#no but seriously your ridiculous rants often make my day
Tbh you seem like the coolest chick ever. But the best kind of cool chick who like, secretly you can squeal in the corner with about a boy without changing facial expressions which is basically what I do to you by flooding your ask box with ridiculous rantings about Van McCann
akskdjhfvsjsj anon i love this!! yes i will happily squeal about b*ys in the corner with you any day with the blankest face imaginable because their goddamn ego's don't require any more inflation
anonymously tell me what kind of vibe/energy you get from me
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Sakusa Kiyoomi Oneshot
Summary: Your fiancé, Sakusa, begins to have doubts on whether he’s good enough for you
Pairings: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Gender Neutral!Reader
Warnings: Angst if you squint, but mainly fluff
Sakusa isn’t really sure why it bothered him. I mean, after all you were dating him right? You had no interest in Bokuto so why, why was he getting so jealous of the two of you together?
Two peas in the pod, that’s what it looked like. To Kiyoomi, you and Bokuto were absolutely inseparable- practically joined at hip as you laughed at some stupid thing he said. And Sakusa hated it.
He hated the burying feeling he got whenever you interacted with his teammate, knowing that it wasn’t right to feel this way. It wasn’t right for him to glare at Bokuto, knowing his friend hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just making you laugh- Sakusa loved it when you laughed. So why exactly did he feel the need to storm over, tugging on your shirt and nodding towards the door to indicate that you were about to leave.
“Awe, already?” Sakusa glared at Bokuto through his dark eyes, rolling his eyes at the pout that formed on the spikey-haired boy. Even more so, his grip on you tightened when he saw you shared a similar pout.
“Awe come on Omi, we were just starting to get to the good stuff. Can’t we stay?” You gave him pleasing eyes, but now was not the time for Sakusa to fall victim to your cuteness. Shaking his head, he tugged your sleeve again.
“Y/N. Now,” The dominance in his voice shocked you. It made you sit up a little straighter, dropping your playfulness as you knew Sakusa was completely serious.
“O-Okay,” You eyed a confused Bokuto, stumbling to your feet and quickly grabbing your stuff. “Bo, it was nice talking to you I gotta-”
You yelped, giving a hurried wave to the grey-haired boy and then quickly stumbling after Sakusa. He had a rather tight grip on you as he dragged you outside, not outwardly fuming so you didn’t understand why he was being so forceful and urgent. It wasn’t until you were outside of the gym did you bother to ask, ringing yourself free and stopping him for a minute.
“Hey, Omi. What the hell was that all about? We were still talking and I didn’t even get to say goodbye!” You said, a frown tugging on your lips as Sakusa sighed.
“Did you really need to? You’ve been talking to him all evening, I’d imagine there was nothing left to go on about,” Sakusa said nonchalantly, but you could see his shoulders stiffen whenever he glanced back the gym, where Bokuto was still practicing his spikes.
“What- Omi what has gotten into you! You’ve never done this before, why did you suddenly just drag me away?” You questioned, honestly quite alarmed at your boyfriend’s behavior.
You had talked to Bokuto plenty of times so you knew he wasn’t jealous. Sakusa was very independent and confident in his abilities as a man, so there’s no way he felt threatened by you talking to his teammate...or did he?
“Omi? Hey,” You quietly said his name and touched his cheek softly when he suddenly refused to meet your eyes. Now you knew there was definitely something wrong, because Sakusa Kiyoomi never looked at his feet when he was talking to you.
His usually poised demeanor dropped, and a frown tugged at his handsome features causing your stomach to drop.
“Do you think I’m a boring boyfriend?” He asked you suddenly, quite uncomfortable as he shifted in his tennis shoes. “I mean- I know I’m not the most outgoing but I can make you laugh, right?
“And you’re not turning away from me because of my personality right? I saw...I saw how happy you looked in there, with Bokuto. How he made you laugh and talked to you probably more than I do in two days. And listen- I get it. It’s frustrating to be with someone that’s super reserved like me but I’m trying, okay? I’m not a chatterbox, but if that what you want then-”
“I’ll try harder, because I really-”
The use of his full suddenly got your boyfriend to stop ranting, his black eyes looking up to catch your wide ones.
You were in absolute disbelief, not believing that your strong, seemingly unphased lover was seriously implying that you liked his outgoing friend more than him.
“Are you crazy?” You couldn’t help the words that spilled out of your mouth. “Are you seriously wondering if I...if I’m gonna drift away because you don’t talk to me?”
Even in the fading light, you could see a small blush twinge his cheeks. Looking away, he nodded briefly before shoving his hands into his pockets.
“It’s been on my mind for a while, you know? I’m not the easiest person to get along with but baby- I love you. And I understand if you want someone that’s gonna...someone that’s willing to talk your ear off about the things you love...and stuff,” He grimaced at the words coming out of his mouth, not believing he actually said it. Now that it was out in the open, Kiyoomi realized how ridiculous it sounded but it was too late to take it back.
“Omi...” You frowned and gently grabbed onto him, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his chest. Underneath you, Sakusa relaxed under your touch and breathed in deeply, opting to embrace you back and kiss the top of your head. “I don’t know where these thought are coming from, but you’re perfect my love, okay? I understand that you’re quiet. I understand you’re reserved but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. I love you for you baby. Everything about you is the reason why I fell in love. So please, don’t doubt yourself. You’re amazing and there’s nobody else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. Always and forever, yeah?”
You recanted the promise Sakusa had made you when he proposed, staring down at the shiny diamond ring on your finger. Under the moonlight, it still gleamed brightly. Still served as a reminder that you were willing to accept Sakusa no matter what, and was exactly what he needed to hear.
“Thank you,” He said honestly, resting his him on your head and sighing. “I know it was silly but-”
“Omi, your feelings are always valid. They’re never silly,” You reassured him. “If something’s bothering you then you have every right to express it. Which you did. And that’s really all the talking I need from you, Omi. You’re an excellent communicator. And yeah, you don’t really say anything when I’m ranting about stuff but you listen, which is just as important. And here you say that Bokuto talks with me- that boy interrupts me every five seconds! So yeah, I definitely appreciate your silence.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?” It wasn’t often that Sakusa wore his heart on his sleeve. But right now, you could see the love he had for you shining in his eyes, a smile gathered on his face which, by the way, was the most adorable thing you had ever witnessed.
“That’s why I’ve got a ring,” You said smugly, causing Sakusa to scoff playfully and push you away. “No but seriously- I love you Omi. And I will even more after I’ve become Mx. Sakusa Y/N. Then you’re gonna be stuck with me forever.”
“Can’t wait,” He chuckled. To anyone else, that sarcastic statement would surely sound false, but to you- well you knew that’s just how Sakusa was. Your lovable, sarcastic, slightly germaphobic, soon-to-be husband.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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A/N: this is a very self indulgent fic, lol. it’s a comfort one for me right now
summary: having three younger siblings often meant Y/N was put in charge of looking after them. But sometimes her older siblings need some help too.
Aka, eight times Y/N did Anthony's job for him and one time he became her father
The trouble with having three younger siblings was that Y/N often got waylaid with looking after them and keeping them occupied. She didn't mind it - it was actually quite enjoyable to watch Hyacinth attack Gregory and to help Francesca with her pianoforte.
But sometimes, Y/N found herself becoming an older sibling to her own older siblings. When the weight of their responsibilities became too much, Y/N was there, like a rock that survives countless storms.
Hyacinth and Y/N were two of the closest Bridgerton siblings in the entire household. They'd been close ever since Hyacinth's birth - the two becoming thick as thieves despite the years between them.
Hyacinth's beautiful, angelic face often helped Y/N escape the wrath of Anthony whenever Y/N snuck out the house and Y/N returned the favour by helping Hyacinth hide from the siblings she upset and by supporting her chaos.
It was a quiet day in the library and Y/N was minding her own business, organising the books and cleaning the room in general. The library had become a special place for her - her safety room,
“Y/N, hide me!” Hyacinth squeaked, skidding around the corner and running directly into Y/N’s legs.
“Wait, what?” Y/N asked, frowning, stumbling at the force of her little sister running into her. She grabbed
“Just, help me!” Hyacinth repeated, her eyes pleading.
“Hyacinth!” Anthony bellowed, his voice bouncing off the walls. Y/N could hear him marching up the stairs towards the library.
Y/N’s head shot up at the bellow and looked down at her little sister with wide eyes. “What did you do?”
“Please, I’ll tell you afterwards,” Hyacinth said, begging.
Y/N sighed and looked around for somewhere to hide Hyacinth. The library was big and didn’t have any decent hiding places. Y/N lifted her long dress up.
“I swear, Hyacinth, you owe me,” she replied as Hyacinth crawled under the fabric, pulling it over her body. Y/N arranged her layers of skirt over her little sister and then pulled her shawl around too.
“Hyacinth!” Anthony bellowed again as he stormed into the room. He spotted Y/N organising the books and turned to her. “Y/N, have you seen Hyacinth?”
Y/N shook her head and shrugged. “No, I have not. Sorry, brother.”
Anthony growled. “If you do, send her to me.”
“Why, what has she done?” Y/N asked innocently.
“She put a frog in my desk drawer,” Anthony snapped. “It’s hopping around the house, Colin is trying to catch it.”
Y/N tried not laugh, pressing her lips together. “Oh. Of course, if I see her, I shall send her to you.”
Anthony stormed off, out of the library. Y/N lifted her skirt up and narrowed her eyes down at Hyacinth.
“A frog, seriously?” She asked as Hyacinth crawled out.
“He took my book away,” Hyacinth replied, looking like an innocent angel.
Y/N rolled her eyes and shoved Hyacinth towards the door. “Shoo, I do not want to get in trouble with Anthony.”
Hyacinth rang off and Y/N resumed looking for her book.
Y/N burst out laughing as she heard Anthony bellow at Hyacinth, his yell quickly followed by Hyacinth’s shriek and the sound of someone charging down the stairs. Y/N shook her head and smiled, laughing as she heard more yelling and shrieking from her sister.
Y/N walked past Gregory’s room and glanced in as she passed. She paused and walked back, taking a look at Gregory and noticing him crying.
Y/N knocked on his door. “Gregory, what’s wrong?”
Gregory sniffed, wiping his eyes as he looked up at his big sister. “My mouse died,” he said softly, hiccuping.
Y/N’s eyes softened and she walked into her brother’s room, crouching down on the floor next to him and putting an arm around his shoulders.
“Oh, Greg, I am sorry, darling,” Y/N said, stroking his hair.
Gregory had found the mouse lurking in the kitchens one night and - despite the rest of the family telling him to get rid of it - Gregory had kept it, named it and given it a home.
And it had stayed in Gregory’s room for the past three months. Y/N had grown accustomed to checking in on the mouse whenever she went into her brother’s room and knew how closed he’d gotten to the rodent.
“Colin took him away,” Gregory whispered, more tears leaking out his eyes. “And I do not want to leave him but mother is insisting on everyone going to the party -”
“Hey, Gregory, calm down,” Y/N said gently. “We do not have to do anything with your mouse until you are ready. And I will stay by your side this entire party, alright?”
Gregory nodded and gave her a watery smile. “Thank you, sister.”
Y/N pressed a kiss to his head. “Always.”
The floorboard outside Gregory’s room creaked and Y/N turned and looked to see who it was. Anthony stood outside the door, dressed in his waistcoat with his shirtsleeves rolled up, and gave her a smile, mouthing a thank you to Y/N.
Y/N nodded and gave him a returning smile.
Y/N eyed Colin. “Brother, that waistcoat is beginning to look a little snug.”
Colin let out a gasp and turned to face her. “How dare you!” He said, hand flying to his chest. “I was not going to say anything but your dresses are beginning to look a bit tight.”
Y/N gasped and whacked Colin’s arm, dodging the shove he aimed at her. “Colin!”
The front door slammed shut and Y/N looked up as Francesca stormed towards them.
“Hey, Franny,” Y/N greeted, smiling.
Francesca didn’t acknowledge her. She shoved past her and Colin and Y/N got a glimpse at her tear stained face as she ran past.
“Francesca!” Colin called, brow furrowing in concern at how upset his sister was.
“Leave me alone!” Francesca yelled, running up the stairs. A few moments later, her door slammed shut.
“Oh, I will go,” Y/N muttered, heading up the stairs after her sister. “Maybe run around the block and work off the bacon you ate at lunch.”
Colin gasped and let out a stuttered mess of insulted sounds as Y/N laughed and walked up the stairs.
Francesca had shut the door behind her but didn’t lock the door. Y/N knocked gently on the door but when she didn’t hear her sister reply, she opened the door and walked inside.
Francesca had dramatically flung herself face down on her bed and was quietly sobbing, her shoulders shaking.
“Oh, Franny,” Y/N said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her sister and putting a hand on her back, rubbing it gently.
Y/N had no idea what was wrong or what had happened to upset Francesca so much, but she didn’t need to know the specifics. Her sister was upset and needed her big sister on her side.
“Anthony is horrible,” Francesca sobbed. “He said such horrible things about the Earl of Kilmartin and he knows I like him, Y/N/N, he knows.”
Y/N sighed, stroking Francesca’s hair, twirling it around her finger. “Anthony is... well he is Anthony. He is very protective of us, Franny - he had to become a parental figure to all of us when he was barely an adult. I do not blame him for having his reservations about the Earl but know that anything Anthony says is... the majority of the time out of love.”
Francesca rolled over onto her side and looked up at her sister with teary eyes. “Can you talk to him?”
Y/N smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Francesca’s ear. “Of course I can, my love. I shall tell him how ridiculous he is being and that you do not want to hear another word out of him until he can say something nice.”
Francesca giggled and sat up, hugging her sister tightly. “Thank you, sister. Truly.”
Y/N returned the hug. “Anything for you, Francesca.”
Y/N concentrated on walking down the stairs, holding the hem of her dress up so that she didn’t trip over. She still wasn’t use to heels.
“You look like a newborn foal, Y/N,” Benedict called, eyeing her with a laugh as she gripped the bannister tightly.
“I detest these heels,” she muttered, taking Benedict’s offered hand and letting him guide her down the rest of the stairs.
“Do not let Eloise hear you say that, she will go off on a rant,” Benedict teased.
It was if mentioning her twin sister’s name summoned her. Eloise suddenly burst out of Anthony’s office in a flurry of expensive silks and tears and ran past Y/N and Benedict. Both siblings stared after her, wincing when the door slammed loudly, shaking the walls.
“What is it with my siblings and running past me in tears?” Y/N asked, despairing. “This is the third time in as many weeks! What did you say, Anthony?” Y/N asked, turning to face her eldest brother with a hefty sigh.
“I merely mentioned her debut again and she got upset,” Anthony replied, shaking his head. “I shall talk to her.”
“No, do not even think about it,” Y/N said, halting Anthony by stepping in front of him. “You will make it worse. I shall go.”
“Wait, Y/N, I’ll come too,” Benedict called.
Y/N paused on the stairs and raised her eyebrows at him. She snorted. “Oh, this will be entertaining.”
Benedict gave her a confused look but shrugged, following after Y/N as she walked up the stairs and to Eloise’s room. Every time Eloise’s debut was brought up, she was bound to get upset or angry. It was the one subject that made her loose her judgement and her cool exterior.
Benedict knocked twice on Eloise’s door. “Eloise?”
“Go away, Benedict!” Eloise yelled and something hit the door with a hefty thud/
Benedict looked vaguely offended and took a step back from the door with a frown.
Y/N smiled to herself and chuckled. “That is exactly what I thought would happen,” she said, crossing her arms and looking up at her brother. “She thinks you’re going to gang up on her.”
“But I’m not going to.”
“Yes, but try telling that to an emotional teenager who’s big brother has upset her,” Y/N replied. “Go downstairs, I will be ten minutes.”
Benedict grumbled but trudged off down the corridor. Y/N waited for him to disappear and then gently knocked on Eloise’s bedroom door.
“El, it’s me,” Y/N called.
There was silence and then the door was unlocked and Eloise appeared, her eyes red.
“How do you do it?” Eloise asked, sniffing.
Y/N frowned. “Do what?”
“Be perfect. Be the perfect daughter and sister all the time,” Eloise elaborated. “I cannot do it and it is so difficult to pretend.”
Y/N smiled at her. “I have been practicing for years, darling Eloise. It is all an act. I am not perfect and certainly not perfect all the time. I am merely perfect enough that mother and Anthony forget about my flaws.”
“How did you get through your debut?” Eloise asked and Y/N could see the genuine fear in her eyes. “How do you cope with all those people looking and watching.”
“For my debut, I relied on Colin,” Y/N replied honestly. “He never left my side unless I was absolutely certain I could manage on my own. Unlike Anthony, there was no judgement or constant interrogation of the suitors. He just listened to me. And after a while, the constant watching and looking does not bother you. It becomes background noise.”
Eloise dropped her head onto the edge of her door and closed her eyes. “I have hardly even begun and I am already exhausted.”
Y/N reached out her hand and grabbed her twin sister’s. Eloise squeezed her hand in return and gave her a tired smile.
“But I will be with you every step of the way, sister,” Y/N promised.
Daphne and Y/N had never been particularly close. They were complete opposites growing up - much like Eloise and Daphne were now - and were constantly arguing with one another. But ultimately, they did love each other.
As Y/N grew up, she looked to Daphne for help and guidance and her sister had provide it. But Y/N could tell that her sister was struggling. With her new life as a duchess, as a mother and as a wife.
The two were enjoying afternoon tea in the sprawling garden of Hastings House, watching the swans in the lake nearby.
“Are you alright?”
Daphne set her tea down and looked at Y/N. Y/N reached out a hand across the table and gripped Daphne’s, rubbing her thumb over the back of it and giving her a smile.
And that was all it took for Daphne to break down crying at the little table they sat at.
Y/N moved her chair to sit next to her sister and put her arms around her, comforting her as she cried. She didn’t have a clear idea of what Daphne was going through - being a mother was hard in its own right. But Daphne was also running an estate, being a duchess and also trying to navigate high society.
“You know, I am not a mother - or a duchess, for that fact - but what I do know is that I do not know anyone who is stronger than you, Daph. Mother does not count,” Y/N added quickly, noticing Daphne lifting her head up to object.
Daphne gave her sister a watery, emotion filled smile and sat up, taking a deep breath in. “Thank you, sister.”
Y/N smiled, picking her cup of tea up again. “You are welcome. Now, do we have anymore of those biscuits?”
Y/N was having deja vu.
What was it with her siblings and locking themselves in their rooms whilst crying?
“Someone should go talk to Colin,” Anthony said quietly, setting his newspaper down.
There was an obvious empty space at the breakfast table in between Benedict and Y/N where Colin usually sat. Ever since the Marina incident, Colin had hardly spoken or come out of his room. Wisely, no one had said anything about it. Violet was engrossed in Lady Whistledown, Hyacinth and Gregory were, for once, behaving themselves, and Eloise was quietly cutting her pear up into thin silces.
“He won’t listen to me,” Benedict replied quickly, taking a bite of his toast.
“I am the last person he will want to speak to,” Anthony added, sighing.
The two older brothers both turned to look at Y/N.
Y/N, who was mid bite of her apple, turned to look at them. “What?”
“Well, you are good with crying siblings,” Anthony began.
“Only because you are normally the one who has upset them,” Y/N countered, turning back to her breakfast,
Anthony raised his eyebrows. “Y/N.”
“Oh, fine,” Y/N grumbled, shoving her chair back loudly. “I should really be getting paid for this, honestly.”
Colin’s room was next door to Y/N’s. She paused outside it and sighed.
“This is deja vu,” Y/ muttered, raising a hand, knocking hard on the door. “Colin?”
Colin didn’t reply. Y/N dropped her head on the door and sighed. She grabbed the handle and twisted it, hoping it was open. It swung open with a creak and Y/N poked her head around the wood.
Colin was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with red eyes. He lifted his head and looked at her.
“Hi,” Y/N said quietly, closing the door behind herself and walking further into the room. “You left me on my own at breakfast.”
“Sorry,” Colin muttered.
Y/N walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, nudging Colin to move further over to let her lie down next to him. Colin shuffled over and Y/N laid down next to him, not caring that she was crinkling her dress or ruining her hair.
Colin didn’t talk. Y/N wasn’t expecting him to. But she also wasn’t expecting him to lift his arm up and wrap it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Y/N let out a surprised noise but returned the hug, wrapping her arms around his side as best she could.
“Just so you know, they all practically drew straws as to who would come and talk to you,” Y/N said, her voice muffled by Colin’s waistcoat.
“Well, you are an expert now,” Colin replied, his voice a little croaky. “Four siblings now?”
“Do not even get me started, Colin,” Y/N replied, laughing softly. “When I eventually have an emotional break and lock myself in my room, you all better take it in bloody turns.”
Colin laughed, hitting her shoulder as she swore. His laughter faded and he tightened his arms around her but Y/N didn’t mind. It was often the two of them had a moment just them with no one watching or staring.
“Listen, if you come to breakfast I will not throw my orange peel at you,” Y/N said, lifting her head up. “I will happily give you the bits of my bacon that I do not like.”
“Will you give me your extra sausage?” Colin asked.
“I will give you all of my bacon if you give me a sausage,” Y/N countered.
Colin unwrapped his arm from around Y/N’s shoulders and held his hand out to her. “The deal is the deal.”
Y/N snorted. “You did not just quote my favourite book at me,” Y/N said, widening her eyes.
Colin shrugged but his eyes were twinkling for the first time in a few days. Y/N giggled and dropped her head on to a pillow.
“I hate you,” Y/N groaned.
“No you do not,” Colin replied, all but shoving Y/N off his bed. “Now, you have promised me your bacon.”
Y/N looked up as another ball of paper whizzed past her head, missing the bin and landing behind it. The bin was beginning to disappear underneath the numerous scrunched up balls of paper. Y/N wisely didn’t say anything, turning back to her book.
Benedict growled, ripping another piece of paper out his sketchbook and launched it at the bin. It missed the bin entirely and smacked Y/N in the head, landing in her lap.
“Sorry,” Benedict called.
Y/N raised her eyebrows at him but said nothing. She picked up the ball of paper and opened it, smoothing it out against the front of her book. “What’s wrong with this?”
Benedict looked up. “The shading is all wrong, the body looks weird...” Benedict sighed and ripped another piece of paper out. He threw it at the bin but it hit Y/N again.
“Alright, do I need to move or are you going to stop hitting me with balls of paper?” Y/N asked, closing her book and raising her eyebrows. “I can move the bin closer.”
“Sorry,” Benedict sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head back.
Y/N looked at her brother. She unfolded her legs and stood up, walking up to him. She took the sketchbook from his hands and flipped through it.
“What is wrong with these?” Y/N asked, frowning as she perched herself on the arm of the chair her brother was sat in, leaning on his shoulder.
“They do not look... right.”
Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
“The angle is weird -”
“Then move the object or move yourself,” Y/N said simply.
“It isn’t just that,” Benedict said. “Every drawing I do I find myself comparing it to other works of art.”
“But they’re not your style,” Y/N replied. “You cannot compare a Van Gogh to a Holbein because they are completely different styles. You just have to find your own style, Benedict.”
“When did you get so wise?” Benedict asked, looking up at her with genuine admiration and curiosity.
“Oh, I think it is due to the constant pep talks I have to keep giving my siblings,” Y/N said, smiling, pretending to ruffle her imaginary feathers.
Benedict smiled. He nodded to the chair opposite him. “Go sit over there.”
“Just sit over there,” Benedict insisted, shoving her off the arm of the chair.
Y/N sat down on the chair and frowned at him. “Are you going to draw me?!”
“Well, you said move the object.”
“Wait, you were drawing me?!” Y/N exclaimed.
“Hush, you,” Benedict called, pressing a finger to his lips. “I am concentrating.”
Y/N giggled but didn’t move, just smoothed her skirt out and picked up her book again.
Y/N looked up with a frown, trying to work out if she had heard her name or not. Deciding she hadn’t, Y/N returned to the pianoforte, plonking the keys with no real intention.
Anthony stormed into the room and came to a sudden halt as he spotted Y/N sat at the pianoforte. “Y/N, did you not hear me yelling?”
Y/N frowned and looked up. “Did you yell for me?” She asked.
“Yes!” Anthony exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “How did you not hear me?” Y/N looked pointedly at the pianoforte. “Yes, alright, point made, now come with me.”
Anthony turned on his heel and marched off. Y/N quickly stood up, almost tripping over the leg of the stool as she ran after her brother.
“Anthony, slow down a moment!” Y/N called, barely keeping up with her older brother’s long legs. “Anthony!”
Y/N ran down the stairs, somehow skipping the last three, and following Anthony into his office. He stopped suddenly in the doorway and turned to face Y/N.
Y/N, who hadn’t lost the momentum she’d gained running down the stairs, ran full pelt into her brother’s chest and squeaked as she lost her balance.
“Carefully!” Anthony exclaimed, grabbing her arms and holding her up.
“You are the one who stopped!” Y/N yelled back. “What on earth is the matter?”
Anthony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, there is just an awful lot happening, I did not mean to panic you.”
“Anthony, just take a minute to breathe,” Y/N said. “What do you need me for?”
“We have been invited to the Queen’s garden party, and I wanted to know if you were interested in coming,” Anthony said, turning and walking up to his desk. He pulled out the invite from amongst the rest of his paperwork and handed it to her.
Y/N ran her eyes over it and shrugged with a nod. “Yes, I suppose.”
Anthony nodded but Y/N could see that he wasn’t paying her any attention. Y/N sat down in front of his desk.
“Anthony, what is wrong?” Y/N asked softly, nudging his foot with hers when he didn’t reply. “Anthony?”
“There is just a lot going on with the estates, the land, your debut, Eloise’s debut, Benedict and Colin.” Anthony sighed and dropped his head. “I do not know how father managed it all.”
“Well, in all fairness, Anthony, our father was raised and taught how to do it. He had years of practice you were not even out of Eaton when you had to take over,” Y/N replied, folding her hands into her lap. “All of this stress is understandable, brother.”
Anthony looked at his sister with a wistful gaze. “When did you get to be so wise?”
“That is exactly what Benedict said the other day,” Y/N replied, smiling. “And all I did was tell him to stop throwing paper at me.”
Anthony chuckled. He stepped around his desk and came over to Y/N, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Oh, what would we do without you, Y/N?”
“Well, I would imagine that the house would be on fire by now and Eloise would have ran off to anywhere else in the country,” Y/N replied, smirking.
Anthony shoved her gently and Y/N giggled, resting her head on his arm.
Her hands were shaking. She could feel the panic overwhelming her like a tidal wave and her stays felt suffocating even though Y/N knew they weren’t tight.
All she had to do was get through tonight and then everything, should be, fine. All she had to do was get through her first ball and then everything would get better.
Y/N felt her eyes begin to sting and her throat close and took a shaky deep breath in as she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like herself but also didn’t look like herself. An imitation of herself looked back at her.
She had never been this nervous before. It was unusual for her to be this panicked and scared before a big event. Y/N let out a little sob and sank down into her chair, burying her face in her hands to try and control her emotion.
Someone knocked on her door and Y/N quickly tried to make herself look presentable and not like she’d been crying.
“Y/N, come on,” Anthony called, walking in, the floorboards creaking under his feet, “we are all waiting.”
“I will be down in a second,” Y/N called, frantically trying to touch up her make up.
Anthony walked around the corner and stopped. He knew Y/N and could see when she was putting a mask on and pretending. He could see her red eyes, her shaking hands, and instantly knew something was wrong.
“Y/N, what is wrong?” Anthony asked softly, slowly approaching her.
Y/N turned and looked at her brother over her shoulder. He gave her a soft, comforting smile, and she instantly broke down, her shoulders shaking and her hands hiding her face.
Anthony rushed over and knelt down in front of her, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her into his chest as she sobbed.
“Alright, calm down, you’re ok,” Anthony whispered, rubbing circles on her back.
“I don’t think I can do this, Anthony,” Y/N sobbed, clinging onto him tightly. “I don’t know if I can be perfect like Daphne was.”
“You do not have to be perfect,” Anthony said, taking her face between his hands and making her look at him. “You just have to be you. And we will be with you every step of the way.”
Y/N nodded and sighed tiredly. She took a deep breath in and straightened up as Anthony wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Ready?” Anthony asked, standing up and offering her a hand.
“As I will ever be,” Y/N replied with a smile, taking his hand.
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I got my first proper request and I literally accidentally deleted it. Am I stupid? Yes. Did I immediately panic? Yes. Do I remember what was on it?........ mostly.
Haha anon I hope you see this I'm so sorry but ily.
The turtles s/o who's usually very calm but just bursts into anger.
Notes: swearing :) I think it's funny
He's used to a very calm s/o, you like to meditate together, he's always been good with helping you with breathing exercises.
You both like to keep arguments to a minimum, and even when fights do take place there isn't a lot of yelling
But when your mother came to visit :) that was just :) a lot of pressure :)
And she stayed in your apartment :) for a week :) everything was fine :)
Leonardo hadn't seen you for an entire week, not an overly long time, but certainly not pleasant. And he knew that you got stressed when you couldn't see him often. So as soon as you texted saying you had dropped your mother off at the airport, he immediately came round.
You were already screaming the moment you walked in the door.
"Oh she has some nerve! Some nerve! Speaking to me like that!"
