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combat-wombatus · 3 years

Text

Truth or Dare

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of crack

Warnings: swearing (bakugou), but other than that, none! (unless u have traumatic memories of truth or dare)

WC: 3.1k

Summary: Mina and Denki work together to make sure that you know exactly who Sero's crush is.

(A/N): so @klvbxlove requested some headcanons about sero’s fem!crush having an obsession with kpop/anime and sero doing cute stuff for her and i tried sticking with the prompt in the beginning but then i led myself off-topic (oops) so it turned into this! sorry it’s not what u requested, i can write something else for u if u want! i was just struck by sudden ✨inspiration✨ for this fic so...here u go...

“EEEK!” You squealed, bouncing over to your friends. “LOOKLOOKLOOK-”

“(Y/L/N),” Bakugou grumbled. “Calm the fuck down, no one can understand you.”

You took a deep breath, then handed your phone over to Mina.

As soon as Mina saw the screen, she started squealing just like you were.

“(Y/N)!!!! OMGOMGOMGOMG-” she grabbed your arms and started jumping up and down like an overexcited toddler.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, gave an exasperated huff, then stomped away. “Can’t deal with you idiots when you’re like this.”

Mina dragged you by your arm over to a bench on the side of the cafeteria and the two of you spent your lunch break slurping udon and watching your favorite K-pop group’s newest music video on repeat.

Sero was chatting idly with his friends, mouth full of sushi. Unbeknownst to you, he had been watching you from the corner of his eye, sneaking glances every couple of minutes. Dense as Kaminari may be academically, he had noticed Sero’s preoccupation with you throughout the meal.

“Hey bro,” He poked Sero’s elbow with the clean end of his chopstick. “Whaddya keep looking at (Y/L/N)-chan for?” He squinted at Sero. He glanced briefly at you, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, turned his eyes back on Sero. “Do you have a crush on her or something?”

Sero choked on his piece of salmon and spluttered, face beet red. “N-no! It’s not l-like that!”

Bakugou snorted. “You dumbass. The hell you mean ‘it’s not like that’? Any idiot with eyes and half a brain can see that you’re obsessed with her.”

As Sero tried to deny his feelings for you, Mina slowly shifted her attention from your phone to hers, which was dinging incessantly.

Kaminari

hey bro bro broski my man my lady? minaaaaa

Mina

asdkjfhluhal i told u to stop calling me that and what

Kaminari

so u know abt seros crush right

Mina

u have the AUDACITY to ask me, the queen of gossip, whether or not I know abt seros crush? the sheer AUDACITY is STAGGERING-

Kaminari

ok ok stop bullying me anyways wanna get them tog?

Mina

D U H would be easier if y/n wasn’t so dense and sero wasn’t so chicken

Kaminari

since ur in do u have a plan

Mina grinned. Of course she did. What kind of person did Kaminari think she was?

Mina

take sero to the boba place after school meet u there

Pocketing her phone, she turned back to face you. She had to resist the urge to cackle. This was gonna be fun.

Later that day, you and Mina walked to the dorms together.

“Whaddya say we go out today?” Mina asked excitedly, eyes gleaming. You found it a bit suspicious, since yesterday she had told you that she was failing math and was going to study with Yaomomo today.

“Didn’t you say you were going to study with Yaomomo?”

“Shit.” Mina face palmed. “I did, didn’t I? But I don’t waannnnaaa,” she whined. “Let’s just go out and get some boba and we’ll come back,” she promised, giving you the puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, okay.” You relented. “But if you fail math again, don’t blame it on me.”

She clasped a hand to her chest dramatically. “I would NEVER.”

Giggling, the two of you made your way to Coco’s Café, a cozy little place that served everything from coffee to cookies. It was also a developing cat café, mostly due to the popularity of the kitty that the place was named for, Coco.

Sidling up to the counter, you ordered a matcha boba tea while Mina ordered a strawberry milk tea with lychee jelly and boba.

“Is that it for you ladies today?” The man behind the counter asked cheerfully.

“Yes please!” Mina replied. The two of you sat in a corner booth, sipping your drinks and gossiping.

“Hey (Y/N),” Mina started. “So you know about Sero’s crush, right?”

You halted mid-sip. What? Sero had a crush?

Laughing at your startled expression, Mina leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “So,” she whispered. “Who do you think it is?”

You sat there, drink forgotten, racking your brain for possibilities. Jirou and Hagakure hung out with Sero sometimes, exchanging memes and goofing around, but they weren’t really around that often. Usually, Sero only hung out with Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Mina, and you. Mina, possibly? Was Sero gay? Did he have a thing for, say, Kaminari or Kirishima? You didn’t think that Sero would be the type to like Bakugou, but hey, he put up with Bakugou’s temper all the time, so maybe? Ugh. You resisted the urge to groan and drop your head into your hands. This was so complicated.

Mina sat back, this reaction obviously not being what she had hoped for. “Well?” She crossed her arms. “Do you have a guess yet?”

You thought about it, then decided to pick an answer randomly. “You?” You tried.

Mina snorted and almost spit out her drink. You were absolutely unbelievable. Of all the people you could’ve chosen, you picked HER? “No, (Y/N). It’s not me,” she managed to choke out in between fits of laughter.

You sprawled out on the table, no longer concealing your frustration. “Who is it then?” You whined. “Jirou? Hagakure? Is Sero gay?”

Mina actually did spit out her drink this time.

As she cleaned up her mess, Mina silently judged you with her signature side-eye. She really is that dense, huh. Guess I’ll have to knock some sense into her.

Furiously brainstorming, you tried to think of any more possibilities. As you sat in silence, something warm and fuzzy crawled sneakily onto your lap, and stayed there.

Knocked from your daze, you glanced down and the unfamiliar presence, only to realize that it was a kitty. THE kitty. Coco, the café’s namesake.

“Aww,” you cooed, lightly scratching behind her ears. She purred happily in response to your ministrations and curled into herself, tail tucked neatly around her haunches.

Just then, the doorbell jingled and the rest of your close friends walked in.

“Hey!” Kaminari chirped, giving you and Mina a lighthearted wave.

“Hey!” You replied, unaware of the glare Mina was currently giving Kaminari. As soon as they went up to order, Mina stood up and announced that she was going to the bathroom. You took out your phone and scrolled through your social media feeds, taking advantage of this time to research.

“Psst!” Mina pinched Kaminari’s elbow lightly.

“Ow! What?” Kaminari turned to face her.

Mina gave Kaminari her scariest glare. “I told you to bring Sero, not the whole squad!”

Kaminari whimpered. “But Kirishima heard and wanted to tag along too! And it would’ve been suspicious if I said no! And then Bakubro heard that Kiri was coming and decided to come too-”

Mina sighed. “You could’ve texted Sero in private!”

Scratching the back of his head, Kaminari gave Mina a sheepish smile. “Sorry Mina, I hadn’t thought of that”.

Mina stole a quick glance back at your table, and seeing that you were otherwise occupied, she turned her attention back to Kaminari.

“So, Stage 1 of the plan didn’t work. She didn’t even seem to consider herself as a possibility! However, no fear! It is time that we put Stage 2 into action!” Mina whisper-shouted. “It’ll be more complicated with Kiri and Bakugou present, but we always have a Plan B!” She quickly related her backup plan to Kaminari, who promised to tell the boys (minus Sero) to make it run more smoothly.

After giving Kaminari a quick fist bump, Mina slinked back into her seat. “So, (Y/N),” she paused, chin resting on her hand. “Since the boys are here, why don’t we ask Sero himself?”

You looked up from your phone. You hadn’t really found any clues as to who Sero’s crush could be. Most, if not all, of his posts were with your group of friends. You thought about it for a moment.

“Wouldn’t it be awkward if he didn’t want us to know?” You asked Mina.

“Oh, but we’re nosy friends! It’s our JOB to know and then tease him about it!” Mina giggled. “And besides,” she added. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

You hesitated. She did have a point. You were curious, but at the same time, a little voice in the back of your brain nagged at you. Did you really want to know? Did you really want to see him crushing on someone else, and then tease him about it? That wouldn’t really be funny, for you, at least. But if you disagreed with Mina, it would be suspicious, and besides, you WERE curious. Even if the answer wasn’t the one you wanted, you would still rather it be out in the open than bottled inside. You’d rather know for certain than lose sleep over it at night.

Sighing, you relented. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

Mina rested both of her elbows on the table and smiled at you, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Truth or dare.”

As the boys returned, each holding their own drinks, Mina was bouncing in her seat. Bakugou and Kirishima each pulled up a chair, and Sero took the chance to sit next to you. At that, Mina smirked devilishly.

“So,” she grinned, fingertips dancing on the table. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t believe he’d been roped into this, but Kirishima and Kaminari wouldn’t let him ruin it. Kirishima dropped a fist on the table. “Yeah!” He turned towards Mina. “Who’s starting?”

Mina pretended to think about it, when in reality, she had already made plans.

“How about (Y/N)?”

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow. You thought that Mina would be the one to interrogate Sero.

“Yes you, dummy,” Mina teased. “Is there another (Y/N) sitting here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Who are you calling dummy?”

Mina grumbled. “Just get on with it, would you? Who are you going to ask?”

“Hmm. How about Sero?” You turned to face him. “Truth or dare?”

Sero was panicking. You weren’t the type to give out ridiculous dares, and he definitely needed to be cautious about truth. “Dare.” He said confidently.

You chuckled. Mina had prepared you for this possibility.

“I dare you to kiss your crush within the next 24 hours,” you said, “and the whole squad had to be there to see it.”

Mina and Kaminari let out simultaneous “oohs”. Bakugou pointed out the obvious. “Why the next 24 hours?”

“Because we don’t know who his crush is and they’re probably not here right now,” you answered. “And the whole squad will have to see it to make sure that he does it and doesn’t chicken out. You’ll have to ask their permission first, though,” you added. “Consent is key. Even if they turn you down, as long as you tried, we’ll count the dare as completed.”

Your friends nodded in agreement. Mina clapped her hands gleefully. “You should’ve known, Sero! You can’t hide things from us!”

Sero was *this* close to having a panic attack. He had to consciously remind himself to keep breathing. This is going to be so embarrassing how am I going to do this without making an utter and complete fool of myself gosh you really should’ve not stared at her at lunch today Sero or this wouldn’t have happened jeez are you really that dumb now the whole squad will know and you won’t be able to look her in the eye anymore adfkhiavelrsnjaerliaevr BREATHE SERO BREATHE-

The game continued. Mina dared Bakugou to smile for 5 consecutive minutes, at which Bakugou nearly flew out of his seat, palms crackling.

“You fucking extra how dare you-” He didn’t get to finish, as Mina quickly took out her phone and opened the timer app.

“And the countdown starts now!” She cackled. “That is, unless you forfeit-”

“I’M NOT GONNA LOSE TO YOU, YOU DUMB FUCKING EXTRA!!!” With that, Bakugou angrily took his seat again, disregarding all the angry scowls he received from the rest of the café’s patrons, and pulled his lips up into what could only be described as the devil’s grin. He sat like that for a full five minutes, glaring lasers into Mina, not moving a muscle. You think Mina was mentally scarred after that, because she never looked at Bakugou for the rest of the game.

Kirishima dared Kaminari to record a video of him singing the pi song and send it to Jirou. The poor boy had so many voice cracks while singing it that Kirishima went easy on him and told him to just send the first 15 seconds.

Bakugou dared you to let everyone look through your phone for one minute. You were reluctant, but seeing as you were relatively normal with only minimal embarrassing photos, no confession texts, and a fairly clean search history, you let them do it. The most embarrassing thing they found was your playlist.

“How the fuck is your playlist 74 hours and 42 minutes? What the fuck do you have on here?” Bakugou held out your phone for the rest of your friends to see.

“And why is your history full of that shitty Korean music?”

You gasped. He did not.

“Hey!” You snatched your phone back. “If you’re going to insult my music, you don’t get to continue!”

“Tch.” Bakugou sneered. “You call that shit music?”

You were thoroughly offended by this point and refused to even acknowledge his statement. You glared at Bakugou with as much intensity as you could muster. This man had no taste in music whatsoever.

The 1-minute timer dinged, and Bakugou was saved from a scathing talking-to as you all moved onto the next victim.

Mina was dared to order a glass of milk with ice, then put it on a random table (with customers) and leave without an explanation. She ended up choosing an old couple, likely in their sixties, who were cuddling with two cats. They’d each ordered a cup of coffee and shared a plate of cookies. When Mina put the glass of iced milk on their table, and the two women shared a confused look before turning their attention to Mina.

“Thank you?” The lady with horn-rimmed glasses asked rather shakily.

“Yes, thank you very much young lady, but we didn’t order this?” The one who had a tabby on her lap said, perplexed, looking Mina up and down.

Mina made a motion with her hand, zipping her lips, then giggled and sat back down at your table. The two ladies, baffled, took one look at your table and seemed to understand what was going on. They turned back to their coffees and cats and resumed their conversation.

You had all gone one full circle, and everyone had finished their drinks, so you all decided that it was time to go. You rubbed between Coco’s ears one last time and walked out into the afternoon sun.

“Hey Sero!” Kirishima clapped Sero on his back. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about your dare,” he smiled cheekily. “Better get it over with when we first head back into the dorms, huh? That’ll probably be the easiest time to get it over with.”

Sero groaned. He’d hoped that you would all forget after the game was over, but his luck had run dry. He’d have to face the music sooner or later. He debated on his options. If he waited too long, he’d seem cowardly. He didn’t want to do that. On the other hand, maybe if he waited a full day, you would all forget? He shook his head. No, with Mina here, she’d never let him live it down. And besides, who was he to renege on a dare?

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he rubbed them together nervously. This was it. This was the moment of truth.

“Hey guys! Wait up!” He called out to Kirishima and Bakugou, who had walked ahead of the group. “I’ve got something to show you!”

Bakugou quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?” He smirked. “Whatcha got, Tape Arms?”

Sero cleared his throat. “I-I’m ready. I’m ready to do the dare.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. It was just you and the rest of the squad here. Did you really have a chance? You were scared to get your hopes up, but maybe, just maybe, you would be the one he kissed.

Hands curled into fists at his sides, Sero gulped. He was doing this. He was really doing this. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and out, and strode over to where you and Mina stood.

“(Y/N),” He stared at his feet. “Would you…would you allow me to kiss you?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to calm yourself down. It was you. Sero had a crush on you. Your crush liked you back!

After a while, Bakugou felt the need to step in.

“Oi, dumbass!” He hollered, garnering the attention of curious passerby. “You gonna let Soy Sauce Face over there kiss you or not?”

Your face flushed a furious red. “U-Umm, y-yeah!” You stuttered. “You can kiss me, Sero!” You cringed at how excited you sounded.

Slowly, Sero tilted his face downwards. He lifted your chin tenderly and lowered his lips to yours. His lips were soft against yours, his breath tickling your cheek as he let go. You blushed harder than you ever thought was possible, and he looked down with a pleased smile.

“Thanks, (Y/N).” He said in a soft voice. “Can I take this as a sign that you have feelings for me too?”

Nodding frantically, you whispered a noncommittal “mhm”.

“Can’t hear you, sweets,” Sero teased. “Come on, I’m gonna need a verbal confirmation.”

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat. “Yes.” You whispered in a slightly louder tone. “Yes, I h-have feelings for you too.”

At this admission, your friends all cheered, Mina hooting especially loudly. “Hells yeah!” She high-fived Kaminari. “We did it!”

“Best wingmen ever!” Kaminari shouted.

“That was so manly of you Sero!” Kirishima added, flashing a thumbs-up. “Congrats!”

“Tch. Yeah, whatever. Finally got it in their thick skulls that they liked each other. Big fucking deal,” Bakugou grumbled.

“Hey, hey! Don’t you go and ruin the mood now!” Mina scolded him. “Just look at them! They look so happy!” She pointed towards you and Sero.

“Hmph. Well, those idiots could’ve been happier sooner if Sero had the fucking balls to confess earlier.”

“Oh, shut it already! Just be glad that they’re finally together!”

“Like I care.”

“Stop pretending, you big grouch! We all know you care!”

“Tch.”

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fandomfindings · 3 years

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Pick Up

Pairings: (Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Warning(s): Cursing, Audacity

Summary: The first time you pick up your daughter from daycare leads to a misunderstanding between you and the staff.

A/N: (DN) = Daughter's Name

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"Can we go get ice cream when you pick me up, daddy?" Your daughter asked, kicking her little legs against the booster seat that kept her small body in place in the car.

Kuroo chuckled. Of course, the child was already looking forward to a sweet treat after school. "You're going to have to ask mommy princess; she's picking you up today."

"Mommy's picking me up?" (DN) perked up at the thought, removing her gaze from the window and to the back of her father's head.

"Mhm," Kuroo mumbled lightly. "I have to go on another business trip, so mommy's bringing you to daycare and back home all week," your husband explained thoroughly.

"Yes!" (DN) exclaimed, obviously excited for the change of events. Kuroo was usually the one to take her to and from school, for it fit better with his work schedule than your own.

"You're not going to miss me?" asked Kuroo, feigning hurt, as he looked between his daughter in the car's rear-view mirror and the road.

"I'll miss you, daddy, but mommy never picked me up from school before! I want her to meet all my friends and teachers, and she can see where we play," Your daughter began to ramble about all the things she was excited to show you, all the way until the two had reached her daycare.

Kuroo helped the child from her booster seat and then the car, taking her small hand into his significantly larger one.

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll call you for bed, okay," Your husband said once inside the building, down on one knee to be eye level with his child.

"Okay, daddy. Bye, I love you," (DN) said, grabbing her father's face with her small hands and placing a kiss on his forehead, an action she picked up from exchanges between you and your husband.

Kuroo smiled, reciprocating the action, his big hands taking up almost all of her face. "I love you too, kiddo."

As a worker took the girl to her class, Kuroo called out to her one last time, "Be good!"

"Yes, sir!" your daughter yelled back, turning around to wave her father goodbye.

Kuroo stood, ridding his suit of any dirt that may have stuck to him while he was on his knee. He was about to leave when someone spoke up to catch his attention.

"You're very good with her," said one of the workers. Kuroo often saw her when dropping off or picking up your daughter. They made small talk now and then, but he couldn't even remember the poor lady's name.

"I would hope so," Kuroo chuckled awkwardly, not sure how to respond to the supposed compliment.

The worker laughed back, almost too much in Kuroo's opinion considering the remark wasn't very funny.

"Yeah, I respect you for taking such good care of her, especially since," The woman began but was interrupted by the ringing of Kuroo's phone, a unique ringtone he had in place just for you.

As soon as he heard the tone, Kuroo didn't hear the rest of what the employee had to say. Unbeknownst to him, it was about him being a single father, which wasn't true by any means.

"Yeah, babe?" Kuroo answered, turning to leave the building, completely forgetting the previous conversation, too excited about hearing your voice.

"Bye, Mr.Kuroo!" shouted the lady, trying one last desperate attempt to get his attention.

He gave a simple wave of his hand back before leaving the building entirely.

"Who was that?" You questioned, hearing the voice even through the phone.

"One of the workers at (DN)'s school," Kuroo explained, uninterested. "How are you this morning, my love?" he asked, changing the subject to something he was actually interested in, you.

"Babe, let me tell you!" You exclaimed, getting ready to rant about your morning thus far, causing Kuroo to chuckle.

The rest of your day went off without too many more hiccups. You met Kuroo for lunch just before he left for his business trip. There you gave final goodbyes to your dismay, but you knew you would see him soon.

