a higher pitch with every smack against your heated flesh. Arousal drips steadily around his fingers while your symphony of ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’ continues – almost sounding like you were in pain.

His grip around your hair is harsh and his pace inside your pussy relentless. It’s like he’s angry. Angry that you’re this wet. Angry that you’re ready to cum around his fingers just like this. That makes the two of you.

“Come on baby. Cum around my fingers. I’ll need it to prep myself before I enter this pussy, hm? You’re too tight for me to just impale you on my cock right now like you want me to. Don’t you?” You’re nodding enthusiastically as your breath hitches with your orgasm ripping through you like a wildfire,

“Taehyung! Fuck I-I’m cumming. Oh god…” You’re heaving and hiccupping as his rigid fingers continue to brush against your sensitive insides until you’re jerking back with each thrust.

“There you go. Easy… easy, baby.” You’re panting like you’ve run a marathon and your neck aches from being bent that way while Taehyung had your head captive.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover as he’s turning you around to pick you up and take you back to the living room, dropping your body down on to the fuzzy carpeted floor. He makes quick work of his shirt and his pants, ridding himself of every item of clothing – not that he was wearing much – before he takes his soiled fingers and wraps them around his extremely intimidating girth. He doesn’t seem nearly as nervous as you but you still don’t stop him. “Take off your clothes for me baby. I want to see you.”

Your body is moving instantly like it was programmed to listen to Taehyung’s every command. Soon, you’re laying back down on the ground, watching him stroke his incredibly hard cock that stood rigid against his toned stomach. He looks like a wolf that’s about to devour you as his pokes out from between the corner of his lips, eyes neve wavering from your own. You’re biting your own lips and squirming on the soft carpet when he just keeps looking and makes no move.

“Spread your legs again baby. Let me see you pussy.” He hisses as soon as your legs fall open, your red, slightly swollen pussy coming in to full view as he finally kneels down to his knees, grabbing your thighs to pull you closer until you were flush against his cock. His hands gently massage the area between your thighs and pussy, needing the rosy flesh and effectively making you drip even more when he looks directly down at his hands that work your labia softly – keeping in mind how sensitive you were.

“Look at you. So puffy. So wet. So fucking beautiful.” He leans forward to look in to your eyes and you’re holding on to your breath when you finally see his face so up close for the first time this evening.

“Can I make you feel good, honey? Will you let my cock make you feel good?” There is no hesitancy in your reply because you’re fisting the soft rug besides you and arching your body in to his.

“Fuck,” it’s the first time you can hear Taehyung’s voice shake as he adjusts his hips and rubs he blunt head of his blood fattened cock against your swollen labia. “I’ve wanted you for so long, y/n. I can’t believe you’re here. Are you sure baby? Because I won’t be able to stop or go gentle once I s-start. Oh fuck.”

You can see how desperate he is for you to say yes but nonetheless, your heart still warms at his concern and even though you were slightly scared of his above average length – and girth – you were mostly excited as the anticipation had built steadily. So you give him the green light, nodding for him to continue.

He seems to be surprised too for some reason and you’re caught off gard when his mouth crashed down to your own. His kiss is ferocious and passionate, tilting his head every which way to capture every noise you make, tongue playing with your own. You’re just enjoying the out of the blue kiss until it all makes sense. Because when you break apart from the kiss to shout out your surprise, you can feel all of his hot length pressing the deepest corners inside your pussy. The kiss had been a perfect distraction and you hadn’t even felt the pain when he’d pushed in.

In fact, the slight burn that was present as he let you adjust around him was more arousing than anything. “T-Tae ungh. You’re s-so big. Oh god.”

He’s watching every facial expression you make and he doesn’t miss the almost drunk expression on your pretty face when he drags his length out slowly, only to slam back inside. Your breasts bounce with every thrust that pushes you further up the carpeted floor. It feels better than good. Better than amazing. You’d never thought you’d enjoy penetrative sex this much after having several mediocre experiences but at this moment, all you wanted to do was egg Taehyung on to go as fast as he could. So you do.

“Fuck y/n.” The seat of his lap slaps against your damp skin as he pounds his leaking cock in to you unremittingly. “You’re so t-tight. The tightest cunt I’ve ever been inside. You like it baby? Hm?”