"I'm guessing you're car ride went smoothly."
"She's been bugging me all week! When are you getting married? When are you have kids? I want some grand babies before I die! Ugh! She's obsessed with maintaining this perfect image all because her friend's kids are married and making babies like rabbits!"
He stayed quiet, not exactly sure how to comfort you. It wasn't like he could provide you with these things, and by the sounds of it, your mother would never approve of your huge turtle boyfriend.
"She just can't get that I'm happy! I have my own life and it's perfect the way I want it to be! I have a perfect boyfriend! You're a fucking delight! She–she's just so obsessed with her image that she'd never get that!"
"You... You think so?"
"I know so! She's too stubborn and she'll never get how fucking great you are and it just— UGH! It fries my brain."
"Even though I... I can't give you all those things... I can't legally marry you, we can't have kids."
"Even if you could give me a mansion and a diamond ring, or if all you could give me was a-a fucking walnut! I love you Leonardo, not that prim and proper white satin wedding she's made a thousand Pinterest boards for. I love you, I just wish she would get it."
Leonardo leaned down and kissed your cheek
"I love you too."
He believed in dealing with anger appropriately, but seeing you defend him with such passion made him feel so much more secure.
He's seen you angry before, he encouraged it. He's all about helping you with your confidence, teaching you to not be afraid to take up space and stand up for yourself.
But holy cow. You were mad that night.
He'd warned you not to take the trash out at night, wait to the morning — or better yet, he'll take it out for you when he came to visit after patrol.
But you are Raphael's girl. You are stubborn.
So you take the trash out, and some absolute creep decides that "flirting" in a dark alleyway in the key to a girl's heart.
Raphael swooped in, told the man to scram. But bold and drunk, the man spits back with a "Oh yeah? And would she want anything to do with a freak like you? What are you gonna do? Hit me? Aw, big angry turtle, you're gonna scare your girlfriend away."
It was two of his biggest insecurities. His appearance and his rage, especially in regards to scaring you away. It was a low blow, Raphael should have known to just walk away.
But he clammed up, he'd never admit when his anxiety got the best of him and you don't blame him.
"Oh go fuck yourself. If a vile man like you doesn't scare me, why the hell do you think a good man like him would?"
"A good man? He's not a fucking man! He's some freaky turtle thing, a pretty little thing like you deserves a real man."
"And are you a real man?"
"More real than your little pet."
The next thing you knew, the man was on the ground. You assumed Raphael knocked him out, but Raph's standing behind you and you're the one with your hand in a fist.
"Oh my god. Oh–Oh Raphie I knocked him out! O-Oh my god!"
"Holy shit Y/N! You probably broke his nose!" Raphael is grinning, shaking your shoulders.
"I didn't mean to hurt him."
"He deserves a broken nose at the least for messing with you! He was an asshole and he needed someone like you to set him straight!"
"I, um, well, I suppose he did! Saying such horrible things about you, I-I guess he did need someone to put him in his place."
Raphael ruffled your hair, "Thank you, my knight in shining armour."
"That make you my Prince?"
"Your Prince who was right about not taking the trash out at night."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
He appreciated you standing up for him more than you could imagine. And he found it mighty hot how hard you hit that guy. Seriously! He must be a good self defence teacher.
Donatello loves you so much, loves holding you and hugging you whenever he can. He adores it when you sit on his lap while he works.
But do you like to cuddle when you sleep? Tough luck. Getting him to bed is like trying to lick your own elbow: near impossible.
Regardless, you try. Because every once in a while Donatello is too tired to fight and he will go to bed.
Tonight is not one of those nights.
"Baby, please, just come to bed. Everyone's already asleep."
"I'll be there in a minute, just go on without me."
You sigh, not really seeing the point in fighting. Instead you return to his bed, trying to keep yourself awake playing games on your phone. When half an hour passes, you go back and try again.
"Donnie come on, aren't you tired? I just want to cuddle."
"I just need to put some stuff on a hard drive, April's writing a new article, she needs it for tomorrow."
You sigh once more, "Promise you'll come to bed right after?"
Donatello's bed is comfortable, but it's more comfortable with him in. You force yourself to stay awake; despite your exhaustion you're determined to cuddle tonight. It's all you want.
But it did not take an hour to put some documents onto a hard drive. And he's being awfully loud for just typing away on a computer.
"Are you fucking joking right now?!"
He jumps, almost dropping the box of beakers in his arms, "Hey love... Can't sleep?"
"You're rearranging your lab?! Why are you—since when do you rearrange things, huh? What the hell?!"
"I just y'know, thought things needed a change..?"
"Oh, and now is the time to change things, really? Of all the times to move your fucking beakers you decide to do it in the middle of the night after I specifically asked you to come to bed? Seriously?"
He gives a nervous grin, the kind that usually made you smile in return. But it was late — rather it was early at this point — and you were cranky.
"You can sleep without me, you're a big girl." He teased.
"I want to sleep with my boyfriend! I want to cuddle! Is that so much to ask for?!"
Donatello blinked, "You're right, I'm sorry, but I swear, I promise, I'll be ten minutes, honest."
"You can finish this tomorrow. If you're not in bed in the next ten seconds, I am going to scream and wake everyone else up."
"Don't be ridiculous—"
Donatello jumped, quickly moving to shove supplies in cupboards a little recklessly. You continued to count down from ten, storming off back to his bed for hopefully the finally time this night.
By the time you got to the very firm "Three... Two... One..." Donatello was racing to bed, dived in beside you, crashing and knocking your heads together.
He'd never tell you, for fear you'd let it get to your head, but he kind of liked it when you got bossy.
Anger and Michelangelo just don't mix. They just don't. He's the king of communication, he's tries his hardest to avoid fights at any and all costs. You've always appreciated his determination to talk things out with you.
But with his brothers? He shuts down, he goes quiet and just accepts whatever blame they put on him: he knows they don't mean it, they only say mean things when they're angry.
But it hurts, hearing his big brothers tell him he's stupid, that he's childish, that he's lackadaisical.
"What kind of word even is that?! I swear Donnie must read a thesaurus as a bedtime story.."
So he's allowed to complain, and you let him ramble when he comes to visit. He sits on your bed and the words just tumble out of his mouth, lets you move around the room tidying up while he rants.
"I just—Raph keeps calling me stupid. And I just—I-I just—You know, sometimes I believe it."
You freeze, sweater only half folded and turn to him, "But you're not stupid. Just because you're not some brainiac like Donatello doesn't make you stupid. If that was the case, then I'm stupid, Raph's stupid, April, Leo, Splinter is stupid. Do you think we're all stupid?"
"But I... I am a little stupid."
"No you're not! Mikey, how many times has you out of the box thinking saved the day? Y-You were the one who suggested playing friggen buck-buck to take down Shredder! Y-Your skateboarding—hoverboarding skills saved the world. You think your brothers could do that?"
Mikey scrunched his nose up, "That's not smart though. They're right. My-my focus is all over the place, I-I could never come up with a plan like Leo, I could never have half the brains Donnie has, and Raph just—he gets things that I don't and I-I am stupid!"
"I need to have a word with your brothers—"
"And that's another thing! Everyone still treats me like I'm some kid! I don't need you to have a word with them! You're not my mom."
"Then you have a word with them! But sitting here and complaining about things that just aren't true isn't going to change anything!"
He's taken aback. Much like himself, you hardly ever yell, never ever raise your voice at him.
"I am not going to stand here and let them insult you day in and day out! Either you do something about it, or I will!"
He blinks at you, you're aggressively folding the sweater in your arms and grumbling about how you could definitely take Raphael in a fist fight if need be. You mumble something about how nobody gets to speak to your boyfriend like that, and it finally clicks with Mikey.
"Alright. I'm going to talk to them," He's mostly talking to himself, "I'm going to show them that I'm not some stupid, ditzy, lackadaisical kid anymore. I'm your boyfriend, and nobody gets to speak with me that way!"
You beam at him, anger disappearing within the second with his newfound confidence, "Hell yeah! Nobody insults my boyfriend!"
His brothers' version of a wake up call is to point out his weaknesses, tell him what needs to be corrected. But you much prefer to build him up, point out his strengths.
But jeez, he does not like your angry face.
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Sakusa Kiyoomi Relationship HC’s
Word Count: 1396
A/N: woof woof i’m the ceo of soft content bitches ❕ one of my biggest pet peeves with sakusa’s fanon is ppl forgetting he’s literally... just super fcking dramatic like he could be a theater kid if he wanted to /hj so i wanted to try writing him as a soft still dramatic boifie is it probably ooc? yeah... do i give a fuck? no.
- Unlike popular belief, Kiyo isn’t going to cry if you hold his hand. If anything, it’s one of the few displays of affection that truly gets him blushing a bright pink.
- He does get kind of annoyed if you hug him or do anything that requires too much physical contact too suddenly, give him a little warning or ask him; He’ll almost always say yes, unless he’s sweaty from practice.
- As long as you’re both clean and sanitized, he’s willing to indulge you.
- He’s not super big on PDA but he’ll always have an arm thrown around your shoulders or wrapper around your waist.
- A big fan of subtle matching accessories, he’ll probably buy you matching key rings and phone cases. Don’t make fun of him though, he’ll get embarrassed and kind of uncomfortable; it’s one of his Love Languages afterall.
- He likes seeing you wearing his clothes, he’ll have a few things he exclusively has just for you but he also has some he’d rather not share. The latter category is mostly dress shirts, formal wear, anything that might stain easily or you’d need in fancy situations, but things like extra t-shirts or hoodies are as much his as yours (just tell him you’re taking anything and make sure you wash it before giving it back).
- Sakusa has a sensitive nose so he loves the way you sometimes smell like him, even if it’s just a little bit, when you wear his jackets or hoodies he likes knowing you’re going to smell like him for the day.
- He really likes indoor dates, from staying inside with you at home or going to museums or stores. He tends to favors the dates where you’ll choose things for each other, he takes getting you gifts super seriously and will spend hours making sure what he’s getting you is up to his standards.
- Talking about gifts, he’ll treasure anything you give him. His favorite gift you ever got him was a cologne, it was one he’d mentioned in passing to you because it was meant to be softer on the nose, and for his birthday you ended up getting him that and a clock.
- The fact you thought about him and listened to what he’d said made him very happy. He knows he’s often seen as intimidating and sarcastic, people tend to take what he says wrong or way too literally/liberally.
- Sakusa isn’t afraid of being blunt with you, he doesn’t like sugar coating his words and you’re no exception, he tries being more kind with his word choice but at the end of the day he won’t hesitate saying what’s on his mind.
- So whenever he compliments you, keep in mind he absolutely means it and he won’t hesitate to repeat it (unless you ask him to do so too much, he’ll get blushy and annoyed).
- He really wants to get a dog with you. Not any dog though, he wants a big dog he can take on walks and running with him, probably wants a siberian husky, would name him Mr Clean.
- Is the type of guy who’ll be like “the dog sleeps on its bed” but you’ll find him with said dog cuddling together under a blanket after a hard day. Sakusa is in love with Clean, he’d die for him, he even calls him your son.
- Got him little paw-gloves for when he’s cleaning the floor and he’s got chemicals around him so his paw beans don’t get irritated.
- An underrated comedy master, Iwaizumi says he has the sense of humor Atsumu wishes he had. He doesn’t even think twice before speaking with his teammates which leads to ridiculously funny exchanges, the best part is that he doesn’t seem to understand that he’s being hilarious so his face quite literally stays the same.
- Before dating you, his room was kind of boring (read: that one Haikyuu manga cover Furadate made for Christmas), black covers, white walls, etc., basically a minimalist nightmare but when you started dating he kind of got into keeping knick knacks that remind him of you or from dates with you, he has a few of your things laying around too. It’s still clean, he’d rather die than have a messy or dirty room, but it’s got more personality.
- Has an extra MSBY jersey for you and his homescreen is a picture of you wearing it next to him; he’s whipped for you. He won’t let anyone unlock his phone because of it, one time Komori almost saw it and he had a mini-heart attack.
- Has you saved as “[Name] 💖” and gets super annoyed when anyone (Atsumu) teases him about it.
- He likes the intimacy of waking up together and performing a morning routine with you. Seeing you standing in the mirror brushing your teeth while chatting about your day or while you do your skincare routines.
- He's better at holding phone calls with you rather than texting - he can be kind of dry and he knows it, he’s also busy often which leads to many gaps between the responses; it’s a mess. So he’d rather call you, that way he can also make his tone/intentions known easier! the
- Not big on pet names for you, the most he’d do is “honey” or “dear”, he’d rather call you by your name or a nickname.
- On the other hand, he’s a big softy for the pet names you have for him; he’ll act like he hates them, especially if you call him out in public, but in private he gets blushy and his voice softens when he talks to you afterwards.
- Matching masks are a staple in your relationship, he’s always on the lookout for them just in case. When he’s abroad he’ll bring you a bag full of them, and they’re not the unfiltered ones, he makes sure absolutely nothing can get through them because he’s not about to have either you or him breathe in germs and risk getting sick.
- Health is his number one priority for both you and him.
- The type to call you when he’s away to rant about the silliest things, he’ll see something that annoys you and he’ll just think about how you’d never do him like that and how you’d be just as annoyed.
- When you two get a shared bed he’ll ask for the side closest to the window, he doesn’t care if it ends up being the right side or the left side; he likes being able to leave the window slightly open as to keep the air in the room clean and he doesn’t want you to get cold.
- Kiyoomi is really thoughtful, he knows he can be picky and particular so he wants to make it up to you by keeping you in mind to make sure you’re also comfortable.
- Arguments are rare because of this, he knows when to compromise - so if his partner can’t it’s a really big no for him and would lead to a very short relationship - but he also wants you to know he’s not a pushover and he also needs you to compromise as well.
- Likes intertwining your pinkies together when you’re walking down the street, it’s not super noticeable to others but he’s still holding you tightly in his own way.
- I said it before but Kiyoomi isn’t against holding you as long as you’re clean (as in; took a bath, clothes are washed, etc.)! He likes being able to hold you tightly during movies, just being there with you is soothing to him.
- Very dramatic when it comes to important dates and anniversaries, he acts like he’s cool with it as if he hadn’t spent a week planning the bouquet of flowers he has in his locker alongside a handwritten note he has his mom check just in case he made a mistake. In that way, he kind of expects you to take it seriously too and would get kind of disappointed if you didn’t remeber or give him something; it could be a hand gel and he’d treasure it though.
- Overall, Sakusa tends to be a surprisingly soft boyfriend - he has his quirks, much like anyone does but as long as you respect them you won’t have any problems down the road. He’s a thoughtful lover, he takes pride in knowing you well and taking care of you.
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types of boyfriends [haikyu edition]
this one consists of satori and ushijima (coz im lazy)
okay first of all, he’s the type who rarely talks in general, however when he’s with you he actually manages to talk a lot more.
the whole shiratorizawa team was bamboozled when they realised that ushi was a completely different person around you- not just in the social sense, but he would every so often put his arm behind your back as a subtle reminder that he’s always there for you.
this man aint into the whole pda thing for reasons we will never understand (for all i know he probably doesnt even know what pda is) but he often does these little noticeable things to show he appreciates you.
also he has a habit of tensing up slightly before a match, especially when he knows you’re going to be watching because he doesn’t want to screw it up (even though he’s literally the ace he wants to play his best when ur there to support him)
dates with him are so mf classy- and let me tell u this man is a freaking gentleman. eating out in a restaurant? you best believe hes opening all the doors for you, taking off your jacket, paying for the meal etc etc.
and most importantly, the main thing he cares about is you, so he’ll always be asking if you’re okay and comfortable with things (basically hes surprisingly good at communicating)
my man fucking adores the crap out of you. and hes not afraid to show it. yes, he’s literally into pda, doesnt matter where you are- he cant keep his hands off you. after all, you’re his paradise. you’re always either holding hands or he uses you as his lil resting pole (where he wraps his arms around you and just leans against you like a sloth). very very cuddly man. he loves showing you off to all his friends and gets excited over the littlest things about you. if you sneezed cutely- hes gonna be thinking about that the whole day. if you said a particular sentence in a cute way- hes gonna go rant to some stranger about how mf lucky he is to be dating you.
he is perceptive as fuck. he notices the small details- how your tone changes, your mood, the way you behave (no lie he truly is the guess monster) but hes very attentive, especially when it comes to you. knows when you’re sad and immediately comes up with a way to cheer you up. he can read you extremely well and always makes sure that you’re comfortable. (bit like ushi)
dates with this man are on another level. running through a parking lot at 3am type of shit. and yes, theyre so fucking fun- he knows exactly how to have a good time and this man seriously has a lot of energy (y’all would’ve just jumped into the ocean at 3am and he would still be ready to go on another adventure). he always finds the most random places to have a picnic- sometimes during the day it would be behind a random person’s shed (until the owner finds yall and u guys start running for ur lives). he always puts you first and makes sure that you’re happy and that you know how much you’re loved by him.
he loves having philosophical convos with you, even if it doesnt make sense. he will think of something ridiculous and come up with a theory on that- and if you match his vibe he will literally want to marry you right there.
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➺ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ: ʀᴇᴀʟɪsɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ s/ᴏ
*•.¸♡ hongjoong ⋮ when you scold him ♡¸.•*
as weird as it may sound, hongjoong realised that he was in love with you while you were scolding him with an angry look on your face, hands on your hips and brows furrowed
he knew that he was neglecting his basic needs to work a little bit more but he never really thought much of it. he didn’t expect you to come by spontaneously and he got worried when he saw how upset you were, thinking that something might’ve happened.
when he went to embrace you to calm you down, you immediately shut him down, telling him to sit down and listen with a stern look on your face. you began to rant about his health, how it wasn’t good for him to overwork himself like that and that you didn’t want him to faint or break down one day.
he should’ve been ashamed or maybe upset, but he couldn’t help the warmth that was blooming inside of him at that moment. observing your cute little angry pout he had to bite back a smile, realising in that exact moment that he had fallen deeply in love with you.
you weren’t scolding him because you were genuinely mad, you were throwing harsh words at him because you loved him so much and were worried about him. slowly getting up, he came closer to you and before you could call him out he had his hands placed on your cheeks, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.
*•.¸♡ seonghwa ⋮ when you help him ♡¸.•*
he’s very caring and often tends to be the one to take care not only of you but also of the others, naturally falling into the role of the caregiver
seonghwa doesn’t really mind though, he enjoys being able to take care of the people he loves.
seonghwa always knew that he loved you; if his pounding heart and the warm feeling in his chest were anything to go by. the day he realised he was in love with you was an incredibly stressful one, everyone was buzzing around trying to get their work done
he was just about to go around and ask everyone what they’d like to eat, getting ready to go out and get food for everyone when the door to the changing room suddenly opened, you standing there with multiple bags of food in your hands
seonghwa swears he feels his heart jump out of his chest at the warm smile you have on your face while the members practically tackle you to get their food, rushed “thank you”s being thrown around aimlessly
you looked so genuinely happy to help them out, to take a burden off of his shoulders just for the sake of helping - he pulls you close and catches you off guard with an extremely passionate kiss full of love and adoration, the shouts and cheering being drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears
*•.¸♡ yunho ⋮ when you take care of him ♡¸.•*
there’s probably nothing that makes yunho’s heart swell with absolute love for you more than all those times you wait up for him, ready to make him something to eat even though it’s already late
yunho knows that you don’t have to take care of him like that, and sometimes he feels really bad when he sees how much effort you put in just to make him happy but he’d definitely be lying if he said that he didn’t love it
there’s just something about the way you pamper him after a long day of work, how you prepare food for him and make sure he has some time to himself to calm down and relax
he realised he was madly in love with you when he came into the bedroom to see a change of clothes laying on the bed, neatly folded together. in the bathroom he was met with your kneeling figure next to the bathtub, checking the temperature to see if it’s hot enough
his heart clenches and he can practically feel all the exhaustion vanish, like it never existed - and then when you look up at him with a warm, caring smile he can’t help but blurt out, “i’m so in love with you, oh my god”
it catches you off guard but makes you blush nonetheless, a giddy smile on your face when you get up to crush him in a loving hug. he wraps his arms around you, his body relaxing in your hold
*•.¸♡ yeosang ⋮ when you let him vent ♡¸.•*
he bottles his emotions up a lot, not wanting to be burden to anyone by ranting over things that might be considered unimportant - those things still bug him and make him upset nevertheless, though
it can be hard for him to keep his masquerade going, especially when he’s around you. he just wants to rant and vent about all the things he’s been keeping to himself when he’s with you, because you make him feel safe and comfortable enough to be himself
you had suggested a movie night to help yeosang relax and unwind, but it seems that he’s still stressed, that there is still something gnawing at him
you turn off the movie, yeosang turning to you in surprise. you take his face in your hands to make him look into your eyes and tell him to let it all out, to just vent and rant since that’s what you’re here for; you’re there for him when he’s down or mad, happy or sad
it’s like lightning struck him at that exact moment. this, exactly this was one of his favourite things about you; you let him rant on and on about stupid things that get on his nerves for hours on end if he needs to, you’re there to listen to the whole thing no matter how worked up he gets himself
you understand his emotions more than anyone else, you know when he has to blow off some steam and just throw around curses to cool off a bit - and it’s one of his favourite things about you
*•.¸♡ san ⋮ when you’re patient ♡¸.•*
san knows that he can be a bit overbearing sometimes, that he’s too loud or too childish for a lot of people and that there are plenty more that would never put up with him the way you do
but he’s glad that you do, glad that you love him just the way he is, even if he gets on your nerves on the regular and tests your patience a little too much for your liking
he loves to interrupt you with cheesy pickup lines and sweet kisses or play little pranks on you, and you never blew up on him or told him to knock if off with any real malice behind your words
san loves that you’re not only patient when it comes to his little shenanigans, but also when it comes to his work; he knows that his line of work puts a heavy weight in your relationship but you never make him feel guilty, always waiting for him
he can’t pinpoint the exact moment he realised, if it was during the time he kept singing everything he wanted to say or if it was after multiple weeks of not seeing each other - either way he knows that he’s been blessed with a loving, patient partner that is always ready to put up with him
*•.¸♡ mingi ⋮ when you listen to him ♡¸.•*
sometimes he’ll get weird ideas at the most random times of day; he’ll come up with something in 3 AM while he was peeing, suddenly wide awake and all excited to tell you
and the best thing? you’re always ready to listen to him, not once ridiculing him or laughing at his thoughts. yeah you’re a bit grumpy sometimes when he wakes you up just to tell you about frogs with hats, but you never tell him to shut up or tell that he sounds stupid
he can’t help those random bursts of weird thoughts, but he’s glad that he found someone he can not only share them with, but also someone who’s chill enough to indulge in his thoughts and actually discuss them with him
he can’t wait to tell your kids one day that the way he realised he had fallen in love with you was while you were sitting against your headboard, both of you taking your current argument about pet skunks very seriously
there was just this sudden realisation while he was listening to you, this realisation that this, this right here is what he wants for the rest of his life; he’s in love with you and would probably marry you on the spot right now (though he knows that it’s just his tired brain being a little too over enthusiastic )
he appreciates that you not only listen to his troubles and problems but also to those questionable thoughts that would usually keep him up at night
*•.¸♡ wooyoung ⋮ when you tease him ♡¸.•*
he loves to tease you and pick on you lovingly a lot, and the easiest way to make his heart swell with love was to tease him back. he loves that you’re able to clap back at him every time he decides to get on your nerves
humour is important to him, so the fact that you’re able to keep up with him and one-up him more often than he’d like to admit is something that makes him genuinely happy
wooyoung can’t describe the excitement he feels when you decide to tease him back, he doesn’t really know why but he absolutely loves it and he wouldn’t exchange your little banter for anything
you two were going back and forth the whole day, throwing around snarky remarks and lighthearted comments. as much as wooyoung loves soft days with you, days where the two of you cuddle and whisper sweet nothings - these days, where you keep trying to get on each other’s nerves are definitely his favourite
and that’s when he realises, while you’re completely dragging him with your smart remarks - his pride should be hurt and he should come up with a clap back, but he can’t help but suddenly get all mushy and warm inside; you always understand him and his intentions
*•.¸♡ jongho ⋮ when you let him baby you ♡¸.•*
he gets pampered a lot, both by you and his members alike - he loves it, no doubt about it, but there’s something about the pride he feels when he gets to be the one to baby and pamper you for a change
jongho likes to tend to you, he likes feeling like he’s the one you go to when you need help; he likes feeling needed, especially by you. he’s so used to others taking care of him that being the one who pampers you once in a while makes his heart absolutely swell
usually you’re the one to make sure he eats and sleeps properly, you’re usually the one to visit him at work to bring him food; so when he has one of his rare day offs he decides that it’s time to return the favours
he prepares your favourite food for the time you get home and draws you a bath, excited to help you calm down and relax after a stressful day. so when you come home, eyes teary and brows furrowed, he’s ready to help you out any way he can
the exact moment when he realised that he’s really, truly deeply in love with you was when you’re laying in bed next to him, eyes tired and hazy while you whisper a soft “thank you jongie , i love you” right before you fall asleep in his arms
it makes him feel so good to know that he’s there for you, that he can take care of you and make you feel better after a hard and exhausting day. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a warm smile etched on his face while he lets himself drift to sleep
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ugly christmas sweaters (spencer reid x fem!reader)
summary: after your parents leave you alone for christmas, spencer tries to brighten your mood
a/n: this is me trying to start writing again and it is truly not my best work AT ALLLLLL but I was in the christmas spirit so here is... something
warnings/includes: too much fluff, reader is basically an elf, spencer is so sexy and sweet and nice and hot
Spencer had noticed the way your demeanor was shifted today- the normal glimmer that lived in your eyes had diminished into a dull gaze as you flipped through the mounds of files in front of you. This was out of character for you, especially during the holiday season. You were known as the office elf during December, constantly bringing in freshly baked cookies and stringing tinsel over your teammates computers. Today however, there was no sparkle in your eye and you weren’t wearing your normal Christmas sweaters (Spencer’s favorite was the one that said “Hydroxide, Hydroxide, Hydroxide! Merry Christmas!” with a glitter Santa in the middle). It took him until lunchtime to finally do something about it. As you poured yourself another cup of coffee into an un-festive mug, he took the opportunity to ask you about your change in enthusiasm.
“Hey Y/N, is… is everything okay?” he asked, grabbing the coffee pot from you and refilling his own mug. You took a long sip before rubbing your temple with a sigh.
“Yeah, I…” you started before seeing Spencer's suspiciously raised eyebrow. “No, okay? I’m not! Because every year my parents come to visit and help me decorate my apartment and we go to pick out a Christmas tree and we make our own peppermint bark and chocolate chip cookies and… well, they’re going on a stupid cruise! They left yesterday and they won't be back until New Years, and it just... sucks.” you finished, noticing that you spilled half of your coffee onto the ground from your wild gesticulations. Spencer stared at you for a moment, wide-eyed, before snapping out of his daze to grab a wad of paper towels to clean up your mess.
“Well, I…” he started, kneeling to sop up the mess, “I know this probably won’t help, but I-I’m not busy this weekend!” he said, standing up to throw out the wet paper towels as you cleaned up the extra coffee that spilled onto the counter.
“Well, neither am I. Because my stupid parents-” you started to go into another rant which was cut off by Spencer before you could continue.
“No, Y/N, I meant I’m not busy this weekend so what if… we did something festive? You know, your parents aren’t home and nobody should be alone for the holidays. What if we went to get you a Christmas tree? And I’m not the best at baking, but-” he started to suggest before you tightly wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest.
“Thank you,” you said, muffled into his cardigan. Spencer was thankful you couldn’t see the blush dusted on his cheeks. You pulled away after a moment, but the warmth of your embrace lingered with Spencer for longer than he’d like to admit. “Thats really sweet of you Spence, but you don’t have to do that for me,” you said as you refilled your mug.
“But I want to!” he said, a little too loudly. You gave him a look before he continued. “Seriously, I mean i’ve never really made a big deal about the holidays but, it could be fun!” he smiled dorkily as the sparkle in your eyes reignited a bit.
“Spence, that is… so sweet. We’re gonna have so much fun, I promise. When are you free?” you asked.
“Uh, always?” he said as you laughed, suddenly feeling very self conscious about his word choice. “I mean, not always, I, uh, I do things?” he defended, not even convincing himself.
“Don’t worry, nobody in the BAU has any social life,” you reassured him. “How about… today? I know it's kinda soon but you got me really excited and since it’s Friday and we’re off this weekend we can get all of our shopping and decorating done! Sorry, I seem crazy” you laughed. Spencer ignored the pang in his chest at the angelic coo of your laughter.
“You’re not crazy, it's cute,” he laughed before he realized what he had just said, coughing to fill the ensuing silence. “I mean, sure, that sounds great,” he smiled as he watched you head back to your desk, coffee in hand and a newfound spring in your step
Hours had passed since your conversation at the coffee machine and you were just about ready to leave work, your stack of finished paperwork mounds taller than it had been at the beginning of the day. With a satisfied sigh, you looked to Spencer’s desk to see it was empty- he definitely hadn’t left, his jacket hanging on his chair, but he wasn’t in the bullpen. After looking around for a few moments, a bright light caught your eye from the bullpen entrance.
“Oh my god,” Emily laughed, leaning back in her chair.