After work, you headed to your daughter's daycare, excited to see her cute little face again. Once there, you parked and headed inside to a front desk as Kuroo instructed.

"Hi, how are you?" asked an employee as soon as you reached the desk.

"I'm alright, and you?"

"I'm well. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yes, I'm here to pick up (DN)," You stated using the sign-out sheet Kuroo had also instructed you to do.

"Kuroo (DN)?" The worker clarified, verifying your name after you completed the sheet.

"That's her," you smiled at the mention of her name.

"Of course, I'll get her right away."

"Thank you," you said politely to the retreating employee. As you waited, you pulled out your phone, seeing a picture from Kuroo looking bored in a meeting. Grinning to yourself, you replied with some words of encouragement.

"Are you her nanny?" asked a sudden voice. You looked up to see it was the other worker who was at the desk. You hadn't paid much attention to her since she didn't address you when you first arrived.

"I'm sorry?"

The woman asked again, "Are you (DN)'s nanny?"

"Ha no, I'm her mother," You replied, thinking it was funny that she thought so. Looking back to your phone, you were about to send a joking text to Kuroo about being the 'nanny', not finding a reason to continue the conversation.

Unfortunately for you, the woman continued it anyway, "You're her mother?" questioned the worker skeptically.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I sure I'm her mother?" You asked, voice rising in volume slightly, almost appalled she would ask such a thing. The employee nodded, not daring to ask you again. "I'm pretty sure, considering I've raised her since she was born. Would you like to see her birth certificate?" You challenged.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to call Mr.Kuroo just to verify," said the woman picking up the phone before you could even say anything.

"Mr.Kuroo? You mean my husband."

"Your husband?"

"Yes, my husband. (DN)'s father," You simplified, hoping the words would sink into her seemingly thick skull.

"Yes, hello?" Kuroo answered the phone, confused. He had (DN)'s school saved in his phone, but they never called him before.

"Hi, Mr.Kurro, I'm sorry to bother you. I know you're a busy man," the woman said apologetically, her tone and demeanor changing as soon as Kuroo answered the phone. She even had the gall to twirl the phone cord like a lovesick teenager. It made your blood boil. "I just wanted to let you know there is a woman here claiming to be (DN)'s mother."

"That's my wife," Kuroo answered easily, knowing you were heading to the daycare straight after work. "Is there a problem?"

The worker was a bit stunned, her view of the man changing instantly, she didn't know he was married, how embarrassing. "No sir, not at all," She replied, stuttering out a bit towards the beginning.

"Good. Please refer any further calls or concerns to my wife, please," Kuroo said before immediately hanging up the phone, needing to get back to his meeting.

"Yes, sir," the employee responded despite the lack of your husband on the call.

The woman looked up to you, mouth slightly ajar as if she was about to say something, but nothing passed her lips. Before she could say anything, hopefully, apologize for her behavior (DN) made her appearance.

"Mommy!" exclaimed your daughter's voice as soon as she saw you. Leaving the grasp of the other, more likable employee, she ran towards you, wrapping her small arms around both your legs.

"Hi, sweetheart!" You exclaimed, matching the child's energy, sinking to her level to wrap her in your arms. "How was your day?" You questioned, taking the time to glare at the lady who dared to question your role in your daughter's life.

"It was great! I went outside with my friends, and we read that book that you and daddy read me at bedtime." said the girl. "I even got to point at the pictures for the rest of the class."

"That sounds lovely, baby." You said, standing up and taking your daughter's hand. "Why don't you tell me the rest on the way home?"

"Can we stop for ice cream?"

"Did you get a green sticker today?" You asked, walking towards the exit of the building.

"I got gold!" Your daughter corrected the pride evident in her voice.

"Whoa, a gold! I think that calls for extra toppings."

"Yes!"

In a sickly sweet tone, you turned back to the unkind worker and said, "You have a good day."

You spent the rest of your day spending time with your daughter. After getting ice cream, you two went to the park for a bit and then home to get her cleaned up and ready for dinner. You cooked a meal both of you enjoyed to cheer you up and keep (DN)'s spirits high, though that was rarely a problem.

At bedtime, Kuroo called as promised and listened to your daughter rave about her day. You two read her to sleep, per usual.

Now it was just you and your husband, and now you were ready to talk about the altercation at the daycare. You had filled your husband in a bit via text, but it was nothing like a good old rant.

"It was fucking ridiculous! She's my daughter!" You yelled, pacing the large room you and Kuroo shared."I shouldn't have to explain myself to her. Who does she think she is?"

"I know, darling I think she was just trying to make sure you weren't trying to abduct a child," Kuroo tried to reason to calm you down.

"Bullshit. The other worker verified me. I'm on the emergency contacts list. They have my picture!" You explained, listing off the reasons why what the worker did was disrespectful and honestly unprofessional.

"Do you know what I think it is?" You rhetorically asked.

"What's that, love?"

"I think she likes you. She was obviously flirting during that call earlier."

Kuroo, genuinely not knowing this information asked, "Was she?"

"Yes! Blatantly so. She wasn't even trying to hide it, and I was right in front of her. Me! Your wife!" You shouted, trying to piece together what the woman was thinking, but it was honestly giving you a slight headache. "Did she not see the ring on my finger? The ring on your finger? The audacity of that bit-"

"Alright, alright, hey, calm down."

"Uh, it's just so upsetting," You said, mood going from anger to dejected. "Am I not in (DN)'s life enough? Do I need to do more?"

Kuroo sat up in his chair, staring at the phone as if he could see you. He should've video called you instead. "Hey, don't talk like that; you do plenty," Kuroo said firmly. "I just so happen to be the one who drops her off and picks her up. That's just how our schedules work. We're both busy, love."

"I know. You're right," You agreed, not being able to deny how busy you two are. "Maybe I should start doing drop off or pick up," You suggested. "I'm her mother, and they need to know that."

"I'm sure they do by now," Kuroo teased. "We'll talk more about this when I get home, okay."

You groaned, realizing he wouldn't be home until the end of the week."Can't you come home now?" I need you after such a rough day."

"I wish I could. I do," Kuroo said sadly. He really did wish he could be there for you right now. He'd prefer being in bed with you over some hotel room any day. "You know I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Yeah, I know."

You two sat in silence for a bit, both of you too tired to carry out much of a conversation. However, just the knowledge that both of you were on the phone was enough.

After a while, Kuroo spoke up."Go get you some beauty sleep," he said, knowing you would need the rest. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Fine," You sighed. "I love you."

"I love you too."

----------

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this imagine as much as I enjoyed writing it. This was so much longer than I originally intended but I won’t complain because I love how it turned out in the end. And honestly there’s no such thing as too much Kuroo. Feel free to let me know what you guys think!

Lots of Love <3

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berryberryrad · 3 years

Text

𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙖𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩⚡️

shino aburame, sfw alphabet prompt

if this comes across as ooc, literally hit me pls. I’m usually kiba biased, but something about shino has just been hitting different recently.

warnings: blatant abuse of grammar and punctuation. cursing. i’m no writer, i just tell it like i see it. I wrote this on mobile and am not a tech guru so I wish I could do the fancy little, “keep reading,” bit but I’m

word count, 3983

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

we’ve all come to the generalized conclusion that the aburame clan aren’t handsy. shino falls in line with this, and pda or even private interactions that involve skin to skin contact aren’t going to be his forte. I can see him holding hands, or the aspect of interlocking pinkies with this boy while you’re both reading or walking throughout the woods just has me weak in my knees. a more common way shino would express himself by ways of affection would be listening; absorbing every word you have to give and then offering up the information he’s collected later to show that he does hang onto your every word. he does so subtly, remembering things that you mentioned favoring seemingly offhandedly but in reality he wants you to feel as seen as you make him feel. someone give him a kind smile right now

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

shino’s so quick to throw around the, “I’m not sure I have any friends,” card when kiba inuzuka literally exists— the audacity of this man. team 8? the bond the three of them have outdoes friendship. the loyalty. the camaraderie. the attitude. i get whiplash from their personalities interacting, and i love every minute of it. the bluntness of shino can come across as rude disposition, however it all comes a place of well intent. he speaks his mind, and he speaks the truth. all of it. having shino aburame as a friend would mean you could easily find calm grounds to stand upon. he’d offer words of harsh wisdom, whether you ask for them or not. he sees the best in people even behind his quiet demeanor, and has loyalty oozing out of him. good boy, 10/10 wanna be his best friend.

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

can i be self-indulgent for .6 seconds: imagine how w a r m shino is. it had to be said.

anyways, aburame clan: not particularly touchy. we talked about this. however there would come times where shino would hold your hand. it was a practice you initiated, and he quickly caught onto. when you walk through the forest together, he’ll send his bugs out to take a quick peek around before interlocking your fingers silently. he’ll be nervous the first time, but eventually is confident enough to make the move without any plaguing hesitation.

I could go on and on about hand holding because I’m a simple girl, but we gotta get to the goods.

cuddling? with shino aburame? a prize that I want to win. you. bug boy. sitting side by side, chatting about slice of life oddities— you put your head on his shoulder. okay little baddie, we see you: he very carefully presses his head onto the top of yours. shoulder to shoulder, his cheek resting in your hair. you never stop talking about your day, and he never stops you. it feels so natural and easy. c o z y. I’m soft.

you don’t spoon, you want to see his face when he lights up with facts about entomology. when you reach that state in your relationship, you lay side by side and play with his fingers, or he draws lazy patterns on your wrist.

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

he’d love to settle down wtf. he’d want to keep a romantic partner close, but even platonically— shino’s in it for the long haul.

he may be bug boy, but he’s also a clean boy. right? like okay his hair may be a bit unkept, and his room is definitely littered with sketches of insects and books here and there. but they’re organized in a way that makes sense to him. he can immediately find whatever he needs whenever he needs it, and that doesn’t make him unclean. when it comes to his insects, he keeps them tucked away with precision. each is labeled and jarred away probably alphabetically, idk, that just feels right to me.

cooking is something that can be accomplished in theory. a recipe can be read and executed, but that’s as far as it goes with shino. don’t expect much creative flare, the aburames are known bug enthusiasts, not ramen curators. the most spontaneity you can hope for is perhaps a pinch of salt on your eggs in the morning. if it’s not in the recipe, it’s not happening. he’s a boy of many talents, cooking is barely one of them.

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

i don’t even wanna entertain shino breaking my heart—

good thing he’s breaking yours

shino wouldn’t let a platonic relationship go far enough into a romantic status unless he was without a doubt that you were someone he could trust and hold close to his person. honestly I’d say you’d have to be the one to break up with him if you managed to get far enough in. but if he had to break up with you? he’d have the briefest moment of hurt before setting it out all on the table. once his mind is made up, it’s over. he’s not one to dance around the point. you probably won’t even have to ask why. he’ll tell you without prompting.

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

oh shino has no problem committing his life to you, after you’ve been together for a very long time that is. marriage isn’t the forthcoming thought pressing into his conscious. it’d be something you had to mention in passing to him to let him know you were interested. to shino, he recognizes your relationship as it is: a relationship. your partners for better or worse, he doesn’t think a marriage certificate has any true significance in the way you share feelings for one another.

but you’d like a wedding? okay, no qualms. he’d want to wait a few years, and the atmosphere of the village would to have to fair calm, but he wouldn’t mind a small ceremony. when he tilts your head back and kisses you to seal the deal, kiba faints.

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

sorry I was just checking the time, seems to me like it’s, “soft boy hours.”

I want you to know right now that shino aburame hangs onto every word you say with such fervor, it’s just darling okay? emotionally, when you’ve established that you plan on playing an active role in his life, he’s so doting. asks you short and simple questions about your day. offers advice on your woes. let’s you interact with his bugs— because he trusts you. and you better offer him the same love and respect back. I have this whole thing about him receiving cheek kisses. he eats that shit up okay, but silently with a blush crawling up his neck and wrapping around his ears. pinky holding— hullo. that’s the gentlest thing homies can do.

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

maybe he hugs you first. that’s wild, but it keeps you on your toes. you held his hand first, yes, but that night when he accompanies you home you stand nearly toe to toe. you haven’t released hands yet, and he’s overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude to someone who has lent an ear to him with no ulterior motives other than quality time. it’s strangely second nature to him as he wraps a fast arm around your waist, crushing your held hands between your bodies. you’re taken aback, obviously, but before you can even share a proper moment in the same space he’s retreating back into his stoic persona and wishing you a good night.

shino hugs with his whole body, and my favorite version of this would be him wrapping his arms around your shoulders as your crushed into his shoulder. love it. he doesn’t hug often, cherish the ones he shares with you.

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

shino, ever the one to speak his mind, let’s you know he loves you immediately when it occurs to him. I’m not quite sure when this is, but you’ve been apart of his life for a long time without a doubt. you make him feel safe, seen, and he is sure he can trust you. you probably ask him a question about like the process through which butterflies migrate or whatever, I’m not clever enough to think of insect related questions, but after he gets done explaining and you’ve got this thoughtful expression on your face he just blatantly says it. it’s so matter of fact and without any doubt that you have to blink for a moment before sharing the sentiment. it’s not awkward. there’s not any fanfare or roses involved. it’s the truth, and you’re both quietly over the moon about it.

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

shino and jealousy don’t necessarily exist in the same realm. he’s not going to entertain someone he can’t trust, that’s just a given. and if he did have any doubt in his mind you were pursuing something romantic from another, he’d simply send one of his bugs to investigate the situation. if it proved to be true, he’d confront you on it. if he’s misunderstood the circumstances then he can admit it, but if he hasn’t then he’ll make it apparent to you very quickly he doesn’t appreciate what you’ve been doing.

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

soft, goodnight.

okay so like forehead kisses, right? forehead kisses by shino>>>>

i will die on this hill, don’t test me.

shino kisses softly and with purpose, there is nothing he does without meaning. it’s a press of his lips to your forehead before leaving for a mission, it’s brushing your lips together in the moonlight, it’s pushing the pads of your fingers against his mouth when you’re upset. I’m a hopeless romantic and there’s only so many euphemism for kissing, so take what you’re given. shino isn’t experienced in tonsil surfing, so you’ll have to bear with him. it’s something that relies less on textbook skill and moreover on feeling and primal intuition, something he does have so he’s not completely clueless. like i said, forehead kisses are a go to and idk if I’ve mentioned you giving shino cheek kisses but for the love of god, please opt to. he eats that shit up, you gotta.

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

kurenai herself made note of how well shino interacts with kids, and I have never known kurenai to be wrong so it’s been decided. shino? amazing with kids. the scene between him and mirai? shino giving a piggy back ride? goodnight y’all, imma clock out.

and he eventually becomes sensei badass okay, like he can handle himself amongst a child or two. as far as having his own children I think he’d do well with one. shibi and shino share the classic aburame relationship: mutual understanding and appreciation of one another’s existence, and i can see him sharing that with his own child and then some. he spent the better part of his own childhood in solitude. it was in tandem sought out and forced upon him. big boy perks. he’d want his child to not only embrace their aburame side, bugs and all— but also to feel confident and extroverted enough to branch out and make interpersonal relationships

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

imagine being a morning person. I mean shino doesn’t have to, but it couldn’t be me. shino’s up before dawn breaks, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pressing his glasses into his nose before he even opens his eyes. rise and shine. if you’ve been sleeping beside him, he’ll cast a long look you’re way, admiring your still figure before standing and beginning his day quietly so as not to wake you. he lets you sleep as long as you wish unless you instruct otherwise. sometimes you ask him to wake you when he wakes himself. you always regret it because why the fuck is he awake, the crickets are still outside doing god knows what. he thinks the ambiance of an early morning is peaceful, and it sets his person in ease.

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

can we all just take a moment to appreciate the grand outdoors and how precious it would be to have shino watching you fondly ogle at fireflies in the middle of a field. like arms crossed with a gentle smile behind his collar as you open mouth grin and point because he absolutely asks them to do something impressive just to see you in awe.

nights are spent outside staring up at the sky. in a tree? on the ground? in the park? in the middle of the woods? who cares, time with shino is time well spent.

if it’s raining then that’s tough, I guess y’all will just have to have a night in. sometimes you play shogi, and you don’t complain when he lets you win despite you showing no true skill for the game. he doesn’t mind.

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

oh shino won’t reveal anything haha. well not on purpose. see I know I’ve gone on and on about shino being so attuned to you and what you have to say, but you have to show him equal attention and devotion to get a good read of him. anything personal that can be taken from him is conveyed so subtly you’ll miss it if you’re not paying attention. he’ll answer any question you ask, however if you get too personal too fast he’ll slyly avoid the question

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

not easily angered, moreover easily annoyed. while shino may not be on shikamaru’s level of strategical advances, he does have a pretty good sense of how things should be completed. it’s usually the way that benefits the most people and accomplishes the goal with as little room for error as possible. when things stray off from the how he envisioned them, I see him getting a little irritated. I think the time he’s spent with kiba has aided in this conclusion, and he isn’t as easily moved to a pissy nature as he once was, but I think the sullen nature still translates across if things fail to go his way because in his mind, it’s the most logical path.

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

broken record alert: he’s a good listener. it’s both a strategic move to manipulate situations because he’s become so good at reading people, and his own unique love language. it’s the juxtaposition of words of affirmation; he shows he cares by ways of empathy and action. it’s stoic empathy, but empathy nonetheless. he remembers everything you tell him, and everything you don’t. on missions when you two are parted, his thoughts are sometimes clouded with images of the way your mouth arches when you laugh, or the soft smell of you lingering on his coat after you hugged him goodbye.

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

when you let him go on and on about his insects and you seem genuinely interested. so often do people put up with shino’s knack for bugs out of politeness or to just let him fill the silence— but you ask questions. you seem intrigued with any word that falls from his lips and you’re quick to quip back with facts you’ve dug up on your own. you’re curious about what shino is so attuned with, and he is so excited to have someone to educate who wants to learn. you’ll go on small adventures to locate bugs to breed or to simply watch, and it’s at these moments when you’re both silent and poised over a poisonous beetle with a respective jar and net that he remembers fondly when you’re both parted.

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

well he’s already sworn to protect the village, so initially it’s on that basis. his duty is to do whatever he can to keep the residents of the hidden leaf secure, but with you he keeps a bit more of a watchful eye available. he isn’t paranoid or overly protective, however on days his mind is uneasy, shino has no qualms sending a beatle to hover your person. it’s just a security measure, nothing to write home about.

you keep shino protected from his inner turmoils. hinata and kiba can only reassure him so much, but shino has developed the habit of writing them off. they’re just his teammates, they have to put up with him. however you have no personal ties to him really. you stick around on your own accord, and this boosts his self esteem immensely. you put his mind at ease and make note to remind him daily that the members of team eight are an excellent unit and that he needs to give kiba and hinata more credit because they both care about him as well. akamaru too, woof woof dummy. accept the love.

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

shino’s not a man of many words, and when he does spit fire, it’s calculated and can come across as blunt assertion. you’ll come to put up with it, but he can come to understand he can be a bit overbearing in this aspect. so as I’ve expressed, words of affirmation aren’t his love language (though don’t put it past him to whisper sweetness into your ear when you’re both alone: that would be lovely.)

he expresses himself through gifts, awe. shino won’t present you with precious jewels or money as means of affection. no, the gifts are moreover practical. a book you had been pining after, a scarf to keep you warm in the upcoming months, things of that nature. he also collects rocks, we can collectively agree on that as a community right? he’ll share them with you, encouraging you to begin your own arsenal of rocks that entertain no one but are a sweet gesture— thanks shino.

dates are long walks when he as spare time. he doesn’t mind if they’re silent or if you fill the space with your own daily narrative. you’ll both trade useless dialogue and he likes it. it’s a sense of normalcy for him.

he doesn’t try particularly hard in any sense, but he doesn’t need to. time spent with shino is delightfully casual in both of your lives, please don’t mind it.