Taehyung was definitely a dirty talker. All throughout this encounter. He hadn’t stayed quiet for longer than a minute. Always wanting to say what he was feeling, wanted to do to you or was going to do to you. And until today, you never realised how much of a sucker you were for verbal stimulation.

“Y-eh-ess. I lo-uh-ve it.” Your words bounce and hiccup out of you with the same rhythm as Taehyung’s dragging of his cock inside you. It’s like he’d grown even larger and you could cry from how good he felt inside. In fact, you were sure you probably were crying with how blurry your vision was getting.

Taehyung had fully covered your body with his own, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder now to split you open even more before he increased his pace until you felt like he was actually splitting you open.

“Tae! I’m going t-to c-cum again. Oh god.” He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his temples as his gaze never left your face. You were actually crying now; clawing at his back as you held on while he parted you open every time he pushed the entire girth of his cock until the base so that with every thrust, his balls slapped against your ass obscenely.

“Let go baby. Cum all over my cock.” He could already see the white, translucid creaminess forming around the base of his cock as it continued to slam inside you, signalling how close he himself was with his cock leaking pre-cum profusely. “Fuck, you look so delectable darling. Look at how your pussy gapes around my cock every time, hm? Your pussy was made to fit around my cock. You’re m-mine now. Made j-just for my cock.”

You could tell how close he was since he’d seemed to lost all and every filter on his mouth. Pounding in to you while you clutch on to him for deer life and finally release around his cock that shows no sign of relenting until he reaches his own release. Thankfully, he’s not too far behind as he grabs your legs for the final round, pushing his hips in to the hilt before he’s shouting out his release. You can feel the warmth of his cum explode inside the walls of your pussy, filling you up to the brim until you could feel his spunk leak around you thoroughly abused lips. Taehyung lays his head in to the crook of your neck very much like how you had at the start.

It's peacefully silent as you both catch your breath, your fingers lazily massaging his scalp without even realising. You’re finally gathering your bearings and coming to terms with the fact that you just fucked each other’s brains out when you could barely stand each other before. And you absolutely do not know how to proceed from here. Not when his cock was still inside you. Thankfully, you don’t have to worry about that decision for too long because Taehyung is pulling back his face to stare in your eyes deeply as if he’s also at a loss for words.

You search his face for any disgust or any realisation that will make him pull away from you and you don’t know why you’re this nervous and worried about his reaction. You didn’t care before so why now? Why was your heart beating so fast that you felt like it was going to come out of your mouth?

“Y/N,” Taehyung post-sex, sexy voice breaks you out of your downward spiral as he brings his hand up to caress your cheek damp from the tears earlier. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You watch him for a few seconds before nodding slowly and that’s all the confirmation Taehyung needs before taking your lips between his once again. And just like that, he kisses you lazily, tangling his hot, sweet tongue with your own for who knows how long. You two stay just like that for a long time, kissing ecahother with so much passion that it scares you how much the thought of breaking away from his lips gives you anxiety. It seems to be the same case for Taehyung because when you break apart to breathe in much needed air, he pulls you back in – mouth open and tongue seeking your own.

Sometime during the night, he’s started to harden inside you once again and rather than breaking away, he fucks you exactly the opposite way he had earlier. This time, it’s slow, even more sensual and the space between your body is almost non-existent. By the time your phone rings and breaks you both out of the haze that had you both intoxicated in the apartment, it’s sometime around midnight. Though Taehyung doesn’t stop even for a second until he’s made you cum once again and spilled himself inside you as well.

The night had definitely taken a turn as you both talk – for once without the intention of insulting each other – and fuck. Mostly fuck actually. Turns out Taehyung made you insatiable and his eagerness and fondness for cumming inside you didn’t exactly help. After replying to Minnie and sending Marion a message of apology, you’re both dozing off on the soft floor.

_________________________________________________________________________

“Come to my art exhibition with me? I want you by my side.” He asks you in the morning, slightly breathless as he grinds his erection – seriously, how often did this boy get hard? – against your damp, soiled pussy, awaking you from your sleep.

“O-Okay.” You can only moan in reply as he takes a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as he coaxes out another orgasm from you before carrying you off to the shower.

“You’re such a horn dog.” Splashing water at his face, you’re laughing as he attacks your sides, tickling you in revenge.

“A horn dog you slept like, a thousand times with.” Your mouth is falling open in mock disbelief but he just kisses your frown away.