“Wow,” JJ laughed. You turned your attention to where they were looking to see Spencer, wearing the most ridiculous Christmas tree light-up hat with a decadent mug of hot chocolate balancing in his hands.
“What is this!” you yelled, springing out of your seat and running up to him, admiring his hat.
“I thought you could use a pick me up,” he blushed as you reached up and pressed a button near his ear that made the hat sing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
“Pretty boy is whipped,” Morgan remarked, not-so-subtly as he received a glare from pretty boy himself.
“Spencer, I love it,” you smiled as he handed you the mug of cocoa, which you accepted gratefully.
“I’m glad,” he smiled watching you sip from the mug, giving yourself a whipped cream mustache. “Oh, you’ve got a little…” he said, gesturing to his upper lip.
“Huh?” you said, attempting and failing to lick it off.
“Here,” he said, reaching out to wipe the remaining cream off your upper lip without thinking, licking it off his finger. You were honestly shocked- he didn't like touching people, although you were often an exception, but this was a new level. He didn’t seem to notice the gasps coming from the team as he grabbed his things to leave the office. You decided to ignore the gesture- you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, risking that he wouldn’t touch you like that again.
“Ready to go?” you asked after finishing your drink.
“Yup,” he smiled, following you to the elevator and leaving behind a shocked group of FBI agents.
The elevator was filled with your excited rambling as you made your descent to the parking lot.
“So I was thinking that since it’s already a little late we can just order some chinese food and bake cookies, but tomorrow, we can get a tree and decorate my apartment?” you smiled at Spencer, not taking notice of his entranced gaze. “We can also decorate your apartment too of course, I think I have some extra tinsel and lights,” you said as the elevator doors opened.
“Oh, we don’t have to do mine, I’m not really one for that kind of thing,” he stammered, following you to your cars.
“Nonsense! I’m not gonna be living in a winter wonderland while you’re living in a dark library. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just want to spread the Christmas cheer,” you clarified, getting into your car after telling Spencer to follow you to your apartment. He couldn’t help the racing of his heart as he drove- he didn’t need to follow you, already knowing where you lived from his many previous visits.
After putting his car in park, Spencer headed over to your parked car a few spots over where you were reaching far into the trunk.
“I took these from my parents house when they bailed on me,” you said, rummaging through your packed car. “Here!” you exclaimed, pulling out a pile of Christmas lights and decorations. Grabbing most of the pile, Spencer followed you up to your apartment, smiling at the skip in your step. After struggling for a moment to unlock the door, you finally pushed it open with your hip and set the lights you were holding onto your counter.
“Stay right here,” you said to Spencer with a mischievous smirk, running into your bedroom. He made himself busy by sorting through the pile of decorations, discovering a homemade Santa Claus that seemed like an enthusiastic 6 year old made it. He didn’t have much time to observe his find before you came running back into the room wearing a Christmas sweater. Not just any sweater, but Spencer’s favorite- Hydroxide, hydroxide, hydroxide.
“It’s your favorite!” you giggled, doing a twirl for him to get the full effect.
“Wow, it looks great,” he smiled as you handed him a wrapped box. “What’s this?” he said, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, just an early Christmas present. Consider it a thank you for helping me out,” you smiled, urging him to open it. He did so, carefully ripping the wrapping paper off to open the box, revealing the exact same sweater you were wearing.
“Is this…?” he said, slowly pulling the sweater out of the box.
“It is! I thought we could be twins,” you laughed as he observed the sweater, open-mouthed in half shock, half adoration.
“I love it y/n,” he said, still shocked that you noticed his admiration towards the sweater.
“Go put it on!” you suggested, laughing at Spencer’s wide eyed stare as you ushered him into the bathroom. By the time he came out, you’d already gathered all of the cookie ingredients and were preparing for the night of baking ahead of you. Spencer emerged with a nervous smile, eyebrows raised for your approval. You ignored the pang in your heart at the sight.
“Wow, you look great!” you laughed, walking over to him after noticing a tag sticking out at the back of his neck. “Hold on, lemme just…” you started, tongue darting out in focus as you tried to rip the tag out. “Bend down,” you ordered, amused by the blush dusted across his cheeks as he slowly knelt. Without thinking, you leant down and tugged at the tag with your teeth, eventually ripping it off. “Aha!” you exclaimed with pride, tag in hand.
“Thank you,” he clamored to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“We look hot,” you joked, grabbing his hand and twirling him around a bit, the blush never leaving his cheeks. “You know, I don’t like the phrase ‘ugly christmas sweater.’ I actually think they’re quite charming! It’s like, why discriminate against an entire clothing item just because it’s not the most flattering! They have personality.”
“Did you know that ugly Christmas sweaters became popular in the 50s?” Spencer started, encouraged by the interest in your eyes. “After the mass commercialization of Christmas, “jingle bell sweaters” were invented which soon came to be known as the ‘ugly’ Christmas sweater,” he said, following you into the kitchen.
“How did you know that? I mean I know you know everything but where did you even read that?” You laughed, pouring some ingredients into the mixer.
“Oh, well I know how much you like Christmas, so… I did some light reading about it. Did you know that Jingle Bells was originally meant to be a Thanksgiving song?” he said, too focused on his measuring cup to notice your in-awe stare.
“I think I love you,” you blurted before slapping your hand over your mouth. Spencer choked on his own oxygen, blowing a gust of flour around the kitchen and all over your face. The silence that followed felt thicker than the cloud of flour you were currently trying not to choke on.
“I-I’m sorry, but what did you just say?” Spencer asked in a daze, white powder settling onto the front of his new sweater.
“Um, I didn’t- didn’t say anything!” you tried to play off the moment, busying your nervous hands by frantically swiping the flour off the counter and into the trash can.
“Y/N, um, did you just say that you…” he pressed on, wincing almost.
“You know what, just forget I said anything Spence! Of course I love you, you’re my best friend, it’s no big deal,” you said, dusting the rest of the flower off your own sweater.
“Oh. Yeah, of course, um. I’ll just… get the eggs,” he muttered, shuffling to the fridge. After a few moments of silence, you decided that you had nothing to lose.
“Spence?” you asked.
“Mm?” he hummed, focusing intensely on cracking an egg.
“I love you,” you said, setting down the spoon you were mixing with.
“Yeah, you said that Y/N. I love you too,” he smiled, lips pressed tightly together in a way that signaled he wasn’t saying everything that was on his mind, which he most definitely wasn’t.
“No, god this is not how I wanted to tell you. I wasn’t actually ever going to tell you but maybe the Christmas spirit is making me go crazy. I love you love you. Like, how… Mrs. Claus loves Santa,” you laughed nervously as silence filled the room. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said anything,” you apologized while avoiding his stare.
“You… love me love me?” he asked, corners of his lips curling into a soft smile.
“Mmhm,” you hummed, popping a chocolate chip into your mouth. That was when the laughing started. Spencer almost doubled over in laughter, his shocked expression shifting into amused disbelief. “Well you don’t have to laugh at me for being in love with you,” you huffed, irritated at his response. He quickly composed himself.
“No! I'm not laughing at you, I’m laughing at the situation,” he said, wringing his hands together. You raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. “God, Y/N, I mean was it not obvious?” he asked, smiling once again.
“What, Spence? You’re creeping me out,” you said warily.
“You are the sweetest, most beautiful person I have ever met. I think everyone who has ever met you has fallen in love with you,” he said, stepping forward a bit, encouraged by your entranced stare. “You are the only person I would spend the weekend baking and decorating with, I-I mean… wow. I can’t believe you’re in love with me,” he smiled, almost giddy at the thought. As you snapped out of your trance, you hit him lightly on the arm. “What?” he asked, grabbing his arm.
“Why didn’t you tell me you idiot!” you laughed, almost jumping into his arms. He was taken aback but he quickly brought his arms around you, pulling your body flush with his.
“I never thought you felt the same,” he whispered into your hair before pulling away. You looked him in the eyes for a moment before leaning in slowly.
“I always have,” you whispered before he connected your lips, the two of you finally melting into each other after your years of pining.
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Beat the System (Poe Dameron x f!Reader; high school AU)
BEAT THE SYSTEM
My darling @autumnleaves1991-blog is doing a Writer Wednesday thing (click that link for details) and today’s challenge was:
...so I wrote this little thing. may or may not be based on things that might have somewhat happened during my years as a summer amusement park lackey.
Word Count: ~2100
Summary: You see a lot of people at your summer job, and you didn’t really want to see him or for him to see you, but that’s not how the system works.
Warnings: Female reader. High School AU. References to clowns. Complaining. Nothing else really, just a lot of fluff. As usual, mostly kind of proofread.
You kind of hated your summer job.
It wasn’t so much that you hated having to get a job in the first place, after your parents insisted that’s what you’d need to do if you wanted your own car. And the job itself was actually pretty easy, at least in theory.
The ring toss stand at the local amusement park was your domain. Your days were spent surrounded by giant stuffed elephants and aliens and teddy bears, taking money, handing out rings, watching people throw them at bottles. Ninety-nine percent of the time this also meant watching them lose. The losses generally led to another futile round of buying and tossing. And, invariably, cussing; never mind that this was a family establishment and there was a five-year-old standing three feet away from the offender.
No, it was the job on repeat for eight hours a day, five days out of the week. It was seeing all your friends come by and have fun while you literally had to watch them (but hey, at least you got paid.) It was having to work every single weekend. And it was all the people. People you’d known your whole life, people who lived in neighboring towns, busses full of people from who knows where that flocked to this place every single year.
And it was just weird to think of this place as a destination. It was just the amusement park that was there all your life, that your parents went to when they were in high school, and maybe their parents did too. This place was freaking old. But why people felt the need to come by the busload from hours away--
“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here.”
The voice broke through your ranting brain and you looked up to see a familiar face grinning back at you from the other side of the booth.
Poe Dameron was a senior. He was captain of both the football and the soccer team, treasurer of the student council, sang on the chorus, played bass in the jazz band, was in the drama club, and you were pretty sure there were at least a dozen other things he just did because he was good at everything.
He was also ridiculously hot and the last person you wanted to see you in your ridiculous, brightly colored work uniform. He stood before you looking like he just crawled off the cover of a romance novel, all tan skin and dark curls and defined muscles, and there you were with a high ponytail and baggy shorts and a shirt that would put a clown to shame.
Honestly, all you needed were the giant floppy shoes.
He was also there with a group of his rowdy, juvenile football friends, which only promised to make this hell even more scorching. At least for now, they seemed to be occupied with ogling the girl who ran the tilt-a-whirl across the path and completely ignoring you.
You scrunched your face at him. “Poe, I’ve seen you here like twenty times this summer. You’ve even played this game before. You know I work here.”
“Okay, you got me,” his grin didn’t falter. You weren’t sure, but it might have even gotten a little bigger. He handed over ten dollars. “A bucket of rings, please.”
Great, he was going to hang around. You glanced at your watch, and it solemnly informed you that your break wasn’t for another hour and half. So you were stuck there. In a virtual clown suit. With the hot senior you might have had a little crush on.
Not like you ever doodled his initials in your notebooks or on scraps of paper when the crowds at the stand died down. You denied all knowledge of these supposed incidents.
You could act like a normal person in his presence.
You sighed and took the money from him, handing him a bucket full of red plastic rings in return. “You know this game is rigged, right? They all are.”
“So I’ve heard.” He picked up his first ring. “But I am determined to beat the system.”
You rolled your eyes. “Do you have to be good at everything?”
Poe shot you a quick side-eye before turning his attention back to the sea of bottles in front of him. He tossed the first ring and it flipped end over end before bouncing off a bottle top with a spectacular ding! His brow furrowed as he reached for another ring.
“Apparently not,” he muttered. “But I’ll still beat it. You see, there’s this girl I want to impress, and…” He tossed the second ring and watched it ricochet off another bottle top.
“Of course there is,” you snorted. “There’s probably a whole horde of them.”
He chuckled. “Nope, just one.”
You waved your arm in a grand gesture toward the playing field. “Well then, have at it, Romeo. You know the rules. No leaning over the rail, and you have to land five rings to win. Let me know when you need another bucket.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” he replied as he tossed yet another ring. You tried, you really really tried, to ignore the way the tip of his tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated.
And so it went until the entire bucket full of rings littered the floor of the stall, with nary a single one landing on its intended target. You grabbed the sweeper and started pushing them back into the bins underneath the counter.
Poe growled in frustration. “Seriously?!” He waved another ten in your direction and you handed him another bucket, giggling as you made the exchange.
“I told you, it’s rigged. But…” you crooked a finger to motion him closer. And then tried to remember how breathing worked as he leaned in, now just inches from your face.
“Yeah?” he whispered.
The attempt to subtly clear your throat was only half successful.
“Well, I didn’t tell you this,” you pointed toward the bottles, “but the table is slightly higher on that side, and so is that one part in the middle. If you aim for those bottles, you can probably bounce the rings onto the lower ones.”
The grin he flashed almost blinded you. “Beat the system.”
“Beat the system,” you agreed.
You leaned back and watched. After the first six rings or so, Poe seemed to figure out which bottles to aim for and how to toss the ring (with a bit of spin, of course) and before you knew it, his fifth ring landed on the center bottle and he was shouting “yes!” with a little fist pump.
“I am impressed, Dameron,” you said, clapping. “I bet this girl will be too.”
“I hope so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Did he suddenly look kind of shy? No, that wasn’t Poe Dameron. He was the polar opposite of shy.
“Which one?” you asked, pointing to the prizes hanging above you.
“Which one would you pick? If you just beat the system and you were trying to impress someone?”
“Uhhh…” Why in the world was he asking you? It didn’t matter, this was his deal, you just worked there. And quite honestly, you probably wouldn’t pick any of these monstrosities. They were huge. And kind of weird looking. And neon colored.
After a few moments of confused contemplation, your eyes finally landed on a giant purple teddy bear, half hidden behind a chartreuse alien and an orange thing that was trying to impersonate an octopus. You pulled it down and handed it over.
“Here you go, the least weird thing you just spent twenty bucks on when you could have just gone to the mall and bought something more reasonable.”
“Nah, this is perfect,” Poe replied, grabbing the bear. It was nearly half as big as he was. You often wondered how anyone dragged them around the park for the rest of the day, much less managed to get them home. “Thanks for the advice.”
You couldn’t help the smirk that rose on your lips. “It was either that, or have to explain to my supervisor why you would have ended up hanging around until the park closed.”
He laughed loudly. “Rey would have understood. She’s cool like that.”
“Geez, you’re good at everything, do you know everyone in the entire galaxy too?”
Poe didn’t seem to hear you, though, as he looked over his shoulder and around the area, and you followed his gaze. His friends were nowhere to be seen and vaguely, you wondered when they’d wandered off and why they hadn’t very loudly announced it to him. He glanced back at you with a sheepish smile.
“I, uh, I should go find the guys,” he said. “And let you get back to work.”
“Yeah, okay,” you replied. All of the easy-going rapport from the past however long Poe had been there suddenly evaporated and every ounce of awkwardness you normally felt around him returned. “I’ll see you.”
You might have been looking anywhere but at him, but you didn’t miss the small wave he gave you as he walked away, and you definitely felt the heat that rose in your cheeks.
Poe was quickly forgotten as a swarm of ten-year-olds rushed the stand and the incessant clanging of misthrown rings once again took over all your waking moments. You didn’t think about him for the rest of your shift. All you could think about was how tired you were, how hot the day had been, how much you wanted to shower and sleep and pretend you didn’t have to do this again tomorrow and--
Your feet ground to halt in the employee parking lot and approached your beloved car, the entire reason you had this forsaken job in the first place. Your car, which, you would have serious questions had you not known exactly where the thing came from, had a giant purple teddy bear sitting on the hood.
As you got closer, you could see something sticking out from beneath the bow tied around its neck. It was a slip of paper, with a phone number scrawled on it. And a little “P.” with a heart.
What was even happening right now.
Before you knew it, your phone was out of your purse and you were calling his number. Sure, you might have had to dial it four times because your nervous fingers kept pressing the wrong digits, but who was counting? And never mind that it was almost midnight. It was summer, he’d still be awake, right?
Finally you got it right, and the call picked up on the other end.
“Hi,” you breathed.
“Hey,” you could picture the trademark Dameron grin behind it. And he sounded...relieved? “I’m really glad you called.”
“How did you get into the employee parking lot?”
“I didn’t. I asked Rey for a favor. I figured she might know which car was yours. Told you she’s cool like that.”
You laughed softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess she really is.”
“So I do have a really important question for you. Well, two actually.”
“I’m listening,” you said. It was hard to hear anything over how hard your heart was thumping in your ears, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Question one. Can I take you out on a date?”
“Yeah,” you said again and closed your eyes, partly out of a need to center yourself and mostly out of sheer embarrassment. Maybe one day, you would remember how to speak to Poe Dameron in multiple word sentences, but right at this moment was not that time. Oh well.
“Awesome,” he breathed out. “I was hoping you’d say yes.”
“Yes.” Thankfully he didn’t seem to be deterred by your current lack of language skills.
Poe laughed warmly. “Now, second question. Did it work?”
This time you couldn’t even come up with a verbal response. You just erupted in a bout of giggles, Poe Dameron laughing along with you. And somehow, you got that ridiculous monstrosity of a teddy bear into your back seat.
The somehows kept coming. Somehow you remembered how to use words. Somehow it was well after midnight now without either of you giving it permission to get that late. Somehow your phone refused to end the call. Somehow the hours were slipping by until you had to be at the park for an early opening shift in the morning, and somehow you suddenly didn’t care at all about getting any sleep.
Maybe this job wasn’t so bad, after all.
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Walter Marshall x Reader
Summary: Walter did not like to waste time on stupid things, and being asked by some young troublemaker to start following an ex-girlfriend around fell under that category. At least, it did, until he found out just who the ex-girlfriend was.
Warnings: Cursing. Slight smut. Not Edited or anything of the sort, so expect little!
Note: This is just something I had saved that I thought I’d post while I finish up the Vampire Henry Series (Unexpectedly Bitten). I plan to post the rest of that fic all at once, most likely this weekend. As always, comments are appreciated :)
What a no-good loser. That’s what Walter thought the second Jimmy Masters walked through the front door of his office on a Saturday evening. He was a good six inches shorter than Walter, much scrawnier, ten years younger at least, and in desperate need of a haircut. He was the kind of kid Walter hated, the kind of kid that had probably seen the inside of a jailcell for a night or two for some stupid, petty crime, yet refused to learn his lesson.
Walter’s eyebrow arched in disinterest and he sat back in his chair, arms crossed as a coworker led the kid inside.
“We think this falls in your area, Marshall.”
Walter had only nodded and told the boy to sit to explain his reason for interrupting the first moment of peace in the day.
“I got a friend who says detectives know how to follow people real well,” Jimmy said, his voice an aggravating tone that Walter already couldn’t stand.
Walter cleared his throat. “Your friend is rather astute.”
The detective blew out a breath, exhausted after speaking with the kid for less than a minute. “Just tell me what you want.” And when Jimmy was done with his pitch, Walter said with a sigh, “You want me to follow a girl that clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you?”
“No, man. She loves me. She does. She’s just confused right now, and I gotta make sure there’s no other guy, ya know? I don’t want her messing around. It’s disrespectful.”
Walter heaved out another long sigh, rubbing at his temples. “But she’s your ex-girlfriend.”
Jimmy shook his head, his shaggy, dusty-blond hair swaying vigorously with the motion. “That’s temporary.”
Snorting, Walter sat up in his chair. “Sure it is. Look, you think maybe she just isn’t interested anymore?”
“Hey, I’m not here for additional commentary. Can you help me or not?”
“From what you’ve said, she’s not breaking any laws, she’s not a danger to herself or others, so I have no reason to—”
“Please, man. Please,” Jimmy said, putting his palms together in lame prayer. Walter was sure this boy hadn’t prayed to anything in his entire life. “I’ll never step foot in here again if you help me out just this once.”
Walter eyed the kid, trying to weight the pros and cons of wasting his time on something so inane, but if it got the little, blond twit to go away, then he figured there were worse things. It had been a slow week as it was. He groaned and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. “Fine. What’s her name?”
“Walter,” You said, trying to hold back any emotion in your voice as you moved aside to let him pass the threshold into your small apartment. As habit had it, you were much happier to see him than you wished. Walter always had a way of lighting your every nerve on fire from just your bodies being in the same room. You couldn’t help wanting him, missing him, but you hid it well.
As he walked in, his body trailed the outside chill behind, sending a shiver down your spine. Then he pulled the beanie you’d bought him off his head and turned to face you. Though the irritated look on his face was not an uncommon one, you didn’t appreciate it directed at you.
You crossed your arms. “Well?” Walter hung around quite often until you had asked him to quit it, and though he didn’t usually listen to you--putting his own concerns above your wishes--you knew he held a respect for you that made him at least try to keep his distance. If he was stopping by now…well, it could only bring you trouble, but not seeing his face in so long had you more lenient.
“Why is some punk walking into my precinct and asking me to follow you?”
Your eyebrows rose. “What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me. How many punks could you possibly have hanging around?”
Being a decade older, Walter often made you laugh at his distaste for younger adults. You were the one exception, he’d always said, but all others were ‘punks.’ He feared the day Faye had to deal with boys your age, if she were ever so unlucky. “You met Jimmy?”
His fists kept clenching and unclenching, his shoulders somehow broadened, and the frown on his face made his eyebrows pinch and dip deep. “This idiot is really attached to you, Y/N.”
The more he spoke, the more you realized that ‘irritated’ may have been too sweet a word for what Walter really was. “He just doesn’t like his ego being bruised.”
Walter shrugged off his winter coat and tossed it on the couch as if it was still normal for him to do so, then ran a hand through the dark, messy curls you always loved. “Why the hell are you messing around with a--?”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m not messing around with him anymore.”
“Well, he seems to think it’s temporary.”
Crossing his arms, Walter shook his head like a disappointed parent would at their bratty, misbehaving child; the way you’d seen him look at Faye every time he found out she was spending too much time on social media. “Stay away from this guy, alright?”
“You would tell me to stay away from any guy,” You mumbled to yourself with a snort.
“Do not give me attitude,” He snapped back. “You’re not being safe! If you were, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation!"
Instantly, your shoulders stooped and the same old headache began to form. “Not this again, Walt. According to you I’m never safe unless I’m in your line of sight.”
“Yes!” He yelled, stomping your way, stopping just short of ramming his body through yours. “Now if only you could stay in it!”
“You can’t have eyes on me all day every day.”
“The hell I can’t!”
“You promised, Walter.” You let out a small whine. “I told you it was too hard for me to keep seeing you around wherever I went, and you promised you would stop watching me.” You wished it didn’t have to be that way. You wished seeing his face didn’t bring on such a potent punch of pain, but it did. Every single day when you left your apartment, you saw him standing by his car, a coffee cup in hand, unashamedly watching you like some creep. Eventually, you stopped looking in the direction you knew he would be, hoping you may forget he was there at all, but you always felt his eyes on you; such a strong stare, he might as well have been touching you. But you couldn’t take it. Months of your every move being tracked by the man you loved but couldn’t have was taking its toll, and so you begged him to leave you alone, to give you some relief.
“I did stop, and what happened? Barely a month after I made that stupid promise, some dumb, obsessed kid comes asking me to stalk you.”
You leaned back against the wall, growing more exhausted by the minute. “Well, with all the past practice you’ve had watching my every move, I’d say he was rather smart to pick you of all people. Shitty coincidence that he would though, since now I’m getting lectured.”
“I am not lecturing you.”
“Fine, but whatever this is you’re doing here, you’re out of line. My business is not your business anymore. It hasn’t been your business for the last five months.”
“Your little boyfriend came to me,” He said, pointing a finger at his chest, “so yes, it is my bus--”
“It is not!” You bit back. “You could’ve turned him away. You could’ve told him not to follow me around unless he was itching to get a restraining order, but you didn’t, did you? You took this opportunity to check up on me. Again!”
He stepped back, looking as if you had slapped him. His aggressive, guarded barrier of emotions cracked, and you could see the vulnerability he hadn’t shown since your relationship ended.
“Walter” You sighed, “You’re the one who stepped back. You’re the one who said it would be best if we weren’t in a relationship. You said I was a distraction and—”
“I said you’d be at risk, not that you’re a distraction.”
“It doesn’t make a difference.”
“Damn it, Y/N, it does! I only did it because I love you!” He said without hesitation, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know that!”
You blinked. “No, I did not know that! You seriously broke up with me because you love me? That’s ridiculous.”
“I broke up with you to keep you safe, but I clearly suffered for nothing seeing as you put yourself in unsafe situations even without my association.”
You wanted to believe him, so bad, but people don’t leave behind the ones they love. After all, you loved him and the thought of leaving him made you nauseous, even now. When you were together, he may have appeared in love, but after a year he still hadn’t told you and you knew you’d let yourself get a little too hopeful. If you were honest with yourself, him breaking up with you was not as much of a shock as it should’ve been. But as you looked at him now, you could see that he truly believed you already knew.
“It doesn’t make sense that you would do that,” You said. “People don’t just break up with someone they love.”
“Fuck, Y/N, did I ever seem unhappy with you? Did I ever come across like I didn’t want you every second of every day? My every other thought was of you,” He said loudly, like a rant, and you were having a hard time figuring out who he was mad at. “So don’t try to tell me how I felt, and feel now. I still love you and that’s not going to change, but I can’t have criminals, murderers even, coming after you because they are pissed at me for hunting them down or having a case against them. It would take nothing for the average officer or detective to figure out that you and I were together even if we were hiding it. How hard do you think it would be for some psychopath?”
You hadn’t realized a tear slipped down your cheek until you tasted it at the corner of your lips. It was salty but somehow bitter and left a thick burning path along your skin. You quickly wiped it away. “Why didn’t you tell me this months ago?”
“Because, stubborn as you are, you wouldn’t have listened. You would have told me it didn’t matter.” He fell backwards onto the couch, closing his eyes and letting out a groan. “I try to do the right thing. I try to protect you, thinking everything will be fine as long as no one can link you to me, but I can’t…stay away.” His eyes met yours. “And then you beg me to, and it’s excruciating to obey. When I was able to watch over you, it reminded me that I did the right thing. You were safe and I could constantly be reassured of that.”
You walked over to him, your heart thumping with every step, then sat on your knees in front of him, placing your hand atop his own resting on his thigh. His other hand reached for your face and his fingers softly grazed your cheek before they tucked some hair behind your ear. “Walt—”
“That kid…Jimmy,” Walter interrupted as he began tracing the back of your hand with his thumb. “He thinks you’re in love with him.”
“Of course, Walt. I told you--”
“I know,” He said with a single nod of his head. “I know. Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep now.”
You rested your cheek on the inner side of his knee and said, “You could sleep here.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” You bit your lip nervously. You couldn’t even dare to count how many times you’d had sex during the course of your relationship, but now, asking him not to leave made your pulse thrum in your ears.
He leaned forward and looked down at you. “Because I don’t think I can say no to you.”
“Then why would you bother trying,” You whispered without a second thought and slowly inched up on your knees so you could connect your lips with his.
It lasted only a second or two before he broke the kiss, grabbed you by the arm, and yanked you onto his lap. His grip at the back of your neck pulled your mouth to his as your hand slipped between your bodies and quickly started to undo his belt buckle.
“God, baby,” Walter groaned against your lips when you wrapped your fingers around his thick cock and released it from his jeans. He pulled the ratty, old t-shirt of his over your shoulders and softly settled his hands on your hips. “Damn it.”
“Nothing. I just…missed these,” He said, placing a kiss on one bare breast, then the other. “I missed you, so much.” He placed his lips to the curve of your neck, then met your eyes. “I miss you every fucking day.”
You kissed his forehead, and his arms tightened around you as you lifted your hips and sank down onto him. “I missed you too, Walter,” You said, but the words melted somewhere within the mix of your moans and his groans.
Tags: @agniavateira @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss @the-problem-of-leisure @meganwinchester1999
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Oh god I feel like I need a masterpost or rant or sth re the shit with taylor why was it so shitt why was everyone so dramatic am I missing something
OH GOD I MADE A HAYLOR MASTERPOST
Oh god.... Okay this got WAY outta hand I just couldn't stop digging.
I'm assuming because you're in my inbox you came from the post about how Ever Since New York might be about Haylor in the context of it absolutely breaking Harry into pieces by linking to a bunch of songs including some of Taylor's. That kinda stands on its own tho as it's purely based on how their (Harry/Louis/Taylor) lyrics fit together. I expressed my thoughts on Haylor there a bit but these are not the thoughts of someone who lived through that stunt tho, and are mostly based on how I interpret their lyrics. But lucky for you I love digging so I unhinged once again:
HERE IS A VERY LONG COLLECTION OF LINKS FROM ALL OVER THE PLACE RELATING TO HAYLOR
I was part of the blissful general public in 2012 so I didn't pay much attention as it went on, so for real good rants about this let's listen to the people that did and saw it all go down on a day to day basis. Inchrestingly there were some haylor talks the past few days, so have some really fresh 2021 larriewarflashbacks to dec 2012:
this anon rant in @twopoppies inbox
>>this rant<< by @lornasaurusrex ,tag and all the links in that post
this about their recent interaction at the grammys
And from some digging:
GP - Haylor from the public's point of view or basically just a collection of pics of them together in choronogical order by someone who isn't questioning if it was real, showing very perfectly how they are perceived by the public and actually how succesfull this stunt was, while all they did was hang out and be seen, smile for cameras. This isn't really helping to get clarity on the subject but I always like to view things from other angles, and I think this post shows the stunt from a GP's point of view. Also there's a link at the end to a video of Harry just trying to PR stunt with Taylor's father instead of her it's hilarious.