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

what if shino picks his nails, awe.

he’s a wonderful, brilliant little creature: but he has a habit of writing off people who clearly care about him. you’ve gotta take a little energy into reassuring him from time to time. he won’t outwardly mope in this mentality, but sometimes he seems a little off and it will fall on your shoulders to assist him

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

mans only lets like 3% of his face be shown for the better part of the series and then decided that a visor and top knot were gonna be his debut look in boruto, he is n o t the one to look to for fashion advice, and this is coming from someone who simps so hard for shino aburame like he’s lowkey giving kiba a run for his money at this point but like come on

as far as his s/o goes i know the prompt didn’t ask but he doesn’t mind what his s/o particularly looks like. it’s a personality game baby, let’s go

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

shino’s written as a loner, and he doesn’t particularly mind that status but a friend every now and then is never unwelcome. he deserves to be appreciated, and while he may not outwardly show that he receives the appreciation in good spirits, you can rest assured he does. having a partner would be pleasant, no doubt, and he would love having someone by his side to call a best friend (and eventual partner) however shino’s existence isn’t completely codependent on another half. he can exist on his own with just the company of his bugs with no true remorse. he does feel lonely at times, but he’s got the squad of the hidden leaf backing him up. he’ll make it through

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

blush bug boy shino = a happy bee (‘s me, I’m bee)

the headcannons where stoic blunt hardass shino is an inexperienced nervous boy eat me alive. man’s is a shinobi who has faced peril and nearly suffocates when you hold his hand for the first time? imma head out, i love it

he’s also always early to things? yes please? early is on time, on time is late, and late means call an ambulance, something super not cool has gone down

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

if you don’t like bugs, you have to evacuate the dancefloor. I’m not saying you have to be the president of the, “insects are the superior race,” committee. to enjoy something and appreciate something from a distance both can weigh evenly on a scale in this instance. if you’re a bug enthusiast, kudos. he’ll love spending time showing off his collection to you with a slightest hint of pride coloring his tone. if you’re the type of person to be afraid of insects, he can deal with that as well. most people are, and he recognizes it comes from misunderstanding. if you are willing to give the bugs a chance and overcome your phobia, you’ve won him over.

wouldn’t like an over the top ditzy person. he needs you to have some sense of self preservation and common sense. shino does not put up with tom foolery and he would make that apparent to you very quickly.

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

can I head cannon that he just becomes unhinged in his sleep? can we get behind that? like shino may begin the night tucked in with his hands clasped over his abdomen, but that is n o t how he finds himself in the morning. as a shinobi, he’s a light sleeper. fair play. but light sleepers toss and turn too, and I like to imagine him waking up discombobulated. face down, open pressed into his pillow, arms doing what they will, hair in disarray. magnificent. a pen drops and he wakes immediately, and is up before you can truly assess what you’ve just seen of the normally so put together aburame.

he knows he’s an active sleeper, ‘s why he gets up at 4am. that’s his business

#shino #shino aburame #shino x reader #shino headcanons #naruto headcanons #naruto #sfw #sfw alphabet #reader insert #naruto fandom #naruto shippuden

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only-lurkin-dont-mind-me · 3 years

Text

A Monstrous Villain

Any smart person would have gone to bed at 10 when the tiredness began to affect their eyes. Any reasonable person would have taken a shower, had a drink of water, and have gone to sleep by 12. Any functioning person would have eaten something and gone to bed by 2. Yet here you were, lying in bed, eyes wide open, ignoring the need for sleep because what's being tired from a lack of sleep if you're tired all the time anyway? Come the next morning, you were still wide awake, staring at your phone and scrolling through the same few apps, hoping to see to hear, to watch, something new, something else to focus on for a minute more. Nothing else could grasp your attention in those moments, not your body's needs, mental or physical.

The knocking on the window, however, did grab your attention.

A fairly disgruntled looking creature. Ovros stared at you with far too many eyes, the massive winged creature hovering a good few storied off of the ground, waiting for your window to be unlocked.

With a deep breath, you braced yourself for the coming lecture and walked over to the window, opening it haphazardly.

Ovros gingerly stepped through the window, tucking their massive frame inwards to fit into your drearily dark livingroom. "If I wasn't so upset about you missing our regular bantering and fighting over by the city bank, I would say thank you." Ovros huffed with a ruffle of his feathers, stepping quickly to the center of the room, His paws making next to no noise as he ducked down slightly to ensure that his antlers didn't scrape against the ceiling.

He gestured out to the mess that was your living room with a taloned set of hands. "I mean really; you knew I was going to rob the bank today. I even had this new ability I have been practicing for months now to really catch you off guard," Ovros whipped around to face you, Tail almost knocking you over in the process, his many eyes glowing golden with a power rushing through his veins, truly expressing his frustration. "And you-" He jabs at your chest with one of his talons and ok that hurt. "Had the audacity to just not even show up?!"

Silently, you made your way to the couch, sitting languidly as you allowed yourself to focus on your nemeses words, it would be rude to ignore him twice in one day after all.

Ovros moves out of your way, allowing you to sit comfortably as he begins to pace the room, a trail of darkened and gold-flecked mist following him closely. "I mean of all the times to leave someone waiting, I expected better of you, And what's even worse I thought you were pulling your fashionably late card that always makes you look so damn good but no, you just left me there, looking like a fool, robbing a bank with no hero to even try to get in my way? Unbelievable!" Ovros snapped his fanged maw in frustration, finally snapping his gaze back to you.

He seemed ready to demand an explanation until he took a good look at you. Barely dressed, no sleep, lack of food, and probably lack of hydration.

His burning gaze softened as the golden power shining through his veins extinguished.

Ovros thought back to a similar incident almost a year ago now, he had been MIA for a few weeks only to have you, his hero, knock on his door with a gift of baked treats and the dumbest mug that said 'Hero's worst nightmare!' He still had that mug, used it often. You sat with him as he let out his frustrations, his dilemmas. When he had his fill he had asked why you came to help him. You had told him that mental health was serious, and you could never find a villain as bad as he was, so you were just looking out for him as any good hero should do.

Focusing on the present you, he felt his tail twitch in agitation. "When was the last time you had anything other than junk to eat?-" He held up a hand pausing your response, "-do not respond to that question, actually. Go take a shower, put a pair of clean clothes on, yes I will know the difference, then go sit at the table, I'll see to a proper meal, now shoo, off with you." the creature exclaimed while lifting you up with ease and setting you back down in the direction of the bathroom.

Ovros watched you slowly walk away, much like a scolded puppy. Turning to the kitchen and doubting he would find anything edible, he sent a quick text to one of his assistants, sending a quick list of ingredients for a quick, healthy, meal.

As he waited, he began to look around, able to smell the emotional turmoil lingering in the air, It gave the villainous being a rather unpleasant feeling. This was his hero, and he would be damned if he would allow anything other than himself to best them.

By the time said hero was cleaned, changed, and at the table, Ovros's assistant had brought food leaving ovros with ample time to make something, pick up various dishes and trash, and open the blinds to brighten the gloomy home of his hero.

You almost turned down the bowl of stew that had been placed in front of you. Fighting against something that looked that delicious, as well as your villain's glare that threatened you to try to deny his help? You were cornered.

Of course, he ensured that you ate slowly, understanding that sometimes eating can make one feel sick without reason. Or you simply forgot he wasn't quite sure just yet.

Ovros sat at the table with you, watching closely, waiting for a moment to speak. Once he figured out his words, of course. With a twitching tail and ruffling wings, the creature seemed nervous about his next move.

You watched closely as he hesitantly placed a large hand on your forearm, not grasping, simply resting his hand in place. A physical comfort that almost made you laugh with how out of place it seemed. This monstrous nightmare of a creature and your arch-nemesis who looked so worried about hurting you at this moment. He was attempting to comfort you in such a sweet manner.

"Now, you know that I can be rather, specific about the what's mine is mine rule, and you are my hero. So if there is someone who has lead you to feel so lowly as of late. It is within my job as a villain to 'take care' of this person. Do they have a name?"

That was almost sweet, "Yeah, they got a name, a shitty one too."

Ovros visibly brightened at this, wings puffing out and tail perking up kind of brightened. "Wonderful! Might I learn their name from you, or do I need to do some simple research myself? Either way is fine by me. I've been getting rather bored without you as is."

"Depression."

The creature slumped back slightly. His eyes dulling to an easy understanding. "I see." He didn't say much after that, letting you finish eating in peace, placing his hands in his lap.

Once you were finished, however, he stood slowly, cautiously, reaching out to help you up.

You were hesitant of the action, it seemed, different somehow. Not a bad kind of difference, though. You took Ovros's hand in yours and allowed him to lead you to your bed.

To Ovros's credit, he did look rather unnerved to be standing so easily in his nemesis personal bedroom, a vulnerable place that he would avoid in the future but for the time being, "Rest now, little hero. Sleep properly, or else I will know, and I will knock you out to allow your body to catch up on its missed sleep. Once you wake up, we can try and get you back to trying to capture me. Alright?"

"Sounds good," you mumbled quietly from the mountain of blankets that the creature was throwing over you.

"I will bid you a good morning then. Until next time, Hero."

"Till next time, Villain."

#look sometimes i need a monster villain to be like where tf my hero at then have to get them better so they can fight again later #hero x villain #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #one day boyfriend they dont know it yet though shhh #and yes I got sidetracked with this one #the naga story isnt wanting to word right #depression tw #mental illness

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procrastinatorimagines · 4 years

Text

Help

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago / Chicago Med

Character/s: Halstead!Reader, Will, Jay, Stella

Warning/s: abuse tw!!!!!!!!! I cannot stress this enough!!

Word Count: 2,486

Request: Hello! Could you write an imagine where the reader is Halsteads' little sister and she is in abusive relationship but she hides it from them and then they eventually find out about everything? Love your writing ❤️

Summary: Y/N’s ran out of excuses, enough is enough, she knows she needs to leave, but she can’t do it alone, she needs her brothers by her side.

You usually did a better job at hiding the bruises, but working long shifts at a firehouse meant you were often reapplying make up every few hours, or making up any number of excuses as to why you were a little stiff or sore during the day.

You never knew how to reconcile your feelings, you knew you should leave him, that when ever he told you it would never happen again it wasn’t true... but you always found yourself making excuses, blaming yourself, you’d set him off, he’d hurt himself if you left, he loved you...

It had been different this time though. Your brother, Jay, had come over to ask you about a collision you’d worked on shift and then he’d had to go straight to a call. In all the rush he’d left his jacket at your place and your boyfriend had snapped, accusing you of cheating on him and having another man in his house while he was at work. No matter how many times you’d told him it was Jay’s, he was just too angry to listen, throwing and smashing things as he yelled at you. Every step he took towards you, you’d taken backwards, trying to reason with him even though a part of you knew it wasn’t possible.

Then he’d grabbed your arms, nearly yanking them out your sockets and on instinct you pulled back, accidentally striking him as you pulled free from him. One second you were stood there, too shocked to say anything, and the next you were being pushed, and then you were falling, down and down until you slammed into the cold wooden floor at the bottom of the stairs.

He’d left you there to pick yourself up, telling you you shouldn’t have provoked him and that you knew what his temper did, and that he only got angry because he loved you so much that the thought of you being with someone else was too much to bare. You hadn’t really heard the rest of it, the pain in your side like a fire as you’d pulled yourself up. Nothing was broken thankfully, but your ribs were bruised and your shoulder was next to numb, you knew once that wore off you’d really feel it.

He’d left you to clean up too, locking himself in your room to cool off, but it was your mess anyway right? You went the rest of the day in autopilot, knowing you had to get everything done before your shift in the morning, god that was going to be hell. Your boyfriend came down for dinner as you were finishing tidying up, promising that he’d do better if only you promised not to leave him, he needed you too much...

Even though you’d heard every word before, accepted every word before even, mananged to rationalise it to yourself... something in you wasn’t what it had been before, your words felt hollow, empty, without real meaning behind them as you replied your usual reply.

That night you lay in better, eyes so heavy that you couldn’t open them if you tried, but mind so awake you didn’t know how to shut it off. Every way you lay sent a shock of pain through your body, every little movement reminding you what he’d done.

He was going to kill you. That’s what it was, what’d changed, you’d realised what was going to happen to you if you stayed. Part of your rationalising had always been that he never did anything worse than he usually did, as hard to understand as that was, but today...

What were you going to do?

You lay awake thinking about that question until you finally drifted off, barely registering your alarm when it went off in the morning.

Everything hurt as you dragged yourself out of bed, each step like your feet had been replaced with weights as you entered to bathroom to get ready for work. The water in the shower was as hot as you could make it as you let it scold your skin, brain still in autopilot of your usual morning routine until you saw yourself in the mirror.

There was barely an inch that wasn’t at least a little black and blue, your ribs almost a canvas of colour as you struggled to put your clothes on. When you’d finally made it down the stairs you heard your boyfriend in the kitchen and it took everything you had to walk in there to grab your coffee before you left for shift. He had the audacity to act... normal as you made your drink, asking you if you’d had a good night sleep and what time you thought you were going to be home. When he kissed you on your way out you resisted the urge to hurl, your stomach twisting itself into painful knots and you hurried to your car.

You only managed to get to the end of the road before you pulled over, your eyes too blurry with tears to see the road. The tears that came were hard and long over due, your ribs aching with every sob that you couldn’t stop as you tried and failed to pull yourself together, the thought that he was going to kill you echoing in your skull, even after the tears had dried and you realised you were going to be late to work.

But you got lucky, Boden was in a meeting so briefing had been delayed, meaning you had time to go fix your make up in the toilets before many people got a good look at you.

That’s exactly what you were doing when Stella walked in as you were putting on your uniform, all but stopping in her tracks as she regarded you carefully. You knew they all suspected what was going on at home, you were smart enough to realise your excuses couldn’t fool everybody forever, you next to never made a single mistake out in the field but suddenly you were the clumsiest person ever at home?

“Hey...” Stella said slowly and you swallowed hard, pulling your shirt down quickly and trying not to wince at the pain in your shoulder, “Y/N what happened?” Her voice was full of alarm as she approached but you put your hands out to stop her.

“It’s nothing, looks worse than it is, I tripped is all,” you fumbled, tucking your shirt in quickly.

“Tripped? What, down the stairs?” Well, actually yes, you thought, but in reality your tongue got tied as you tried to make up some more of an explanation.

Mercifully, however, you were saved by the bell and with one more look of concern, Stella exited the room, you in tow, and out towards the truck.

It was a car crash, a lorry had flipped over and caused a bit of a pile up, but you perservered through the call, despite just how badly your body was screaming at you to rest. With Stella keeping one eye on you at all times you didn’t want to miss any step as you focused on your work, trying to forget the look of horror and concern in Stella’s eyes when she’d seen you, she was genuinely scared for you. And you couldn’t blame her.

You avoided her the rest of the day, making up any excuse to avoid that look of sympathy on her face that was leaving a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. She only wanted to help, you knew they all would, but you didn’t know what to say. You were screaming for help in your head but the words just didn’t seem to want to come out.

The rest of shift was pretty much the same, and by the time it was over you could barely move to start the car, hoping you’d have time to unwind with a bath before your boyfriend came home.

You’d just finished running it when you heard a knock at the door. Your boyfriend often forgot his keys so with a high you made your way down the stairs slowly, images of your fall flashing through your mind as your throat began to close up just thinking about seeing him right now. You just needed a minute to catch your breath, just some time to yourself before you suffocated.

But your boyfriend wasn’t at the door. Your brother’s were.

“Hey Y/N,” Will said carefully, there was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite make out.

“Hey guys,” you put on a smile, “did I forget some plans we had?” The three of you used to have dinner weekly, or catch up at Molly’s, but your boyfriend got so defensive whenever you went out without him that it was rare that you ever saw them both at the same time.

“No, er...” Will stumbled, looking to Jay to carry on. Oh, you realised, noting the same look in their eyes that Stella had.

“We just wanted to talk to you, make sure you’re alright,” Jay explained and you shook your head.

“I’m fine, I don’t-” Jay cut you off quickly.

“Stella talked to us, and Y/N... we’ve given you some space, pushing you would only have made you close us off more, but Christ-” Jay swore, anger coating his words.

“Jay,” Will put a hand on his brother’s shoulder before focusing back on you, “we just want to help you, it’s all we’ve ever wanted, just let us in, please. Y/N, please.” The was his voice cracked on the please nearly broke your heart, so you nodded numbly, and stepped back so they could enter.

The first thing Jay noticed was the dents in the walls, the missing spaces on the shelves, and the crack in the floor at the foot of the stairs. You thought he was going to explode. “We’re getting you out of here, you’re leaving with us, now.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, I can’t-” You started but he didn’t let you finish as he surveyed the damage to the house.

“Yes, you can, you either leave with us now or-” He fumed.

“Or what?” You asked.

“Or you’ll be leaving in a body bag Y/N!” He yelled, causing you to flinch and jump back automotically. Will noticed and stepped up, putting his hand on Jay’s chest and pulling him back a little as your heart sped up.

“Jay, calm down,” Will said carefully as you took steady breaths, willing that flight instinct to settle.

“No, don’t tell me to calm down, I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Jay snapped back, turning away and letting out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“Jay please I can’t just-” You didn’t know how to finish, how to make him understand something even you didn’t fully understand.

“Y/N, you know it isn’t safe for you here, the way Stella described those bruises...” Will explained, desperation creeping into his voice.

“He loves me, and I love him,” you told him, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

“This isn’t love, not this, love doesn’t do this to a person, not real love,” Jay replied, facing you both again as he tried to calm himself down.

“If I go- I don’t know what he’ll do to himself,” you admitted, remembering all the threats he’d made if you ever tried to leave him. He loved you so much, he always told you, that he couldn’t live with out you, literally.

“So?” Jay exclaimed, earning a warning glance from Will as you put your head in your hands, groaning as you tried to sort out the thoughts and emotions swirling around in your head.

“Jay- just, please. Y/N, think about what he’ll do to you if you stay,” Will pleaded, and you knew, somewhere inside of you, you knew he was right, you’d always know, deep down, but after yesterday...

“I’m scared,” you said finally, tears rolling down your cheek and your heart felt like it was cracking open, “I’m just- I’m scared, scared to go, scared to stay, I- I- I don’t know what to do, he promised- he always promises- oh god-” You sobbed.

“Y/N...” Jay said quietly, at a loss for how to possibly comfort you.

“Help me... please just help me...” You felt like your knees were about to give out, the pressure, the stress, the strain... it was all too much.

“Come on, Y/N, please just come with us, I’m begging you to leave with us,” you never heard Will sound so vulnerable, so scared, he sounded so much younger now, so unlike the confident and sure doctor he usually was.

“I can’t- he’s all I have, without him- I- I can’t do it alone- I’m not strong enough-” You stammered, the weight of the decision threatening to knock you off your feet.

“You have us Y/N, you’re not alone, you’re never alone, you have 51, and Intelligence, and Med...” Jay reminded you, putting his hand on your shoulder gently as you forced yourself to look him in the eyes.

“Promise me it’ll be okay?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“I promise you it’ll be better than this,” he told you, looking to Will.