“It will be zero times if I see that sex painting at your show!” Taehyung is giggling at your pout and the frown that creases your brows as he kisses it away, promising you that you can burn his ‘sex painting’ before the show.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

a/n: thoughts? :ooo

#bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #hobiwonder #i hope you guys like it!!

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aufanficfanatic · 4 years

Text

BNHA Pokémon AU Part 1: Kirishima Eijirou

II. LYCANROC

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"Riot, use Crush Claw!"

Twelve-year-old Kirishima Eijirou watched with a critical eye as a little tan canine slashed at a Geodude with extended claws, cracking its outer defence and leaving it vulnerable for further physical attacks. Geodude tried to curl its body around the vulnerability to compensate, but Eijirou and Riot were too quick. With a toothy grin, Ei shouted, "Riot, show Geodude some love!" With a cute little bark, Riot ran right up to the curled Pokémon and began vigorously rubbing his rocky collar along its body. The rocks' sharpness proved to be the end of the match when one stuck into the crack previously made by Crush Claw. Geodude fainted and was recalled by the Pewter Gym Trainer.

"Way to go, Riot! Yeah!" Eijirou cheered, running to give his Pokémon some pets. The Rockruff's blue eyes shown with affection as his Trainer rubbed between his ears, and he barked just as loudly as Eijirou cheered.

"Eiji-kun, please call official Pokémon moves when you're in a proper match, okay? That kind of improvisation is all well and good for wild Pokémon tussles, but as a Gym leader I could disqualify Riot for something like that outside the registered moveset."

"Aw, Brock-ojiisan!"

The Pewter City gym leader was thirty-seven and had been training Eijirou since the boy had turned ten. Every weekday, after he got out of school, Eijirou would run to the Pewter Gym and train with Brock and his subordinates for a few hours. Brock-ojiisan was a great teacher, knew all the tricks and tips for raising rock-type Pokémon, and was strict but fair with Eijirou and Riot. Case in point—

"Sometimes it really sucks being limited to Riot's moveset. I get lots of ideas during a match, and I wanna try them all! Why does it have to be like that, Brock-ojiisan?"

Brock tousled the boy's chin-length black hair, sighing in that particular way that meant Eijirou probably learned about this before but had forgotten. "For the same reason a Pokémon Trainer can only utilize up to six Pokémon at a time. It keeps matches fair and balanced. To even the playing field for all different types of Trainers, the rules need to be standardized across the Regions."

"I guess that makes sense. Playing fair is manly! I'll only use Riot's registered moveset next time, I promise!" The boy turned to Kanta, one of Brock's gym trainers, and bowed in apology. "Thanks for the match! Sorry for the unregistered move! It won't happen again!"

Brock chuckled, smiling warmly at the boy who's become like a nephew to him. He never quite outgrew speaking in exclamations. "And how is Riot doing compared to the timeline you drew up? Is he on-schedule? It's going to be soon, right?"

Eijirou grinned again, showing off his shaper-than-normal teeth. "He's officially level twenty-four, as of yesterday. I'm observing his experience growth... I've got it timed to Friday at 5pm on the dot! He's gonna be an even prettier Dusk colour than kaa-san's!" Eijirou was bouncing now, too excited to contain his energy. "I'm gonna have a Lycanroc! Are ya excited, Riot? Are ya, are ya?" His energy overflowed, spilling over to Riot quickly as the Rockruff bounded in circles and barked incessantly.

Brock laughed. "Alright, kid, calm down. So just a couple days, huh? And are you prepared for the aggression spike? I've noticed that Riot is already a lot rougher than he used to be ... he won't hurt you on purpose, I know that, but you've gotta prepare for an adjustment period. Have your moms walked you through everything?"

Eijirou's laugh turned into a pout. "Hey, Brock-ojiisan, I grew up on Rockruff Ranch! I've taken care of loads of Lycanroc, I can totally handle it!"

Well, that was probably true. Brock thought that he was perhaps the one who wasn't ready to handle the aggression of a Lycanroc in his Gym every day.

Suddenly, the doors flew open, banging against the wall as another gym trainer ran into the building. "Brock-sama! Pewter's downtown is under attack! Its Team Rocket!" The other gym trainers erupted with shock and anger, turning to their Gym Leader to wait for instructions.

Brock leapt into action, racing over to his bag to switch out his weaker gym Pokémon for his personal team. "Grab your teams and get to the Pokémon Center, quickly! Protect the nurses; don't let any grunts steal injured Pokémon!" The Gym emptied out quickly, and soon it was just Brock and Eijirou.