Haylor was a stunt - MASSIVE debunk (this is really really long and I didn't read it so sorry if it's not great lol)
SWIFTGRON - debunk timeline from someone who believes Taylor was actually dating Dianna at the time
1D - daily timeline of what 1D was doing at the time of the stunt, basically highlighting how ridiculously busy they were, if you look at this and don't think they were under an insane amount of pressure (even without any closeting/stunting on top of it) I don't know what to tell you. It also puts a lof of things in perspective (also note how Harry&Louis are both sick around the same times, hmm)
LARRY - some cute nov 2012 still happy at this point moments - a collection of miserable faces in december, also that debunk and the 1D timeline serve as one.
Back to rants:
this tag rant:
tag rant about "horrible fking told you" Taylor shading Harry during an award show
tag rant about Louis having to comment on Haylor, actually im just gonna paste that one in a pic here too because it's too important
And now to go on a rant myself (still some links in there), I think that's a good time for a cut:
Since that NY kiss resurfaced from a "better angle" somewhat recently (here that is, which is... hard to watch.) let's just go there too. Looking into how a face is looking miserable or body language can all easily be misinterpreted, but I mean cmon, if that kiss doesnt trigger any fight or flight responses in you you're really not paying attention. Seriously Harry looks like he's fking praying (ever since new york, thinking almost over, had enough from you) just a shell of a person. (a post about this too)
Harry never (AFAIK) talked shit about her or crushed anyone's fantasies in any deliberate matter that he might not want much to do with her, that his songs might not be about her, or at least not in the way people would like to think, and Harry has done nothing but praise her (songwriting) whenever she was brought up (harry talking about her for 7 mins straight, he's good at these things but pay attention to what he doesn't say, how he's doing the bare minimum, how when asked about her he focuses on her songwriting instead, maybe because he doesn't have much positive to say about her as a person perhaps?), but back in the early days Louis being a subtle petty lil shit slipped through quite a lot, he was salty about it, (still sneaking in a shady comment as far as in 2015 and harry's reaction is pure gold too). Then from Taylor's side of things, I haven't paid enough attention to her, but judging from these rants she sure went places that weren't very nice a couple of times.
I think with all the songs we have now, and maybe you're not as much into trying to interpret their songs with lyrical deep dives as much as I am and think there isn't much to gain there, I think there is, and I think it all fits with this stunt happening back in 2012 absolutely destroying harry(&louis) and pushing them further into narnia, continuing to curse him for the longest time, and with that I'd say all the sad faces and little things that did slip through the cracks of the show they were all putting on back then that were picked up on by the ranters linked above, that these were indeed showing their true feelings. That they were crushed. They were miserable. They didn't want any of it. Then again from Taylor's side of things, there's a severe presense of some kind of he don't try at all tho-vendetta going on in Taylor's music, like she just can't stop just poking that ghost, just littering her 1989 album with things that can be linked to Harry, which I think more often than not are just stunt lines, just cover ups for whatever she was really dealing with, and still going at it in her latest albums, although less "look at us playing this game" and more "yeah ok that was really shit that stunt".
I'm really not sure if that answered anything. I mean if the part of "am I missing something here" was that you're missing why they were miserable, why people are pressed about this, and I need to go a little more meta and start linking why oh why why this stunt could possibly make them miserable, why closeting is horrible, maybe for that just plomp down this quote from Lance Bass who was closeted while in a boyband:
“Bottom line is what the record labels look at. They just wanna make money. And if this artist isn’t going to pull in this many fans because they are gay, they are not gonna support him this much. And I see that with so many people. It was very torturous because I didn’t want people to find out who I truly was. I thought especially in the 90s that if anyone knew I was gay that my life would be over. People would hate me, N’Sync would be over. It was a lot of pressure. You become very lonely.” - Lance Bass
as well as having to deal with how you're portrayed in the media and it not reflecting who you really are (while you're really young too) while being put under pressure not just just being busy doing promo, being away from home, but while that's all going on to be constantly on your toes not to slip up and hide not just who you really are yourself but also your relationship and seeing the one you love having to do the same added on top of it, and then getting whole new fresh layer of shit added to it when after months of that including the buildup media speculation of "haylor" actually having to go out to be seen with someone that's not the person you want to be spending your time with, even having to kiss them, while having to be physically away from the person you want to be with and they are out there doing the same, all while most likely being told and perhaps even believing that this is best for everyone, so you do it, but maybe just maybe that would make you just a tad bit unhappy.
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Of Bad Beer and Summer Nights. #Writer Wednesday 04/28/21 Javier Peña x f!reader
Summary: it’s just another summer day at the pool. Sunbathing before your shift starts, the day changes drastically when you cannot take your eyes off a handsome stranger.
Warning: mention of alcohol and swearing. NSFW +18 SMUT (oral and p in v sex)
Paring: Javier Peña x F! reader
A/N: Another take on the #Writer Wednesday challenge by @autumnleaves1991-blog !!
Not me basing all this on the label of the beer that’s shown on the cans and my obsession with Javier Peña and his ridiculous fashion choices. This is the first thing I write with a little spice on it and I’m still not that comfortable but we’re getting there. Not beta’d and my eyes are burning so I have read it just once so if they’re any mistakes, misspellings and bad grammar I’m really sorry.
Of bad beer and summer nights
The kids’ screams from the pool muffles the tunes of some old ranchera blasting from the bar’s stereo. The old guard of retire men gather around the plastic white tables drinking cold beer and playing dominoes and you lower your book, sunbathing under this blazing sun, and smile; this is your childhood, your home and even that you had convinced yourself that you were done with this, that you wanted to run away, this speaks to your nostalgia and the fondest memories you own.
The heat makes you lazy and your stretch your body feeling your bones as if they were made of jelly. You drop the book on your stomach; you were not actually paying too much attention to it anyway and look around the pool: kids running around with water guns, angry mothers trying to control them and the men on the bar. Usually they’re around 70 or plus on average, they occupy their usual spot under the parasols early in the morning and spend their time doing their retirement routine: newspaper, same old conversation and complain about the world, beer and dominoes, until it’s time to eat or to switch their drink to coffee. But today a tall, lean, brown haired man is breaking the age median. He’s younger and stands out not only for his strong physic but because he wears a bright pink shirt and some yellow aviators and the tightest jeans you’ve seen on a man. You’re sure you’d question anybody else’s fashion choice if they were wearing that, but surprisingly, it fits him, probably because he exudes confidence, maybe it’s his broad shoulders, maybe it’s his golden skin revealed by the way–too-much-unbuttoned shirt he wears, maybe it’s his dark hair or his striking features or maybe it’s because of his dark coffee brown eyes that are fixed on you. His eyes. Shit.
You were so absorbed looking at him that you didn’t realize he had taken off his glasses and it’s now seated facing the pool and you from the bar. He smirks when you try, ungracefully, to grab your book back, the paper is stuck to your skin since you had spread it generously with tanning oil. The pages are ruined but you actually don’t care, you just open it before your eyes and try to conceal that you were looking at him like a creep. After a few minutes, you raise the novel just enough to see if he's looking but he's gone. Disappointed, you turn to the other side and let the sun bronze your skin and achieve that serene state that you had before he arrived at the pool.
"Hey, you, burnt sloth, it's time" somebody pokes on your shoulder
"Burnt sloth, seriously?" You say, you feel your mouth is dry and your brain is slowly coming back to life "it's my shift already?"
"Yep, actually you're two minutes late" Marisa grabs the elastic of your bikini bottom and pulls it and lets it go until it slaps your skin
"Ouch! I'm coming" you finally get up
"C'mon, Mr. Garcia has joined the party at the bar, and you'll be late for his speech on the loss of traditional family values" she announces. You glance at the other side of the pool, the old man walks with difficulty towards his retired friends table
"Shit, you do it on purpose" you say and Marisa smirks "my shift always starts when there's one of the annoying customers time to arrive, that's not fair"
"Is there anybody attending the bar?!" You both turn to see Mr. Garcia raising his cane and screaming at you
"I'm coming" you answer, grabbing your jean shorts and the white shirt with staffwritten on it. You toss your clothes on over your bikini and run towards the bar.
"Sorry, Mr. Garcia, the usual?" You ask while tying up your apron
"Yes, please. This is what's wrong with this country now the youth has lost the will to work hard to really make an effort…"
Even his friends roll their eyes, but you know it will be a minute until he finishes the list of bad things he wants to rant about.
Marisa has occupied your deck chair and winks at you while she spreads her sun cream. Bitch you mutter towards her and she smiles and lays back.
The rest of your shift consists in ignoring Mr. Garcia and looking at Marisa with jealousy. When the sun is almost gone she joins you on the counter.
"I'll have until Jack comes to pick me up, I thought you needed some company" she says bending herself over the bar to grab a glass
"Yeah, now that they're about to leave, how convenient" you point to the old men table "what do you want?"
You take two ice cold cans and serve hers on her glass while you keep yours under the wood counter
“Tomorrow you will take my shift by the way" you say leaning on the fridge
"Nope" she says having a sip of her drink
"You wanna bet?" You counter knowing that she likes to play. She thinks about it for a second but when you open the cards box and leave the deck in front of her she nods
"Just for tomorrow though" Marisa shakes your hand and you distribute the cards between you two.
You try to focus on the game, she's better than you and you really don't want to take another shift like this. But all your concentration leaves your body once you see out of the corner of your eyes, a pink bright shirt and a tall figure.
"Hi, are you ready Pops?" He says, his voice is deep while he gently taps on one of the old men at the table
"No, give me a minute, I'm actually winning for once" he says laying one of the domino pieces on the table
"Right" he smiles warmly at him and you think he couldn't be more handsome but he actually approach the counter and now, looking at him closer he’s even more attractive
“Can I have a beer please?” he asks taking a seat on a stool. You nod and grab one from the fridge.
He examines the golden can with an arched eyebrow “Don’t you have a bud?”
“No, we only have calidad (quality) and let me warn you that the title is actually ironic” you answer, for a second you hope he doesn’t actually get mad at your little joke but he smiles widely “I trust you then, I won’t take my chances with this so... can I have a whiskey then?” he pass you the can and you turn to put it back on the fridge and glance over the bottles you have. All of them are the cheapest labels on the market, but you know your boss reserves some good old Jack Daniels well hidden and you crouch down to get it from the back of the utilities cupboard.
“I don’t know if I want that drink either if you took it from where you keep the cleaning stuff” he laughs
“Don’t worry, it’s legit, it’s my boss’s. He doesn’t want to expend one cent on the clients but for himself...that’s another thing” you pour him the amber liquor and you cannot help but notice that he’s looking at you intently
“You don’t serve whiskey often, right?” he gets closer and almost whispers it in your ear
“Why?” you ask and raise your head suddenly realizing that you’re really close. His scent is intoxicating, some fresh body wash and the musk of his cologne mixed with the whiskey you’re serving him
“Normally you will serve just two or three fingers” he explains putting two of his fingers on the glass so you can see what he means, the glass is half full.
“Shit” you stop pouring and leave the bottle on the counter while he chuckles
“Either that or you’re really generous or I’m and excellent costumer” he jests
“You are!” you respond right away and you clear your throat once you realize how stupid it sounded “or I’m a terrible waitress, I think that’s more probable”
“Agreed!” Marisa claims, you actually forgot about her
“I don’t think so” he shakes his head “You were really honest about the quality of the beer, you could have just gave me that trash and say nothing”
“Well, I’m drinking one while working, I keep it hidden under the counter and I’m gambling with my friend to see if I can change my shift for hers tomorrow” you confess, he looks amused at you
“What shift is that?” he asks
“Morning, there’s none” Marisa answers
“You actually cannot take that shift” he looks at you now
“Why?” you say puzzled
“Because you’re busy tonight, probably will arrive late and you should sleep” he sips his whiskey and you still observe him not understanding
Marisa smack her lips “she’s clueless”
“I see” he smiles again, that damn smile “at what time do you close?”
“She’ll be off at seven” Marisa answers and you turn your head from one to the other like you’re watching a tennis game you don’t really understand
“What are you...”
“He’s asking you out, dummie” Marisa rolls her eyes at you with a frustrated grunt
“If it’s alright for you unless you really want that early morning shift” he looks at you from under his lashes and you don’t know how a man like that can be smoldering hot one minute and this cute the next
“She’s going!” Marisa answers before you could make your mind
“Wait, I have nothing to wear and I have to...”
“There’s a dress on my locker, the code is 6754 and I don’t trade my shift anyway, you don’t have excuses” a car horns from the door “That’s Jack, don’t take no for an answer!” she points to the man running towards her boyfriend’s car.
“There’s no pressure, if you don’t want to...”
“No, I want to, really” you say focusing on the stains on your apron
“I’m Javi by the way” he smiles fondly and raises his hand, you respond with your name and shake it
“Really nice to meet you” you say softly
“Let’s go, son, this damned dominoes are jinxed!” his father walks out from the table gathering a few laughs and jokes from his friends
Javi reaches from his wallet when Mr. Garcia raises his cane again “Don’t let him pay, anything he had it’s on me”
You look at him confused and Javier, for the first time in your brief acquaintance looks shy and actually uncomfortable. He thanks the man and walks to his father about to leave the place
“I’ll pick you up at seven” he says, winking at you
“Can we have the check young lady or do we have to do it ourselves” Mr. Garcia gets you out of your daydreaming and you rush to clean up and say goodbye to the old loyal customers before they leave you alone to close.
You don’t actually have time to do much, just shower and look inside Marisa’s locker hoping for the best. You find a white summer dress and some flat sandals that fit you, you try your best with your hair and the little make up you have in your bag. And you wait for Javi to arrive.
He’s punctual, arriving just on time on his pick up car.
“Hi” he has changed for another bright shirt, this time blue that matches his skin perfectly. He wears those yellow sunglasses and the same tight jeans and you cannot believe that you actually think it’s the most gorgeous a man has look ever. You staring more that you should again, how the muscles on his forearm tense and relax while driving
“We’re going outside Laredo, if you don’t mind” he says eventually
“It’s fine by me, unless you’re planning to kill me and leave me in the middle of nowhere” you shot
“No, I’m not planning to do that” he chuckles
He takes you to one of those big restaurants outside the city with live music and the best BBQ you’ve ever tasted. The conversation flows nicely even if you have to slap yourself sometimes because you continue to stare in a very obvious way.
“So, why did Mr. Garcia pay for your drink?” you ask after while “He never does one kind thing for nobody, are you a celebrity or something?” you joke
“You actually don’t know?” he drinks from his beer and he has a curious look on him
“No, are you famous?”
He makes a gesture with his hand “Mmm more or less”
“I go every weekend to the movies so it’s certainly not movies” you guess and you place your hand on your chin “Singing? Do you sing rancheras? it’s the only thing he likes so... c’mon sing!”
“You don’t want to hear that”
“Okay, so it’s not singing” you bite your lip trying to come up with something “are you one of those dude’s that do that thing with the lasso” and you mimic the gesture
“A professional cowboy?” he laughs out loud “No, nothing really artistic about my fame”
“Okay” you reflect on what he said and after a few minutes you slap the table “I got it! You’re actually a very famous mobster and Mr. Garcia owes you money, always thought he had some shady business going on”
“Do I look like a mobster?” he laughs
“No! I don’t mean it like that”
“But you thought about it”
“It’s just...” you stutter
“You exude confidence, you look cocky and very sure of yourself kinda like you own the place when you walk in and people do what you say” you explain blushing “dangerous and sexy” the beer is kicking in harder than you thought and you lean on his shoulder “like you can kill somebody” his amused expression fades and a dark and timid veil covers his face
“Oh shit” you answer “ H-have you?” you murmur, he nods softly and averts his eyes
“Well, if you’re not in jail I guess you are...law enforcement? army?”
“DEA” he responds with a deep breath
“How...how does a DEA agent become famous?”
“I was part of the team that hunted Pablo Escobar” he answers, his arms are crossed on the table and he’s looking down
“Are you kidding?” you gasp “Did you meet him? Are you the one that shot him?”
“I was not even there when it happened and never actually met him”
You can see his eyes glowing and how tense he looks now, all confidence and bravado is gone and he finishes his beer leaving your date in an uncomfortable point
“I’m sorry I brought that up” you brush your hand over his, yours looking small against his “I was joking, I’m obviously clueless about dates and have a big mouth, I’m sorry again”
“No, no” he holds your hand between his warm palms “I really thought you’d heard, that’s why I wanted to take you out from Laredo where everybody brings that up”
You hold your head on your hands “I’m an idiot, I’m sorry”
“Hey, hey!” he takes your hands and brushes his fingers on your chin until you look at him in the eye “It’s not your fault, let’s move on, okay?” his thumb is closer now to your lower lip and you see his eyes lowering until he’s looking at your mouth for a second before he points to the dance floor “Do you dance?”
“Do we give it a go and make a fool of ourselves?” he asks holding your hand and you nod enthusiastically
The people on the dance floor judge you when you actually don’t know the moves that goes with this type of music, but you’re laughing like little kids and you see how he tries to hold you every time he gets the chance, his big hands on your waist, and arm on your lower back that burns like the sun and when finally they change to a slow song, he presses you against his chest and you moan softly when he locks you there with his hands on your back. You reach for his neck and tangle your fingers on his nape.
“I have a confession to make, agent” you whisper on his ear
“I was looking at you at the pool and hoped that you came back when you left and actually ruined my novel in the process”
“And I was looking back at you and came back to pick up my father when he actually didn’t need it” he responds, his warm breath over your temple, you smile openly and you think your heart could leave your chest in that very moment
“and another thing...”
“I never actually liked guys with mustache and now all I can think about is how does it feel when you kiss” you hide your face from him feeling his laughter resonate on his chest
You raise your head even though your cheeks burn and your rational brain in screaming that you barely know the guy but then his lips brush over your softly and they’re as soft as they looked, you let him lead you mainly because the sensation is overwhelming and when he gently touches your mouth with his tongue you let him in, you let him taste you and you moan, Javi smiles briefly over your soft expression of pleasure and becomes more eager, hardening the kiss. You don’t know how long you’ve been there but when you break the kiss your head is spinning and you have to hold onto his shoulders
“So?” he says with a cocky smile
“Nice, really nice”
You don’t want this night to end, you park alongside the riverbank in Laredo, he has put down a big blanket on his pickup truck so you’re comfortable seating on it and Javier bought some cold beer at the gas station. The summer night is clear; the moon and stars shine and are reflected on the black waters of the river and you can only hear the soft sounds of the insects and the breeze moving the grass.
“Can I ask you something?” you’re both seated next to each other, swinging your legs until you touch him
“Why did you choose the DEA?”
“I just wanted to get away from here” he shrugs
“You caused too much trouble? Broke too many hearts?” you jest tapping his arm with your elbow
“Why do you say that?” he turns to face you
“You look like someone who could do that” you murmur “Are you going to break my heart?” Now you adjust your position so now you’re both face to face
“I hope not”
You think over his answer, it’s actually pretty honest. You had had promises of eternal love and “never ever going to hurt you” before and then they left you with your heart bleeding and your confidence undermined. So you prefer this, the truth. Neither of you know what’s going to happen, there’s only tonight and that you don’t want to get back to real world. The river, the moon and the two of you on his car are the only thing real, they only thing that exists right now.
You arise on your knees and save the distance between you holding his head on your hand. It’s you who lead the kiss this time and he lets you savor him. He holds your hips and gently pushes you on his lap. You lower your kisses to his jaw and then his neck tasting his perfume mixed with his sweat that it’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about doing since this morning, he emits a guttural moan and you feel your arousal between your thighs. Your hands act faster that you can think and unbuttons his shirt. In the moonlight his skin is soft and it’s splattered in small freckles that you kiss trying to count each one with a touch of your lips.
He doesn’t stay still for much longer and raises your summer dress kneading the skin of your legs, up to your butt and your hips. He separates you from him and you’re about to complain when you feel he’s pushing you softly to the blanket. You lay down taking a deep breath while your gaze at the night sky full of tiny bright dots that reminds you of his skin and how you crave to have him on your lips again.
You raise your head once you feel him touching your calf, his fingers softly trailing over you until he take off your sandals, and when it’s done, he grabs your legs and roam his hands up and down on them until he pulls your legs apart. Javier gets in the space between your legs and without breaking his burning look at your eyes, he takes off his shirt and unbuckles his belt.
“Please” you whisper and reach your hand towards him; he takes it and kisses your palm before bending over you. The hunger you have for his lips is finally over when he kisses you again deep and moaning against your lips.
He mimics what you did earlier and bites your jaw and your neck, scattering kisses over your clavicles. He gets up an instant just to take off your dress and admires you for a second before continuing his kisses where he had left them. You bend your back when your breasts are exposed to the fresh summer air but are immediately cover by his big warm hands and then his mouth graze each one with the most delicious attention kissing and licking your nipples until biting your lip can’t contain your whimpers
“You don’t have to be quite, there’s none” he says liberating your lower lip from your bite with his thumb “Your moans will be only for my ears and I want to listen to every single one of them” he says and leaves a kiss on your sternum before grabbing your waist pressing his face on your stomach and again repeats the action of spattering kisses and soft bites to your skin.
Once he reaches the elastic of your panties he looks at you intently. You’re a moaning mess, squirming under his touch and feeling your flesh ablaze even if the night is actually quite fresh
“Please” you whisper again and he softly raises your hips rolling the lace over your thighs. The midnight air makes you shiver. He kisses again your belly over the tan marks biting gently your hip bones before parting your legs widely.
He softly tortures you avoiding your core. His mouth licking and brushing his teeth on each thigh deeper and deeper and before arriving to the center he changes his position to the other leg
“Javi” you moan
“You’re so beautiful” he murmurs, lying on his side he leans his head on your inner right thigh. He’s as gentle as first as he was before leaving tempting kisses on your mount and folds before opening your lips to drink of you eagerly. His moans resonate through your body as an electric current and your nails scratch the blanket bellow. You call his name like a prayer, the pleasure is uncontrollable while you hope for release, he slides his fingers inside you and pumps them upwards and then you are lost in his presence and in the night above you. You hear yourself scream, your conscience is far away.
He hushes you and holds you in his arm and you waste no time in kissing him again, a deep hard kisses in which you pour all your passion and your lust. Your hands act on their own and you reach for his jeans and force them down enough until your palming his cock.
Javi understand your needs and takes down his jeans and underwear rapidly coming back to the position between your thighs. Your eyes are locked on his body admiring how he touches himself and you raise your upper body to caress his chest
“Please Javi I need you”
“Lay down” he orders, his voice is lower now and you quiver “Impatient girl” he smirks
You obey and Javier grabs your hips and he adjusts himself towards your entrance. You open your mouth once he penetrates you but there’s no sound coming out of your lips. He mutters praises for you and bends over to kiss you again. Your tongues intertwine as he’s deep inside of you, burying himself inside and getting out again and again until you’re panting looking for that ecstatic pleasure.
You cover his moans with a deep kiss once he reaches his orgasm and you hold him there. Breathing the scent of the surroundings, your sweat and his combined, you stay there until you’re calm, relaxed, and exhausted in the sweetest way.
“Thank you for not letting me change my shift” you say after a few minutes
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Hii, i love your fics, you practically keep this ship alive, thank you for that!! Could you do like a story with possessive/jealous James and oblivious Sirius. Like Sirius doesn't even realise when people are flirting with him and obviously many people flirt with him, because he's gorgeous. And maybe one time a person flirts with him and gets handsy, but Sirius doesn't want that and James tells them to f*ck off or something. Pretty please (only if you have time of course)
James was going to snap one of these days, he could feel it. Someone was going to flirt with Sirius, and instead of James telling them to bugger off-- because James was his boyfriend and he was right there-- he was going to just kill them. Homicide, with a very good motive. He didn't think he could be blamed for it.
He was the possessive sort, alright? He'd spent years pining for Sirius, so now that they were dating, he wanted Sirius all to himself. Unfortunately, Sirius was bloody wonderful and as fit as a sodding angel, and other people had a tendency to notice. Sirius was also a touch oblivious and never noticed when people were flirting with him. James wouldn't mind that so much, except when James, as the boyfriend, told people to leave, they looked to Sirius to confirm that he wanted them gone-- as if James would ever do something Sirius didn't want. Honestly. The idea was ludicrous.
Sirius was gorgeous, people knew it, it bothered James, and he would really like it if they just stopped please. And okay, it's not like James had a problem with people knowing that Sirius was fit as hell-- it was an unavoidable fact of the universe, after all-- he had a problem with them acting on it. Seriously, just... leave him alone. Notice all you want, but don't say a damn thing about it.
There was a limit to how much of an arse James could be to people that liked Sirius. He knew this for a fact, because Sirius had gotten mad at him when he went a bit- ahem, over the top when they first started dating. That being said, James drew the line at people actually touching Sirius. That wasn't even a him-being-jealous thing, that was a Sirius thing. Sirius didn't like people touching him unless he was completely comfortable around them-- that meant it was a short list of the Marauders and James's parents. Everyone else needed to keep their hands very far away from him. James had sort of thought that, after graduating Hogwarts, it wouldn't be a problem he'd have to deal with. After all, adults were better at keeping their grubby little hands to themselves, right?
Wrong. He was so incredibly wrong. Adults had more tact than teenagers, but they weren't better, not really.
They were in Diagon Alley getting some shopping done when it happened. James was looking at the new racing broom in the window and wondering if he could convince Sirius to go inside with him so he could get a closer look-- he didn't want to buy it, but he wanted to see the specifications for it, just to see how it compared to the other top models.
When James turned back to Sirius, there was some bloke next to him asking, "Would you like to get some coffee with me? Or tea, I'm not fussy."
Sirius, somehow oblivious to the fact that this was asking for a first date, frowned a little in confusion. "Erm, no thanks."
"Aw come on, what's one cuppa going to hurt?" the man asked with what James could tell was supposed to be a charming smile, and James was about to do a nice, normal break up there by asking if Sirius wanted to go in the quidditch shop, but then the bloke put his hand on Sirius's arm.
Sirius looked down at it uncomfortably. He was about to shrug off his hand while making some excuse to be polite-- because, for some reason, Sirius was unfailingly nice to people's faces now that they were out of school even if he would rant about them to James as soon as they were in private-- but James beat him to it.
He put a hand on this bloke's wrist and wrenched him away from Sirius. "Don't touch him."
"Who're you?" he asked, stepping back. James let go of his wrist, because unless he was planning on punching him, he had no reason to hold on. And, yes, that idea was certainly appealing, but Sirius would get mad at him, not to mention they were in broad daylight and he'd surely get in some sort of trouble. He tried to calm himself down by keeping in mind that it's not like this bloke was trying to force Sirius into anything; he was trying to be persuasive. Albeit, a little more hands on than James thought was socially appropriate.
"I'm his boyfriend. Don't bloody touch him," James said, his tone firm and unforgiving.
Sirius drew his arm back to himself and rubbed at the area that had been touched to get rid of the sensation.
"You have a boyfriend?" the stranger asked Sirius.
"Yeah, it's what he said, isn't it?" Sirius said.
"Then why were we talking?"
Sirius frowned. "You're the one who came up to me and started talking. It's not like I sought you out."
"Right, but you flirted back. Why would you do that if you're dating someone?"
Sirius's frown deepened. "I wasn't flirting."
The man rolled his eyes. "Whatever, have a good day mate."
James had to stop himself from snapping that the two of them were certainly not friends either, but since he was leaving, it was easier than normal to hold his tongue.
"You too," Sirius said automatically. He turned to James, looking like a sad, confused puppy. "Was I flirting?"
"No," James said, putting an arm around his waist and kissing his cheek. Sirius leaned into it, like he always did.
"Then why did he think I was? I thought we were just talking."
"He was flirting, and when you didn't tell him to bugger off, he took that to mean you were interested. Don't worry about it, people are bloody weird."
"Is that always what happens when you get mad at people talking to me?"
"Oh." The answer didn't seem to make Sirius feel any better.
"It puts a few things in perspective. Nothing but love James, but I always thought you were kind of overreacting when you got jealous. I didn't realise people were actually hit on me that often. No wonder you're bothered."
James was, on the one hand, glad that Sirius knew he wasn't being utterly ridiculous, but on the other hand, he wanted Sirius to cheer up-- and the truth was that James did overreact, he just thought it was worth it. "It's not really that bad. People try to show you that they're interested, and I take it as my personal mission to scare them off," he said with a grin. "What can I say? I like having you all to myself."
"You already have me," Sirius said, fighting a smile.
"That is hardly important. Like I said, I want you all to myself." He punctuated the sentence by giving Sirius a squeeze that never failed to make him laugh-- whether it was because he found it funny or because it tickled, James had no idea, but it always cheered him up.
As Sirius's laugh faded, he rubbed at his arm again.
"Y'know, if you want, we could go home, and I can remind you why you don't get rid of me."