“We love you Y/N, we’re your big brothers, let us do our job, let us protect you.” Will continued, taking your hand, their love and warmth filling the breaks forming in your heart as you tried to strengthen your resolve, tried to find any last shred of confidence your boyfriend hadn’t taken from you.

With a shaky breath you nodded, your head heavy, but you kept it up as high as you could. “Okay,” you said weakly, swalling hard as you tried to steady your voice.

“Okay?” Both brother’s looked to each other hopefully.

“Okay.” You said, the word felt like freedom, it felt like hope, that maybe there was a light at the end of this dark, dark tunnel somewhere, you couldn’t get there alone, but with the family you had behind you... maybe, just maybe, you could make it out of this abyss.

You didn’t grab many things, you didn’t want to stay in the house any longer in case you changed your mind, or incase your boyfriend came home. Will took the bag off your hands and grabbed your hand, Jay taking your other one as they both led you outside, and headed to their car. They were taking you to the hospital, and then to the 21st.

You felt heavy, but with each step out of that house, every breath of fresh air, you felt like it was step closer to getting your life back, each breath like you were breathing again for the first time.

Enough was enough, you were scared, scared of entering the unknown, but you knew now that you weren’t alone, you were never going to be alone, it was going to be okay.

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

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Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 37: A Trevelyan’s Word

Tristan and Dorian spend some much needed quiet time together. Some fluff, a tiiiiny bit of angst (blink and you’ll miss it), and some important conversations.

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Libraries had always been one of Dorian’s favourite places to be, ever since he could remember himself.

After having lived in so many different Circles, and having worked and studied in many more, gravitating towards the nearest library wherever he happened to be was something like second nature to him. He remembered the layout of every one he’d visited in startling detail: the neat rows of bookcases of the Carastes Circle; the circular library tower of the Circle of Trevis, with its tinted glass windows that had been specifically designed to protect the priceless tomes from the scorching sun and the dust; the vast Library of Minrathous, where one could easily lose themselves in unless they had a chart, a compass, a detailed floor plan and perhaps said a prayer or two. Regardless of the size, layout or method of archiving, finding what he was looking for had always been a swift matter, each library’s secrets revealing themselves to him readily after one brief sweep of the many rooms and shelves.

Never once had he encountered a library as reticent as the one in Skyhold.

After several months there, he still could not figure out the organisational system that the books had once been stored in. He’d assumed it was because of all the different kinds of people that had once resided there, but even in the oldest and most dilapidated libraries he had visited there was some method to the madness. In Skyhold, however, there was just madness.

Books on Pyromancy, which he had personally moved to the top floor - where they belonged, alongside the treatises on Primal magic- would magically appear on the lower floor shelves, alongside the tomes on Entropy magic. The scrolls of ancient Tevinter glyphs and spells, which he had found after sorting through the multitude of Chantry books that seemed to be practically sprouting out of the soil in that place, and that he had painstakingly cleaned from dust and arranged in alphabetical order in the booth next to his own, had now disappeared into thin air. The apprentice archivists, when he’d asked them, had simply stared at him with the sparkling gazes of well-fed heifers. One of them had had the audacity to look him straight in the eye and unironically say:

“If it’s Spirit glyphs you’re interested in, why don’t you read Former Second Enchanter Muriel’s research? Those scrolls you're looking for are outdated, anyway.”

Outdated? Outdated! The very notion had had Dorian grinding his teeth. As if seeing Former Second Enchanter Muriel’s sour visage every day, and listening to her endless tirades about Tevinter and anything else that displeased her wasn’t enough. He wouldn’t touch that tiresome crone’s research with a ten foot pole— no, make it twenty feet. One could never be too safe.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he shoved the book on Alchemy he’d found lying forgotten by the side of the wrong bookcase back in its proper shelf. If he’d known the level of ignorance and buffoonery he would be met with in the South, he would have seriously reconsidered ever leaving Minrathous. Oh, certainly, his homeland was a nest of vipers, but at least Tevinters knew how to organise a dratted library.

Now, if only he could find who in the Maker’s dratted name had gone through his dratted scrolls—

A glance at the research table across the rotunda promptly answered his question.

“Helisma,” he grumbled through clenched teeth as he stomped towards her. Priceless scrolls and documents were gathered willy-nilly in her arms, as well as the arms of the two apprentices that trailed her. The Tranquil looked up at him calmly when he barred her way.

“May I ask what on earth you have been doing with all the scrolls? You are the one who snatched them away, and don’t you even try to deny it.”

“I moved them to the underground storage rooms.”

That she could deliver those lines without an ounce of emotion was entirely bewildering, despite the fact that she was, indeed, a Tranquil. He forced his lips into a tight, sarcastic smile. “Why would you do that, pray tell? What have the poor things done to offend you so? Surely whatever it was could have been resolved over some tea and crumpets, instead of banishment to the nearest dungeon.”

She simply blinked at him, her tone completely flat as she informed him, “The upper levels of the library are reserved for leather bound tomes and codexes. The underground storage rooms are where scrolls, manuscripts and loose documents should be kept.”

“Helisma, my dear,” Dorian uttered tightly, trying his best not to lose his composure and start yelling in the middle of the library where everybody and their aunts could hear, “we have been over this. There is no reason for the scrolls to be there. They are needed here, where they can be used. The storage rooms are as damp as it gets, certainly you must be able to see that keeping ancient and fragile scrolls there is not the wisest course of action?”

“The humidity in the storage rooms is less than forty percent. That is lower than the Circle of Amaranthine’s storage rooms by five point two degrees.”

“And you’re saying it as if it’s a good thing? If the humidity in the Minrathous library was half as high, the master archivist would be having an apoplexy!” Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep breath. There clearly wasn’t any way of making sense of this, and he would sooner teach a mule to dance than talk Helisma out of her ways. “Very well. Have it your way. I’ll see what I’ll be able to salvage from this mess.” He sniffed and tossed his head back in defiance as he turned around and stomped back the way he’d come, leaving a blank-eyed Helisma behind.

The chill in the lower vaults was unmistakable, cutting through his many layers of clothing and piercing him right to the bone. Dorian resisted the urge to frown as he gathered his cloak around his shoulders. Any more of that, and he would getting wrinkles before his time, and he had enough as it was. Ever since coming to the South, he had noticed a few more around his eyes that he was sure had not been there a few months before. If this went on any longer, he would be looking like a shrivelled up prune by the time this entire Inquisition business was done.

The stray thought made him stop short, there, in the half dark and quiet of the vaults. Part of him wasn’t sure if he wished the Inquisition business to be done, he realised. Of course, he wanted Corypheus and his Venatori to be defeated, more than anyone. If this were done, the world would have a chance to recover, and with it his country’s reputation. Still… the thought of the future brought with it a certain amount of trepidation. Trevelyan would ultimately be the one to face all those dangers, and no one knew how he would be affected. His life was on the line, day after day, and Dorian more than anyone could see how it was stretching him thin. Even if everything went according to plan though, even if they both survived this ordeal, no one knew what the future held for the two of them. For the time being, they were bound by this common cause. Beyond this… only time could tell.

The worry and unease that he so often tried to brush away slithered to the surface. Dorian took a deep breath to quell it. There was no point thinking of the future, when everything about the present was so uncertain. Trevelyan was alive and well now, as much as he could be, and that was all that mattered.

Brushing the thoughts aside, Dorian turned right as soon as he’d reached the storage room he was looking for. It was the farthest down the corridor, with only a lone torch burning.

Torches. Amidst all this paper. The horror.

The sounds beyond the door of the storage room quickly revealed that there was someone else there, shifting through the many scrolls and documents in the cramped space. At least she had the sense to conjure a small ball of light, which was now hovering above her as she searched, its halo glossing her cropped black hair. She gave a small start when she heard him entering, her large blue eye widening.

“Lord Pavus,” Grand Enchanter Fiona breathed, pressing her palm to her chest. Or was it just Fiona, now? “You frightened me.”

“My apologies,” he said. He clasped his hands behind his back and glanced at the scrolls she had been shifting through. “I see I wasn’t the only one who has found the scrolls Helisma has banished down here useful.”

“Ah, yes. She does have some strong opinions about where everything should be stored. I’m not entirely certain I agree.”

She gave Dorian the barest hints of a smile. Their interactions had always been kept serious and professional, both of them taking care not to linger in each other’s presence too long, despite them practically sharing the same workspace. At first, it was because Dorian wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, and he had the suspicion that his presence made her just as uneasy. However, he had soon found out that she didn’t particularly invite any interaction beyond the typical. The former Grand Enchanter and Grey Warden had kept a low profile ever since joining the Inquisition, more so after they had taken permanent residence in Skyhold, and Dorian didn’t blame her for that. There had been enough talk about her, even without her stirring any sort of trouble or gossip.

Even so, the fact that the former leader of the mage rebellion, who had —unknowingly, allegedly— struck a deal with the Venatori and had been banished from Ferelden because of it, could go by largely unnoticed at all was an impressive feat. Still, she managed to do just that. Most days.

“Is there something in particular you’re looking for? Can I be of any help?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble. You’re much better versed with those scrolls than I assume I am.” A compliment? That was promising. “I’m searching for Magister Domitius’ research on reanimated undead. I do remember seeing a copy a while ago, in loose papers, but it disappeared before I had time to properly bind it. Have you perhaps seen it?”

Dorian narrowed his eyes in thought as he looked around the stacks. It didn’t take long for him to spot a few sheets of paper hastily rolled and bound with a leather cord. “That seems to be it,” he said as he dragged it out carefully and handed it to her. Fiona inclined her head in gratitude, unwrapping the document with slow, careful motions.

“Thank you. That was most helpful.”

“Anytime.” Dorian took a step back, giving the mage some time and space to inspect the discovery. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she read, her lips pursing in thought. She was short in stature, and could easily be overlooked if she wished it to be so. Yet there was something about her, a commanding presence and a stubborn streak that was hard to define, and to hide.

“I studied this one many years ago," he mused, crossing his arms before his chest. "It’s a rather interesting treatise, although some of the glyphs for releasing the spells that bind the undead are quite crude.”

“Crude, but effective. That is just what is needed right now. I hear the undead have claimed many lives all over Thedas, and will likely claim many more.”

“So grim, so early in the day? Grand Enchanter, I expected more from you.”

The elf glanced up at him, her lips quirked in amusement. “Former Grand Enchanter, if you please. Or you can just call me Fiona, as everyone else does these days.” The smile faded away as she looked down at the scroll once more. “One does learn to be grim after seeing as many deaths as I have. It is a hard thing to shake off.”

The silence that followed between them was somewhat awkward, with her carefully studying the writing on the yellowed and musty pages. Still, if there was something Dorian was good at, that was filling the silence. “So how come you’re studying the undead? I wasn’t aware that necromancy was your field of study.”

“It is not. The Inquisitor reported a large number of demons and undead in Crestwood, and some of the Inquisition mages were assigned with coming up with strategies to defend the villages until the Inquisitor is able to close the rift. I have experience battling the creatures, so I volunteered to investigate the matter further and to train the new recruits.”

Dorian’s stomach tightened ever so slightly. There were so many issues that demanded Trevelyan’s attention, he often wondered how the man found time to eat or sleep. He certainly seemed to be doing much less of both these days. That he found time to spend with Dorian at all when they were in Skyhold was a marvel in and of itself. Even before leaving for Crestwood, before the ordeal they’d both been through with the demon, he'd seemed so gaunt and pale, wrung out. The Inquisition was stretching him thin. Dorian wondered if ever the time would come that it would break him.

He took a deep breath, trying to swallow past the knot in his throat. He wouldn’t let it come to this, not if he could help it. He would stand by him, help him as much as he could. That was what a partner did, after all, wasn’t it?

“It is very noble of you, to offer to help with the matter,” he told her, in an effort to distract himself from his thoughts.

“Not at all. It is the least I can do to aid the Inquisition’s efforts.” She let out a soft sigh as she rolled the scroll back up carefully. “The way things ended in Redcliffe, the Inquisitor could have demanded anything he wished. Instead, he offered us a full alliance, and our dignities back. That is not something I am about to forget.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose he could have ordered you to become the Inquisition court jesters, as I hear the Orlesians seem to be doing with their mages.”

Fiona stared at him for a brief moment, until she realised he was jesting. She let out a chuckle then, shaking her head lightly. “I am glad he did not.”

Dorian joined her in laughter, the awkwardness between them dissipating somewhat. Affection and a strange sort of pride blossomed within him when he remembered Trevelyan in the hall of Redcliffe castle, only the bearer of the mark back then, with no real authority to his name, standing tall and proud before the King of Ferelden himself and declaring the mages equal partners of the Inquisition. Everyone had thought him mad, Dorian included. Looking back, perhaps it was around then that Dorian had fallen in love with him in earnest. A fool he certainly was, but a brave, beautiful, extraordinary fool at that.

“He has been known to make some interesting choices,” Dorian said, not quite able to hide the tenderness in his voice. “Some of them correct.”

“I dare hope it’s more than some.” She glanced up at him, and the pale light of her spell danced in her eyes. “The world has taken much from all of us, I suspect most of all from him. Still, I have faith that if anyone can see us through it all, it’s him. Not many would have done what he did. To declare an alliance with the mages, to shun the Chantry, to forge a new path, a new way of doing things... that takes courage. Or madness.”

“He has a fair bit of both.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “He is… an odd character. His ideas are odder still. Quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” She tilted her head to the side ever so slightly, and Dorian thought he saw something in her eyes, something akin to sadness, even more akin to sympathy as she regarded him. “I suppose it’s the same for you, yes?”

Dorian straightened, preparing himself to deflect the comment, to deny it, but something stopped him. He let out a soft breath instead, gazing at her levelly. “Yes. I suppose it is.”

A brief silence stretched between them. Fiona smiled fleetingly before looking down at the scrolls in her hands once more. “Thank you for your help in finding these. It is much appreciated.”

Dorian stepped to the side to let her pass. She left, her footsteps barely making a sound.

He let out a sigh into the quiet of the small storage room. Fiona’s words about Trevelyan had been kind, almost fond, and certainly much nicer than what many others he’d heard, yet even she couldn’t hide the depth of her expectations, her hopes. Dorian didn’t envy Trevelyan the power of his position much. The world expected so much of him, sometimes it did feel like it was perched upon his shoulders.

The scrolls stared at him sullenly from their shelves. Dorian pushed his shirtsleeves up and summoned a bright ball of light above his head. There was plenty of work for him to do. If everyone was doing their part to help the Inquisition, Dorian would do twice— no, three times as much.

When he lifted his head from his desk and looked out the window of the small nook in the library he called his office, it was already dark.

Dorian frowned back down at his own notes, sprawled before him messily like a blanket of autumn leaves freshly fallen from the bough. He had been poring over them for the better part of the day, after finding the scrolls he had been looking for. He was sure the copies he had made from the Venatori ritual in the Emerald Grave were correct, but they made no sense. Surely whoever had come up with those glyphs knew what they were doing, to some extent, but Dorian just couldn’t make out what they were trying to do exactly. The ritual itself was eerily similar to the one he had remembered finding years ago in the Minrathous library, but there were some fundamental differences. The Venatori had tried to control the power of the spell by tweaking central parts of the glyphs, but those they’d used for the binding clashed with the glyph right across from them, which was a bastardised version of a well-known affliction hex to weaken the subject’s mental defences. No wonder the poor people the Venatori had used the ritual on were turned to drooling, unresponsive vegetables; their mind was turned to jelly long before the actual mind-control spell was cast.

And it would be quite fortunate if that was the only problem he’d encountered. Trying to figure out the logic behind it was giving him headaches. There was something here, something that eluded him, Dorian was sure of it. That certainty only made him more intent on finding exactly how the ritual worked, and for that he needed resources that were not available to him at present. Tilani’s answer to the letter he had sent her regarding the original scroll was yet to arrive. It probably hadn’t even reached her yet.

Dorian suppressed the urge to curse the South and their terrible postal system, and reached for one of the dusty tomes he had managed to find in a forgotten part of the library instead. There was a glyph amongst those he had managed to copy that reminded suspiciously of Disthenes’ version of a glyph of paralysis. Now this, this he could work with. He had studied the Tevinter’s work extensively while he’d been holed up in the Circle of Marothius, and his memory was still fresh. If he used Disthenes’ theorems and altered the glyphs enough to make them work, in combination with Enchanter Hallesis’ equations in order to fix those horrible spirit-manipulating spells he’d seen the Venatori using...

Dorian let out a soft sigh. He probably should leave the matter alone, he knew that. There was little chance of figuring out how the ritual worked, or rather, didn’t work, without the original scroll he had asked Tilani to find. Yet, he’d already been working on this too long to let it go like this. If he was able to make some modicum of progress on his own, or better yet, find a way to work out some of the kink and errors in the glyphs he’d copied from the ritual, then he might be able to find a way to reverse it as well. The Inquisition needed knowledge like this, if they happened to chance upon a Venatori ritual like that again. Knowing what weapons and spells the Venatori had in their arsenal was half the battle, wasn’t it?

He half jolted out of his seat when he felt warm lips brushing the shell of his ear, a hand skimming his waist. “Four hundred and twenty two.”

Dorian leaned back in his chair, smiling at the sound of Trevelyan’s voice. How that man could walk up to him without making a sound, he could never understand. “Four hundred and twenty two, what?”

“Minutes. I’ve been counting.” He leaned forward, catching Dorian’s lips in a gentle kiss. The library was empty at that hour— Dorian thanked the Maker for that. He sighed as he turned around in his chair, his hand finding its way to the back of Trevelyan’s neck to deepen their kiss. He tasted of spiced, honeyed wine, with a mild undertone of the sweet and tart dried apples he always kept on him.

“Have you, now?” he murmured teasingly.

“Yes. I told you I would, didn’t I?” Trevelyan’s smile widened. “My word is my bond.”

A flush crept up Dorian’s cheeks with the warmth in Trevelyan’s gaze. He was peering at him with so much tenderness, and with their proximity Dorian could smell the warmth of his body, the faint smell of his soap. He realised then, that although they’d only been apart since that morning, he had missed him. And the fact that Trevelyan had come straight to him after finishing with his duties, with the black ink from signing his reports still staining his fingers, made him feel warmer still. He suddenly couldn’t wait to be alone with him again, to touch and kiss him freely without worrying about who was to see, to avail himself of the body that hid beneath that snugly fitting dark blue coat.

With his heart beating with a strange sort of giddiness, Dorian turned around and gathered his papers, placed them in the drawer of his desk and locked it securely. “So,” he said, standing up, “shall we retire to your quarters? I’d rather not spend another minute here, thank you very much.”

Trevelyan took his hand, threading his fingers through his. “There’s something I want us to do first.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#dorian pavus #dorian x trevelyan #pavelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dorian/trevelyan #dorian/inquisitor #dorian x tristan trevelyan #dragon age fanfic #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

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bbnibini · 3 years

Text

Oh, Brother! (Lucifer ft. Baby Beel)

Summary: Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. (based on a headcanon request on our old AO3 request box)

Accompanying HC for this fic can be read here. This was originally a request. The old version is poorly formatted so I decided to repost this now that I am sliiiightly better at using tumblr. Anyway, enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances. You may also say that it is my inclination to exhibit such behaviour because of my personality. But while I make long-winded introductions that segues even further from the point I was making, let me, as my brothers say, "cut to the chase":

I have no idea what in Devildom is going on. Sets of eyes looked at me expectantly, and I did as I usually do when I am dragooned into unforeseen…problems.