"Brock-ojiisan ..." Eijirou murmured fearfully, clenching a fist in Riot's ruff. "What should I do?"

Brock tossed a Pokéball out the door of the Gym, and Eijirou saw Brock's favoured Onix appear in an explosion of light. "Stay here, Eiji-kun, and stay safe. I'm locking you in—don't answer the door for anybody, okay? Keep Riot close, and protect each other." With that, Brock was gone, and Eijirou was left in the empty Gym alone.

"Be safe ..." Eijirou murmured, and Riot butted his head against Eijirou's hand, whining softly. "I know, boy—this is really scary! I can't believe Team Rocket would attack Pewter City in broad daylight. I feel like I should be with Brock-ojiisan, helping protect everyone ..." Riot cocked his head at Eijirou, yipping almost in admonishment. "No, Brock-ojiisan told us to stay here, Riot! Sorry boy, but we can't go." He sighed, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. "When you evolve into a Lycanroc, Riot, we'll have all the strength we need to protect everybody! Even Brock-ojiisan! So let's keep working hard when this is over, and get you your Dusk form!" His beloved partner yipped in agreement, and then settled down by Eijirou's side, blue eyes focused on the glass doors.

Nothing happened, for a long while. Eijirou couldn't sit still, opting to stand up and pace over by the reception desk to try and relieve some of his nervous energy. He tried not to worry about Brock-ojiisan, but it was proving to be difficult. "What if they gang up on him," he asked Riot in desperation, the Pokémon cocking an ear in Eijirou's direction. "What if they have lots of water and grass Pokémon and Onix gets hurt? What if—"

"Hello, hello? Is anyone there? Brock-sama? Please, let us in! Help us!" Eijirou froze in his tracks as two girls suddenly ran up to the Gym doors, one of them banging a fist on the glass while the other had her back turned, focusing on something in the distance. Eijirou recognized them from school, though they weren't in his class. What should he do? Brock-ojiisan told him not to open the door for anyone ...

And then, a Rocket grunt stepped onto the path behind the girls. He was a mean-looking brute, all muscles and small squinting eyes. He had an equally mean-looking Raticate beside him, drool dripping down its wicked teeth. He couldn't hear what the grunt said to the girls, but it was clear he was after their Pokémon.

Eijirou's heart leapt to his throat. He should do something! He and Riot had been training for two years now, surely he could handle one Raticate? His legs wouldn't cooperate. His chest hurt with how fast his heart was beating. The girls were trembling, and the grunt was getting closer to them. Why wasn't he doing anything?! He was so scared, but the girls had it so much worse. He could help them! Why couldn't he move, was he really so pathetic? Yes, he was. He was just a stupid scared loser who didn't have the right to call himself a Pokémon trainer—

"Ruff." Riot was suddenly there, nipping at Eijirou's fingers and dragging him out of his own head.

"Ouch! Riot?" Startled red eyes stared into solemn blue. Eijirou had never seen Riot look so intense before like he was staring through him. There was a determination that filled Riot to the brim, making his fur stand on end and his eyes gleam with sharpness, muzzle lifted proudly in the air.

"Ruff, ruff!" His Pokémon's presence filled the space around him. He butted his head sharply against Eijirou's hand, chasing away the anxious, buzzing thoughts and giving Eijirou clarity for the first time since word of Team Rocket had first reached them.

"We ... can do this. We can help those girls," Eijirou said, hesitation slowly leaking out of his body and voice as he spoke. "I'm a Pokémon Trainer. My Pokémon is standing strong, so I will, too! I gotta be manly—to be anything less would be an insult to my Pokémon's hard work! Yeah! C'mon Riot, let's be heroes!"

"Ruff, ruff, ruff!" Riot barked loudly, spinning in a tight circle and then facing the glass doors with fangs bared. The grunt was leaning over the crying girls in a position of power and intimidation, one hand resting on the door over their heads and the other held out for their Pokéballs.

Eijirou's legs didn't freeze up this time. He sprinted to the door, Riot on his heels, and threw it open. The grunt was thrown off-balance and stumbled to the ground with an expletive. Eijirou used the distraction to push the girls behind him into the safety of the Gym lobby. "Close the doors behind me, don't open them for anyone except Brock-ojiisan or Officer Jenny!"