"Your stunning good looks?" Sirius said, turning to him with a small smile.
"I was going to say my skills in bed, but that works too."
"That's certainly a tempting idea, but I thought you wanted to go in," he said, gesturing to the quidditch shop.
"It's alright. I can go in next time we're here."
"Are you sure?" Sirius asked, but it was in that way that meant he didn't want a different answer but he would feel guilty if he didn't double-check. It was pretty buggering cute of him, in James's opinion.
"Absolutely. Let's go home."
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Happy Holiday Truce @rebel-skull! Sorry I’m skating right up against the deadline. This holiday season got busier than I expected.
Thank you for letting me change the prompt a little! This is a DP/Buzzfeed Unsolved crossover fic with a side of Demon Shane. (Read it on AO3 | FFN)
Thanks also to the ever wonderful @oboenotclarinet for your help when I got stuck. I’d be a mess with out you <3
Maddie attacked the living room with the rare intention of making it look somewhat presentable, for the equally rare occasion of guests coming over. The scorch marks on the wall from the ectopus incident last month she could, unfortunately, do nothing about, but maybe the lime green stains on the couch could still be scrubbed out.
“Danny! Come help me clean up! Our guests will be here soon!”
“Why can’t Jazz do it?” Danny’s automatic response to housework rang out from upstairs, in the direction of his room. Maddie eyed the stain on the couch critically. It’d probably take more than Incredible and elbow grease to get this one out.
“Also, what guests? We literally never have anyone over. Are you actually cleaning?” Danny plodded down the stairs, stopping on the bottom step with his arms draped over the railing. He quirked his eyebrow at his mother in inquiry.
Maddie walked over to the closet with the cleaning supplies, responding over her shoulder, “Jazz is out with her friends, she’ll be back just before the guests arrive—yes, she does have friends, don’t give me that, young man—and I need you to help me tidy up because we were contacted by a team of professional ghost hunters, to be interviewed for their show. Isn’t that exciting! We’ll have the opportunity to share our knowledge about ghosts and ghost hunting with viewers all across the country!” She rifled through the haphazard piles in the closet, searching for the Fenton Foaming Cleaner that would surely (hopefully) remove the sickly splotch on the couch.
Danny moved from the base of the stairs to flop down on the armchair, helpful as ever. The raised eyebrow never faltered as Maddie made her way back to the offending couch, spray bottle prize in hand. “They don’t sound all that professional if they have a tv show. Most of those shows are just a bunch of fancy tricks, you know. Are you sure these guys are for real?”
Maddie spared a glance in her son’s direction, to where he lay sprawled across the chair, one leg carelessly thrown over an arm. She turned back to the stain and spritzed it with the cleaner. “They’re from a company in Los Angeles, called Buzzfeed. They were nothing but professional when I spoke to the representative on the phone.” The stain began to bubble green, an acrid aroma piercing the air. She hummed in concern. It wasn’t supposed to do that. Hopefully that meant it was working.
“Oh wow, that’s a real vote of confidence. Mom, Buzzfeed is like, ‘what pizza you are based on your favorite color,’ or ‘we tried being hipsters for a day,’ they’re an entertainment company. The last thing they are is professional ghost hunters.” Of course, this would probably work in Danny’s favor more than if they were actual ghost hunters, but, well. No one needed to know that.
Maddie paused from her observation of the science experiment that was the couch and met Danny’s raised eyebrow with one of her own. “Even so, sweetie, they’ve offered to pay for this interview and they’re already on their way here. Besides, even if they are a little… new, to the ghost hunting world, then it’s just an even better opportunity to get the word out there! We can outfit them with proper ghost hunting equipment and make sure they’re equipped to handle all the standard ghostly threats. Your father will certainly be excited to show them all his latest inventions!” Her trademark optimism could rival even Pamela Manson’s, and at times Danny questioned how anyone could have that positive of an outlook, even about things like phony ghost hunters coming for a flipping tv show. Still, there was clearly nothing to be done about it now, so Danny figured he might as well brace himself for the inevitable catastrophe.
As Maddie returned her attention to the couch, concerned frown deepening at what she finally decided was a lost cause, she opted to wipe away what was left of the “cleaner” and cover the whole couch with a long, wide throw blanket. That would at least hide the hole that the Fenton Foaming Cleaner had eaten into the cushion. Better than nothing, she supposed. “Now then, Danny, if you’re done griping about people sharing our passion, then you can get your dirty shoes off the arm of the chair and help me dust the living room. They’ll be here soon, and I want the house to be somewhat presentable. Once Jazz comes home we’ll get your father out of the lab and we can all be here for the interview. It’ll be so exciting!”
Danny huffed and reluctantly got to work. “Still think this is a dumb idea,” he mumbled under his breath. His mother rolled her eyes and didn’t comment.
When Jazz came home a little while later she revealed to Danny she had known about this interview for a few days, but after having looked up the show she’d deemed it a non-threat. She explained she was under the assumption Danny knew about the upcoming interview as well, so she didn’t think to tell him. They both supposed their parents had simply had it slip their minds—not an unusual occurrence. Besides, it was a moot point now; the tv people would be here any minute.
“Alright, kids, I’ll make sure your father has kept the lab in one piece and get him to join us before they arrive. Danny, you’re on door duty. Don’t let your father get close enough to threaten them with the Fenton Bazooka. We don’t need a repeat of last time,” this last part was said under Maddie’s breath as she headed to the lab door in the kitchen. Jazz and Danny exchanged a knowing look.
When the doorbell finally did ring, Jazz perched neatly on the chair, Jack and Maddie came running into the room (“Ghost!” “No, Jack, ghosts don’t use the front door, we’ve talked about this Sweetie.”) and Danny opened the front door, pained smile already in place. He was met by two young-ish guys—or, more accurately, a guy and a tree with legs—who both looked very out of place in a town where ghost attacks came on the news as often as the weather. The shorter, more average looking of the two had a bright smile on his face, and the guy with trees for legs (Seriously, how was he so tall?) had his hands in his pockets and a laidback grin.
As soon as Danny laid eyes on the taller one, his smile fell from his face.
There was no way this guy was human.
“Hi! I’m Ryan Bergara, and this is my co-host, Shane Madej. Our cameraman Mark is grabbing the equipment out of the car. We’re the guys from Buzzfeed Unsolved; we’re supposed to interview the local ghost hunters. This is the Fenton residence, correct?” The shorter guy—Ryan, apparently—bounced a little on his toes.
“Well I should hope so Ryan, they have a giant neon sign,” Shane grinned, earning him a lighthearted jab to the ribs from Ryan. Danny narrowed his eyes.
“Yes, of course, welcome!” Maddie came up behind Danny, and he stepped to the side grudgingly as his mother continued, “Please come in and sit down, we’re very excited to have you here. I’m Maddie, and this is my husband Jack and our kids Jazz and Danny. We’ve been looking forward to this ever since you contacted us! It’s a thrilling opportunity.” She led them into the living room, not noticing Danny’s sudden change in attitude. As soon as Shane stepped over the threshold, the electric ice that usually accompanied Danny’s ghost sense washed down his spine—but his ghost sense hadn’t actually gone off. He’d know if it had. This guy was giving him major danger vibes, but he clearly wasn’t a ghost. Danny swallowed the growl that was building in his chest.
Maddie continued welcoming them, unperturbed.
“I always love meeting fellow ghost hunters!” Jack announced in his usual booming fashion. “Always good to see more folks interested in this perilous profession! You can never have too many people fighting back against the threat of those putrid ectoplasmic post-human manifestations.”
Ryan faltered, his smile wavering. “What? I don’t… Fighting? What do you mean, fighting?”
Maddie’s brows creased. “Well, you’re ghost hunters, right? Surely you know that all ghosts are the evil incarnations of human imprints, driven by obsessions to violence and chaos. They have to be dealt with to protect people.”
Based on the gobsmacked expressions on the two purported ghost hunter’s faces, they hadn’t exactly expected this answer.
“So I take it you definitely believe in ghosts, then.”
A brief moment of stunned silence followed Shane’s statement, even Jack temporarily lost for words. “Well of course ghosts are real, that’s ridiculous!” Jack exclaimed once he recovered. “They attack the city practically every week! We Fentons have developed the most advanced ecto-technology capable of harming and containing ghosts. We’ve been studying ghosts for years!”
In what to Danny was a clear effort to ward off one of their father’s ghost rants, Jazz asked, “You’ve been doing this show for a while, correct? You must have fought a ghost before, or at least encountered one?”
“Well, no, we’ve never seen a ghost, or any paranormal creature. We always look for evidence, but we almost never find anything that counts as compelling.”
Ryan, still stunned, held up his hands. “O-okay. Hold on. This is… this is a lot. Why don’t we uh, why don’t we set up for the interview, and then we can continue this conversation while we’re recording, so we don’t have to repeat anything? It’ll be more genuine that way.”
While the Buzzfeed guys, now including their cameraman, set up for the interview, the Fenton parents whispered to each other in heated sounding tones, presumably still baffled by the lack of proper hunting knowledge. Jazz came over to stand by Danny, who (despite the strange turn the afternoon had already taken) hadn’t taken his eyes off Shane. The longer he was in his house the more Danny felt the urge to fight. Jazz didn’t seem to notice her brother’s weird mood, instead commenting, “Well I guess they’re just yet more phonies, huh?”
“What?” She sounded taken aback.
“The taller one. Shane. He’s not human. I don’t think he’s a ghost either, he didn’t set my ghost sense of properly, but he’s definitely something. And he’s powerful, too. He gives me a really bad feeling.”
Okay, Jazz was definitely worried now. “Well what are we going to do about it? Is he a threat? Should I call Sam and Tucker?”
“No, I don’t think they’ll be able to help. I don’t think I could take him. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can just sense that he’s too much for me, even with help. I don’t like it.” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Besides, he hasn’t actively made any threats yet. For now, we just keep an eye out. If it goes bad, I’ll deal with it while you get Mom and Dad out. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
Jazz glanced between Shane and Danny, pensive. “Okay, but… please be careful.”
Danny spared his sister a brief look. “I’ll try.”
There wasn’t much they could do but act normal and hope for the best, so once everything was set up and the cameras were ready to roll, Shane and Ryan sat on the recently-blanket-covered couch across from Jack and Maddie, who were each in an armchair. Jazz and Danny perched on the loveseat, out of frame and on edge.
Ryan worked quickly through his usual introduction and explanation, eager to get to the meat of the situation.
“So Drs. Fenton, what can you tell us about Amity Park as a haunted location?”
“Well,” Maddie began, “The ghosts started appearing frequently about a year and a half ago, coming from the Ghost Zone into our world and attacking people. They generally cause havoc a couple times a week, destroying property and attempting to injure people. They fight amongst themselves as often as they terrorize average citizens, being the violence-driven creatures they are.”
“Wow, there’s… a lot to unpack there. What is the Ghost Zone?”
“That’s where the ghosts come from!” Jack chimed in. “They need ectoplasm to survive, since that’s what they’re made up of, so they go back to the Ghost Zone when they get weak.”
“So I take it ghosts can be seen to the average eye, then?” Ryan asked.
“Well of course they can! All ghosts can make themselves invisible, but their default state is in the human field of vision. All ghosts are typically tangible, unless actively using their powers of intangibility, and they seem to stay hovering or flying unless deliberately doing otherwise. Most ghosts have offensive powers as well, such as ectoplasmic blasts and elemental attacks, but the weakest ones don’t maintain a consistent form and don’t display anything beyond the basic capabilities,” Maddie explained.
“Wow,” Ryan said, “I had no idea ghosts were so… present. I thought they were, like, barely able to move pencils or turn on flashlights.”
“Nonsense,” Jack declared, “Ghosts are a very serious threat and can cause a lot more harm than turning on the lights!”
Shane leaned forward, hands clasped over his knees. “So ghosts can hurt people? And they do it actively? So much for Casper the Friendly Ghost.”
Maddie waved a hand, nonchalant. “Oh yes, all ghosts are driven by malice; their base instinct is to turn to violence. They’ll just as soon attack each other as they will a human. That’s why it’s crucial to make sure you always have the proper weaponry to defend yourself.”
“What kind of weapons? Like salt and holy water?” Ryan asked, hopeful to at least have gotten one thing right about ghosts.
“Of course not! A little saltwater isn’t going to do anything against a grisly ghoul! That’s why we have these bad boys,” Jack sprung up from his seat, pulling out an ectogun from seemingly nowhere and brandishing it in front of the two guests. They leaned back quickly in response, startled. Mark, from behind the camera, watched nervously, and Jazz put her head in her palm. Danny grimaced.
“This here is a state-of-the-art Fenton brand ectogun, designed and built by yours truly. It uses ecto energy to fight ghost fire with ghost fire. Nothing on Earth is more effective at takin’ down those scary spooks!”
“Alright, Dear, let’s maybe put the gun down; I think it’s making our guests just a little uncomfortable. I’m sure they can admire it just fine from the coffee table.” Maddie stood and placed her hand gently on Jack’s arm, lowering it and deftly taking the gun from his hands. She set it on the table and smiled apologetically at the men on the couch. “I’m sorry, Jack can get a little… enthusiastic. But it’s not to worry, ectoguns can’t hurt humans. They’re designed specifically to target the unique energy that constitutes ghosts; the most even our larger guns would do to humans is knock the wind out briefly.” She encouraged Jack to sit back down, and returned to her own seat.
It may have been Danny’s imagination, but he could have sworn Shane slid further away from where the gun rested innocently between them.
“…Okay, so you use actual weapons to fight ghosts. Cool. Uh… where do you find ghosts? You said something about them going to and from the—Ghost Zone, correct?—so I assume they aren’t bound to one place like in most tales about them,” Ryan said, attempting to brush off any lingering awkwardness from Jack’s well-meaning outburst.
At this, Jack brightened up considerably and said, “We use the Fenton Finder! Ghosts all have an ectosignature, so we use those to detect when they’re nearby, like radar! Even if they’re invisible, this puppy can find a ghost on the other side of the city.” He beamed proudly, and Maddie gave her husband an endearing smile.
Shane perked up once again, absently picking at the threads on the edge of the hole Maddie had attempted to conceal. “So you’re saying this finder-thing makes it impossible for ghosts to hide?”
Danny had a bad feeling about this.
“That’s right! We’d know a ghost was near long before it had the chance to get the drop on us.”
Ryan asked, “Does it work on other creatures, too? Like demons, for instance?”
Maddie laughed, “Don’t be silly! Demons don’t exist. Everything that people think they see is usually some form of ghost. There’s a vast spectrum of forms a ghost can take.”
Shane nudged Ryan. “See Ry, I told you demons weren’t real! You’ve been getting so worked up about nothing. Annabelle’s got nothing on these ghosts we’re learning about.”
Danny tuned out Ryan’s spluttered denials and defenses as he came to a worrying suspicion. Shane wasn’t a ghost—even if he had been a half-ghost, Danny would have been able to tell. But he wasn’t human either; the moment he first saw him he just knew. But if he wasn’t a ghost and he wasn’t human… then he had to be something else entirely. Danny had never encountered anything else, but if his own existence proved anything, it was that he couldn’t jump to conclusions about what did and did not exist.
Shane didn’t seem to believe in any of this stuff, even if he was currently going along with the ghost thing (Danny felt pretty sure that was just out of politeness to his parents, based on the faces Shane had been making and the near-constant laughter he appeared to be fighting). But Danny knew from experience how helpful putting on a persona could be. He couldn’t assume anything about this guy.
(Ryan seemed pretty safe. He didn’t seem to share any hidden glances or take any second meaning from his friend’s actions. He was probably in the dark.)
So if Shane was something else…
Danny was suddenly very worried he perhaps knew what that ‘else’ might truly be.
“…so ghosts have different power levels,” His mother was saying as Danny brought himself back to the events at hand, “and that determines how difficult it is to defeat.”
“So you can’t purposefully antagonize anything while we’re here, Shane,” Ryan said, giving his friend a stern eye. “I am not going to be the one to tell Sara you got yourself murked by the undead.”
“I don’t know,” Shane replied, “Could be fun to fistfight a ghost. A good old-fashioned brawl.” He turned with a Cheshire grin and stared straight at Danny, too-dark eyes glittering.
Yeah, this definitely wasn’t good.
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Modern 3Zun AU
Someone is going to get murdered.
Meng Yao isn’t entirely sure who, precisely, is going to die by his hand, but it’s whoever is currently on the other side of his front door.
He cracks one eye open and fights down a staggeringly strong flash of anger at the next pounding knock on the cheap wood that feels like it’s happening inside his skull. Smashing his face under his pillow isn’t going to drown that out, and whoever is out there isn’t leaving, so in the interest of solving the problem once and for all Meng Yao drags himself out of bed, snags the knife from his nightstand, and stalks out into his living room to fling the front door open only to instantly put the tip of the knife up under his visitor’s chin.
“So you’re not dead, then,” Nie Mingjue snarks, chin tipped up to accommodate the blade beneath it. “Huaisang was worried.”
“Huaisang can choke,” Meng Yao replies, nudging the knife a bit higher to force Nie Mingjue’s head further back. “Why are you beating down my door on a Saturday morning, Nie Mingjue?”
“What the fuck does that matter?! Why. Are you. Here?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, enough with the dramatics, A-Yao!” Nie Mingjue swats the knife away and rights his posture to glare at him. “I just told you - Huaisang was worried. He said he didn’t hear from you at all last night and he’s been trying to call you this morning but it keeps going straight to voicemail.”
“I shut my phone off so I could get some sleep, Mingjue, I have more than earned that right,” Meng Yao snaps. He steps back to let Nie Mingjue follow him inside and around the corner to his tiny kitchen. The space instantly feels crowded with Nie Mingjue’s considerable bulk in the doorway but he thankfully stays out of the kitchen itself to give him room to maneuver as he continues ranting. “A plan which you just thoroughly ruined with all your pounding on my door, so now you owe me a lunch and something else that is equal to or greater than the value of another two or three hours of sleep - I’ll let you decide what that will be. You’d better hope for your sake that you guess correctly.”
“I already took care of the lunch I owe you,” Nie Mingjue retorts, which is a weird part of that statement to fixate on but Meng Yao is watching his coffee maker fill up so he’s willing to consider being generous and humor him for a moment as the luring promise of caffeine soothes some of his raw nerves.
“You definitely didn’t.”
“Yes I did! Yesterday right as Xichen and I were leaving, I told Luo Yi to order food for you to have after the budget meeting!”
Meng Yao can’t help but slap one of his hands against the counter at that and turn his head enough to glare at Nie Mingjue over his shoulder.
“Why did you tell him to do it?! You know he hates me!”
“What, you two argue every so often so that means he can’t follow a simple instruction to order you some lunch when I tell him to?”
“Yes, Mingjue! That’s precisely what that means since he clearly didn’t do a single thing about it.”
“But that’s ridiculous!”
Meng Yao can only gesture emphatically with one hand at that (his ‘you think I don’t fucking know that’ is implicit) as he turns his attention back to the coffee pot. Silence descends but for the drip of it for a few long moments as it begins percolating.
“Where’s Lan Xichen?” Meng Yao finally grumbles when the silence grows uncomfortable - or at least the weight of Nie Mingjue’s glare on his back does.
“Lunch with his brother and uncle. What time did you leave the office last night?”
“Oh Mingjue just drop it,” Meng Yao sighs, scrubbing both hands over his face and grimacing at how grimy he feels. “I left when I was done with everything I needed to do, what does it matter what time it was?”
“You know I’ll just pull the information off your security card if you don’t answer me which will just piss you off more!” Nie Mingjue growls. “You might as well tell me yourself.”
“UGH!” Jin Guangyao retorts as emphatically as he can with his face still buried in his hands. “Get out of my apartment, Mingjue. Go tell your brother to stop blowing up my phone and go gaze dreamily into Lan Xichen’s eyes or whatever it is you two are planning to do with your afternoon. I’m tired.”
“Don’t!” Meng Yao snaps as he straightens and turns to see that, sure enough, Nie Mingjue has stepped into the kitchen far enough to reach for him though he freezes instantly on command.
“A-Sang said that it was almost midnight by the time he stopped trying to text you. He said it was later than anyone in their right mind would ever work, but I know you,” Nie Mingjue says - it’s almost soft. “Were you really at the office that late?”
“What do you care?” Meng Yao snaps back, but he graciously pretends not to notice Nie Mingjue stepping closer as he turns back to the coffee pot, which has just beeped to let him know it’s ready.
His hands stay steady as he pours himself a large mug of it while Nie Mingjue slides his arms around his waist and tucks himself around him like an enormous muscular koala.
“You know I don’t like you out alone that late at night,” Nie Mingjue says against the side of his neck, voice pitched lower now that he’s right next to his ear. “Or working that late. Did you get to eat anything at all yesterday besides breakfast?”
“Mingjue - seriously, drop it. It’s over, I just want to rest today.”
“Answer my questions and I’ll drop it.”
Meng Yao tips his head back to let out a heavy sigh. Truly, he deserves some sort of award or promotion or consolation sex or something as a reward for putting up with such doggedness applied to the most useless of subjects.
“Yes I was at the office until it was so late I almost missed the last train, yes I’m going to kill you if you don’t let me go take a nap on my couch, no I didn’t eat anything for the rest of the day until I got home, no I’m not dead, and no I wasn’t threatened by anyone on my commute in the middle of the night!! I’m fine, Mingjue, so do us both a favor and just drop it!”
Nie Mingjue sighs against his neck and mouths at it lazily while Meng Yao glares down into his coffee, mourning that it’s too hot to drink just yet but content to just stare at it until he deems it a safe enough temperature. It helps that he’s doing so in Nie Mingjue’s arms which are, annoyingly, extremely comforting on the rare occasions when he wraps them around him like this - even when Nie Mingjue is the reason he needs comforting in the first place.
“Huaisang thought you might be out hooking up with someone,” Nie Mingjue finally mutters almost petulantly against his skin just as he’s taking his first sip of the coffee, and there, finally, is the root of the problem. Meng Yao gives himself two breaths to close his eyes and try to tamp down the irritation flashing through him at the half-accusation. He doesn’t succeed - he’s tired and pissed off and human, sue him.
“Alright, I see how it is. You want to do this? Fine. What if I was? You of all people have no right to get jealous, not even if you knew for a fact that I had gone out to hook up with somebody! And you certainly don’t have the right to come to my apartment the morning after to see if it’s true or not.”
Meng Yao sets his mug back down hard enough to slosh coffee onto the countertop before he turns in Nie Mingjue’s arms to glare up at him, jabbing a fingertip into his chest.
“Did I or did I not personally deliver a fucking supermodel of a man to your office yesterday? Did I or did I not take on all your work for the afternoon on top of my own so that you could run off and ‘entertain’ him? If, at the end of a long day of twice my usual amount of work - which I only had to do so that you could run home and fool around with your boyfriend, might I add - if I want to find someone available and willing to fuck me senseless then that is my right, Nie Mingjue!”
“So call me!”
“Oh my god! How many times are you going to make me reiterate that you’re with Lan Xichen this weekend?! Besides, why would I bother? I have no illusions about what I am to you!”
“Tell me what you know, then! What are you to me, A-Yao?”
Nie Mingjue physically jerks back from the venom in Meng Yao’s voice as he practically spits the word at him.
Meng Yao likes to fantasize sometimes that someone with a bit more emotional awareness would be able to see his anger for the hurt that it really is. Of course he knows that someone with more emotional intelligence would never touch him with a ten foot pole, but that’s neither here nor there when dealing with fantasies. He has a great many that will never make sense but that he still can’t help but think about on occasion.
But unfortunately for him, in spite of how high Nie Mingjue’s emotions run at all times, he’s shit at recognizing them in other people, and anger for him always exists at face value. His expression shutters instantly into thunderous and Meng Yao braces himself for more yelling - so he’s not entirely sure what to do with the way that Nie Mingjue backs up a step and turns to storm out of the kitchen without another word. He’s still leaning against the counter, frozen with surprise, when the door to his shoe box of an apartment slams shut hard enough to rattle the dishes in the cupboard.
“Hey er-ge,” Nie Huaisang calls lazily from the sofa as Lan Xichen shuts the door to the Nie house behind himself.
“Hello A-Sang. How was your -” Lan Xichen’s question is cut off by a resounding crash from the direction of Nie Mingjue’s side of the house. He turns an alarmed stare on Nie Huaisang, who’s still filing his nails like he didn’t hear anything.
“Da-ge got in another stupid fight with Yaoyao earlier, don’t worry about it,” he sighs gustily, blowing his bangs out of his face to better inspect the nail he’s working on.
“Ah...And who is ‘Yaoyao’?”
“Meng Yao. The really cute guy who picked you up at the airport yesterday?”
“Oh, yes of course. Oh dear. Does this happen often?”
“About as often as da-ge has a lot of feelings but can’t find the right words to talk about it so he ends up making things worse.”
Lan Xichen meets Nie Huaisang’s eyes from across the living room and in unison they chorus, “So, often.”
Lan Xichen sighs and shakes his head with fond exasperation. He truly loves Nie Mingjue but even with having known him for most of their lives he still struggles to parse out what it is Nie Mingjue wants sometimes. He can only imagine how much more difficult it would be without so many years of experience with interpreting him to lean on.
“I should go talk to him.”
“Er-ge wait!” Nie Huaisang sits up suddenly just as he passes the sofa and Lan Xichen pauses, turns to meet the younger man’s eyes with a raised eyebrow.
“Only go talk to him right now if you’re prepared to get to know Meng Yao in entirely unprofessional and extremely...personal ways,” he warns, suddenly (and strangely) serious. “Da-ge hasn’t figured out what it is he wants yet, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.”
Lan Xichen’s other eyebrow joins the first on its journey towards his hairline but Nie Huaisang just stares him down, practically forces him to truly think about it just with the force of his gaze.
He thinks about Nie Mingjue’s constant praises of Meng Yao, of the way his own heart had skipped a few beats and his mind gone temporarily offline when he had met the man himself in the airport the previous day; their light and easy conversation on the way to the office; the fact that Meng Yao had taken Nie Mingjue’s work on his own shoulders to allow them time to spend together; and the way that seeing him facing off against the Jin Corporation heir and his odious cousin had made him want to tuck Meng Yao under his arm and keep him safe from such unpleasant behavior.
“Don’t forget to trim your cuticles,” Lan Xichen says to Nie Huaisang by way of parting after a long few moments of thought. Nie Huaisang simply snorts and flops back down to his previous position, disappearing from view behind the back cushions to keep working on his manicure.
Lan Xichen turns and takes a deep breath before he soldiers on through the house until he reaches the former guest room that Nie Mingjue has turned into something of a home gym. He opens the door without bothering to knock and steps inside just in time to find Nie Mingjue righting the life size/life weight sparring dummy he had apparently sent flying across the room. He’s shirtless and sweaty and pissed off and Lan Xichen allows himself precisely five seconds to stare at him with the sole purpose of enjoying.
“What is it, Xichen?” he grumps, his chest heaving from either exertion or emotion, it’s hard to tell.
“I just got back from lunch and I heard something go flying so I came to see if you’re alright.” He steps forward to cross the room and place one hand on Nie Mingjue’s back, rubbing his hand up and down one well-defined shoulder as he watches Nie Mingjue close his eyes and huff out an irritated sigh. “Would you like to discuss it?” he prompts gently, punctuating it with a kiss to the highest point of Nie Mingjue’s bare shoulder.
When Lan Xichen looks up it’s to find that Nie Mingjue has opened his eyes again but he won’t look at him directly, instead just glancing at him out of the corner of one eye that looks suspiciously red and damp.
“Oh Mingjue,” Lan Xichen sighs, tender and gentle. “It’ll be alright,” he adds and slips his hand down to press against the small of his back, uncaring of the rivulets of sweat that have gathered in the dip of it just above the waistband of his sweatpants.
And just like that he finds himself with an armful of a sweaty, crying Nie Mingjue. Lan Xichen smothers a fond smile as he wraps one arm around Nie Mingjue’s slim waist and reaches up with the other hand to cup against the back of his head. Nie Mingjue curls over him to hide his face in his shoulder and clutch his arms around the upper half of his back.
They stand there like that for a while as Nie Mingjue attempts to get himself back under control enough to tell him what’s wrong. Lan Xichen, for his part, knows that there’s really not much he can do besides stroke his fingertips softly against his skin and murmur things that he hopes are soothing in his ear as he cries, so that’s what he does.
It doesn’t take too long before Nie Mingjue is doing nothing more than sniffling into his shirt and Lan Xichen can feel his pout pressed into the front of his shoulder. He waits patiently for the explanation, still just stroking at his skin that’s going cool as his sweat dries.
“I fought with A-Yao,” he finally grumbles, voice raspy.
“Mm, I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?”
“I...He usually comes over for dinner with me and Huaisang on Fridays and then the pair of them go out for drinks after, but you’re here and I just...I don’t know, I didn’t think he’d want to be here so I didn’t think to invite him but then Huaisang wanted to go with him last night anyway but he couldn’t get in touch with him. He said he didn’t know if A-Yao was maybe...hooking up with someone and that was why he wasn’t answering his phone but then this morning his phone was off and I started to get worried so I went to check on him but..” Nie Mingjue heaves a gusty sigh and burrows further into the shelter of his neck. “He was already mad at me and nothing I said came out right so I made it worse,” he finally adds, mumbling so much that Lan Xichen has a hard time understanding him.