"I see." I don't. But a white lie is what is required to quell the squall of chaos right now: debris of what looked like Leviathan's furnishings were strewn on the wet floor. Looking up from the living room where remnants of the ceiling were barely keeping itself intact, Henry freefell into my arms, a timely catch away from his imminent death. I turned to my pale brother, asking "Lotan?" in the calmest tone I can muster, and was only answered in more silence. I offered him Henry, which he took still looking down, and turned to problem #2.

"MC, may I have him?"

"I…"

I stopped and talked over them. "I'm not angry. Let me hold Beel."

"It's all my fault!"

Sigh. Why do they always do this? A surge of pain was felt on my temples, but I pretended not to feel it. "Why don't you help Levi clean up his room? Do you even know how to take care of a non-human child?"

"No, but!" they argued again. I listened. "You're not going to punish Mammon, aren't you?"

Punish is such a heavy word. I noticed how protective they were of my brother, almost to an extent where I feel like they perceive me in an unfavourable light. They were more carefree with them, but all yes and no's with me in comparison. I wouldn't say I'm envious. Rather, I'm baffled. Occasional pranks became the highlight (read: tragedy) of my day, often while I was poring over documents and settling political disputes on behalf of Diavolo. Partnered with Mammon and Satan, they were a force to be reckoned with; one I remembered being visibly annoyed by for interfering with my work. No one shall ever know that I might…have looked forward to those times. It was a puzzle to be pieced, an idle form of entertainment to guess which kind of tomfoolery they would attempt at me that they were foolish enough to think they would succeed in. Unfortunately, any victory they may have celebrated in the past were my fabrications that only the likes of someone as observant as Satan would notice.

"Procure a change of clothing and go while I'm still being merciful." I saw them share the same pallour as Leviathan, dragging him along while mouthing complaints under their breath. A curse perhaps, not bound by magic but of something else, directed at me, their usual villain. Such childishness that I let slide, as I was accustomed to being an enemy, especially when I know I was right.

Beel is finally in my arms, a docile child as cherubic as the little Beel in my memories. The pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together as I look around.

"Belphegor, wake up this instant! You're sleeping on a wet floor." You'll catch a cold, I almost felt myself saying but was able to hold myself back. "Unless you would rather be carried like the old days? I don't mind."

"Fine, fine. I'm up." They stretched out their arms to retrieve their twin and I shook my head. "I wouldn't leave such a delicate child to someone who couldn't even coordinate themselves properly. Go to sleep, Belphegor.

...and Satan, if you have the time for hexes, you would also have the time to clean up this mess."

"Tsk."

"I would see all of you in my office once this is all fixed.

Not a spot should be left unattended. Understood?"

"Yes, Lucifer."

I don't have time for this. So many documents are left unsigned on my desk. A meeting with the Chancellor, a hearing from the House of Commons, a response to Michael's ridiculous letter…

"Wuchy, angy?"

Beelzebub's upturned eyes looked at me adorably.

"Wuchy…" I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as I saw most of them are either absent or pre-occupied. Clearing my throat, I noticed my voice was shriller than usual. "Wuchy…" I repeated and sat Beel on the plush sofa. "Wuchy is NOT angy…"

"Bee hangu" he pulled at my sleeve, turning my attention to his rumbling stomach. "Wuchy…Bee hangu."

I nodded. "I see. Does Bee want to eat?"

"Peas!"

"You want to eat peas?"

"No! Bee Hangu! Peas!"

"Ah, " I nodded again as I finally understood. "I apologise, Bee. You're trying to say please?"

I couldn't help but smile back when he did so in reply.

To my disappointment however, even the kitchen was destroyed, to the point that MC didn't want me to enter. It was admirable, I suppose that they were able to explain the situation to me while everything was still in a state of chaos.

It all started with a hexes assignment that failed miserably, turning Beel into an inconsolable toddler that caused Levi's room to be absolutely destroyed. Since nobody was capable of understanding Beel's speech, his childish tantrums got worse and caused the House of Lamentation to be in its current state. The only reason the situation subsided a bit was because of Belphie's interference. Where was Belphie in the first place? Was my question, and MC's shrug affirmed that he ignored my warning about sleeping in on the weekend. Again. I sighed.

"Sorry, Lucifer. Why don't you eat out with Beel for a while?"

"Bee hangu! Now!"

"....Bee, that's my glove."

"Bee?" (MC)

!!!!

"Beelzebub." I cleared my throat. "I shall heed your advice before Beel throws a bigger tantrum."

"Wuchy, hangu!"

"Yes, yes. Wuchy…heard you. MC, take care of the house while we're gone."

There was a ghost of a smile on their face, one they must have tried to hide from me earlier. "Yes," They snorted, and I silently warned them to open their mouth again. "Wuchy."

Ah. They still have the audacity to mock me. Me. Who was trying to turn a blind eye? Giving them a chance to fix their mess before anyone else finds out? I smirked back.

"If the house falls down…or if it gets destroyed any further…prepare to face your punishment . Alone."

Their silence was enough of a penitence…for now. Beel's stomach growled louder and louder each passing second, and my gloves are currently soiled with bite marks everywhere.

I bent down to meet Beel at eye level and pried my hands away from his nibbling. "What do you want to eat?"

His eyes sparkled at the question, and he started chanting something in gibberish that I pretended to understand. "Wook wook! Bee fawwit!"

Wook?

He...never said that before. Or did he? I decided to carry him in my arms once I noticed he was having difficulty keeping up with my strides. He shook his head several times as we passed every food stall and kiosk in the shopping district, contenting himself with chewing on the gloves I thought I had confiscated already.

It had been so long that I almost forgot that Beel was once a picky eater when he was little. Michael marveled on his "refined palate", telling me I should cherish my brother's talent (and consider giving Beel to him once he got older to train under his tutelage) but I vehemently refused. I was busy enough as a high-ranking angel and barely had the time to see my siblings, and the last thing I ever wanted was to part from them. I understood the difficulties of having an absent parent all too well, and I did not wish for my brothers to experience the same longing I had when I was the same age as them.

Beel was as docile and as sweet as I remembered him long ago, smiling and laughing in my arms, calling me Wuchy over and over, and seeking for his twin in adorable babbles of "Bewphie" and "Bwanky", which I responded in my usual way:

"Bewphie, sleep."

"Seepu?"

"Yes." I answered, prying away my damaged gloves from his mouth. "Bewphie told me you should eat so you won't wake him up." I pointed at his rumbling stomach, and little Beel automatically held it and felt the rumbling coming from it.

"Bee…wouwd (loud)?"

"Mhm. Bewphie can't sleep unless you eat something."

He must not have been able to distinguish his twin because of his current form, seeking perhaps a smaller counterpart of his brother just like the old days. After some more meandering around stalls, feeling full over the meals that Beel refused to eat, I racked my brain to figuring out the meaning behind his childish babble:

What on earth does wook mean?

I have never heard him say it before even in the Celestial Realm, nor did I ever recall teaching him the words.

"Wook! Wook!" Beel said excitedly again, grabbing my hair in his elation to turn to a man flipping Bat Wing pancakes in a stall. The line was atrocious, barely moving, arid and noisy.

"Does Bee want to eat that?"

I sighed in relief when he shook his head. "Wuchy, Wook! Wook Bee fawwit!"

Wait a moment. Does wook mean…

"Do you want me to look?" But look at what? At the elderly demon flipping pancakes? Beel shook his head again, seemingly lost at how to translate his thoughts and feelings into his limited toddler vocabulary.

"Wook...wook fuu fo Bee…" he squinted his googly eyes at me and made exaggerated hand gestures. "Wuchy….wook fuu fo Bee! Bee fawwit!"

The proverbial cogs in my brain started to turn as I came across an epiphany. Before I knew it, I was already holding my DDD.

It pains me to do this, but I cannot let Diavolo know.

"Hello, Simeon?"

Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. It was evident with Simeon's jovial expressions as he opened the door.

"It really is a baby! Can I hold him?"

Simeon's smile never disappeared, rather, his eyes narrowed as he turned to me to speak. "Luke is good with kids. He volunteers taking care of cherubs in Heaven."

"Mhm! I have Raphael's seal of approval!"

Sighing, I surrendered my brother to Luke, my traitorous brother who did not even cry or protest when a complete…stranger is now holding him in his arms.

"Meemwon!"

"Oh! I haven't heard that in ages! This sure brings back memories!~" Simeon planted a kiss on Beel's cheek and I couldn't help but frown. "Hello, Bee! It's big bro Meemwon!" Beel giggled in reply as Simeon planted smaller kisses at him, clearly enjoying the attention.

"You're getting into this, way too much don't you think so?"

"He's adorable!" Simeon reasoned. "But, isn't his stomach growling?"

"That's why we're here." I tried to maintain an aura of composure. "I need to borrow your kitchen. Is Solomon around?"

Simeon's eyes widened for a bit in understanding…then I heard manic laughter. Is this really how he should conduct himself in front of the children? I kept that opinion to myself and didn't say a word. "No, he isn't. Don't worry." He looked at me again and smiled reassuringly. "Feel free to use the kitchen. We'll take care of Beel~"

"Solomon--"

"...won't feed Beel anything even if he does come back. Just go before he throws another tantrum!" Simeon shooed me away from the living room, pushing my back to Purgatory Hall's fully furnished kitchen. It certainly had better equipment compared to Lamentation, which I can only attribute to Michael's influence.

Cooking was one thing, but feeding Beel another. He continued rejecting meal after meal after meal of my best dishes. His stomach only growled louder, and his mood became irritable even with Simeon's and Luke's aid. The ingredients I have purchased were almost gone, left only with a half-used bag of flour, milk and eggs.

"The best I can do with these are pancakes…

Pancakes?"

A memory flashed in my mind, taking me back to the Celestial Realm and our former residence there. Assuring the house help that I wanted to try cooking for my brothers for a change, I begrudgingly followed the recipe book Michael had given me and started with its easiest dish.

I attributed my failed attempts to Michael's unique, archaic wordings in his cook book and tried again. And again. And again. Numerous ruined frying pans and ingredients later, I was left with a shabby excuse of a pancake---charred at the sides, eggshells at the other. I waved my white flag in surrender and called for a food delivery instead, deflated. Some Morning Star I was. It was an hour before dinner and my siblings were peeking at the kitchen with their blinking, doe eyes.

"Wuchy...huwt?" Lilith looked up to me, looking like she was about to cry and I took her in my arms to comfort her.

"Lucy…" I corrected myself. "Wuchy isn't hurt. Just tired."

"Seepu?" Belphegor offered me his cow pillow and I shook my head. "Later after we eat."

"Fuu?!" I managed to catch Beelzebub with my free hand before he faceplanted on the floor as he rushed to me in excitement.

"I'm sorry, Bee. As you can see, Wuchy doesn't have anything edible he can feed you." I carried him in my free arm and showed him my culinary failures.

"Wuchy…fuu." Beel pouted at me. "Wuchy, whie. Fuu deww! (Lucy lied. There's food over there!)" He tugged my hair and glared. "Bee, eat!"

"Eat!" Lilith mimicked.

"Bewphie, eat?" Belphegor followed.

"No, children. As you can see-- Mammon, wash your hands first!--"

I couldn't believe my eyes.

Everyone was gathered at the table, eating my failures with smiles on their faces. Beel, who had been sitting next to me this whole time tugged me on the sleeve to ask for seconds. "Dis...Bee fawitt! Cwunch!"

"It must be the eggshells."

"Mhm! Wuv it! Wuchy?"

I felt him wrap his arms around my side. With a wide grin, he said. "I wuv you!"

Only to be followed by a barrage of hugs from the others, talking over each other as they gathered around me with their syrup-stained faces.

"Asmo wuvs Wuchy disssss much!"

"Bewphie...wuv!"

"Wiwi, wuv Wuchy moww! (Lilith loves Lucy more!)"

"I guess you're okay…but the Great Me is better!"

"...Levi l-loves Lucy too…"

I couldn't remember much of what happened afterwards, but I do recall telling the delivery man that he can have my order for himself. After that, I strived to become better at cooking so I can serve my siblings better meals.

Anyone would strive to try harder if they are ever subjected to that much smothering, I suppose. Still, I do think that after that, Beel began to eat everything happily, much to Michael's dismay.

"This looks horrifying." The plating of the pancake itself was one or two burns shy of Solomon's best attempts at cooking…I could not believe that out of every dish there is in this world, this horrible disaster is my brother's favourite food. I never really asked him about it. Perhaps I have forgotten and he happily ate everything I cooked because he had no choice. Still, it was no time to mull over such nonsense, especially if Beel's stomach is now resembling Cerberus' growls.

"Wook!" Beel's eyes sparkled as I placed the cooled pancakes down at the table, munching on the sweet treat happily despite the…eggshells. I tried my best to emulate my failed attempts from before, and judging from the elated look on Beel's face, I must have gotten his approval.

"Is that--" (Simeon)

"Don't ask." I shut him up before he could even speak a word. "And please don't ever say this to Michael. I wouldn't hear the end of it."

Simeon smiled impishly in reply. "Would you cook here again--"

"No.

But I suppose I owe you some hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies for letting me use your kitchen."

"Anytime~"

"I was talking to the chihuahua, not you."

"I'm not a chihuahua!"

Beel was sleeping peacefully in my arms on the way home. While still baffled at a startling discovery about Beelzebub, I hadn't much time to think about it as I was covered in confetti the moment I opened the door.

"Happy birthday, Lucifer!" (MC)

"Simeon took too much time! The ice cream's meltin'!"

"Lolololol I told you he forgot his own birthday! Beel was the perfect distraction!"

What. On. Earth. Is going on?

"Sorry, Lucifer!" MC bowed her head and looked up to me, looking apologetic. "We were trying to throw you a surprise party but…things got…well...wrong. But, everything's okay now!" They pulled me inside and showed me the feast they have prepared for me.

It was a smorgasbord of my favourites. From the appetisers to the desserts and wines, I recalled some of these dishes as my specialties. Satan's familiar handwriting was drawn over a buttercream cake with my name on it, along with a small drawing of me in a party hat along with everyone else. Everyone else was seated at the dining table including Diavolo and Barbatos, both of which I was trying to avoid the entire day.

Were they involved in this ridiculous plan as well?

MC seemed to read my mind and nodded at me shyly. "I did mess up with my homework, that much is true, but Solomon helped in undoing the spell! He was the one who suggested to turn Beel back into a toddler so we have enough time to prepare for everything!"

Solomon waved a hand at me and smiled. "They still didn't let me cook anything though☆"

"So all of the chaos…"

"...is us cleaning up our first attempts of party preparations." Satan begrudgingly replied. "Until of course, you came back earlier than expected."

"Now, now~" Asmo interjected. "What's important is that he's here and Beel's spell is about to wear off!♡ Now, Lucifer dear, why don't you join us and blow your candles?"

I have completely forgotten about my birthday.

I didn't see the point of celebrating it anymore, I suppose. Thousands of years of repetitions can bring ennui upon you. However, things have changed.

The House of Lamentation had a warmer atmosphere thanks to MC, and everyone was closer than ever before. The loss of a family and an inclusion of a new one opened up our hearts enough to heal and perhaps forgive ourselves a little for the years we have ignored its value.

Who knew such a fleeting human could be the catalyst of such unimaginable developments?

"Oh! Beel's back!"

"Yay~! Your seat's over there, Beel!"

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances.

However…nothing can ever prepare me for this moment.

"Lucifer?"

I turned to Beelzebub, now back to his normal form and he offered me a smile. "The pancake you cooked was really good. Can you make it again for me next time?"

I smiled back.

"With or without the eggshells?"

#obey me #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me drabble #obey me oneshot #shall we date obey me #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me mc #family fluff #first person pov

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oddlyhale · 3 years

Text

As much as I begin to see the horrors of RWBY fndm and how crazed BB fans can be, there'll probably be no comparison to the psychotics I had to deal with in the HH fndm.

While I can totally find myself being tolerant with all RWBY ships, there's something territorial when it comes to HH ships. It's a different beast on its own, especially with the popular artists that can and will control their fanbase.

Boy do I have a tale of 2020 that had me deal with the mental gymnastics these wild shippers put me through. The sheer hypocrisy, the fear fans had of standing up to them, the collective harassment.

In a synopsis, before we start:

Hi, my name is Hale.

Alfa and Alex are probably the most psychotic people I’ve ever met when it comes to my online daily life. I used to think my ex-friends were the bane of my existence, but Alfa and Alex started making me think just how angelic my exes were in comparison.

So let’s begin.

When I first met the Double AAs, it was Alex first (awhile back in late-June 2020 during Vaggie Week) but it was indirect. I was on my Instagram when I was tagged by a random user in something Alex had drawn. This was when I first saw the kill art of Vaggie. I was so upset that I had yelled at this random user for tagging me, as well as showing it via screencap on my twitter, as a warning to never do this to me to my followers. Keep in mind, I had censored Alex’s name from the screencap, not the random user.

However, Alex saw this somehow and became hysterical, thinking I was targeting him for what he drew. This caused an uproar of his fans to come attack me, and it did cause me to become scared and get away from my account. Alfa decided to insert herself into the mix, but I didn’t care enough for her to say anything. It was mostly Alex and how much he was “scared” and cried about the “fandom being so hateful and scary.” He went private for a while I believe, but Alfa was still going hard at me and sending more of her fans to come harass me.

If Alex ever says he is a strong and brave man, don’t believe him. He fears the HH fandom.

Anyhow, after Alfa’s fans had done their best to gaslight me, I didn’t give in. In fact, I made amends with the random user that tagged me. Somehow they assumed I would like the art of Vaggie being killed, which was childish to even believe in. Nonetheless, I forgave them, and we moved on from there.

But even when we both resolved this together, Alfa and Alex decided that it would be fun to make this “kill Vaggie art” a meme, or trend. With their huge followings combined, they were able to get their artist fans to join in and start creating so much hate art of Vaggie. Many of them drew her head being cut off, mutilated, raped and cheated on.

Alfa and Alex adore gaslighting the hell out of people. While they draw such hideous things, they will go ahead and say, “but it’s just fiction, it’s not real,” and call you psychotic for even caring so much about their bad behaviour. I can only imagine what Alfa’s husband goes through everyday since Alfa loves to make people second-guess themselves often.

Keep in mind, Alfa and Alex are the same people who will cry and shake when their fictional ship is invalidated and written out. They often wish nothing good for Viv and her team that are providing these ungrateful children with the show and content they so badly want. It shows you just how privileged they had grown up as children, doesn’t it?

This wasn’t fun, it was horrible. I didn’t realize just how many toxic people existed in the HH fandom until this “trend” began to spread.

But the funny thing that I'll never forget is how apeshit Alfa went when I had the audacity to draw Alastor plus sized. She accused me of being a pedophile, supporting MAPs. Even though she leans towards being pro-ship (likes incest, OK with lolicon, will condone drawing necophilia.) But me? Having the sheer audacity of drawing Alastor fat? It burned her so bad.

As well, this was being pushed on the VAs during a small livestream. The chat wouldn’t stop asking, “what do you think of the Vaggie kill art going around?” Of course the VAs ignored these questions, but it was really rude to even ask these things. Especially when Vaggie’s VA was in the same livestream.

But then this trend was proven to be a lie, by Alex’s own words. He dropped the ball in a one-off conversation with an anti that “he only created this to get back at the Chaggie shippers.” So retroactively, this trend was worthless.

What also began to start becoming obvious was that Alfa was too afraid to do anything on her own, and thus, she will recruit some darlings to defend her. Alfa seems to have more defenders than she has any confidence to defend herself, and when she has no choice but to stand up for herself, she will buckle and hide. She is weak, is what I had learnt.