Riot had already tackled the Raticate, sending it sprawling a few feet away. The grunt recovered and narrowed his eyes at the interloper standing between him and his prey. "Who do you think you are, punk? You think you can just step in and interfere with Team Rocket? Fine, I'll take your Pokémon first! Raticate, Bite that stupid dog!"

Eijirou had never been a part of such a high-stakes Pokémon match. But strangely, all he felt was confidence as Riot dodged the Raticate's teeth and regrouped in front of his Trainer, snarling and baring his fangs. "I won't let you take their Pokémon, and you won't have mine, either! I'll stop you right here and now!"

The grunt backpedalled away from Ejirou, regrouping with his Raticate a safe distance away. "Think you're some kinda hotshot, punk? We'll see which is stronger—your rocks or our teeth!"

He sent the Raticate forward with another Bite. Riot attempted to dodge, but the vicious teeth caught one of the rocks in his ruff with just enough leverage to drag the littler Pokémon closer. Eijirou had a move ready to call out as soon as the Raticate finished its turn and withdrew—but it didn't, just held Riot between its teeth, and before Eijirou could do more than blink in confusion the Rocket grunt yelled, "Hyper Fang!" The stone between the Raticate's wide, flat teeth chipped off with the force of the bite, causing the Rockruff to yelp.

"Riot!" Eijirou shouted in shock and then turned angrily on the grunt. "You used two moves in a row, that's against the rules!"

The Raticate withdrew and hopped back towards its Trainer, who scoffed out a laugh. "What are you gonna do, punk? Call the League on me?"

Eijirou grit his teeth. Man, he hated this guy! "Riot, you good?" he asked his partner, who shook out his ruff and then barked affirmatively. "Awesome! Okay, boy, it's our turn! Looks like that Raticate wants to chew on some rocks—let's give it a whole buffet! Rock Throw!"

Riot's bright blue eyes blazed keenly as his tail began to glow, ejecting sharp stones that hurled themselves at the opponents. There were too many to dodge, but the rocks were small, and Raticate was able to take the attack standing.

Eijirou and Riot settled into the battle with tenacity and focus. Eijirou decided on a long-range battle style, determined to keep Riot away from Raticate's teeth and tail. Riot danced evasively around the increasingly-frustrated rat, picking away at its HP with Rock Throws and using his fluffy tail to sweep a few Sand Attacks into its eyes. Even so, Raticate was a vicious opponent, and its Trainer didn't follow League rules at all—Eijirou had counted six different moves used against Riot so far, often in succession instead of turn-based.

After a few successful Fury Swipes that sent bits of Riot's fur flying, Eijirou decided enough was enough. It was time to end this, the way Eijirou and Riot preferred—up close and personal. "Good boy, Riot! Now, use Crush Claw!"

Riot rushed forward, leaping in the air over the tail that had whipped around in an attempt to trip him up ("Seriously, dude, again?") and landed claws-first on the Raticate's back. Though he was the smaller Pokémon, he was still a rock-type—and therefore weighed enough to flatten that Raticate right out on the ground.

Surprisingly, it didn't faint. It was close, though, and Crush Claw had lowered its defences even further. Riot, on the other hand, had incredible stamina and could take a few more Bites if Eijirou followed the rules; if he allowed Riot to wait his turn and end this the League way.

But the grunt had made Eijirou realize that this was no proper Pokémon battle. There were no League officials to call fouls, or Gym Leaders to disqualify him. There were no rules and regulations, other than to make sure he and his beloved Pokémon partner got out of this fight in one piece. So Eijirou was going to finish it now, his way. He grinned widely, and peripherally he could see the grunt flinch at the sight of Eijirou's sharp teeth.

"Hey, Riot! Show that Raticate some love!"

Riot nearly howled in delight and nuzzled his jagged rocks into the Pokémon beneath him in aggression more than affection. With a pained cry, Raticate fainted, and then it was finally over. Riot ran barking over to Eijriou and leapt into his arms, and Eijirou was so proud of him he couldn't contain it, laughing and spinning him through the air. "You did it! We did it! We were awesome, yeah!"

The Rocket grunt recalled his fainted Pokémon with a snarl. "You brat. You think you got the best of Team Rocket? You better think again. We got admins here, and you can bet they'll crush that stupid Gym Leader and his rock-type Pokémon to gravel! And you'll be next, I'll make sure of that."