“What was he already upset with you for?”
“I woke him up when I went to check on him. And...last night..He wasn’t answering Huaisang’s texts because he was still at the office until he had to get the last train of the night home.”
“Oh dear, that’s quite late isn’t it? Did he feel the need to work so late because of the extra duties he took on so that you and I could spend the afternoon together?”
Nie Mingjue just nods at that and nuzzles closer. Lan Xichen can’t help but frown then, just a slight thing at the corners of his mouth (though that’s still more than he usually ever allows). He’s not a massive fan of the mental image of Meng Yao being stuck alone at the office until well into the night while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue had been rather thoroughly enjoying being together in person again.
“We shall have to make it up to him, then, that is a much larger sacrifice than I think either of you had anticipated such an arrangement would be. How did you make the situation worse?”
Nie Mingjue groans and lifts his head to peel himself away from Lan Xichen’s embrace. He won’t meet his eyes but instead turns to the sparring dummy to fiddle with it, his eyes fixed on his own hands. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to answer but Lan Xichen is nothing if not patient, so he waits.
And then, finally, “I didn’t like the idea of him finding someone else to hook up with.” It sounds shockingly petulant and Lan Xichen can’t help but blink. “And he said that I, of all people, don’t have a right to be...upset by the idea.”
“Mingjue - were you jealous?” Lan Xichen can’t help but ask, still surprised. He’s quite certain he’s never even seen Nie Mingjue jealous, though it has always been a distinct possibility thanks to the rather open nature of their relationship while they’ve been mostly living so far apart from each other.
“It would be just as easy for him to call me as it would be to find some stranger to fool around with! Maybe even easier!” he snaps with the air of someone who’s been repeating this argument to himself (and possibly, he supposes, to Meng Yao) for the better part of the day.
“I did not realize the two of you had decided to be exclusive,” Lan Xichen gently prods - he’s well aware from many discussions with Nie Mingjue about his relationship with Meng Yao that they haven’t agreed to anything of the sort. It just seems that Nie Mingjue may have forgotten that detail.
“I..we’re...Well it’s not like either of us has slept with anyone else since we started sleeping with each other,” he protests, though it sounds weak.
“I believe I am in a position to confidently refute that assertion,” Lan Xichen says as he steps closer again to press himself up against Nie Mingjue’s muscular back, one arm slipping around his waist to press his hand flat, fingers splayed wide, against his abs and the other hand slipping down to cup against his ass through his sweatpants. “I distinctly remember that you were sleeping with someone who is not Meng Yao last night - and I believe he is intelligent enough to have understood without being expressly told that you would be thus occupied by the time he would possibly be looking for a partner to spend the evening with.”
“Is it?” Lan Xichen replies, tone absently curious as he looks down to watch his own hand as he starts rubbing his fingertips slowly up and down the center back seam of the sweats. “How so? Because it was me? Because we are us? Does he know what we are to each other, have you told him?”
“Mm. So it is entirely possible that he does not yet understand that our devotion to each other is not comparable to the momentary satisfaction one might find in a brief sexual encounter with a stranger, or that our relationship was already well established by the time you began taking him into your bed.”
“Oh Mingjue,” Lan Xichen sighs with a rueful little chuckle as he slips his hand down from the firm curve of Nie Mingjue’s ass to rub up and down the back of his thigh instead in slow, soothing circuits. “Perhaps he is jealous as well? Upset that the weekly routine the two of you share was interrupted by me - an interloper?”
“You’re not an interloper, Xichen!”
“I am an unfamiliar interruption in the routine of his life, at least in this respect. It is understandable that he could be upset by my presence.”
“He...He said I only see him as a convenience.”
“Hm..” Lan Xichen hums in sympathy as he presses a few lingering kisses to Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “Did you refute it?”
“I shouldn’t have to! He knows me better than that!”
“People say things they may not truly mean when they speak in hurt or frustration, both of which sound like they were in ample supply during your argument. Have you discussed with him how much he means to you? In direct, plain words like you and I discuss such things?”
Nie Mingjue’s silence in response is just as telling as a direct refusal. Lan Xichen allows him to think on it for a few long moments as he drags his kisses along his shoulder towards his neck where he ducks in to part his lips around the protrusion of the vertebra at the base of it.
“He deserves to know how you feel,” he murmurs against the salt of his lover’s skin. “Just as I did when you needed to inform me. If you feel for him as you do for me, he deserves to know. And if you do not, it would still be in your best interest to clarify the purely sexual nature of your relationship with him going forward.”
“No! I...I care about him,” Nie Mingjue finally sighs, sounding exhausted. “I do, of course I do. I...What about you?”
“Hm? Turn around and look at me, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen prompts softly, using the grip he has on the other man to turn him so that they’re face to face. Lan Xichen meets Nie Mingjue’s eyes and offers him a smile so tender that Nie Mingjue’s eyes go a bit wet again as he watches. “What about me?”
“You and I..We...What we have, Xichen, I don’t - ”
“We have agreed already on multiple occasions to allow others into our relationship. I have had other sexual partners, and you have frequently been with Meng Yao.”
“Yes but..but yours weren’t..this. What if..I..”
“It’s alright, you can say it,” Lan Xichen offers with a nuzzle of the tip of his nose against Nie Mingjue’s. “Tell me what you want, Mingjue. I want to know.”
“I want both of you. You and A-Yao. Together. With me, with each other, all three of us.”
“Mm. I quite like the sound of it, I am more than willing to try. What will you do if Meng Yao does not wish to accept?”
“I..” Nie Mingjue stops immediately and gets a faraway look in his eyes (which are definitely wet again) and Lan Xichen sighs as he reaches up with both hands to hold the man’s face in his palms. He leans in to press a few kisses against his lips.
“Shhh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you again. That question can be answered at a later date,” he soothes between gentle, chaste presses of their lips. “Perhaps we should begin with an apology for the accidental callousness of our actions yesterday and an attempt to offer our thanks for what he did for us. We could also attempt to have a discussion of the nature of our unique situation and ask what he may want with one or both of us going forward.”
Nie Mingjue nods after a moment and sighs, his eyes slipping shut. Lan Xichen can’t resist leaning in to kiss his forehead and both eyelids in quick succession.
“Good. Now - would you like to come take a shower with me?”
Meng Yao finally turns his phone back on later that evening when the itching worry that he’s missing something important finally overwhelms his desire to continue to mope in silence and lick his metaphorical wounds.
There are, as he expected, entirely too many missed calls from Nie Huaisang, a handful of non-urgent emails mixed in with the spam messages that always crowd his inbox, and, at the end of list, from just half an hour ago, an unusually long text from Nie Mingjue.
Hello Meng Yao, this is Lan Xichen. I apologize for contacting you from Mingjue’s phone but he seemed to feel that it would be more comfortable for you than giving me your number directly without your permission - I hope that is the case.
He has informed me of the high points of your argument from earlier this afternoon and I would be grateful if you would allow me an opportunity to offer an apology for the difficulties my arrival has put you through in person.
There is also a personal matter that Mingjue and I would like to discuss with you if would allow us to. I have been informed that you spend Sunday mornings with Huaisang - would it be possible tomorrow for you to come to the Nie home afterwards to sit down and talk with us? It will be with the intent to clear the air between the three of us as quickly and painlessly as possible. I have no desire to step between you and Mingjue, and I feel there are things the three of us could discuss to that effect that will be helpful for avoiding future friction.
Meng Yao blinks at that, rereads it a few times, and then looks up to stare blankly at the unadorned wall of his living room across from the couch. Before he can think himself in enough circles to change his own mind, he replies.
I’ll be there at 1pm.
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The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 9
Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo
Chapter Warnings: Some angst
Taglist: @proadhog @skippyhopperwisdom
AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)
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Chapter 9: Insult to Injury
Crosshair had never been one to run from conflict. Whether it was with weapons, words, or something in between. Even though he hated it, he hated being ridiculed or attacked, he hated losing or feeling less than, he still embraced the fight. Oftentimes he even started one, just to get ahead of the inevitable confrontation.
This thing with Joan, though, he couldn't bring himself to face. He did everything he could to avoid her. Avoid seeing her, avoid thinking about her.... He managed to make it a whole week, but just barely. It was somehow a harder week than the one he'd spent without seeing her before. He'd liked her then; he'd had hope. Now all he had was his wound pride, and a little nagging voice in the back of his head that wondered if maybe he had overreacted.
But now there were only two days left before their training ended and their lives as soldiers began. And he had to see her. It was required.
He sat on the examination table, the same one he'd sat on all those weeks ago when he'd first met her. He had dreaded that moment, not knowing he'd be dealing with someone like her. Someone so kind and caring toward him and his brothers. Someone who was honest and fair and didn't take crap from anyone. Someone beautiful. He tried not to remember how he'd felt when he'd first seen her, and all the feelings he'd acquired since then. But his stomach churned in protest, the room containing too many memories to simply be ignored.
Doctor Joan strode into the room a few minutes late, wearing her full-length blacks and carrying a datapad. She plopped it unceremoniously onto the table next to him. He planned to not look at her, keep his gaze fixed on the opposite wall, and to not respond to any of her attempts at conversation, only offer short answers to any questions necessary for her final assessment. He expected her to either be upset by it, or just not care.
But instead, Joan was silent. He didn't see her move from his periphery, only stand with arms crossed looking at him with a very neutral expression. He wasn't normally bothered by silence, but this one eventually became unbearable.
He finally glared over at her, and she immediately spoke.
"How are you?"
He snapped his gaze back to the wall with pursed lips. Nope. He wouldn't give in.
Usually he'd have to fight to keep his heart steady when he heard her say his name. But she was mad, he could hear it in her voice. His name did not sound so sweet to hear now.
"I'm fine," he said, hoping that would shut her up despite knowing it wouldn't.
"You asked to see me last week," she regarded him with narrow eyes. "And then you blew it off. Hunter says you're busy but I know you're avoiding me. You are not fine. And unless you open up and tell me about it, I don't know how to help you."
She had spoken just long enough for Crosshair to get worked up. He couldn't stop himself from breaking his own resolution to stay silent.
"Just stop," he snapped and her eyes grew wide. "Stop acting like you care. Like you're not just doing a job and none of us matter."
"But I do care," she said slowly.
"Just like you care about the regs?" he dismissed with a snarl. "Calling them your brothers, flirting with them.... You have no idea what they are really like. How... how condescending and spiteful and... and cruel they can be."
He was really worked up now. He jumped off the table and began pacing aimlessly. Words spewed from his mouth, far more than he'd ever said at once before, and he wasn't sure any of them were making sense but he suddenly had a need to get them out.
"The things they say, the names... They call us the bad batch. Bad. Because we're different and so that means we're good for nothing, right? Even though I can shoot a moving target from a thousand meters away, it doesn't matter. Still not good enough."
"Cross..." she started to say softly. But he didn't want her sympathy. He stopped pacing and whirled to face her.
"You don't get it. You don't know what that's like. Everywhere you go, you've got everyone tripping over themselves to get your attention. Me included. And you just eat it up. Like it's a game to you. Acting like you enjoy my company, like I'm special, and then turning around and doing the same thing with some reg."
Joan's look of surprise through his ranting now turned into one of confusion. "I'm sorry... what?"
"Don't act like you don't know," he scoffed. "I saw you laughing with some regs in your office, when you were supposed to be meeting with me."
He was done now. He'd said more than he should have and he didn't like how she still didn't seem to understand. He clenched his jaw and refused to look at her, burning holes into the opposite wall with his gaze instead.
"Wait," she said, tying to wrap her head around it all. "This is about... you're not seriously... jealous?"
"No," he quickly snapped. Maybe a little too quick.
"Okay, good," she stated, starting to come out of her confusion and settle back into her usual, sensible tone. "Because that'd be pretty ridiculous, getting jealous over me being nice to people."
He knew that. As soon as she'd said the word, as soon as he had a name for the emotions he'd been fighting all week, he knew he was being completely and utterly ridiculous. He'd never minded her kindness to his brothers; in fact, he'd admired it. But seeing her with the regs had definitely made him feel jealous. Threatened. He still hated them, he would never budge on that, but he'd had no right to project his anger and insecurities onto Joan.
"I mean, what do you think I do with my time?" she continued, still appalled this was why he had been upset with her. "Just sit around and wait for you to need me? Sure, the clone force is my main responsibility, but there are other ways I'm useful here."
Crosshair lowered his gaze to the floor but kept his posture tense. He wasn't sure what to do now. How could he possibly take back everything he'd said? The foolish and immature way he'd been acting?
Maybe Joan could sense his guilt as she slowly moved closer, like she was approaching an injured animal. He sure felt like he was, albeit, his wounds were of his own fault. She stood just in front of him, silent again, though this time not to coax him into speaking. He looked up at her to see her eyes casting about, thinking of what to say.
"My parents were doctors," she eventually began. "They would travel to underprivileged communities all over the galaxy, even as far as Wild Space. And they'd take me with them. I might not have understood the technical parts of what they did. I'd learn all that on my own later. But they did teach me how to care for people. All peoples, no matter who they were, what they'd done. It's not just my job, but my duty to make people feel better. I can, so I must. Whether it's helping someone recover from an injury, or laughing at a joke that isn't that funny."
She gave him a little smirk, and he found himself falling for her all over again.
"I'm not going to apologize for being nice, especially to those who will probably never meet someone willing to treat them kindly again."
He shook his head rapidly. "No, you're not the one who needs to apologize. I...."
He hesitated with the word, it wasn't one he said very often. He remembered being in a similar situation not too long ago, where he'd snapped at her unfairly, and he'd walked away with only a smile as an apology. She deserved more from him now.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to say it clearly and confidently. He held her gaze and repeated it for good measure. "I'm sorry, Joan. I shouldn't have been jealous like that. I have no right to tell you how to treat others. And you really are so good to everyone. That's... one of the reasons why I like you."
He didn't say the last part as confidently, dropping his voice low and almost stuttering it out through a suddenly shaky breath.
She smiled and nodded, accepting his apology just like that. No strings, no deals. He wasn't worthy of such simple forgiveness. But he would take what he could get.
"Well uh, just so you know," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears and looking down at the floor. Crosshair felt that familiar wave of warmth rising from his chest, the one he'd been ignoring all week, and thought he'd never get to feel again. He was careful not to get too carried away this time, though. He didn't want to read into anything. He would wait patiently for her to tell him and he wouldn't jump to any wrong conclusions.
"I do enjoy your company. When you asked to see me... Well, I hadn't been having a good week, and that day.... Let's just say I didn't expect to be able to do much. But I ended up looking forward to you coming by. I was worried when you didn't show. It made the day that much worse."
She was still looking downward, and he let his gaze follow hers. Her fingers were twisting the hem of her shirt.
"I know I don't fully understand. Your life, what you've been through. But there's some things you don't know about me, either."
Her hands were so close to his. He reached out for them, carefully testing her reaction as he let his fingers brush against hers, gently loosening them from her shirt, and intertwining them with his own. She seemed hesitant to accept his attempt at comfort, but she wasn't retreating. Not yet. Encouraged, he held on a little more firmly. For a few seconds, she let him, and then she finally withdrew.
"In this room, you are my patient. I have to treat you the same as all my patients. Professionally." She took in a measured breath, her eyes finally looking up into his. "But outside of this room, I'm allowed to have friends. Or enemies. Or... other things."
Her lips twitched into a small smile and so did his. He wasn't sure how he could misinterpret her now.
"What are you doing tonight?"
Her smile grew and she let out a breathless laugh. "Nothing."
"Well, maybe we could get to know each other a little better? Since we've clearly had such a hard time understanding each other so far."
Joan nodded, starting to take a few steps back toward the table, ready to get the examination underway. "I'd like that. What did you have in mind?"
He followed her and sat back atop the table while he thought about it. "Sector 11, just to the right of the double doors. I'll meet you there."
"Okay. I should be wrapped up with all this testing for you boys by eight."
She held up a syringe with an apologetic look.
Oh right, he groaned internally, now snapping back to reality. The dreaded testing....
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JIKOOK DYNAMICS: JIMIN'S LOVE LANGUAGE
In my previous post, I shared my thoughts on what I think is Jikook's love language, specifically Jungkook's; and how in my estimation Jimin is the only member within BTS that speaks it, comes close to speaking it and most importantly makes the effort to speak it.
In this post, I attempt to outline what I think is Jimin's love language and show the various ways I feel JK speaks it or comes close to speaking it more so than the others in BTS.
Now I have to state for the record that I do not know or purport to know Jimin or Jungkook or any of these members herein mentioned in any way special and personal other than through the content we all consume on them.
Nor do I intend to be malicious or disrespectful towards them with this post, to intend to strip away their individuality for the sake of shipping symmetry.
Thus, I reiterate, everything I express in here is my thoughts, my observations and my opinion and I pray you treat it as such.
Let the records show, also that, I will bug spray any fake woke wannabe edgy shipper with a Tuktukker complex that takes my words out of context, misconstrue it to suit their own agenda and then turn around to call me out for it. In the name of Jesus, I will avada kedabra your ass. Seriously.
I've always been fascinated by Jimin. By the person he is. And although I do not have a comprehensive understanding of this man's inner workings, he's got to be the most complex and frankly interesting character I've come across in all my shipping years.
His duality is confusing and coupled with his Libra energy, his character and personality can be and is quite often misconstrued and misinterpreted within the shipping community.
He is friendly, cute, funny, beautiful and ship compatible with anyone.
Very often, I find, most people cannot tell his personality from his idol self slash persona or even his love language from his affectionate nature; thus resulting in these bizzare fallacies and ridiculous assumptions about him such as: he is a flirt, hoe, clingy, homewrecker, attention seeker and a plethora of slurs and sobriquet that's defamatory and slanderous at best- its ridiculous.
I get that not everyone likes him and as such wouldn't hesitate to filter his words and actions through arbitrary metrics to arrive at conclusions that profits them and does nothing but help them make sense of their hate- Y'all don't love yourselves enough.
Not to say he is my bias therefore he is perfect. That would be a blunder. He has his shortcomings, he is human after all. What I'm saying is most people don't get him and as such read him wrong?
What's more discombobulating, is the stan who swears up and down they know Jimin well enough but don't see him treating JK any different from the rest of the boys in BTS therefore Jikook isn't real- insert shook pikachu face.
Then there are those stans with genuine shipping concerns about the love dynamics between the two:
Those that feel JM gives more to JK than he receives back. That he is more supportive of JK than JK is of him. Very often, these people would bring up the issue of JK not promoting Promise when it first came out as evidence of this- it's been years let it go.
JK not being as vocal and open about his feelings and interest in JM the way Jimin is and has been about JK is also another area of concern for these stans. If you try to explain to them its because JK is/was shy they will kick- your- ass. Hell, I will kick your ass too. I'll explain later.
Some people also- I know I have at one point- have described JK's interest in and descriptions of JM as a bit shallow and vain compared to how the other members speak of Jimin.
To them, the other members usually talk about how smart and intelligent JM is, how kind and nurturing he is. How much of himself he gives to them. That the way the members talk about Jimin often helps give us a glimpse into the real Park Jimin as distinct from the persona we see on the screens.
But then there is JK: JM hyung is sexy. He has pretty eyes. 'I want you.' Then he proceeds to drool over the Jibooty, squeeze them legs shut tight while struggling to sit through a Jimin solo dance without popping boners left right left around Jimin- Bless him.
I mean, dude nearly snapped his neck trying to catch a glimpse of the Ji-abs in the middle of a performance? Damn.
To be fair, the other members don't talk like this about Jimin and sexualise Jimin as often as JK does because, they don't want to screw Jimin's brains out? Cough, cough. Hashtag save Jimin from JK. Lol
If JK is sexually attracted to Jimin, how else do you expect him to express that? Never mind that he's done some of these things subconsciously at times. You know what...
Y'all need to give this man a break!
He was a hormonal teen- he is still relatively pretty young. It's ridiculous to expect and demand such high level of maturity from a 16/17 year old experiencing a nonplatonic love for the first time in his life and more so in an unforgiving and invasive environment such as that in which he found himself.
Jk and Jimin found each other before they found themselves and it's unreasonable to think that that didn't have a toll on their relationship dynamics. They are human.
They are each growing and maturing at different paces. Their relationship has suffered through its growing pains; Certainly, one person is going to appear lacking in one or two areas in one way shape or form and at any given point in their love journey. That doesn't make them less real.
Again, their careers and the pursuit of it haven't exactly given them the space, time or normalcy to explore what they are and who they are in a functional way, in my opinion.
Everything is moving fast in their world, everything is highly exaggerated and highly scrutinized. Kpop is not exactly a healthy space to foster a healthy relationship and it would be a miracle if any of them should come out unscathed.
Neither one of them went searching for this love thingy nor were they even experienced enough to look at their relationship beyond the convenience of it and the excitement of it- The orgasms were enough reason for them, I think.
I get uncomfortable when some Jikookers, out of good intentions, claim Jikook knew what they were doing, should have known therefore could have known the consequences of them coupling up in a group like BTS before entering into their relationship- let me stop you right there!
While this assumption may seem like a compliment to them it also perpetuates the adultification of early days Jikook which I find disturbing.
They were teens not grown adults when they fell in love. We can't expect and demand such level of maturity from them at that age as cool as that would have made them.
They don't need to be cool to be real. They don't need to be mature to be real.
Jikook is real regardless of whether they were thoughtful or not thoughtful about the consequences of them choosing to date in a group setting, or a homophobic society at the onset of their relationship.
It's ridiculous to dismiss what they are now on the grounds that S.K is a homophobic society or that dating a coworker is not inconsequential.
People date their coworkers all the time and there are gay couples in S.K.
Jikook were too young to comprehend the consequences of dating because which teen worries about all of that before popping one off for the lord? On which planet, sir/ma'am??Were they thinking with their 'ducks?' I believe so. But again, that doesn't make them any less real.
From what I can tell anyway, 2018 was the year Jikook had anything resembling a serious thoughtful contemplation of the status of their relationship- Well, 2018 and this later half of 2020 as some of you might have already noticed. More on this later.
But yes, this adultification of early days Jikook is absurd and needs to stop. And what's equally disturbing is the infantilization of the adult day Jikook- you can't expect Jikook dynamics to remain the same throughout the years. That's bizzare.
Don't expect them to be their same jeonlous, Jimlous, possessive selves. They are growing. They are evolving as individuals and as a pair.
I side eye the fuck out of these fake woke shippers and 'grown ups' who filter Jikook interactions through adult lens and tag moments like Jimlous and Jeonlous as toxic and unhealthy without taking into context where they were at in their love journey or even their age. What y'all think this is? Fiction? Get the fuck outta here.
Jikook have had to learn and grow on the Job and around their job and learn to love eachother under the scrutiny of severe cameras and weird Ahjummas. Leave them the fuck alone or I swear I will petrify your ass for an entire comeback season. Lol
All that being said, I get it. The way JK talks about Jimin isn't exactly special or unique from the way the other's speak about Jimin. But it isn't exactly superficial either...
And yes, it's quite unsettling that he doesn't describe Jimin in a way that gives meaningful insight into Jimin's personality as distinct from the others', given as he has exclusive access to Jimin more so than any of the members- we have a lot to unpack today, don't we?
Then on the other hand, there are those who think the exact opposite and see JK as the one who gives more to their relationship. That JK takes their relationship more seriously than Jimin does. They see Jimin as a bit wishy-washy when it comes to his commitment to their relationship- this breaks my heart.
Often, such people will cite Jimin's flirty nature, his lack of boundaries with others amongst other things, to prove their point...
Grab a seat, this discussion is going to be a long one. Smiley face.
JIMIN'S LOVE LANGUAGE
Jimin first got on my alt-ship radar in Rookie King when he was given an opportunity to air any and all of his grievances accumulated over the years against any member or staff of BigHit but instead chose to use that opportunity to talk about JK and how JK's actions had been hurting him.
Prior to this, he was just my bias and I would casually ship him with Suga, V, RM and basically all the members- except JK. I just couldn't ship JK with anyone.
Back then, I had a vague sense of JM's personality but felt I knew enough about him to theorize on his love language and JK was the last person I thought of as capable of meeting those emotional needs of Jimin's.
Rookie King changed my mind.
Jimin wasn't just trying to squash his differences with JK, he was trying to get closer to him. To get emotionally intimate with him- this is one of the things that sparked my interest in their dynamics.
Because it wasn't as if they weren't close. They were. They had a skinship between them. Skinship, or lack of physical boundaries as I like to call it, is one of the means through which BTS achieve intimacy amongst them.
Jikook had that between them at the time, they went everywhere together, woke each other up- they were close.
Yet Jimin felt they weren't close enough. That there was a wall between them. Now, I see a lot of people misinterpret this period in the Jikook timeline as that Jimin was crushing hard on JK. He wasn't. In my opinion.
You see, Jimin was the last person to Join the band. This was bound to have an effect on his relationship dynamics with the rest of the members as he had missed out on two years worth of emotional connection and camaraderie with them.
He had had only one year to bond and get to know the others away from the cameras and in a way that could help him develop a sense of belongingness within the group.
Within this one year, he had school, voice training, and other activities that possibly got in the way of him truly building an intimate connection with the others.
He is the only member out of the seven whose intimacy journey got captured on camera. He had to foster a connection with the others with the cameras around.
But building a connection with people even in a platonic sense is quite an intimate and private process. It takes vulnerability, honesty, a willingness to submit and subject oneself to varying degrees of humiliation, a sacrifice of the self, ego and pride in a way that just strips you naked- metaphorically speaking.
And in Jimin's case, he had to go through this stage and process openly and with the cameras around- the second hand embarrassment I get from watching early days Park Jimin!
He literally had to be the clown of the group, the hufflepuff, the clingy one, the flirty one, the one with the abs, the loud and chatty one as well as all the tasteless epithets people now weaponize against him.
I believe, all he was trying to do at this stage was breach the barriers he felt existed between him and the others as the newcomer of the group so he didn't feel like an outsider.
That is his first love language- the need to belong. He has a strong desire to feel connected with people. He cares about people and connection. He's reiterated this throughout the years and even more loudly in the recent Japan interviews.
He wanted to be part of BTS both physically and emotionally. He wanted to fit in, to belong with them, to be accepted and viewed as one of the boys- BTS.
You could see this in the way he had adopted the mannerisms of the group- the skinship, the love language of the group if you will.
It is why when Suga complained about him not liking him as much, Jimin immediately drew closer to him and wrapped his hands around him, initiating skinship between them to show he liked him.
Jimin tried to speak the groups love language so he could bond with them but he also began to infuse his own love language.
If you've seen his relationship with his father you'd understand that Jimin expresses his love through giving, nurturing etc. It is how his primary care givers showed him love and so how he also shows and conveys his love.
The members have talked about how he would encourage them to talk, to open up, how he would listen to them, be there for them and give them gifts- the birthday gift exchange culture in BTS didn't exist until Jimin arrived in BTS.
What I'm trying to say is, Jimin has a distinct way of showing love that is unique from how everyone else in the group expresses their love. That, there is also an established love parlance within BTS that everyone speaks and that is skinship.
So when Jimin does skinship with any member he is not acting 'clingy' he is just speaking the love language that the group understands. But when Jimin nurtures and acts supportive and what not, he is speaking his own unique love language.
Now I have talked extensively about how Jimin expresses his in my last post so I will be focusing mainly on how he receives loves or what gestures he interprets as love.
And since there is a general consensus that VMin have an emotional connection, I will be referencing their relationship a lot for comparisons sake.
Tae is the only member Jimin got to spend the most time with around predebut without the intrusion of the cameras. This i feel allowed Tae room to strip back and be fully vulnerable with Jimin without reservation as is required of intimacy- which was not the case for Jikook hence JK shying away from interacting with JM in front of the cameras.
Jikook wasn't accorded the luxury of privacy VMin had to build their bond. Jikook had to build their bond with the camera's trailing them. How many times have we seen JK give death stares to the camera people for invading his me time with Jimin?
Not to be psychoanalytic but I feel, this is what induced the exhibitionist tendencies we see in them- or perhaps I'm wrong and this is just them being extra. Bless them.
Within the one year JM was trying to connect with JK through skinship, JK was also only coming around to understanding what skinship meant to him. They were evolving at different paces.
JK has the most walls in BTS. He wasn't just physically closed off to skinship in the early days forcing Tae to strip him naked in the bathroom, he was emotionally closed off too.
He is still pretty much emotionally closed off- he likes to put up walls. He had his own room at the dorm, does his own laundry, barely keeps in touch with the others or pick up the damn phone when they call etc.
Jk barely partakes in the group's established way of life except for perhaps the skinship. In my opinion.
It took JK a while to understand this culture of skinship though. And the members, all of them, had to push his boundaries further back in order to connect with him.
For instance, Jin pinching his nipples to wake him up, Tae doing- well, all of it. Go watch Taekook sexual tension edits, I dare you. You'll understand.
These members had three years off camera with JK to build a connection with him and even they were met with some resistance from JK.
All Jimin had was a year with JK. I feel Jimin lowkey coveted what the others had with JK and perhaps wanted to have that with him too. Why? Because of his need to belong and connect with people. Watching JK's dynamics with the others probably made him feel left out.