I decided to just ignore Alex and Alfa as much as I could. With a friend though, I was given updates of what was happening on the Double AAs’ side in the meantime, and it’s amazing to see just how vile they can be with their own fans and haters. Especially with their new puppy named Salty. (I think that’s their name, another weak ass bitch.)

As months went by, the major event that stirred from the AA camp was when they were harassing Pastel Sky. This would be where the big reveal of just how horrible the AAs and their friends truly are, when they have nobody to harass except for kids. HH has a wide audience of children involved in this fandom, hence why many other artists keep saying we should try to be good examples for them, and keep them safe. But not for the AAs.

Pastel was ruthlessly attacked by them and it was all unwarranted. What they were angry about was that Pastel had the nerve to have negative opinions when it came to AAs, and they broke their own rule of “don’t like then block.” Even Galactic Potatoes (Spuds) would go out of their way, again, to gaslight Pastel into believing that what attacks she received on Twitter was allowed, because Pastel was asking for it. Spuds is well-known to gaslight, a thing they had learnt from the AAs quite often.

Pastel was a minor at the time, and it really doesn’t matter if Pastel was just 17. I don’t care if Pastel was only 17 and that “well she’s almost 18,” because regardless of age, harassment is not the answer. Follow by that, fighting with minors is actually fucking stupid and braindead. Spuds tried very hard to justify why attacks were OK, and that Pastel “should learn” how to grow up. I then learnt that Spuds went into hiding afterwards.

That was until the Double AAs’ discord chats were exposed, showing that they were practically mouth-watering at Pastel’s pain, romanticizing her apparent abuse and trying to convince each other how her punishment on Twitter was correct. Even one (I believe was Jay because he loves me and wants me back) wished that I would die. This would be the third time he asked me to die indirectly, which justifies my points on how toxic and abusive they are.

This entire event seemed to have unraveled a new wave of truths, and it’s sad to know it had to take a literal minor to have their masks fall off.

In 2021, Alex was exposed to be a thief. Stealing commission money for “stress pills.” If Alex is on a path of drug addiction, I hope it’s not the case. That’s a terrible place to be, and hopefully he’ll be clean and grow up for once. I still don’t care enough about Alfa, after now knowing all she is, is just a dramatic housewife with nothing better to do in her life. Perhaps if they just got jobs instead of stealing money from fans, they’d be leading well-productive lives.

From what I understand, many of the toxic fans of the Double AAs have either dropped HH fandom, or have deleted their accounts. Good, I hope they stay gone. The fandom deserves better, not trash.

Needless to say, the best advice I can give to those in the HH fandom that come facing the Double AAs is to not be afraid of them.

Over time, once you get used to their behaviour, you come to realize that this is their default. They’re not likable, they’re not nice, and they aren’t appreciative of one singular thing you do for them (hence Alex stealing from his own fans.)

It’s their M.O., they are just that cruel. So don’t fear them, but challenge their behaviour. Don’t stoop to their level of wanting to draw hateful art, though, that will fuel them. Talking down to them like their idiots always works like a charm.

Anyways, thanks for reading.

If anybody from the Double AAs’ camp ever finds this and reads it, I just wanna say that you are doing a great job, sweety. Thanks for proving me right by the new year. I appreciate the honesty for once. It only took you a year, just think of what other things you’ll do in the next year.

#hazbin hotel #fndm critical #personal story #mature topics ahead #tw

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 5.5 OR Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Life won’t give you a break. The moment midterms are complete, you have to begin preparing for finals. While the urge to bury yourself underneath your covers and pull the blanket over your head has lessened, you still don’t want to venture out into the world. But there’s no way to resist the inevitable. You can’t let your schooling go down the drain — it’s the only thing you’ve got going for yourself after all. 5:49 pm. Jungkook: where u at bitch? 5:50 pm. Y/N: im on the toilet asshole 5:50 pm. Y/N: call me a bitch again and ill kill you 5:50 pm. Jungkook: Gross tmi 5:52 pm. Jungkook: can i ask you for a favour tho pls You wash your hands after wiping, flushing and pulling up your pants. 5:54pm. Jungkook: dont leave me on read 5:55 pm. Y/N: clingy much 5:55 pm. Y/N: the hell do you want from me 5:55 pm. Jungkook: lovely as usual 5:56 pm. Jungkook: I need the notes for comm 209 You scoff as you re-read the message. He has some audacity asking for your notes for a class he skipped on a Friday afternoon, probably to hang out with his friends instead. But before you tell him to gladly ‘fuck off’, you’re stopped by an idea. He needs something from you and there’s something you need from him. Now’s the perfect opportunity. “Tempering chocolate?” “Yeah. You want to be a Master Chocolatier, right? This is a great opportunity to teach someone how to do it. They say you know your stuff when you can teach others.” Jungkook rolls his eyes at your shamelessness and how you’re trying to milk him to your advantage. “Somehow I think this far outweighs the favour of me getting your notes.” “Do you want to help me or not?” “Do I want to?” He looks unsure but gives in to your will anyways, or at least he's curious enough to hear your troubles. “What’s your issue with tempering chocolate?” “It just doesn’t temper right. There’s no snap or shine to it.” “Do you measure the temperature with a kitchen thermometer?” “Well obviously, Jeon. Noooo,” you pull out the syllable, voice dripping of sarcasm. “I dip my hand in to tell. Duh! Are you an idiot? What do you think?!” At once, Jungkook’s expression washes over, becoming impassive. He spins around on his heel to walk out the door, but you grab onto his sleeve desperately. “I’m kidding. It’s a joke. Sorry. Help me?” He shifts around to look at you. You’re busy batting your lashes with those eyes of yours, trying to appeal to him — it disgusts Jungkook instead. It makes him feel sick to his stomach that you’re trying to act cute when you’re obviously a brat in disguise. Yet somehow he finds himself in the kitchen on a late Tuesday night anyhow, despite having class early in the morning the next day. “What method do you use?” Jungkook asks with crossed arms as you pull out the right materials, silver bowls, chocolate, thermometers, and a cooking pot. “Which is easier?” “They’re all the same,” he deadpans. Jungkook’s arrogance irritates you but you’re not about to insult him and have him running out of the kitchen, so you restrain yourself and start with the seeding method. You chop the solid chocolate you have into smaller pieces while he watches you in boredom. After a minute, Jungkook pulls out his phone and scrolls through his social media so he can mentally stimulate himself and not have his brain cells dying on themselves. “Only three quarters of it goes into the bowl to be melted,” he says without looking up. If he did, it would occur to him that you’ve already got it prepared and on top of the double boiler too. “I know.” “Do you want me to help or not?” “When I ask for it.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker up. “Well didn’t you ask for my help?” “Not now, Jeon.” You sigh. It was quite profound how quickly the bastard could get under your skin for doing so little. “God, you can be so fucking—” He suddenly puts his hand up to silence you and he sniffs with that big fucking nose of his. “Why do I smell burning?” Jungkook looks over to your pot on the stove and notices it steaming oddly. You follow his line of sight and take your bowl off, hissing at how hot it is. “Careful,” he scolds and looks over. Jungkook nearly facepalms himself into a coma. “Oh my god, you forgot to add water into the double boiler?!” “It’s because you were distracting me!” you shout at him and run over to the sink to add it in. The water begins burning as it hits the hot double boiler, sizzling and smoking even more. Jungkook groans. “You’re supposed to help me, not look at your phone! Maybe I would’ve realized if you actually paid any attention!” “Fine, fine.” You add an inch of water to the double boiler. It’s an improvement. But then as it begins to steam properly with the candy thermometer in the chocolate as you agitate it with a spatula, you look down and your blood runs cold. “Oh shit.” “What?” Jungkook sighs. Frankly, it’s impressive you’ve made it this far into the program. He didn’t know you were such an idiot in the kitchen — you might as well burn the whole place down and he wouldn’t be surprised. “How’d you manage that?” You rush to grab a paper towel, trying to dab the water that got into the bowl. But Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Don’t bother. You have to start again. If you get water into the chocolate, it makes it seize and becomes unstable.” “How do you know that?!” “Do you even read your textbook?” He is appalled and you pull out the cutting board to chop chocolate all over again, starting from the beginning. Jungkook sighs, spinning around his stool as you repeat the steps and put the chocolate over the heat. “You know what the temperature needs to be, right?” “A hundred fifteen. I’m not an idiot.” “I don’t know about that,” he chimes. “You forgot to add water to a double boiler.” Your arm drops to the side, putting the spatula down. “Okay, fuck you. I haven’t seen you actually give me good advice or anything. I asked for your help, not for you to berate me.” “What advice do you need?” His brow cocks upwards. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. Just follow the procedure and you’ve got yourself tempered chocolate!” “I can’t believe I thought you could ever teach me!” you hiss at him. “You’re a condescending asshole.” “Excuse me? Guess who’s with you on a Tuesday night?! I’m an angel for helping you!” “No one asked you to!” you scream back at the top of your lungs. Jungkook scoffs. Any other time where he wasn’t being attacked, he’d recognize that you were returning to your former self, but he still doesn’t appreciate your brattiness. “Are you kidding m— God! What’s burning now?!” Him and that giant nose of his inhales and a delayed moment later, it hits you too. The both of you whirl around to where the chocolate is burning. “You forgot to stir!” “It’s not like you reminded me to! You’re a distraction!” It’s excruciating. Jungkook has a feeling he’s going to be here all night, so he helps you speed up the process. While you clean up the mess, he chops more chocolate. And this time, you both manage to get it in the bowl, stirring, without anything burning whatsoever. The chocolate goes to a hundred fifteen degrees before you remove it from the heat and add the rest of the chocolate you reserved on the side. The temperature is brought down to eighty six degrees and then you put it back on the boiler to melt it all at ninety degrees. A strip test is done, a streak of chocolate made on parchment. And for a whole two minutes, you wait for it to set. But it doesn’t. “What the hell…?” Jungkook is genuinely perplexed and finally, he gets what you’ve been talking about. “See? It just doesn’t work!” He shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat. “It must’ve increased in heat before we added the other chocolate in. Let’s try again.” The pair of you chop chocolate across from each other, silent in your determination. But when you glance up, you see Jungkook’s brows furrowed, thoughts probably lost. You don’t see him serious often — well you do, but you never paid much attention to him before. Not like now. The process is repeated. The chocolate is melted to a hundred fifteen degrees and then decreased down to eighty six as you add in the loose chocolate, and then it’s brought back up again…. But then the temperature begins climbing — faster than you and Jungkook can react. “Fuck, fuck.” The two of you help each other take the bowl off the pot in urgency and then press your burning fingers to your ears before running it under cold water. “It went to a hundred? Do you think it’ll be okay?” “I don’t know. We have to test it.” The strip test is done, but the chocolate never sets. It stays wet. Dull. “Mother fuc—” “We’ll try again,” Jungkook reassures you with a hand on your shoulder. It’s painful having to re-doing everything and going way later into the night than you initially intended. You feel like you’re being driven crazy, but you’re glad Jungkook’s here with you — you know you’re not going insane alone. You look back at your textbook and your notes, making sure you’re doing it right and you hope for the best in the next batch. “It set….but it’s so streaky.” You look up at Jungkook who’s an inch away. He hums and leans down to get a closer look. “It’s bloom. The lipids moved through the cracks of the chocolate.” “You think it’s because the kitchen’s too hot?” “Yeah, we should try to put it in the fridge to cool.” One last attempt is made. It takes twenty more minutes and then it’s put in the fridge. But after the chocolate sets, there’s no shine or snap. Jungkook finds slumped on the floor, spooning chocolate, one of the failed attempts, into your mouth. You’re hugging the silver bowl in your lap like it’s your anchor. “I give up.” It feels like you’ve gone through a thousand batches. The kitchen is an absolute mess — spatulas and tasting spoons littered on the counter, double bowlers and bowls, wasted chocolate everywhere. There’s a sink-full to wash and that alone makes you want to cry. You slurp up more chocolate in an attempt to feel better. “Fuck chocolate.” But why does it have to taste so delicious? “I don’t understand why it’s so hard,” Jungkook admits with a frown. It just doesn’t seem to work with you. “It’s not rocket science. It was fine when I did it.” “Fuck you. You’re not supposed to boast. You’re supposed to help me.” “Was the last two and a half hours not helping you?” he questions. “You just have to watch your temperatures and keep practicing.” “That’s helpful.” “Hey, I’m trying.” Jungkook pisses you off. Everything comes so easy for him. As chocolate destroys you, he’s out here wanting to be a chocolatier. But maybe it suits him — chocolate’s an asshole and so is he. “I’d like to see you try to caramelize sugar as well as I can, or better yet, pipe flowers.” The boy scoffs, looking down at you and your patheticness. You don’t even realize you have chocolate all over your mouth. “That’s easy.” “I worked at a cupcake shop for three summers.” You stand up on your feet, facing him head on. “You think you can beat me in piping flowers?” “I think I can do better than you can temper chocolate.” Jungkook smirks arrogantly, enough to push you off the edge. “Let’s bet on it then!” “Fine. How much?” You have a better idea than money. “Loser has to cover for the winner during the internship in May. Whenever the winner goes on break or makes a mistake.” He scoffs. It’s a big wager but it sounds delightful when he knows you’re going down. “Deal.” // It’s a busy Thursday, but that doesn’t stop any of you. Even after a long day of classes, sitting in lecture halls listening to theory to working in the kitchens, you find yourselves a spare kitchen space afterwards to finally put this all to rest. You won’t tell Jungkook that you practiced all of yesterday by yourself and actually got it to work once — you nearly started to cry out of happiness when the chocolate tempered. “You want me to make this?” Jungkook looks at the picture on your phone. “Yep. I made it last summer using buttercream. They’re peonies. Why? Think it’s too hard?” He scoffs. “As if. Watch, I’ll make it better than you did.” “Uh-huh. Keep talking, Jeon.” Jungkook eagerly takes on your challenge. While you take up half the kitchen, he manages the other half, and the two of you share the center island together. You get your double boiler ready, chopping up chocolate to melt while Jungkook mixes butter, vanilla, confectioner's sugar, and milk together. The fucker doesn’t even use a hand mixer. He simply uses a spoon to make it, blatantly showing off as his veins in his forearm pop. He smirks when he notices you staring and you roll your eyes. Jungkook makes a variety of colours, pastel pinks and baby blues, and puts them into the piping bag as you stir the chocolate over the heat. You focus on the numbers on your thermometer, but out of the corner of your eye, you watch him. He cuts squares of parchment, puts one on a flower stand, adds a small cone of thick buttercream to the paper, and then picks his tip. You muse that he must’ve been doing his studying when he chooses a one twenty seven tip. It’s a straight teardrop shape, and he squeezes while turning the nail wide ends towards the center, narrow end outwards. But he sighs after a moment, hands halting. It’s your turn to smirk. “Not so easy, is it?” His eyes flicker up to glare at you. “Keep a watch on that chocolate before you burn it again, brat.” You scoff, continuing to stir. You keep your heat low so the temperature climbs slowly. In the meanwhile, Jungkook switches his tip out for a one twenty and tries again. You take a glance, and it’s not too bad — still sloppier than yours and he knows it too. After a moment of frustration, he switches to a one twenty two. “You should check the consistency of that buttercream,” you sing-song. “Can’t be too stiff or soft.” “I’m fully aware.” “Are you?” You smile at him, mockingly so. “Just making sure.” Jeon Jungkook doesn’t appreciate you provoking him, but realizes it’s similar to how he treated you. It’s not his fault his forte isn’t in teaching. And yours clearly isn’t either. “A one twenty five?” You scoff. “Are you trying to make a rose or a peony?” Jungkook’s smile is stiff. “What do you suggest I use then?” “Go back to the one twenty seven tip or pick a curved teardrop shape. Also, you’re squeezing too hard too fast, muscle pig.” “I know something else I squeeze too hard too fast,” he mutters as he follows your instructions. “Go fuck yourself, Jeon.” “Didn’t need to spell it out, sweetheart, but that’s exactly what I do every night.” He smirks and you roll your eyes again. “God, you’re going to make me throw up all over my chocolate.” You take it off the heat once it reaches a hundred fifteen degrees, putting the rest of your chocolate in and mixing. You have a good feeling about this batch. Even if it’s your first try of the day too. Usually you’d rush, get too impatient, but it’s entertaining to see Jungkook struggle. Time goes by faster. You mix in your chocolate, bringing the temperature back up again, and you do a strip test when it’s all nicely melted, putting it in the fridge. All there’s left to do is wait a few minutes now. You come back, dusting your hands off, feeling confident. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still piping flowers with his thick brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he concentrates. “It’s taking you a while there, Jeon.” “Whatever.” He sighs, resting his hands on the counter as he rolls his neck. “You had a full three hours practicing with me on Tuesday. This is the first time in a while that I’m piping, alright? Give me a break.” “Uh-huh. All I hear are your excuses. Less talk, more work.” You grab some parchment and an icing bag he’s left abandoned in a cup. With a flower needle, you begin piping yourself to pass the time. It’s actually one of your favourite things to do — it’s therapeutic. You can listen to the sound of your own breathing and the crinkling of the piping bag while you make literal flowers from your hands. You break out of your focus to find Jungkook watching you intently. Your arm extends, showing off your flower with pride. “Pretty, right?” The icing flower has perfect ruffles and petals. It looks real, and by the expression he has, he’s already aware. Jungkook grumbles incoherently and returns back to work, making you giggle. You take another piece of parchment, but this time you steal a spatula-full of his blue icing and put it in the pink bag to make two-tone flowers. And you pipe them on, spinning the flower nail, as it comes to you with ease. You listen to the crinkling of the icing bag, your heartbeat in your own ears, the white noise of the quiet kitchen, and Jungkook’s breathing. You’re not sure what compels you, perhaps a sudden urge, but you quietly blurt— “I never stole your millie cake recipe.” “What?” His eyes flicker up and Jungkook finds you concentrating on piping, not paying him any mind. “The September incident,” you murmur out of the corner of your mouth. “I never stole your mirror glazed blueberry whatever millie cake recipe like you think I did.” Maybe you’re telling him because things are different now. You know he won’t jump down your throat and accuse you otherwise, for lying, or trying to cover yourself. Won’t denounce you. Bark out in laughter. Your relationship with Jungkook has become strange recently — you think it’s something other people would call a friendship. But you thought he should know. Just in case he still hates you for it. You know you don’t hate him so much anymore. “You threatened to go up to the Dean and expel me, remember?” Your pupils flicker up for a moment. Jungkook recalls it clearly — the confrontation in the kitchen, the fight that broke out, how you slapped him, how he was planning to do everything possible to get you expelled. How you were ostracized over the rumours for weeks until people forgot and moved on as they naturally did. But you and Jungkook never did. You always both remembered. “I went to Mrs. Ahn before she left on maternity leave. I was stuck — didn’t know what to add to my portfolio, so I asked her. And she gave me your recipe as a reference. Told me to give it a try. Gain inspiration from it.” You put your hands down, connecting your eyes with his. Jungkook is rendered speechless. “And that was when I saw you…?” “Yep. You busted into the kitchen without letting me explain and accused me of stealing your shit when I didn’t even know it belonged to you. I didn’t know you were the one who came up with it.” “Why…” He shakes his head, frowning deep enough that it hurts. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “You didn’t deserve it. The truth. I knew I was right and I was so….so mad that you could accuse me of stealing, that I could even be capable of such a thing. I wanted you to bring it up to the Dean. I wanted you to do it so you could be embarrassed when you realized what actually happened.” It’s all in the past now. Your anger doesn’t surge as much anymore, but you can still recall a time when you felt utterly enraged he could think so lowly of you — a time when Jungkook didn’t deserve your explanation, so you slapped him. In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision on your part. You escalated the situation when it didn’t need to and it spiraled out of control. You’re at fault for being rash and impulsive as much as he is. “It wasn’t like I was going to use it anyway,” you mutter with a sigh and pick up a new square of parchment to continue piping. “For inspiration or whatnot, much less add to my own portfolio. I swapped the blueberries for blackberries, and it turned out to be disgusting. I messed up on the glaze part too.” You muse, “Chocolate’s never been nice to me.” Jungkook absolutely baffled. Bewildered. All of this hatred against each other was caused by a misunderstanding. All of it which could’ve been avoided. “I—” “Wow, are you kids practicing your techniques?” Miss. Kang is at the door, visibly impressed as she regards you both. “And here I was on my way home. You two are so diligent! And look at you both working together like this! I always knew you put your differences aside and be friends.” “You have great timing, Miss. Kang.” You smile at her. “Jungkook and I were just having a friendly contest. Would you like to be our judge?” “Sure. I think I can spare a moment or two.” She steps in, looking around. “What are we doing here? Looks like someone was tempering chocolate and you’re….piping! Goodness, me. Did you make those, Y/N? They’re very lovely.” “Thank you.” You grin, beaming from the praise of your piping skills. “But the contest was me tempering chocolate against Jungkook piping.” You move over to the fridge, taking out the metal tray with your strip test. You hand it to her, and she hums. “Very shiny, and it slides right off the parchment!” she exclaims. For the final examination, the young female teacher bends the chocolate and it audibly snaps. You could burst out into cries of happiness. “Looks tempered to me.” You look over at Jungkook, head quirked to the side, wearing a big smile that’s infectious enough to make him grin too. “Here’s my piping.” He places the parchment on the counter and she leans over to study it, humming. “Not too bad, Jungkook. A little messy around the edges, but I’d say a job well done. If this was an actual exam, I’d give you full marks.” Jungkook cocks a brow towards you, sly smirk on his face. You step forward. “So which is better?” “Well, it’s very difficult to judge on tempering chocolate and piping since they’re two completely different things. I’d say it was equal.” “If you had to pick one?” you ask, desperate for a winner to be proclaimed. Miss Kang hums a long note. You and Jungkook are put in suspense, anticipating her final decision. She taps her chin, deciding to chew on your chocolate as she studies the flower. Finally, the teacher nods. “I can’t complain about the chocolate — it’s a hundred percent tempered. But I can say the piping needs a little more work, so…” “I win!” You give Jungkook a cheeky grin causing him to scoff lightly. “It was a stroke of luck.” “Keep telling yourself that, Jeon.” “It’s a tie,” he insists, “She said only if she had to pick.” “That’s true.” Miss. Kang backs him up before you can retort. But you still pout. “Sore loser. I win and you know it.” “Hmmm.” Jungkook playfully shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Let’s just call it even, Y/N.” “Nuh-uh. That’s not how it works!” The pair of you argue back and forth — yet there’s no real malice. It’s simply banter and it causes Miss. Kang to laugh. She bids her farewell and quips that you both better get the kitchen clean. In the end, Jungkook compromises. He still insists it’s a tie but he does the hard work of cleaning the dishes and you give into his will. As you prepare the mop water, he scrubs the bowls. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook pipes up after a second of quiet contemplation. He turns his head to look at you. “For the misunderstanding.” “You don’t have to be sorry.” You divert your vision elsewhere. “Not anymore. You’ve given me more reasons to be thankful. So we’ll call this even.” Jeon Jungkook smiles softly. “Deal.”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook baking AU #jungkook baking!AU #btsboulangerie #Y'ALL THE FLUFF AND UWU IS SO MUCH I CAN BARELY TAKE IT