Riot leapt out of Eijirou's hands, snarling viciously, and his tail glowed up for another Rock Throw. The grunt quickly turned tail and ran, cursing as he got pelted with small stones on the way. So unmanly.

Eijirou's Pokédex chirped with battle results and an updated account balance, but Eijirou ignored it. He paced, his victory grin fading into a nervous frown. "I'm kinda worried about Brock-ojiisan. What do ya think, Riot? Should we go find him? And maybe kick more Team Rocket butts along the way?"

Riot full-out howled, claws digging into the earth and hackles rising as he cried out his battle lust to the darkening sky. His eyes almost looked red in the light of the setting sun. Eijirou stared at his Pokémon partner in awe, suddenly understanding Brock-ojiisan's concerns a bit. "You really are getting pretty aggressive, aren't ya little man? Aw, it's kinda cute!"

That had earned him a nipped finger or five.

-------- (-o-) --------

It was a long evening. Eijirou hadn't come across Brock-ojiisan right away, instead diving in to help the ordinary citizens of Pewter City, whose homes and businesses were being looted and their Pokémon stolen by Team Rocket grunts. But Pewter people were tough as nails, and often they dove right into the fray to help each other out, double and even triple battling to send grunts packing. Riot was a force of nature, fast and vicious and tenacious. Eijirou couldn't believe he'd ever doubted this, their strength and their bond, as they won battle after battle.

By the time he found Brock-ojiisan, Eijirou was covered in sweat and dirt, had a lump in the back of his head where he'd been nailed by a stray Bullet Seed, and was having the time of his life.

To his credit, Brock-ojiisan wasn't at all surprised to see him. He just rolled his eyes, tossed Eijirou a Super Potion, and went back to soundly thrashing the Rocket Admin before him. Brock's slightly-psychotic Steelix was out to play, and Eijirou felt bad for the guy, villain though he was—there were definitely broken bones in his future.

He spared a few moments to watch Brock-ojiisan be manly and cool, and then he turned back around. "Alright Riot, let's go towards the school and make sure all the ... students are ... safe?" Eijirou blinked, spinning around and searching the ground around his feet. "Riot? Where are ya, boy?" He stuttered forward a few feet, looking around at the various battles and chaos ensuing around him, trying to catch a glimpse of tan fur. Did that rock-brained dog really just leave to fight without him? Man, he was going to be so aggressive as a Lycanroc ...

But as Eijirou finished a lap around the plaza without a sign of Riot, panic began to set low in his belly. "Riot? RIOT, WHERE ARE YOU?" He'd only taken his eyes off his partner for a second, how could he have lost him? There was no way a Rocket grunt could've snuck up behind him and taken Riot without a sound ... right?

Oh, Arceus. Eijirou broke into a sprint, picking a random street and running past Rocket grunts and Pewple alike. "RIOT! RIOT!" he called over and over, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as all the terrible scenarios played in his mind. He was laying in a ditch, fainted and hurt. He was abducted by Team Rocket. He was lost, searching for Eijirou just as desperately ...

Out of nowhere, down some side street that Eijirou didn't know the name of, something collided painfully with the back of his knees, and he ate the pavement. It hurt; tears poured down his cheeks as he sat up and spat blood onto the street; his sharp teeth had bitten deep into his tongue. But it didn't matter, because all he could feel was joy and relief. "Riot, thank Arceus I found you—huh?" He looked up into narrow, black eyes and wide, drooling teeth, and that joy died viciously in his chest.

"Well, well, well ... just the brat we were looking for, eh Raticate?" It was him, the grunt from the Gym! But ... why was he here? Eijirou had already defeated him, he wasn't supposed to come back ...! Eijirou scrambled to his feet, mouth full of blood and heart full of fear.

"Aw, did you lose something, Sharpedo-boy? Why don't I help you with that, huh?"

That paralyzing, choking feeling from the Gym lobby was filling him again. His body trembled. His heart throbbed in his throat, and his legs went numb. What should he do? He'd already decided to never to feel this way again, to doubt in his and Riot's bond—but Riot wasn't here. He'd left Eijirou on his own, with no other Pokémon, to face a villain who so clearly wanted to hurt him.