I also understand how this could have been overwhelming for young JK who was having both his physical boundaries and emotional boundaries breached at the same time by this person whom he he'd known for only a year.
That's just one of the major differences between Jikook and Taekook: while Tae was busy breaching the physical walls between him and JK, Jimin was attempting emotional heist on him. Bravo Jimin, Bravo.
So do I think at this point in 2013 that Jikook were falling in love or had fallen in love? NO. But what I took from that moment was that Jimin wanted and needed to feel a sense of belongingness with JK.
Mind you I said he wanted to belong, not owned. Freedom is a component of Jimin's love language. In as much as he wants to be kept he wants to be set free- To be be given the room and freedom to explore options and take risks without judgement and without sanctions.
This need is often misconstrued as him being noncommittal.
His need for freedom, I believe, stems from his being raised in a conservative home with parents that directed and dictated every facet of his life and wouldn't even allow him to pursue his passions until later. It took a while for his father to give him the go ahead to pursue his dream- which is performing on stage.
This is why I said in my last post that Jimin has a need to be in control of the decision making in a relationship. Being able to do as he pleases is important to him. Being able to control his own narrative is important to him. And the only person in BTS that permits him to have such authority over him is JK.
Now, I know you are going to say 'but JK is a bit possessive yadda yadda yadda'.
Listen, Jimin's need for freedom is inextricably linked with his fear of judgment and repercussion. What this means is, although he wants his freedom he is often afraid of what will happen if he should go for it.
As such, very often he wouldn't do anything without permission. Especially if he feels it's going to land him in trouble.
I fist noticed this in the 2014 Jikook bangtan bomb when he said he was starting to take a liking to JK but then right after he asked if JK was ok with that. Suga have also said, Jimin doesn't go out of his way to do things that makes people hate him- See this is why he needs JK. He could use some rebellion in his life.
However, this fear of sanctions often makes him complacent to and an accomplice in toxic behavioural patterns.
For instance, until recently, he would enable JK and encourage his acts of jealousy and possessiveness and even incite them at times. He would hold on to the thorns if it means keeping the rose.
But I see him asserting himself and demanding space within their relationship at times but when he does and JK withdraws he would act clingy around JK.
It is what Manila was about, what August 2019 was about and what April/May 2020 was about. I know some of y'all don't agree with my analysis on these moments, but I'm gonna have to stand by it.
Jimin is all about the balance of scales. The balance of needs and wants. The balance of fears and desires. It's just the Libra in him. Give him too much freedom and he will feel unwanted, hold on too tight and he would feel suffocated.
'I value my relationship. Spending time with my friends is gold' remember this shade?
Jimin's fear of Judgment comes from being a perfectionist and also being raised in a conservative home with a lot of expectations of him to be the model son as the elder male.
Thus, he instinctively gravitates towards people who are less judgy or have too much expectations of him.
Also, because he believes he has to work hard to achieve the things he wwants he wants to be loved, it would mean a lot to him if he didn't have to work hard to have someone love him.
It makes sense then that he would gravitate towards JK.
Jk embodies all of Jimin's wildest desires. I call this the allure of the Golden Maknae. Jk doesn't conform. He doesn't care about people's opinions of him and lives his life on his own terms- something Jimin is striving for.
No member in BTS is as free spirited, or as rebellious as JK is. When Suga told him not to get a tattoo because the fans would hate it- he's gotten it anyway hasn't he?
The best part, JK fell all on his own. And you damn right. he fell hard.
Still on the subject of fears, another fear I feel Jimin has that speaks to his love language is the fear of being a burden.
It is why he gives and gives and keeps giving. He'd rather give than receive. Which by the way, JK is the only member I have seen Jimin demand back what he gives him. Emotionally speaking.
Because he gives a lot of himself, he burns out quickly and feels emotionally drained quite often.
He has admitted himself that he used to drink by himself in his room whenever he felt drained. I assume he drank by himself because he didn't want to be a burden to others. Aka JK.
You see, JK is an empath. He feels people's pain as if they were his own. You just have to see him tear up while watching JM cry to understand what I mean by this. Jimin is a nurturer, he knows what it feels like to listen to someone's pain.
And if Tae is the one he goes to when it becomes overbearing then what does he need JK for? Glad you asked!
What JK offers Jimin is nourishment. A safe space for him to heal and reboot. JK replenishes Jimin. It is why he constantly wants to be around him.
Jk has been a canvas in their love dynamics from day one. They've both had to negotiate their needs and wants to make their relationship work. Which is something I find unique about their dynamics and why I believe they are real.
JK's lack of experience in dating, meant he had gone into their relationship without any preconceived notions of love. He's had to learn to love Jimin the way Jimin wants to be loved.
Coming from the background he's coming from, and having been denied his ambitions for such a long time, I see why Jimin would be drawn to people that are quite ambitious.
And even though, JK wasn't this person at first, Jimin has had to hype him up to the task. He pushes JK to be more ambitious.
When it comes to JK, I feel it's more about his potential to be everything Jimin wants in a partner and JK seems more than happy to comply with this.
Because of Jimin's duality and as a natural nurturer, I feel Jimin would also be attracted to someone emotionally open to recieving his love but not too emotionally dependent on him- the balance of scales I mentioned earlier.
It is why VMin wouldn't work, in my opinion. Tae is too emotionally dependent on Jimin. He ends up taking too much than he gives. On the other hand, Suga isn't emotionally dependent enough.
Again, for a man who's battled insecurity for years, it's safe to assume security, certainty and stability are an intricate part of his love language.
He seeks validation of these needs through the most random of things. In my opinion. He wants to be the one that knows JK the best. It matters to him if their clothes match, if their hair colors match, if JK meets his eyes in the middle of a serious comeback interview, if he checks all of JK's answers- hell, dude be whispering sweet empty nothings in JK's ears most times, talking about they are destined to be together and shit. You are me, I am you. Shit.
As annoying as some of these behaviors may be, JK is very considerate and tolerant of them and consideration is another one of Jimin's love language. This goes back to having been denied his dreams by his father. That denial flowed from a lack of consideration of his needs.
And as much as emotionally connected he is with Tae, Tae barely takes his feelings into consideration. And you see this in the letter Tae's written to Jimin. Or even in the dumpling incident where Tae put his want above Jimin's.
Not to mention the moments, JM have had to walk out of rooms because- Tae won't stop playing with JK's dam hair! Lol. They are cute.
People take from Jimin without reservation. But Jk is considerate as Jimin is of JK's needs.
Jk wasn't the 'exhibitionist' in that pair. He's a very private individual from what I can tell.
That PDA, that exhibitionism we see in them, that's all Park Jimin. He kinky. Dude freaky as fuck- we ain't mad at that. Bless him.
He enjoys public displays of affection. It's how he receives love. But PDA is not JK's love language, in my opinion. Yet he goes out of his way to show his affections for JM openly.
The best example I can give of this is Rosebowl.
JK understands that in order to be intimate with JM he has to allow himself to be influenced by him.
And Jimin understands that, as much as he wants to be close to JK that he doesn't have to rush him or force him into giving him the things he need from their relationship.
They are both very considerate of each other's needs, as random and ridiculous as those needs may be and cater to them in a way that is uniquely them.
Take the New Jersey live 2019 for example. Jimin seemed exhausted. Didn't want to be on another Live that night but JK clearly wanted to be seen on a Live together with him so he was there.
Another instance is the rock bison incident, where JM exchanged his toy for JK's just to make JK happy.
Listen, Jimin is in love with Jk no matter how imperfect you think he is.
No matter how much you think JK sucks at expressing his feelings for JM, Jimin loves him. No matter how close JM is with the other members, aka VMin, Yoonmin, Minimoni and the others; no matter the lack of emotional and physical boundaries between him and the others he will always fall back on Jk because none of those relationships fulfill him as much as JK does.
Jimin's constant need to be around JK could only mean there is some he gets from JK, a sense of fulfillment he gets that he doesn't get from any other member.
Keep supporting Jikook.
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Summer of '72 - Part 8
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
Pairing: Ted Tonks x Andromeda Black
Summary: Over a week into her stay at the McKinnon's house, Andromeda receives a letter from Ted, and Saoirse attempts to persuade her to reconsider her retreat from him.
Tags: @marlmckitten @greek-freak101 @leighpeterson @chocolate-cauldron-cakes @oldminniemcg @midnightelite (Please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)
Andromeda woke with a long, laboured yawn, eyes squinting in the morning sunlight as she attempted to bury herself in the sofa cushions of the all familiar living room at the McKinnon's house.
She'd been staying with the family at Saoirse's request for just over a week now. The place itself always felt like home; an old farmhouse with low ceiling beams, bricks walls painted shades of bright white and soft blue, and narrow hallways with creaking floorboards. Despite having only moved our of Godric's Hollow a year or so before, the drafty house felt like forever - a place befitting the family that dwelled within it.
The hammering of footsteps on the old staircase seemed to shake the room around her as three, four, five, six of the siblings came pushing and shoving their way downstairs.
"Andy!" Saoirse cried, moving a twelve-year-old Marlene out of her way with a firm hand to the side of her face, bounding across the room towards her friend, surprisingly chipper considering it was yet to turn 7am.
"Morning," Andromeda grumbled, rubbing her wrist firmly into her eye as she struggled to greet the day, watching the McKinnons hurriedly file through into the kitchen.
Once she'd dragged herself out from under her blankets, she scurried across the room, cold kitchen floor tiles providing the shock needed to really wake her up as she stepped up to the long table, perching at one end opposite the eldest, William, who was currently trying to pry his brother Joseph away from Nora's scrambled eggs, which the seven year old girl was determined to protect at all costs.
"Joseph be nice to your sister," Clarisse, the family matriarch, called from her place stood over the stove. "If you steal, your father gets to eat your bacon, those are the rules,"
"Might just have to eat you too," The boy's father joked, scooping Joseph up from his place at the table as he squealed, tickling his stomach mercilessly.
The McKinnon family seemed to fill Andromeda with joy without even trying. They were effortlessly loving, hopelessly happy, and filled with an unfiltered adoration almost entirely foreign to her. Her parents had been - at best - emotionally distant, or at least they were in all the fragments of her childhood that she could remember. And here were the McKinnons. Not a care in the world for their status, their wealth, or their blood. They were a family by poet's definition, overflowing with love and selfless care. Maybe their home itself was crooked, its walls permanently cold and its windows fogged with age, but warmth was bursting through every crack in the brickwork.
And it had often occurred to her within these walls, that it wasn't the house that had made the place home.
"Mum, can I go save the frogs after breakfast?" Marlene spoke up over the commotion, eyes bright and youthful, her hair starkly golden even amongst the sea of blonde seated around the table.
"Marly, the frogs live in the pond for a reason," Her mother soothed, piling buttery eggs onto the girl's plate. "They need to be there to lay their eggs, and you're not saving them by dumping them in the river,"
"All I'm saying is that maybe they'd be happier if we let them travel, the garden pond isn't exactly frog paradise," Marlene argued, mouth stuffed with breakfast. She had been notably strange in her youth.
Andromeda chuckled, silently tucking in to her sausages, perfectly content as an observer of the family's raucous dynamic.
A piercing screech split and rattled through the kitchen, its inhabitants grimacing at the sound as a large ruffled owl came to perch on the Dutch door that led out to the back garden, letters clutched in his beak. Nora scrambled from her seat, ruffling the bird's feathers as she stretched up on her tiptoes to gather all of the letters, squinting slightly in an attempt to read the cursive addresses and recipients.
"This one's for you again!" The girl announced, placing a familiar green envelope on the table in front of Andromeda.
"My, you are popular!" Clarisse chuckled. "Six letters in nine days, I worry we're keeping you from something important!"
Andromeda smiled, shrugging as she slid the letter into her pocket. Saoirse frowned from the other end of the table.
When breakfast had ended and the McKinnons had dispersed, Andromeda hurried into the back room, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth, her fingers running along each seam of the envelope, but never tearing it open.
On the back of the envelope was scribbled a familiar address, and an all too familiar name.
There was a stack of these letters stuffed into the bottom of her suitcase, each and every one unopened. Ted must have been writing to her every day, but in her mind she couldn't afford to open it. Opening Ted's letters meant opening her heart back up to him. And besides, if it was anything important surely Lucretia or Ignatius would write?
With a huff, she stretched out her hand to the hearth, fingers loosening their grip on the letter as she readied herself to drop it into the flames. The moment she let it slip, a voice came from the doorway.
"Accio," Saoirse called, snatching the envelope out of the air as it flew across the room into her palm. "Seriously Andy, this is getting ridiculous," She huffed.
Andromeda ran a hand across her face in exasperation, flopping backwards onto the worn couch. "I've already explained it all to you like three times, I can't-"
"I know, you can't be with him because you're under the impression that he's somehow putting himself in danger,"
"He is! He's-"
"He's older than you. And he's not stupid, Andy. You don't have to want to be with him but you can't just ignore him and expect this all to go away! You can't tell him what to feel, and besides, I think you do want him to like you. A lot."
Andromeda groaned, burying her face in her knees, resistant to the fact that everything Saoirse was saying surely rang true.
"I've had enough of enabling you to ignore him and act like it's some shitty method of protecting him from your weird fucking family when you're just too chicken to admit that maybe you're just as in love with him as he is with you and that scares you because the last time you had 'real' feelings for anyone was when you convinced yourself you were gonna marry Alfie Pines when we were eleven!" Saoirse cried, barely taking a breath as she ranted, tearing at the envelope to get at Ted's letter.
"Jesus Sersh," Andromeda sighed, laying back across the sofa and staring up at her slightly frenzied best friend.
"Now I'm gonna read this letter and you're gonna listen, and depending on what it says we're either packing your bags right fucking now or moving to Switzerland,"
"You've been ghosting him so bad that this might be your breakup letter, bitch." Saoirse stated bluntly. "We may have to flee the country depending on how devastating this is for you,"
The blonde stepped up onto a nearby footstool, towering over Andromeda as she ripped open Ted's letter to dramatically proclaim its contents.
"Ahem. Dear Andromeda...
The fact that you never responded to my first letter, or any of the other ones after that, has made it clear to me by now that you're either not reading these, or that you're way more annoyed at me than I thought and don't want anything to do with me anymore.
Either way, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for acting so impulsively. When I came to your house, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that it was a simple matter of taking you away from somewhere you didn't want to be, because I didn't understand the fragility of the situation, and I put us both in danger when really all I wanted to do was keep you safe, and make you happy. That's still all I want.
I'm sorry for that very first day I met you in the park when I asked about your mother. I didn't know you then, and it was insensitive and something I never apologized for when I should have. I think I got so caught up in knowing you, that I forgot everything that came before that. I'm sorry for buying you strawberry ice cream when your favourite was actually chocolate, and I'm sorry for not making sure you didn't fill your glass too high at that garden party.
But now that I'm not sure if you're ever going to speak to me again, I suppose I need to apologise for some other stuff too.
I'm sorry for not waiting with you by the door when you were drunk that night. I'm sorry for not hugging you the second I saw you at Grimmauld Place. I'm sorry for not kissing you in the hall at the Prewett's house.
I know you may never read this, but that's ok. Maybe if you don't, someday I'll get to tell you that I love you for the first time all over again.
Saoirse slowly lowered the letter from in front of her face, lips still moving slightly as if processing all she'd just read aloud. Andromeda's eyes were teary, cheeks burning red, her face stuck in a smile she wasn't sure would ever fade.
"Wow... that was definitely something," Saoirse breathed, expression slowly stretching out into a gleeful grin.
Andromeda tightly gripped the edge of the couch, thoughts running through her mind fast enough to make her dizzy.
"Read that last bit again?" She requested.
"I know you may never read this, but that's ok. Maybe if you don't, someday I'll get to tell you that I love you for the first time all over again." Saoirse read proudly, beaming as she hopped off the stool with a thud.
Andromeda was silent for a moment, chest rising and falling in quick succession before she suddenly bolted from the sofa, arms flung around her friend's neck in a startlingly tight hug. "Holy shit!"
"So you're going back?" Saoirse giggled.
"Obviously! Oh my god," Andromeda huffed, bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly as she paced around the coffee table before dragging her suitcase out from the corner of the room.
"I should go, right? I should go find him now, I'm not being overzealous or anything?"
"He just said he loved you in a letter, you're hardly being forward," Saoirse chuckled, helping Andy to gather her things. "I'll get Will to bring the car around,"
"I have to go say goodbye to everyone," Andromeda gasped, hurrying towards the door. Saoirse stopped her dead in her tracks, blocking the doorway in her search of her eldest brother.
"Come back and say goodbye to everyone in a couple days," Saoirse smirked. "Bring Ted with you."
Andromeda took a deep breath. Glancing from the packed suitcase to the opened letter on the table, her heart swelled.
She was going home. And in just a single moment, her definition of home had changed.
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Locked and Reloaded [Ch. 5]
TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Gun Violence, Implied Abusive Household
Genre: Action, Light Comedy, Angst
Pairing: NCT Dream x Reader
YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)
(5/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]
[Main Masterlist] | [Locked and Reloaded Masterlist]
Word Count: 6.5K
Notes: It’s about time these members entered the story. I’m dropping this now instead of a Saturday upload because I’m getting my second dose of vaccine in about nine hours, and from how both of my parents reacted something tells me that I’m going to be incapacitated for the next two days, so I decided to finish this bad boy up now! Currently next on my list to work on is Infatuation, so I’ll see you in that update!
Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to the Idol(s) mentioned in the writings of these stories, nor do I wish any harm on them.
“That’s stupid,” you told your older brother. Baekhyun just laughed. You had just finished ranting to him how a majority of the premise of chemistry was ridiculous, being founded on one key theory that could be amended at any moment, something now set in stone or put to law. It was a theoretical science that clashed with the lawfulness of physics and the puzzle of biology. “Chemistry is literally the weakest link.”
“I don’t quite think so, songbird,” the nickname was sweet in his voice, it was one you had had for as long as you could remember. He leans against your desk and he points at the picture. “It’s just atomic theory.”
“Yeah, and it’s stupid. Imagine, all of this work, all seven hundred of these pages and countless other books could get proved incorrect if someone disproves it.”
“You read this entire textbook and that’s all you have to say about it?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Wah, you’re so amazing and you don’t even know it,” he hugged your head to his stomach and you pushed him away.
“Ew, you’re so gross,” you wiped the sweat from your face. “At least shower before coming into my room! You’re disgusting when you use the gym.”
“And miss my darling sister? No way, that and I came to congratulate you!” He points at the certificate on your desk just under your coffee mug. “Not every day you win the science fair… again.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you put a textbook over it. He was right, but it was hardly an achievement for you at this point, it was an expectation.
“What did you do this year?” None of them even showed up, the only person there to help you with your project was Jeno, but he was always there whether you liked it or not.
“You don’t know?”
“I was at the conference, remember?”
“Oh, right,” you sighed. “It was just an observation on bees.”
“Whoa! Bees are great! They’re so helpful for pollination, for honey, and so much more!” Baekhyun smiles. “Hey, your birthday’s coming up, right? Fourteen? Oh god, oh no, my songbird? A teen? I don’t think I can handle this.”
“You’re overreacting! It’s not like I’m going to be any different. Plus, I’m already a teen.”
“Oh, (Y/N), you have no idea. Thirteen is the one year free trial before you start having to pay to be a teen. Once you turn fourteen, ugh, I don’t even know how to say this,” Baekhyun fake cries and wipes away the invisible tears. “It’ll be like you’re a whole different person.”
“Stop that! Why are you acting so weird?” You laughed and turned to him. Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest and your smile dropped. You knew that look on his face better than anyone. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I leave tonight,” he says.
“Maybe a week this time, dad wants to show me the properties over in Zone 8.”
“Seriously? What for?” The factories that far out from the city were nearly ghost factories, they just handled building the smaller removable parts of the weapons your father developed. You couldn’t think of a possible reason why Baekhyun would have to go out that far.
“I have no clue, maybe he just wants me to see the Byun system at a smaller scale,” Baekhyun sighs. “Will you be okay here?”
“Will I be okay here? Don’t make me laugh,” you slammed your textbook shut and stared at him. “She hates me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“She does! You’ve seen the way she talks to me when you’re not around, Baek, I genuinely think that woman wants to get rid of me.”
“She’s your mother.”
“No, she’s your mother.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as accusing as it did. But you could genuinely say that you never felt anything from her aside from the obvious disdain she must have held for you. But what could you do? You’d hate you too. If one day your husband showed up at your doorstep with a kid you didn’t recognize telling you to treat her as if she was your own, you’d despise that child’s existence. All you were was proof of infidelity, and your stepmother made that very clear. You were her daughter on paper alone, but in reality, you were nothing more than a freeloader. “I’m just the bastard kid from dad’s mistress.”
“Do not,” Baekhyun held a finger up and stared at you with an intensity you’ve never seen on his face before. Seriousness wasn’t something that Baekhyun often used, especially around you. “Do not ever reduce yourself to that. Do you understand? You are so much more than that and you can’t let anyone who says that to you bring you down, you cannot let that weigh on you. Who even told you that?”
“She did. Who else?”
“God…” Baekhyun looked away and huffed. He held his hand to his forehead and sighed. “Keep in touch with me, okay? Just one more year and I can take it to court.”
“Forget it, Baek,” you waved your hand. “It would never work. We have no proof.”
“Well,” Baekhyun pressed his lips together and placed a tape in front of you.
“A tape? Seriously?”
“Don’t hate on old tech, they’re still around for a reason. I have a walkman in my room, second drawer on my desk. Listen to it later, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” you placed the tape in your own drawer, out of sight and out of mind.
“Just wait for me, alright?”
“(Y/N), I’m serious.”
“I’ll be back, okay?”
“Okay, just go, dad’s probably waiting for you,” you opened your textbook again and stared at the passages on it. You had a really bad feeling about tonight, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.
“Love you, songbird.”
“Sungchan! Four o’clock!” You shouted towards the agent. Sungchan, moving a second too late was met with the spine of a book to his face, promptly knocking him out. “Aw, geez,” you shoved your bag under a table, hoping that it would be somewhat okay after the fight, and threw a metal tray, the circular object blocking one of the flying weapons from hitting Shotaro on his way to Sungchan.
“Thank you!” He shouts. He leans next to his best friend and tries to wake him up while the fight continued.
“I’ll try to keep you guys covered, but you might need to fill in for me eventually, Reaper’s not doing too good over there,” you stumbled over to the two and handed Shotaro one of the pillows from the couch. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, just knocked out, but I have to watch him just in case… you know.”
“I do, just make sure he’s fine.”
With Jeno’s sudden appearance the Sanctum became a new battleground. Ancient artifacts were being used left and right for battle, whether they were used correctly or not, and with incoherent shouts filling the previously calm room. Strange was doing his best to prevent anything potentially world-threatening from happening, the Sorcerer Supreme understanding the laws of the universe, as well as any of you did, while the Maverick worked to bring down Vulture. The surprise attack rendered them at an unfortunate disadvantage. Strange was more concerned with keeping the battle within the Sanctum than he was helping any of you out, which was entirely understandable.
“I got it!” Peter shoved back the bookcase that was about to fall on you.
“Just so you know I am so sorry I did not mean for any of this to happen I didn’t know.”
“Oh goodness, no hard feelings, Peter, it happens to the best of us,” you said to him. “There’s no way you could’ve known.”
“Thanks, (Y/N), that means a— Watch out!” He pushed you out of the way just as a shield lodged itself between you, you turned towards the source and saw Vulture, and you had to stop yourself from getting any more frustrated than you already are.
“Fucking hell,” you clapped your hands together and jogged in place. “Stretching before fights is good for you, Peter, don’t forget that,” you said to him. Then you saw Cap waving his hand. You pulled the shield from its spot and threw it back to him.
“Don’t lose your shit!” You moved your head to the side just as a bullet whizzed past you. “And watch where you’re aiming!” You dodged another bullet as it ricocheted off of one of the metal artifacts of the Sanctum.
“I am,” Jaemin’s voice was steady despite the chaos. “Reaper!” Jaemin tossed one o the artifacts towards the other, particularly a sharp one, and Jeno drove it into the wall next to Vulture, just barely grazing the Follower. Vulture grabbed onto the back of Jeno’s neck, the razor claws on his hands emerging and sinking into the half-demon before Vulture slammed Jeno’s head through the wall.
“Urgh, I felt that,” you rubbed the back of your neck as the phantom pain shot through it. You quickly stepped back just as an eldritch whip snapped in front of you.
“Mr. Wong?!” Peter gasps.
“That one isn’t in our database,” Jaemin grabbed onto the whip as it went towards you again, ‘Wong’ staring at him with a slight confusion, to which Jaemin just tugged it away from the other’s hands, watching the concentrated energy dissipate.
“Well then add him later, dammit,” you charged towards Vulture but soon felt something wrap around your ankle. You looked at the portal next to your foot and the hand around it. “Ew! Oh my god!” You yanked it out of ‘Wong’s’ grasp and shot towards him, the bullets disappearing before they could get anywhere close. No wonder it was so fucking convenient, you hoped whoever the real Wong was and where he was currently wasn’t too horrible.
“We should name this guy,” Jaemin dodged the eldritch disk that nearly sliced his throat. “I’m thinking Frisbee.”
“Oh come on, let’s stay true to tradition and wait for Hyuck,” you pulled a sword from the suit of armor next to you and blocked the whip again. You turned the hilt in your hand and smiled. “Ooh, I like this. You know my ex used to be an expert fencer.”
“I almost forgot about that one,” Jaemin hums. “What’s with sleeping beauty over there?”
“Got hit in a face with a book.”
“Oh that’s good, one less bomb we have to worry about.”
“That’s rude,” you scolded him.
“Can someone help me over here?!” Jeno’s pissed off voice came from the office. He pushed himself up from the rubble and cracked his neck before his knuckles. “I’m going to kill this guy, fuck the Agreement.”
“Does the Agreement even apply this far out?” You asked. Jaemin pulled out his phone briefly. The Agreement was offered by the D98 Avengers, basically promising not to do any dimension altering things, but it was just a promise, nothing was set in stone and thus was lacking in any legality. It was a gentleman’s promise, so to say.
“Technically it doesn’t, D62 is far out of D98 bounds. And since none of the Avengers are here…” Jaemin let Jeno fill in the blanks himself.
“Good,” Jeno tapped his wrists together, a blood-red magic circle appearing between them.
“Wait, do you guys hear that?” You looked around while skillfully parrying evil Wong’s attacks.
“Hear what?” Shotaro was nursing the passed out Sungchan while blocking any projectiles that made their way towards him.
“It kind of sounds like screaming,” Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows.
“No, it sounds like… no, of all the members to send,” you groaned. Then the sound of doors crashing open accompanied the chaos that was the Sanctum while a familiar face ran in head first, literally, screaming his head off, and rams into Dr. Strange.
“I got this one, V! Don’t worry!” Chenle shouts.
“You idiot he’s on our side!” Jeno grabs a polearm from a nearby suit of armor and whacks it over Vulture’s head, the polearm breaking in half right after and really just pissing off the Follower more.
“Oh is he? Sorry!” Chenle detached himself from the sorcerer.
“Looks like we’ll be having a change in plans,” Strange murmured and disappeared from the room.
“Did the wizard just dip?!” You yelled.
“I think so!” Chenle yelled back, despite being right next to you.
“Why are you even here?!”
“We were talking to Fury when Jeno just fell into a sudden pool of blood! I followed your tracker here because I figured you’re in trouble. Be grateful!”
“I never said I wasn’t?!” You heard a pang next to you and turned to your side, a circular shield blocking your vision for only a brief moment before connecting with Other Wong’s abdomen.
“Thanks,” you nodded towards Steve.
“No problem,” he says. “But where’d that bullet come from?” Cap looks around the room. Jaemin rushes next to you and grabs something, pointing it upwards. Within a few moments, someone materializes next to him. A classic cloaking spell, of course, right when you needed it most.
“Monsieur,” her voice was hoarse.
“Lynx,” you saw him grimace while the woman drove a knife into Jaemin’s side and twisted it harshly. A loud groan left the man’s throat while you darted next to him and tackled the woman to the ground.
“I like your D62 version better!” You pressed your gun to her head and she threw you off before you could pull the trigger.
“Nat!?” Steve blocked another gunshot from her with his shield.
“Not Nat,” Bucky answers.
“Where have you been?”
“This thing’s still glowing,” Bucky held up the crystal.
“Give that to me!” Chenle appears next to them and grabs it. “You meaty idiots don’t know what to do with this.”
“Was that an insult?”
“Apperio!” Chenle ignored the Captain and chanted the charm, a magic circle appeared around the crystal. Following the ripple of two blue circles that expanded throughout the room, two more people appeared.
“There’s more of them?!” You shot Vulture in the leg. Before you were two other notorious members of the Elite. Arachnid, who you fought before, and Dead Shot, someone you were hoping not to run into in this dimension. “Someone get Parker out of here as soon as he touches Arachnid it’s over!” You shout.
“Oh please, I wouldn’t even try that. What good is this mission if any of us blow up the dimension while we’re at it,” Arachnid catches the flying dagger and flings it back towards Jaemin, who easily dodged it.
“We have orders to keep you alive, Vendetta, comply and the others will live,” Dead Shot spoke in his trademarked mechanical voice.