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thenovelartist · 4 years

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His Greatest Gift - MLQC AU Headcanon

I was inspired by the “Double Seventh Time Travel” cards (and some other stories I’ve read.) After sitting on this for well over a month, I finally finished it.

Premise: The boys are given a gift; they just don’t expect that gift to be a person.

Gavin

For his acts of bravery on the battlefield, Gavin was promoted in his rank as well as endowed with a gift.

He insisted it was not necessary; Gavin never had need for material objects unless they assisted him in completing his mission.

However, he was told by his lord that it would be in his bedchamber come evening.

Gavin didn’t know what sort of gift to expect, but a girl sitting on the edge of his bed was definitely one possibility he never thought of.

People aren’t gifts, after all. They aren’t meant to be traded like some material object.

So, he sent the woman away.

However, what surprised him was her thankfulness of his action.

It was clear she hadn’t a choice in the matter. Which pissed him off even more.

When he told his lord that he could not accept a human as a gift but that no other gifts were necessary, his lord said he understood.

“Then I suppose I’ll take her as mine.”

Gavin quickly retracted his words, which only pleased his lord. It was clearly a purposeful trick, but Gavin wasn’t about to let her be taken advantage of, either.

He soon learned that she had been orphaned, her father having passed on before paying off a debt to their lord, meaning she was at his service until she paid it off.

Gavin didn’t want his lord to take further advantage of her, so she became a servant-slash-attendant to him of sorts.

He didn’t have a large dwelling, but she kept it clean as well as cooked for him when he was home off the battlefield.

And she sang.

It was accident he found that out, but the moment he heard her mellifluous voice ring through the air of his home, he knew he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

So while he didn’t ask for much of her—their agreement consisted of he gave her protection and a place to live while she kept his house and cooked so he wouldn’t have to (her cooking skills far outranked his, anyway)—he did shyly ask for her to sing more frequently.

And she happily complied.

He’d actually fallen asleep to her voice many times. It soothed and comforted him, particularly after a long day.

Her smile had a similar affect, he soon realized. The burdens of his heart would ease at the sight of her smile.

He didn’t quite understand it; the only other person who could accomplish that was his late mother.

No one other than his mother had cared for him beyond caring how useful of a pawn he could be.

But now, MC was the exception.

The amount she fussed when he came home with scars or bruises made him feel valued.

It also made his little heart go “pitter patter.”

He never thought that he would dread going out to battles or skirmishes. He just didn’t want to leave her.

But, the boy is dense and didn’t realize what that feeling was for months.

However, when he gets it, he doesn’t waste much time. (He does not count time spent weighing the potential negative effects of admitting to the woman who worked for him that he had feelings for her as ‘wasting time’.)

Any fears of his confession putting her in an awkward or uncomfortable position vanished the instant she admitted she’d also grown feelings for him.

Que walks together, shopping trips where he carried the purchases, or horseback rides where he carried her all around the territory.

But Gavin’s favorite thing was to spend any warm afternoon together in a field outside the city, where there was only the two of them resting in the golden fields that waved in the breeze. Sometimes they talked, sometimes one or both of them took a nap. It didn’t matter to Gavin.

With things going so well, it was only a matter of time before he married her.

Occasionally, he did think about how she had originally been a ‘gift’ to him, only for the purpose of warming is bed and entertaining him. How ironic that she’d become the greatest gift he’d ever received.

Kiro

He was a prince visiting a newly conquered territory.

He did hate the chaos and bloodshed of war, but he thought the cost worth it to liberate an oppressed territory.

And the people seemed to be thankful to be free of their ruthless dictator.

To show their thankfulness, they said they had prepared a gift for him.

Though he assured them it wasn’t necessary, he loved gifts and was always happy to accept.

However, he was less pleased to see that gift was a woman: the daughter of some noble family.

“She’s the finest lady in the land, your highness. For your harem.”

Except… he didn’t have a harem. And wasn’t looking to start one.

However, Savin, his advisor, accepted on the prince’s behalf.

He said something about ‘politics’ that basically meant ‘we’ll take her as a political tool.’

Kiro was not fond of it, but knew there wasn’t much that could be done.

So, he decided the only thing he could do was treat MC as well as he could.

However, she was not informed of his plan, nor was anyone else.

Which lead to MC ending up in his bedchambers that evening.

While…not where he wanted to have a conversation, he assured MC that he had no intention of using her in such a manner.

That resolve was fortified when he saw relieved tears come to her eyes.

He hated tears, so he did his best to cheer her back up and, thankfully, succeeded.

Later, she confessed to him that she’d been picked not because she was the prettiest girl in the land (her words, that Kiro strongly disagreed with; she was truly beautiful) but because her family was among the poorer of nobles, and she was not able to find a good match in time to avoid being given to the prince as a concubine.

Kiro was not happy to hear such a thing. Apparently, the nobles of this territory still needed close monitoring.

When they got back to his castle after leaving the one he’d acquired with the territory, Kiro was sure to treat her well, as well as ensuring that everything was up to her standards.

He had the ability to give her anything she wanted, but he soon discovered that material goods didn’t fascinate her as much as his kingdom itself.

So, Kiro designated a whole day to take her on a full tour of his castle and the city.

And seeing her eyes light up with wonder at their adventure was all that it took to get Kiro addicted to her smile.

From then on, he took her on any adventure he could think of. The pond behind the castle for a picnic? The kitchen for sweets? The town to escape Savin? They’ve been on all of them.

Kiro lives for these adventures. They seem to be better with her.

Her smile, her laughter, her expression of awe and wonderment… they did things to Kiro’s heart.

He’d do anything to get those little gifts from her.

Savin only gets mad when Kiro ditches his work for those adventures, which… is often.

As frustrating as it is, Savin is a little pleased to see Kiro so happy with a woman. It meant an heir might come sooner rather than later.

And when Savin voiced as such to Kiro, Kiro… couldn’t deny it.

He’d taken quite a liking to her. Her smile and laughter, how willing she was to go on adventures with him or just spend a quiet afternoon together. Don’t get him wrong, he loved it all, but it just didn’t seem like enough anymore.

The possibility of more… of taking her as his wife and having a family with her…

That was the end of Kiro’s heart. It had been stolen by a very beautiful thief.

So, with a new determination, he confessed.

His heart soared when she confessed back.

They didn’t date longer than a week before they started making plans for a wedding.

There really was no point in waiting any longer than that. Not when Kiro knew he wanted her to be his princess.

He wanted to bet that all the ladies back in from her territory were jealous now.

Though, to be fair, he didn’t realize just how precious of a gift she’d be to him back then, either. But he swore to never, ever take that for granted again.

Victor

As Emperor of his region, he knew marriage would be inevitable. He had an obligation to produce an heir.

He had plenty of women throwing themselves at him, practically begging for his attention.

And he found all of them severely lacking.

It exasperated Goldman, his right hand man.

At this point, the emperor’s court decided that it no longer mattered her status, if the emperor showed even the slightest interest in a woman, even if that was just the hint he didn’t hate her, they would make her his bride immediately.

So, a poor, unsuspecting MC arrived at the castle with a plea for her village for the emperor.

And her stubbornness, passion, and determination caught his attention.

Goldman about fainted when Victor smiled at her and answered that he would send his answer within the week.

A week later, Goldman was the one to deliver the supplies. However, unbeknownst to a certain emperor, he may have added a condition to her village receiving those supplies.

And that was how she became a bride presented to him by the court.

Victor was not amused. And he certainly was not amused that said presented bride had been coerced into his bed chambers that night.

But when he tried to send her back, she snapped. “You called me here as your bride in return for the supplies to my village, and then you have the audacity to turn me away?”

Victor’s brow furrowed as his face turned red in anger. “What do you mean ‘in return for supplies’? That was never part of the condition.”

Needless to say, a very pissed Victor had to refrain from sending people to execution right then and there.

After having rectified the situation in his court, the situation remaining was what to do with the girl.

He knew he couldn’t send her back because her village was waiting anxiously for her to become the new empress.

Which meant striking a deal with MC.

“We will keep up appearances. I will marry you in name only, but you must learn how to act like a true noble lady in order to act perfectly as my wife.”

Que lessons.

Victor supervised, AKA, micromanaged.

And MC was always fiery enough to shoot insults in retaliation.

Actually, it became the highlight of his day.

One day, Victor took over her lesson.

Oof, strict teacher.

But the pressure became too much, and MC finally snapped. “I’m doing everything I can! I can’t give you anything else. If you disliked me this much, you shouldn’t have agreed to marry me.”

Shocked at the tears in her eyes, Victor finally composed himself enough to swipe them away. “It’s not because I dislike you. It’s because I know that you’re strong enough to meet my challenge that I demand so much.”

A mutual understanding passed between the two of them then. Victor did his best to not be so strict, realizing too late that she was under so much pressure already that his strictness was not helping her.

He stopped interfering with her normal lessons, causing him to almost… miss her… a bit.

He decided to satisfy that longing by giving her quick, private lessons at the end of the day. She would show him what she learned, and he would gently correct anything he saw wrong.

And afterwards… they couldn’t bring themselves to part.

So, they would simply walk around the gardens and talk.

And soon, as a way of keeping her around even longer, Victor showed her his secret of actually enjoying using the kitchen.

While it originally surprised her, MC quickly became a more than willing taste tester.

Despite the increased amount of time together, Victor still hated parting with her.

Which was why Victor was very pleased at MC’s sudden new habit of bringing tea to his study when he was working.

It was both a blessing and a curse, because when she did, he got the honor of spending time with her, yet he also neglected his work in the process.

Eventually, Victor found that in the span of just a few months while a proper wedding ceremony was being put together, he’d come to regret the deal he made with MC for their marriage to be name only.

He… actually could see himself happy with her.

He debated telling her or not, and in the end, he was a man and confessed his feelings to her a few days before the wedding was set to take place.

He was surprised by her tears at his confession, only to be met with a confession of her own.

The deal was thrown out that night.

And on the wedding night, their marriage became one of not just name, but body and soul.

He would thank Goldman later because—while Victor still did not approve of Goldman’s methods—had it not been for his interference, Victor would not have such a precious gift in his arms now.

Lucien

He was part of a group of war lords aiming to increase their territory.

He’d conquered a large portion of territory, gaining an army that could then overthrow a comrade’s territory.

Lucien gladly did, taking on the man with no remorse or shame. In fact, he conquered with a smile.

“How dare you turn against me, Ares.”

“Forgive me, Hades,” he said, tone holding no remorse whatsoever. “But I grew tired of your… rather chaotic ambitions.”

Upon defeat, Hades was forced to surrender everything. Land, army, resources,

And a woman he kept very much hidden in his private castle.

Lucien remembered the fear in her eyes the first time they met. She was trapped in one of the rooms, and he’d caught her trying to break the lock on the window.

That fear didn’t dissipate even as a fire lit in her eyes. “I won’t cower to you!” she shouted, glaring at him even though she trembled.

In that moment, Lucien found her easily the most fascinating woman he’d ever seen. Was she driven by courage… or naïve hope?

Either way, it was clear Hades hadn’t broken her yet. Which Lucien was thankful for. She seemed far more interesting like this.

“You could waste time trying to break that lock before certainly injuring yourself in your escape from this third story room. Or, you could just let me show you the way out.”

She looked utterly shocked at that.

He chuckled. “Let’s just say your former master no longer has hold on you. Or anything, really.”

It took a moment for her to process those words. “Are you saying he’d dead?”

“No, not dead. But I do own everything he has as of now.”

“Including me?”

“Including you.”

The fire went out of her eyes a bit at that—what a shame, he quite liked it blazing so brightly—as she eventually followed him from the castle.

He did not dare stay in that castle. Frankly, burning it down would please him the most, which was what he did. He set free those who wanted to find work elsewhere and promised work at his own castle to those who wanted it.

Only a few stayed with him, most unwilling to work for a rogue warlord, but surprisingly, the girl was among them.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she admitted when asked. “If you’re promising work, I’ll take it.”

Lucien found himself very pleased at that. But at the resigned look on her face, he couldn’t help tease her a bit. “Even if I assign you the job of warming my bed?”

She froze, her eyes wide with shock before a fire sparked inside them again. He liked that fire quite a bit. “I tease,” he assured before promising legitimate work for her.

Even after that, she still followed him.

How fascinating a woman she was.

It took three months to learn just how fascinating she was.

He came home wounded after a scuffle on his border. He’d already seen a battlefield doctor to treat them. He would heal just fine.

He asked MC to bring him new bandages. She did so quite quickly, and then she offered to change them for him.

Curious, he accepted.

“Don’t you fear me?” he questioned.

“Why should I?”

“I am no better than your former master.”

“That’s not true!” she cried, looking at him. “You are ruthless, but fair. The people in your territory are able to thrive under your rule.”

He paused, surprised at her words. “And what do you think of me?”

“I think you are gentler and more trustworthy than you present yourself to be. I never worry about my safety or the safety of any other maids here in your home.”

That was all it took for new feelings to spark in Lucien’s chest. Feelings that were so foreign to him yet fascinating to explore.

And he started that exploration by calling on MC to keep him company frequently.

Those meetings varied from walks in his garden to keeping company over tea.

Over time, it became clear just what those feelings in his chest were.

One day, he called her to join him in the library, where they could talk privately.

He wouldn’t confess first. He would talk in a roundabout way that got MC to admit that maybe she felt similarly close to him before he would admit his feelings for her.

He wouldn’t trap her. He would ensure that she felt like she could leave without consequences. But he also knew that if she felt at all similarly, she wouldn’t leave.

And in the end of that conversation that made MC blush bright red and Lucien smirk triumphantly, she agreed to date him.

Which would result in marriage six months later.

Lucien easily felt like the luckiest man alive. He’d conquered many territories and accumulated wealth and riches, but he could say that the only true treasure he’d ever acquired from his efforts was her.

#mlqc #mlqc headcanon #headcanons #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #au #historical au #fluff

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reogou · 4 years

Text

Promise || bakugou.k

→ pairing: merman!bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff

→ warning/s: swear words

→ word count: 5K+

→ A/N: This is my contribution to the Just Add Water || Mermay Event of @bnhabookclub . Lmao I think this is the longest fic I’ve ever written asdfsdggk. Was really frustrated at this cuz I was taking way too long to finish this. And this went to so many edits ajfjfjg. A very big thank you to @writeiolite @clauclaustar @b0kuto and @lcaita for beta reading and for helping me edit this! Credits for @dailydoseofanimescenery for permitting me to edit their gif! Anyways, I hope you liked this! Enjoy!

→ prompts: “I’m trying really hard not to freak out right now.”

“That’s just an urban legend.”

→ tagging: @pretty-settersquad @t-amajiki

The full moon was in a full view as you sat by the shore of the beach, the calming sounds of the sea clearing your mind for a bit. The wind was somewhat cold, but it didn't faze you as you sat by the seashore, feet buried in the sand as you played with them. You could say that today was a great day to relax from all the stress and problems in your life. Your family decided to go on a trip to the Philippines, which was the reason why you're here. It was a great trip, you could say. The people were welcoming and the food here was great. One of your favorites was a street food delicacy called 'Isaw'. It's a barbecued pig or chicken intestines. At first you really didn’t want to try it, but after your mother encouraged you to eat it, you were surprised at how tasty it was.

The tourist spots were also majestic and beautiful. The beach was clean. You get to visit the falls too, which was one of the tourist spots you loved. The view was breathtaking, almost magical. Even though you didn't get to swim in the falls, the place itself was enough to astonish you. You also enjoyed singing karaoke together with the locals. It never bored you since they were all so lovely and always engaged in conversations with you.

This trip was not so bad, you enjoyed it. Really. It's just that something felt like a piece was missing. Something that’s somehow stuck in your head. Or rather, someone. Particularly Bakugou. The ash-blonde had always been in your mind for the past days, lingering and distracting you. You just missed him, very much.