The grunt's eyes matched his Raticate's, black and small and vicious. "Not so tough without that yappy dog at your heels, slinging its pathetic pebbles, are you brat?" Eijirou stumbled backwards, some sort of flight instinct trying to kick in through the numbness. The grunt stayed still. "Let's see if we can make you faint this time. Raticate, Tackle."

Eijirou barely had time to throw up his hands in a defensive manoeuver before he was thrown off his feet by what felt like the force of a small train, knocking all the wind out of him and laying him flat on his back. Wheezing, Eijirou tried to scramble back to his feet, but he felt uncoordinated and dizzy.

The grunt was drawing closer. His face was so blank, and his eyes were so cold. "Quick Attack." Raticate moved so quickly Eijirou didn't have time to flinch before his body skidded across the ground and his head smacked painfully into the wall behind him. His gasp of pain made him choke on the blood that had been pooling in his mouth from his cut tongue, and he coughed. It hurt. It hurt. He wanted his kaa-san.

The grunt was standing before him now, watching him with a smirk. "That's the problem with these young Pokémon trainers, Raticate. They go traipsing around the region throwing Pokéballs at all sorts of people bigger than them, convinced that theirs is the only kind of power in the world. But take away that Pokéball and all you have left is some snot-nosed brat peeing his pants and crying for Mummy."

Eijirou coughed and spat out more blood and tried not to puke the rest of it up. "W-where ... is h-he?" he gasped. He couldn't sit up, lead lolling uselessly against the wall. "Where's ... Riot ...?"

The grunt shrugged. "Dunno. Shoved in a sack in the back of a van? Kicked into the gutter like old rubbish? Suffocating in some Muk's body? Who knows. Don't really care, I only came here because of you. I owe you." Eijirou had encountered evil for the first time in this world, was looking it in the face, watching as it looked back. This man ... this evil man looked at a little twelve-year-old's bruised and battered face and only said, "Try for a critical hit this time, Raticate. Faint him good and permanent."

Raticate shifted its weight to its back feet, ready to strike—

And then, a howl sounded through the narrow street, so deep and loud that it made the bricks beneath Eijirou's head resonate with the timbre. The Rocket grunt's head whipped around, but by then it was too late—in an explosion of rock shards and a streak of deep red, the Raticate was flung thirty-odd meters down to the other end of the street, crashed into a rubbish bin, and laid still.

The grunt had tripped backwards in shock, falling on the ground and banging his elbow against the cobbles. "Ow, what the f—" he looked up into glowing red eyes, and the curse died on his tongue.

A Midnight-Form Lycanroc stood in front of Eijirou like some avenging angel—no, an avenging devil—muzzle full of sharp teeth and wide paws tipped with wicked claws and glowing red eyes that promised nothing but complete and utter destruction.

The grunt had fear in his eyes, for the first time. He leapt to his feet and ran as fast as he could, fumbling for Raticate's Pokéball to collect him on his way out. But then four massive boulders slammed into the ground around him, boxing him in, preventing escape. Eijirou gaped. Rock Tomb, had to be, but so incredibly powerful ...! And then a fifth boulder, not nearly as large as the others but big enough to get the job done, fell right on top of his head, and the man crumbled and didn't get up again.

Eijirou was too dizzy to move, could only stare incomprehensibly at this strange Lycanroc that had come to rescue him out of nowhere. Really, it was a wonder he was still conscious at this point, so he could be forgiven for the absolute delusion that spilled out of his lips when he looked at this fierce, protective Pokémon—"Dad?"

The Lycanroc whimpered, curling into Eijirou's side and licking his cheek. Suddenly different than before, the Lycanroc curled tightly in a ball, almost in shame, and whined on every exhale.

Eijirou hurt all over. He wanted his kaa-san, but this strange Lycanroc was warm and soft. He closed his eyes, laying his aching head down onto soft scarlet fur, and let himself drift for a bit. He thought at one point maybe he'd heard the Lycanroc barking, and someone calling his name, but Eijirou decided he'd deal with it later. He slept.

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#bnha fanfiction #bnha pokemon au #kirishima eijiro #brock #Rockruff #lycanroc #bnha #the origin story continues #make sure to read part 1 #bnha canon violence #but very much non-canon pokemon violence #be aware #its not that bad at all but still #also i'm like going back and forth as to how accurate i want to make this as I go along #like i don't mind spending lots of time on Bulbapedia #but on the other hand thats less time writing #so...#Kirishima is a ray of sunshine

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