“Fuck that,” you pointed your gun at Arachnid and click. Click, click. “Well, this is awkward,” you chucked the magnum at Arachnid, the handle of the gun hitting the area between the mutant’s eyes and stunning him briefly, while Dead Shot released a flurry of bullets. You ran along the wall to dodge them, looking for something to shield yourself with now that Cap and Bucky were busy with Lynx, Jeno had Vulture busy, and Jaemin moved over to Arachnid so that Peter could handle Evil-Wong instead.
“Surrender or be forced to, Vendetta.”
“Well, shit,” you held a book in front of you while Dead Shot went through consecutive rounds.
“How could you not know a Follower was here?!” Jeno was pushed back next to you while deflecting Vulture’s attacks.
“How the hell was I supposed to know?! I didn’t even know that those three were here until a couple of minutes ago!”
“Are you kidding me?!”
“No, I’m not kidding you because if I was we wouldn’t be in this mess!”
“It has been thirty minutes! I let you and Jaemin go for thirty minutes and this happens!”
“In our defense,” Jaemin gets pushed back to the other side of you and clears his throat. “Peter brought us here.”
“I said I’m sorry!” Peter brushes off the embers on his suit. “Aw man, how am I going to explain this to Mr. Stark?”
“Explain? Have you been reporting us to him?!” You asked.
“Uh… no,” Peter’s phone goes off and he answers it. “Hi, Mr. Stark, there’s kind of a situation going on right now—”
“Tell them not to come here! If any of the other Followers show up it could tear the fabric of reality apart!” Chenle shouts. A magic circle appears under Peter’s phone and it short circuits. Chenle adjusts the watch around his wrist, a much larger magic circle appearing from it.
“Vocavi te ab umbris,” at the utterance of the words the shadows in the room gathered together to a much larger amalgamate. “Go, Vendetta, I’ll keep them handled.”
“Fuck,” you spotted your backpack, which was pushed up against the wall on the other side of the room.
“What now?” Jeno asks.
“What about it?”
“There’s something really important in there,” Jaemin sounded disappointed. “We could hole-in-one it, V.”
“We could,” you said. “But that risks shaking it up too much.
“Hot potato then?” Jeno offers.
“Who would start it?”
“The closest person is Shotaro, if he throws it far enough I could probably catch it,” Jeno says. “Pass it over to Jaemin.”
“Then I’ll pass it to you. But by then you need to be in that hallway,” Jaemin says.
“Got it, I can do that.”
“And if anything goes wrong?”
“We’re going to die in this dimension, aren’t we?” Jeno frowns.
“On the count of three, break,” Jaemin says, ignoring his best friend’s words. You hand Jeno the old sword, which he took without question. “One.”
“What do I need this for?”
“Well, I certainly don’t need it.”
“Wait, are we even on the same page?”
“I don’t know, are we?”
“Three!” Jaemin shoved you forward and you took off, dodging literally everything on your way to get out and probably get some more help.
“Shotaro! Pass me that backpack!” Jeno shouts over the gunshots. Shotaro perked up and grabbed the black bag, chucking it towards Jeno, who caught it easily. “Monsieur— Fuck, too far, Apollo! Pass this over to him!” Jeno tossed the backpack towards Chenle, the heavy bag slamming into the magician mid-spell.
“What the hell?!”
“Pass it here!” Jaemin knocked over Lynx and used her head the propel himself up and grab the backpack after Chenle threw it. He ran over towards you and threw it. Right as your hand grabbed the strap, it was yanked away from you.
“Fuck!” You looked back at who had it now, seeing your backpack in the hands of the last person who should have it. You were about the run over to him, but the bullet that landed too close for comfort reminded you that you had to leave now. “Arachnid has it!” You’d just have to put your trust into the three that were already here.
“Got it,” Jeno bashed his knee into Vulture’s head, finally incapacitating the Follower and switched targets. You turned around and ran into the hallway. You just had to call one of the other members to run over here with some extra materials. You hit the side of your phone, which only frizzed at the motion. Chenle must have jammed the signals to prevent more reinforcements from coming, great. You couldn’t run around forever, Dead Shot always hit his targets in the end, you continued down the hallway, not bothering to look back, but when you found yourself cornered against a hallway, you forced to figure out a solution. With the smell of smoke and the sounds of bullets hitting the ground— Wait a second. You looked down the hallway, bullets hitting metal and ricocheting towards you but never hitting any intended destination, there wasn’t even a bullet hole in sight, instead there were just empty shells on the ground. But in your analysis you failed to notice the stray bullet that was right in front of you. Then you saw someone’s closed fist in front of you.
“Did I get all of them?” He panted. He opened his hand and twelve bullets fell out of it.
“Oh my god, Mark, you’re just in time, I don’t remember you being this fast either,” you caught your breath and hugged the speedster, separating quickly. Mark pat down the smoke on his boots.
“I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast…” He stretches his back and kicks the bullet shells aside.
“How’d you even get here?”
“The sorcerer guy called Baekhyun and asked us to come right away. I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good so I came first, told them I’d scout the area. It’s a good thing I came, otherwise you’d look like Sponge-Bob…” He laughs awkwardly. “You’re at your quota, aren’t you?” He looks down at your feet. You followed his gaze and saw the rusted knife sticking out from it, then you noticed the bloody trail you left behind. You sighed and pulled the old thing out.
“Remind me to get a Tetanus shot.”
“You are at your quota,” he gasped.
“Can’t afford to possibly die right now,” you shook your head. “I thought since the dimension was far enough it’d get me some leeway, but I guess not,” you grimaced.
“Shit, it really is a good thing that I came just in time,” Mark looks over his shoulder. “Dead Shot should be on his way, you didn’t make it hard to find you.”
“Don’t smart-mouth me right now, Mark.”
“Right, yeah, sorry about that,” the speedster ruffled his blue hair and unzipped his jacket, pulling out a book from it. It was heavy, no doubt, leather-bound with metal embellishments around it. The book had lived through as many eons as it did dimensions. You had asked Mark to try to get it for you if he could, but nothing more than that. Better to leave him in blissful ignorance. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to say this,” he says while he hands it to you.
“Just spit it out.”
“I was looking into that thing you asked me about and here, this is all I got,” he says. “Whatever you need it for it’d better be important, I almost got turned into a frog for it. The guy I got it from warned me not to read it though.”
“I dunno, something about corrupting the person who reads it.”
“Oh shit, I should have Jeno read it then.”
“True, you can’t corrupt a demon.”
“But then again he is only half.”
“Look, (Y/N), I only got you the book because you were so insistent on it. Just reassure me and tell me that you won’t do anything stupid with it.”
“I won’t, I won’t, I may be stupid but I’m not that stupid, Mark. When are the others coming?”
“I just gave them the signal to enter, they’ll be taking care of the Follower problem here in a bit. But you’re going to have to explain why you’re here to them, and I’m afraid that it might involve you revealing your identities this time.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Why else would you be in D62 being housed and paid by this dimension’s Avengers?”
“Fair enough—” you were cut off by the bullet grazing your ear and landing in the wall behind you. Another one rang out and Mark grimaced, holding his hand to his shoulder
“Argh! Come on!” He grunts. He puts a hand on your back and one behind your neck.
“Whiplash,” you blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the Avenger’s Compound.
“Mark, don’t you dare!”
“Sorry! Jeno’s orders! I’d rather a pissed off you than Jeno!”
“Mark, I swear if you zoom out of here—” but the speedster was already gone by the time you turned around. “Dammit!” You kicked the wall and winced immediately, you completely forgot that it was the same foot that had a knife driven through it earlier.
He was right, you’d reached your quota. There was a certain amount of times you were allowed to “die” until it would be too much, and you knew you’d be at this quota when your body would stop healing itself, it was getting ready for its original host to return. You just didn't think you’d reach it soon, and who knows until the number resets? It was always a varying number, and until it did you had to lay low. It was such a hassle that you always tried to avoid it, but coming to this dimension seemed to have expedited the whole thing. You heard a bag of chips drop behind you.
“(Y/N)? When did you get here?” Jisung stared at you while he picked up the bag.
“Mark’s here? Where?” Jisung looks around.
“There was a complication at Dr. Strange’s place,” you limped towards him, he rushed over to you and reached for your hand to help you, but you tugged it away. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, okay,” Jisung gave you a little more space, but still walked next to you, sporting that easy-to-read concern. “Do they need help?”
“No. The Avengers are coming.”
“Oh… oh no,” Jisung caught onto why you were being short now. “Oh no, oh no, we won’t have a choice then.”
“No, we won’t,” you heaved the large book under your arm. Jisung looked at it but chose not to question you. “I’ll be in my room, I have a lot of thinking to do before we explain ourselves to the lapdogs so, if you need me, I’ll be in there,” Jisung says.
“Oi, (Y/N)!” Haechan held his hand up and Jisung furiously shook his head. Hyuck pressed on regardless. “Think you need this,” he waved the small box in his hand and you did a doubletake.
“Where did you get that?!” You rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands. “Be a bit more gentle with it!”
“Whoa! What’s got you pissed? Jeno drowned and dropped this. Changmin said to give it to you so I figured it’s important, damn.”
“The Avengers are coming.”
“Like… these Avengers?” He points around the room. “Or our Avengers.”
“The second one,” Jisung nods. “Right, (Y/N)?” You didn’t answer, you were already halfway to your room. You tossed the book on your bed and you opened the small box, pulling the vial of iridescent liquid from it. You twisted it open and downed its limited contents in one gulp. You felt all of your muscles relax at once and you sat on the bed. The wound on your foot closed quickly.
“Postponed, at least for now,” you stretched your arms. “But not permanently,” you placed the vial back in the box and you grabbed the book. As you held the two sides in your hands, ready to open it, you recalled Mark’s warning. Then you remembered the words of the Demon King himself.
“If you know what’s good for you, and what’s good for the world you reside in. Do not seek more than you already know about yourself.”
The times you spoke to Jeno’s father were limited, and your best friend liked it that way, preferred it actually, but the times you did talk they were always pleasant. Save for that warning. He knew something you didn’t, the both of them. You acquired this book without any of their knowledge. For years you just went with it, there’s a quota for death, there’s a reason why you can’t die, there’s a reason why you should avoid stepping near the Seraph, but now in this new universe, you had to know. There was something calling out to you in this dimension, it was very faint, and you didn’t truly notice it until you walked into the Sanctum.
You put the book away, sliding it under the bed.
Trust is mutual, if two very powerful beings are telling you to stay in your lane you probably should. You knew the bare minimum of your condition, so to say, you knew what you had to. Die too many times too close together and something else will come and reclaim its host, and all you knew about that entity was that it was some eldritch creature that took a millennia to finally contain, and for some reason, it had some affinity for you. That is where your knowledge stopped and your curiosity began. What could be so powerful that even the all-powerful Demon King wanted to keep it contained, and what did it have to do with you? Your answers were under your bed. But you risked too much by simply opening the book on its own. You hit your head lightly on the wall behind you. The liquid in the vial would extend your quota by at most three, you had to use them carefully. If you were going to attract a horrific monster, it would probably be best to not do it in a world that you didn’t belong to.
There was a knock at your door.
“What do you want, Renjun?”
The door opened slowly, and someone else stood at it.
“Is now a bad time?” Stark asks. You shook your head.
“It’s your building, come in,” you sighed. He walked in at your invitation, sitting at the table to the side.
“So this is what S.H.I.E.L.D. meant by living accommodations,” he laughs.
“What did you need, Mr. Stark?”
“Tony’s fine, thanks,” he says. “Sorry, it was eating away at me, I had to ask.”
“You wanna know about what you’re like in my dimension, right?”
“I’d appreciate it, but, something tells me I should come back later.”
“Oh, no, no, it’s fine.”
“Where are your friends?”
“Probably getting their asses kicked, but I’m here instead,” you shrugged. “Honestly, you’re not that different. Maybe a little less depressed, but that’s about it. For what it counts, to our knowledge, you aren’t a Follower. You work closely with the Seraph, if they found out then you would’ve been executed on spot, at the very least.”
“Oh yeah? Crazy leader or rational one?”
“Bit of both,” you leaned forward on your bed, kicking the book further under your bed. “Want to know anything else?”
“I was wondering if you could walk me through your Traveler of yours, is it anything like Time Travel?”
“Let’s call it two sides of the same coin.”
“How so? What do you use? Cosmic strings? Möbius strip?”
“Have you heard of the infinite cylinder theory?”
“Also known as Tipler?
“Then yes, I’m aware.”
“How about Schrödinger’s Equation?”
“We’re talking hamiltonian operators?”
“Bingo. If you can manipulate those two concepts, you can get time travel, but it’s not perfect. So manipulate them differently, add a few more concepts because you have to take relativity into account, and bam. Dimensional Travel.”
“Yeah, well, no, but in theory sure.”
“And you never went to high school?”
“What’s that got to do with it? If you need a degree to prove you’re right then you’re probably not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you shrug. Tony opened his mouth to retaliate, but couldn’t think of a good comeback to that. “Something tells me you want to ask me something more specific though, Peter let slip that he’s been sending you updates, so I’m sure you’re here for a different reason.”
“Why help us?”
“Don’t really know how to answer that one, Tony,” you placed your ankle on your opposite knee and rolled out your ankle. “Usually we just take whichever job pays the most, but Changmin asked us personally to take this one, so how could we say no? The guy rarely ever asks us favors, and it was the least we could do.”
“What? Did you want me to say that we wanted to meet you guys? I mean, it’s certainly a plus. Most of your team happen to be carbon copies of the same one who wants to kill us, so there’s that, we’re observing the ways you act, maybe it’ll help us in the future, maybe not. It’s like a two-way deal, you get your Traveler, and we get data.”
“Data,” Tony scoffs. “I can see why you’d come to that conclusion.”
“What can I say? It’s helpful. But, I can definitely say that we might be relieved of our duties soon, we’re technically here illegally, I’ll have you know,” you said to him. “We’re supposed to get official approval from the Secretary of Travel before jumping dimensions, but we’re not exactly law followers so we never did. But now that an official government team is on their way, hoo boy, my greatest rival is yet to come. Paperwork,” you made light of what would otherwise be a very very bad situation.
“I heard, so we get to meet the other Avengers.”
“Yup. And, let me tell you right now, they’re not the nicest people.”
“Yeah, just you wait until I tell you about them.”
The shadow amalgamate shattered into what it once was, scurrying back to their original positions, once Chenle had the wind knocked out of him by Lynx. He landed harshly on Jaemin, who then lost his balance and sent the two tumbling down to the first floor of the Sanctum.
“Sorry,” Chenle rolled off the top of Jaemin.
“It’s fine, call it even for the incident with the banshee.”
“Agreed, ugh, my head’s doing cartwheels…”
“Cartwheels? I feel like mine is being churned,” Jaemin holds his head. Chenle and Jaemin lay next to each other for a moment, trying to stop their spinning heads when someone stood over them.
“Are we bothering you, gentlemen?”
“Ugh, these fuckers are here,” Jaemin covered his eyes with his arms. “Tell me when they’re gone, Apollo.”
“That’s kind of mean,” Mark frowns. Jaemin moves his hand.
“Mark’s not a bad person, actually, Tony. I feel bad because I encouraged him to join the Avengers when they asked, but the other guys saw it as a complete betrayal. But he’s loyal, he doesn’t hate us and we don’t hate him, or at least I don’t.”
“Oh look! The traitor!” He lazily points at him. “Do you know how much shit we’ve been through since you left?”
“All the dishes we’ve had to wash?”
“V won’t even let us take your room because she thinks you’re coming back! You dumb traitor, what happened to our friendship bracelets, Mark?! Huh?!”
“You guys, don’t call me that, come on! Look I’m still wearing it!” Mark whines.
“Go away! You left us for your cooler friends who can legally blow things up, go! Go have fun with them!” Chenle points an accusing finger towards the speedster.
“Just leave them there,” Mark whispers.
“We’re looking for Strange,” a deeper voice says.
“Oh my god, is that Wong Yukhei?” Jaemin asks, his blurred vision not helping him at all. “You know, Vendetta has a cardboard cutout of you, I think she talks to it sometimes,” he laughs, his words slightly slurred as a result of the head damage received when he fell on the hard floors in the first place.
“Flattered,” Yukhei responds.
“Wong Yukhei, decorated soldier from the order of war and the first in the super-soldier experiments. Actually not a bad guy, but feels the need to flex his bravado every now and then because of the team he’s on, and honestly, I kind of relate to that.”
“The hatless wizard is somewhere upstairs,” Chenle points up and lets his arm drop to his side. “We’d help, but you guys look like one big ugly walrus right now.” Jaemin starts cracking up and the two high five.
“Do we have to work with them?” Another voice snapped.
“Li Yongqin, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, Lee Youngheum, he has too many names to remember so people usually just call him Ten. He was a perfect student in the military academies, which I’m guessing where his nickname comes from. But he’s pretty impatient, rather ill-tempered from my experience."
“We don’t have a choice,” a more suave on this time.
“Ooh, Lee Taemin. He's an interesting one, Tony. We’re actually pretty close, or used to be at least. He’s very good at what he does, he has years of experience under his belt, but it’s pretty scary. He’s probably done his research by now, be careful, he knows you better than you know yourself. Don’t argue.”
“Gentlemen, let’s end this, we have clearance from the Seraph to exterminate the Followers,” a more powerful one.
“Oh, oh, Lee Taeyong! He’s great. I’ve seen him work a couple of times, I think he’s shot me in the head before. Don’t ask. I have a great deal of respect for him, but he’s kind of anti-social, not easy to get along with him, but I think it’s all miscommunication in the end. I think if we really got to know each other we’d hit it off, but otherwise, I think I’m just a person with a bounty on her head in his eyes.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jaemin pushed himself up, his eyes finally focusing. “Exterminate? Yeah, you guys do that, but let the Maverick leave first, we don’t want to get caught up in your deathmatch again,” Jaemin hits the side of his head a few times.
“Where’s the Vendetta?”
“Not here! She left because Reaper was being a little bitch!” Jaemin laughs again and Chenle joins him.
“We’re wasting our time here with these idiots,” another person says. Chenle squints his eyes to make out the figure.
“Now there’s Kim Jongin, he’s one of the people who started the Avengers project and got them all together. He’s an indispensable member, in my opinion. But when you’re in a team with that many star-studded members who are constantly in the public eye, it’s easy to get lost in the lights. But he knows how to keep things according to itinerary.”
“Who are you again?” He asks. “I thought the Avengers only had six members,” he stifles back a laugh.
“Dude that’s low!” Jaemin cackles. Mark swallows down a laugh when Taemin looks over at him, both of them trying to be respectful to their teammate.
“I know that’s why I said it!” Chenle hits his teammate’s arm and Jaemin winces, but the two continue in their little circus.
“Forget them, let’s just go,” Jongin. The team ascends the steps.
“Enter, the Avengers,” Baekhyun smiles.
“And finally there’s their leader. Byun Baekhyun— yes, he’s my older brother, no we don’t talk, and I don’t think he even knows I’m alive. He’s similar to you in some aspects, he pays for all of their shit. But he’s manipulative. He knows how to get into your head. Be careful with him.”
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The Unawesome Assumption
Characters/Pairing: Awesome Trio (Denmark, Prussia, and America), with America having an obvious crush on Romano and established Gerita. If you squint, there might be mild implications of one-sided Pruita and Prumano. Also mentions of Spamano, but that’s pretty much all in America’s paranoid brain. (Note that America does rant about the idea of Spamano in an anti-ish way, but it’s based on jealousy. I have nothing against Spamano shippers.)
Summary: The Awesome Trio is enjoying a day out at a carnival when America gets a phone call from “Little Italy” and acts strangely during the call. Believing that “Little Italy” is his brother’s boyfriend, Prussia warns America that Italy is off limits and gets a response he wasn’t expecting.
Rating: Teen for some crude sexual humor, cursing, and mentions of violence
Word Count: 1971
Notes: Credit to @bitchapalooza for the idea of what the Awesome Trio would do when hanging out together, including some specific details that got mentioned in this story. This will be posted on my AO3 account soon, if you’d rather read or comment there.
America took a bite of the snack he had just purchased from the carnival booth and made a satisfied noise. “Damn, these things are good. I swear, deep frying an Oreo just makes it better.”
Denmark grinned at him. “Try dipping it in that huge Slurpie you’re holding.”
America dipped his deep-fried Oreo into the Slurpie, took a bite, then closed his eyes and moaned in a way that was, quite frankly, obscene. “Holy shit! It’s like a flavor orgasm in my mouth!”
Prussia laughed at him. “You like having orgasms in your mouth, Al?”
America’s face turned red as Denmark joined in on the snickering too. “Shut up, dude! You know what I meant!”
Prussia reached over and ruffled America’s hair fondly. “Of course we do, kiddo.” America wasn’t really a kid anymore, but he was younger than Prussia and Denmark, and not just in physical age. And as far as Prussia was aware, America had never been in a relationship or done anything that would involve orgasms in his mouth. Maybe he just wasn’t into people that way, Prussia mused.
America rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What do you guys want to do next?”
Denmark glanced around. “It looks like there’s a petting zoo over there,” he said, pointing with his index finger. “That could be fun.”
“I’m up for it,” Prussia agreed. They’d already done most of the rides anyway, and seriously, who would pass up the opportunity to pet a cute farm animal? Not Prussia.
America nodded too, and they all started heading towards the petting zoo, which was a fair distance away from the deep-fried Oreo booth. Right after they finished up their deep-fried Oreos, an old-fashioned song began to play. Old-fashioned as in more than 50 years old, but still played often enough that most people could recognize it from the first line.
When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore
Prussia looked around in confusion, wondering what could have been playing a Dean Martin song over carnival music and kids running around and screaming with delight. “Does this place have an Italy-themed booth?” Prussia wondered aloud.
“I think it’s coming from America,” Denmark replied. When Prussia glanced at him, America was scrambling to retrieve his cell phone from his jeans pocket and trying to shift a giant inflatable alien he had won at the bottle shooting booth into his other arm at the same time. In the process, his cell phone bounced out of his pocket and fell to the ground, but the screen didn’t crack. Denmark swooped in to pick up the phone before America could bend down to get it.
His eyebrows lifted in amusement as he read the contact name on the screen. “Little Italy is calling you?”
America scowled, face flushing just as red as it had earlier when Prussia had been teasing him about his accidental sexual innuendo. Prussia felt a strange, foreboding sense that something just wasn’t right. “Give me back my phone, Denmark.”
“Sure.” Denmark handed the phone over. “Wouldn’t want to keep little Italy waiting, huh?”
America shot Denmark an irritated glare as he answered the call. But as soon as Italy started speaking to him, America smiled fondly and took a few steps away so he could speak to Italy without Denmark and Prussia overhearing everything he said.
“Well, that was weird,” Denmark said.
Prussia’s eyes narrowed as he watched America talking to Italy. “Ja, it was.” America had a lot of customized ringtones for his cell phone, and it made sense that he would have one for Italy. But Prussia had never heard America’s phone ringing with a love song before. And America’s demeanor was strange too. Prussia had spent a lot of time around America, and he wasn’t normally this quiet. He smiled often, but it was a big, bright grin, not the small, almost shy smile on his face now. Did America have a crush on Italy? If he did, Prussia couldn’t really blame him. Both of the Italian brothers were cute, and Italy was especially sweet and adorable. But Italy was Germany’s boyfriend. Everyone knew that. America knew that.
America giggled in response to something Italy said. “Aww, Vene, you worry too much! I doubt I’m gonna get sick from the carnival food. But if I did, I wouldn’t mind having you nurse me back to health. I know you’d take great care of me.”
“Dude. Isn’t Italy dating your little brother?” Denmark whispered in a worried tone of voice.
“He is,” Prussia answered, nearly growling out the words. “And if America keeps talking to him like that, I’m gonna have to beat him so badly he won’t be able to walk for the next two weeks.” America was clearly picturing Italy “taking care of him” in more than just in a medical way. He was flirting with Ludwig’s boyfriend, and that was an incredibly stupid thing to do right in front of Prussia. Gilbert would protect his baby brother with his life, and he would not allow anyone to hurt him by attempting to lure Feliciano away. Not even one of his closest friends.
America talked to Italy for a couple more minutes, but Prussia didn’t overhear anything else he said, other than the goodbye that was way too affectionate for a friend. America hung up the phone and walked back towards Denmark and Prussia with a content expression on his face, and Prussia immediately began to question him.
“What the fuck were you just doing?”
America’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? I answered a phone call?”
“We saw you trying to flirt with Italy over the phone,” Denmark explained. “Your attempt was so cheesy I doubt it was effective, but it was also really obvious. Iceland’s puffin could have picked up on what you were doing.”
“What? Dude, that’s crazy! I don’t like Vene that way.” America wheezed with phony laughter, and he shifted his gaze around like he always did when he was attempting to lie. America was a notoriously horrible liar, and that’s why Denmark and Prussia usually got the beers for Alfred if they wanted to hang out in the US and drink together. America might have an excellent fake ID that said he was 21, but no bartender would believe Alfred when he showed them his ID with such a guilty expression. And Prussia didn’t believe him now.
“Listen, I don’t care if you’ve got some silly little crush on Italy,” Prussia told him. “That’s something you can’t help. But you can’t talk to him like that ever again. Italy is off limits.” Gilbert thought he was being incredibly reasonable, given the circumstances. The fact that America wasn’t lying on the ground bleeding was a goddamn miracle.
But apparently, America didn’t see it that way. He scoffed and put his hands on his hips. “Off limits? Why? Because you’ve got a thing for him? You can’t claim dibs on a person, Gil. That’s not how it works.”
“What?! No, this isn’t about me!” Why the hell would America even think that?
“Oh, I see. This is about Spain.” America’s lip curled into a disgusted sneer, but before Prussia could interrupt to correct America’s bizarre assumption, he continued, launching into a tirade against Prussia and Spain. “I guess he’s your real friend, and I’m not! It doesn’t matter how I feel, because Spain has a permanent claim on Vene just because he’s known him for longer. Well, you know something, I think you’re full of shit! And I think it’s up to Vene who he wants to be with! Maybe he wouldn’t want to be with the guy who fucking raised him from the time he was a toddler! But guess even considering that makes me the crazy one!”
Prussia was aware of some nearby humans turning to stare at them in surprise, and many of them seemed almost as shocked as the lady who guessed people’s ages had been when Denmark told her his real age. But he was pretty startled too, because America was much more bitter than he had been expecting. Prussia was also startled by the realization that his righteous anger had all been based on a ridiculous misunderstanding.
“Really, Spain too?” Denmark murmured. “I don’t get it. Is Italy emitting some kind of magic love pheromones or something?”
Prussia shook his head without taking his eyes off America. “He wasn’t talking about Italy. He was talking about Italy’s brother. Romano.”
America’s face cleared in understanding. “Oh… oh! You thought I was talking about North Italy! No wonder you got so mad at me!”
Prussia nodded and chuckled a little, at both himself and the situation. “You didn’t exactly help when you started calling him ‘Vinny.’ I thought that was short for Veneziano.”
“No, dude, that’s based on his human name, Savino. I started calling him that back when we lived together.” America sounded pretty damn nostalgic, and Prussia felt a little silly for assuming Alfred had been talking to Feliciano. He’d sounded nostalgic about the 1920s before, but Prussia had assumed it was just a friendship thing.
“Did you come up with the Little Italy thing around then too?” Denmark asked.
“Yeah.” America smiled, and his eyes went all soft, like he was staring at the world’s most adorable kitten. “It’s not just ‘cause he’s little compared to me, though he is. It’s ‘cause most of the people who lived in those neighborhoods were from his part of Italy. It would feel pretty weird to call North Italy that.”
Prussia rolled his eyes as all three of them started walking towards the petting zoo again. “Right, and we’re supposed to believe you don’t have a crush on him?”
“I don’t!” America insisted. “I swear.”
Denmark snorted. “Okay, then why’d you pick that song to be his ringtone?”
“Well, it mentions Naples. It’s a nice song, and it reminds me of Romano. Honestly, you guys should’ve known I was talking to him based on the ringtone alone.”
Prussia exchanged a smirk with Denmark. “He knows where Naples is, but I bet he couldn’t locate either of us on a map.”
“That’s not true! I know for a fact that Prussia is East Germany. Denmark is directly to the left of Finland and right above Norway.”
Denmark burst into a fit of raucous laughter, and Prussia did too. America sounded so confident about Denmark’s location even though he was completely off, and it was hilarious.
America pouted as they all got in line behind a group of children. “You guys are mean.”
Denmark shoved America’s shoulder playfully. “Cheer up, Al. We’re just teasing you a little.”
“Yeah. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about with Spain,” Prussia added. “I mean, sure, he might go overprotective on you if you try to date Romano, but I don’t think he’s into him like that. So, you’re in the clear there.”
For someone who had denied having a crush on Romano twice in the past few minutes, America looked incredibly relieved that Spain was not going to be romantic competition for him. But then, the guy running the little petting zoo announced that the next person in line would get a chance to milk a goat, and Denmark pushed past multiple children to the front of the line, so Prussia naturally turned his attention to that. The man running the zoo had a flabbergasted expression on his face as Denmark ran up to him and the goat, and both America and Prussia found it hysterical. This carnival was turning out to be one of the most awesome things Prussia had done in a while, and he was glad he got to hang out with his friends today and make entertaining memories like this one.
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