Bakugou had been your crush ever since middle school. Though you only got to hang out with Izuku, the angry boy had always captured your attention. Ever since you had started attending UA, you had been given the chance to become closer to him. Despite his aggressive stance and obnoxious behavior, you never backed out and had always reached out to him. Now that you two had finally become friends, it filled your heart with joy.

Hanging out with Bakugou and the squad was one of the highlights in your week. But being away from them now, the sense of longing had built up inside you, making your heart feel like it had been longing for a particular emotion. You missed them so much. Not just Bakugou, but the whole class.

You trembled as a chill crawled down your spine. Perhaps it was the cold breeze, or the muted eeriness in the vicinity, but you felt like someone was watching your every move. You gripped your jacket close to your body to protect you from the cold, but the unsettling/disturbing feeling had remained; as if it had a diverse intent to make you feel anxious with your situation right now. You were certain that someone was staring at you. Fear crept inside you, but you merely shrugged it off. There's no way that an intruder could be here, lurking in the shadows. The resort was private and your family had exclusive access to it. Maybe it was just some workers or the night guards and maybe it was only your thoughts that had been bothering you to no ends.

Just as your nerves began to calm down, you almost jumped when a hand appeared in front of you making you scream. A loud laugh filled your ears. You turned around, glaring at Sero who was laughing at your reaction. He only laughed harder when you slapped his shoulders.

"Sero! I'm gonna fucking kill you! I almost had a heart attack because of you!" Your dark haired cousin just continued cackling, annoying you even more. How dare he ridicule you when you were genuinely scared by the unnerving feeling you felt just now?! It didn't even help when he surprised you like that! If you were holding a knife right now, you would've stabbed him already!

Out of annoyance, you gripped onto his hair. Sero immediately shouted out in pain but he was still laughing. Goodness, he even had the audacity to cry out of laughter!

"Ouch! Ouch!" He chuckled again, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I promise I won't do it again! Just please let go of my hair!"

You growled at him, still annoyed at his actions. "Stop laughing, you idiot! Or I will really pull your hair out!"

You gave him another slap on the shoulders before letting go of his hair. Sero massaged his aching scalp before chuckling again. He was quick to jump out of your reach before you could lunge at him again. You returned your attention back to the calming sea and hugged your knees, turning away from the pesky prick behind you. Of course, Sero had to annoy you more by sitting beside you. In retaliation, you found yourself admiring the moon from above in hopes of regaining your own composure.

"You're really scary when you get angry you know," he snorted, making you glare at his direction. "You always get so violent. I'm starting to think that Bakugou's attitude have influenced you."

You tensed, just a mention of the ash-blonde made you miss him even more. Sero noticed your change of attitude from earlier.

"You okay?" The dark-haired boy stared at you with curious eyes, his features softening. It was not a secret from the Bakusquad that you had feelings for that angry boy. Not because you were open about it, but your actions were enough for them to know who it is.

Your gaze shifted to your toes. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just missing someone."

Sero gave out a sigh and looked over the moon in front of you. "I miss them too."

You turned your head towards the black-haired boy, resting your cheeks on your knees.

"By now, we should be going back to the dorms after a drink in the bar. We would probably be dragging a drunk Kaminari while Bakugou would lecture him for being a dumbass and drinking too much even though Aizawa-sensei will check on us in the morning."

You chuckled at his words, already imagining the scenario. It's not far from reality, though, but you wouldn’t be sober enough to remember the details since you would be a drunken mess too.

"Yup. It would happen."

As you two talked about the Bakusquad, your memories of UA and Class A crossed your mind. You tried to shake off those thoughts and forget all the problems you left in Japan, just for today. You wanted to break free from all that chaos right now. Someone might question your decisions because you were aiming to be a hero, but then all you did was run away from your problems. But you couldn’t help it. If you let it get to your mind, you will surely lose control of yourself. And you don’t want that.

"Well, enough of that. We'll only miss them more." Sero looked over to you, a glint of excitement slowly flashing in his eyes. "Have you heard of the legend about the Mermaids?"

A mischievous grin was plastered on his face, making you roll your eyes. “That’s just an urban legend.”

"But what if it's true? They say that mermaids of the modern era hide in the deepest part of the sea, some also hide amongst the people to protect their identity. Since they bring fortune and luck, pirates and yakuzas always hunt them down and capture them, the reason why numerous numbers of them are killed due to pain and from the tortures."

"Sero, you're too old for that crap. Do you really believe that mermaids are still alive nowadays? They're probably extinct already."

"You never know! Besides, I also learned from the locals that mermaids often gather in the oceans of the Philippines because they're one of the few countries who don't kill mermaids."

You scoffed at him, not buying his theories. "Even if the Filipinos didn't kill them, they would probably be killed by other countries already."

"But-" Just when Sero was about to defend his theory, your grandmother called you back for dinner, interrupting your conversation. As you walked back towards the resort's lounge, both of you were oblivious of the vermilion eyes gleaming in the dark, staring at your figure.

The sounds of crashing waves filled your ears as you stared at the sea in front of you. The waves were a little rougher today. The moon was still in view, but partially hidden by the clouds. Nevertheless, gazing at the moon could always calm you down. Regardless of where you were, or whether the moon could be seen that night, you always took comfort in knowing that the moon was there to guide you.

You were dragged out of your thoughts when soft murmurs reached your ears. Out of curiosity, you peeked at the other side of the rock formations. The whispers were still a little indistinguishable, so you decided to inch closer. You knew you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but there's just something inside you telling you to find out who was behind those rocks.

“...shouting, Y/N wouldn't notice us! If we ever get caught, it's your damn fault!"

Your eyes widened at the mention of your name. Your heartbeat halted momentarily as you felt your mind go blank. Why were you being mentioned? And more importantly, who the hell were they? Determined to find out, you tip-toed towards them, only to find a familiar head of ash blonde hair in front of you.

Katsuki?

Katsuki scoffed under his breath as he swam towards the shore of Palawan, a Filipino beach that doubled as their hideout. He just came back from Japan after a mission to send some supplies to the western groups. The trip was pretty short since mermaids and mermen were able to swim faster than any other sea creature.

If anyone knew of Bakugou being a merman, they would've laughed their asses off and think that the idea was ridiculous and impossible. But the world is filled with surprises, and one of those is Bakugou being a merman. If Shitty Hair and the other's were to see him in his merman form, they would most likely freak out.

"Bakugou, have you already sent the supplies to the western groups?" One of the leaders of the eastern group greeted him. With a face void of emotions, Bakugou stopped swimming and nodded at the leader, his ash-blonde hair floating with the waters. The leader looked at him in the eyes, examining his expression.

"You know you don't have to do this, Bakugou." The leader spoke, his expression softening. Bakugou only scoffed and turned away, clicking his tongue in the insides of his cheeks.

"Shut up." The leader heaved out a sigh. Bakugou growled as the leader patted his shoulders. He only chuckled at Bakugou's reaction and smiled warmly at the young merman.

"If you really want to see her, she's just by your reach. She's the reason why you're here at the headquarters, right? You did that again yesterday. What's the difference if you do it again?"

Bakugou clicked his tongue once more and glared at the man in front of him. "The hell are you saying, old man?"

Shaking his head, the leader just let the rudeness of the young merman go. After all, the whole clan was used to Bakugou’s attitude ever since he was a child. Even though Bakugou always made snarky comments and pushed them away, they know what he's going through on the lands, and still understand where he's coming from.

"Anyways, I'm gonna head out. You can visit her again if you want. She's at The Coast right now." Bakugou's body tensed after realizing that you were so near. Just a few miles from his reach.

Although he doesn't openly portray his feelings well, he does miss you. A lot. His world just doesn't feel the same when you’re gone. Every time he has to go back to the ocean and leave you, the feeling of loneliness clung to him. It felt like he couldn't live without you in his reach. And it was painful. So painful that all he wants is to come back and be with you, even though you don't know his feelings for you.

"Good luck, young man." Was the leader's last words before he swam away, the pressure from his tail and speed making Bakugou lose balance. He clicked his tongue in exasperation and began to swim towards the headquarters. But it felt like something was pulling him off course, tugging him towards the direction of The Coast, where you were. He tried to ignore it and continue his way towards the headquarters, but the force was too powerful to fight with. The more he struggled, the more he was being dragged towards you. Shutting his eyes closed in frustration, Bakugou heaved out a sigh.

"Ah...fuck it."

As soon as Bakugou's head emerged from the waters, the calming lights from the resort greeted him. He scanned his surroundings, searching for your silhouette. And there you were, sitting by the rocks, your serene face gazing at the moon above you. His eyes softened at your appearance, but he immediately shook his head to empty his thoughts. Careful to not alert your sense, he started swimming towards your direction slowly. Just when he was about a few inches from you, a hand shot out and pulled his arm down the ocean. Bakugou’s brows immediately furrowed at the sudden tug, and he turned around to glare at the culprit, Awase, who was scowling at Bakugou as well.

"What the fuck, Bakugou? Do you want to get caught or something? What the hell was that?"

"Oi, what the fuck, extra?! Who the hell told you to drag me down so easily, huh?! You wanna fight?!" Bakugou's deep voice echoed in the waters, making Awase's eyes widened in fear.

"Shut the hell up man! She could hear you!" Awase hissed at him, tightening his grip on Bakugou's shoulders.

"Let go of me, you asshole!" Bakugou shrugged the other merman's arms off of him, growling.

"Bakugou, this is not the right time to fight! Let's get out of here before she notices us!" Awase tried to pull him away from the rock formations, but Bakugou was persistent and refused to leave, glaring at the merman.

"No fucking way, asshole. You don't have the right to boss me around. And stop following me, will you?!" Before Awase could stop Bakugou, but the ash-blonde was already swimming back to the surface. When Bakugou emerged from the waters, he noticed that you were still staring at the sky above. Bakugou attempted to swim closer towards you, but Awase had already caught up and tried to stop Bakugou yet again. Out of irritation, Bakugou growled at him, making Awase flinch a little.

"Bakugou, I swear to god, let's go before she sees us!" Awase was getting more and more desperate. Why can't Bakugou understand him? If Bakugou got caught, he would face grave consequences. Why was Bakugou acting so reckless?

"What the fuck are you even fussing about?" Bakugou was boiling with anger, and his fury was evident on his face. "If you just stop shouting, Y/N wouldn't notice us! It would be your damn fault if we got caught!"

Suddenly, a small yelp interrupted their heated argument. Awase flinched at the unexpected noise; horror could be seen on his face as he slowly looked at the young girl behind him, who was trying to peek at the two mermen. In shock, you smiled nervously at them, subtly shifting backward for fear that they would harm you.

"Uh... hi?"

"What the fuck?!"

Out of panic, you lost your balance, a loud shriek escaping your lips as you fell into the water. While underwater, you saw their tails as you struggled to reach for air. Thankfully, Bakugou immediately caught you and brought you back to the surface. Your heart was beating erratically as you caught your breath. Preventing yourself from falling again, you grabbed onto Bakugou’s shoulders for support, your florid face buried in the crook of his neck as you desperately reinforced yourself to regain your composure. Once your breathing became steady, you came face-to-face with Bakugou.

What the heck? Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you. Why does this man have to be so hot? You watched as the water cascaded down from his soft hair onto his nose, to his plump lips, and to his chiseled jaw. You couldn’t help but gulp at his appearance - he looked like the Greek God of the ocean, Poseidon. While checking him out, your gaze lowered to his biceps, onto his exposed chest and abs. Ohlala~ Can someone bring in some coffee? The bread is already here.

"Done checking me out, Shitty woman?" His sharp words caught you by surprise, as you blushed at the realization that you were checking him out so openly. Out of embarrassment, you buried your head on his shoulders again to hide the blush painted on your cheeks. You wished the waters below you would cut you in half and swallow you alive.

"Now, don't be shy. You can stare all you want." Bakugou chuckled, making you whine and punch him playfully on the chest.

"Shut up."

“I’m trying really hard not to freak out right now.”

Bakugou sighed. Getting caught was not part of his plan. But there's nothing he could do about it. You already found out his secret.

"Y/N." Bakugou started, his voice a lot gentler than usual, causing you to flinch when he called out your attention. Not only is Bakugou a lot softer than he usually is, this was also the first time he addressed you with your real name, and not those stupid nicknames of his. Something inside you tingled at how your name rolled out of his tongue. You never thought that Bakugou calling your name would have an effect on you.

"Oi, are you listening?" Bakugou frowned.

"Oh, sorry." You chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of your head. "I was not listening. What did you say again?"

Bakugou heaved out a sigh. "I said, now that you already know what I am, you should not tell anyone about this. You understand that?"

You nodded in his direction, understanding his words.

There was a long silence as both of you stared at the moon, sitting on the rock formations once again. Bakugou had moved you here, after the incident a while ago. Awase excused himself after informing Bakugou that he has to take care of this mess before the leaders find out. You couldn't comprehend what was happening even until now. Seeing him sitting beside you, his gorgeous, golden tail in full view, all this felt like a dream. Not to mention the fact that you and Sero were just arguing yesterday about how mermaids and mermen are not real. But here you are, coming face-to-face with one of them. And out of all the mermen out there, Bakugou was one of them.

"Hey, Bakugou. I wanna ask something." You locked eyes with him, your eyes full of curiosity as they stared into his vermilion orbs. Bakugou raised both of his brows in your direction, awaiting your next words.

"What?" The unsettling feeling of anticipation and fear slowly crept up on Bakugou. He may not have shown it, but he was terrified for your reaction when he saw you staring at him with eyes wide in shock. What if you freak out and get scared of him? And now that you're starting to question him, all the emotions that he felt before unwillingly came crashing back. What were you gonna say? Would you ask him about being a merman? Would you ask him to stay away from you? Would you-

"What shampoo do you use?" You felt Bakugou freeze on the spot, an unexplainable expression plastered in his face.

"Hah?!" Out of all the things he was expecting you to ask, the shampoo that he uses was not one of them. Heck, it didn't even cross his mind!

"What did you say?!" You flinched at his shouting, starting to regret that you asked him about his shampoo.

"Is it...is it a secret?" As you spit out the words from your lips, your voice got smaller and smaller too. You backed out slightly, scared of what he might do to you. At this rate, you looked like a puppy who was about to get beat by it’s master. A Chihuahua, on that note.

"What?!" The ash-blonde merman stared dumbfounded at you. In disbelief, he couldn’t help but laugh at your ridiculous question. Meanwhile, you stared at him in awe. His face while laughing was so ethereal that it almost made you cry. Why the fuck does he have to be so beautiful?! Why? Shortly after, Bakugou stopped laughing but was still holding his stomach while wiping the tears away from his eyes.

"Ahh… that was a good laugh after ages." He chuckled at himself and looked over your direction. "This is why I admire you."

At this point, it was your turn to be frozen in place as his words slowly sank down your brain. Seems like Bakugou also realized what he said and froze too. Oh god. He gulped. A blush started to emerge on his cheeks as your face became red too. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Bakugou cleared his throat and focused on the moon hanging above the both of you, hiding his face from your line of sight.

"W-what I mean is that I-I just like your personality. It's not like I l-like you in a romantic way or whatever crap."

You snickered at his pathetic excuse. Even though Bakugou tries to hide it, the redness on his neck and ears didn't go unnoticed by you. You bet that if he turned around right now, his face would be as red as a tomato. You chuckled at that thought which made Bakugou glare at you.

"Stop laughing!" Ignoring his complaints, your laugh got louder when he turned to face you. Your assumptions was correct - Bakugou’s looks did resemble a tomato due to the intense redness on his face.

"You're so cute!" You were laughing so hard, your stomach started to hurt and tears started to well up at the corner of your eyes. The ash-blonde man hissed at you once more, the scowl on his face making it obvious of how annoyed he is right now.

"I said stop laughing! If you don't stop right now, I'm gonna throw you to the water." Despite his threatening words, Bakugou was actually enjoying this moment, seeing your cheerful face in front of him. All of this is just perfect. You're actually cute when you laugh, but there's no way in hell would he say that to your face.

"Ok, ok! I'm gonna stop now." However, you couldn’t stop chuckling. No matter how hard you tried, stopping was not an option right now. Bakugou clicked his tongue in irritation but didn't say anything. Once you've calmed down, you grinned at him, eyes shining with happiness.

"Bakugou…" You started, "I'm happy to see you right now."

Your words struck through Bakugou's heart. He was glad to know that you were content about seeing him. His heart skipped a beat at that thought and the blush on his face was tinted with a shade of crimson yet again. At this point, he was already sure of his feelings for you.

"Y-you should be, Shitty woman." He clicked his tongue again, hiding the smile that started to form. Chuckling, you gazed up at the moon, the stars surrounding it making the scenery even more beautiful. You could just sit here with him all day and you wouldn’t get bored. After all, this was what you wanted, to be with him even for just a bit.

"By the way..." Your brows shot up when Bakugou spoke, his eyes still glued at the moon. When he felt you staring at him, he turned towards you, brows arched.

"Aren't you cold?"

Now that he mentioned it, you were practically freezing right on your spot. The cold gust of wind didn’t help either and only added on to the chilly sensation.

"You should go and change first before you catch a cold." His calloused hands ran through his damp hair, the tiny droplets of water only made him look more handsome to the eye.

"I don't want to…"

"Huh? Why? Aren't you freezing? You wanna die or something?"

You grinned, a small giggle escaping your lips. Heaving out a sigh, you looked back at the moon above you, stars twinkling around the celestial body. You pulled your knees up to your chest as you gazed back at Bakugou, who was eyeing your every movement.

"I don't want this to end."

"What?"

"This," You pointed at him. "You and me." And then to your chest. "Us, conversing peacefully. I don't wanna stop or ruin this perfect moment by going back to my room to change, while knowing that by the time I'm done, you'll be gone."

Bakugou’s heart broke into pieces when he noticed the pain that crossed your crystalline eyes. He knows that you have feelings for him. And he knows he feels the same. He knows what you want, what you need. But he can’t give it to you right now. All he can give you now is assurance. That one day, after all of this comes to an end, he will come back to you.

A heavy sigh came out from his own lips as he shifted his weight to his arms and placed them behind him. There was an emotion that was plastered on his face you couldn’t name. "Go. Change. I won't be leaving." Bakugou glanced over his shoulders, eyes lingering on your face with that soft look of his, his vermilion eyes mirroring your own.

"I'll stay. Just trust me.”

Two sentences. Those five words were enough for your tears to drop one by one, your heart filling with joy and love for the man in front of you. You could genuinely feel the emotion behind his words. The assurance. The promise. His feelings. All of them embraced you as Bakugou stared at you with that emotion close to yours, an emotion you can finally name. The emotion called love.

"...wait."

A splash startled you when Bakugou jumped towards the waters. You waited for him to appear from the waters. You waited. And waited. But nothing. Minutes have passed but there was still no sign from him. Disappointment filled your heart at the thought that he already left. Didn’t he promised to stay? He didn't even wait for you to leave. You tried to think if it as a logical explanation. Maybe he had some errands to do. But would it hurt to say a simple goodbye to you? Was that really hard to do? A sigh escaped your lips as you fumbled with your fingers, distracting yourself from the aching pain growing in your heart. You thought that maybe, your relationship with him somewhat grew. You were certain, so sure that he feels the same way about you too. It may not be the same level as your feelings, but you know that he’s starting to like you too. The blush on his face, the stark emotions on his face, and his softness a while ago were enough clues for you to connect the dots. Bakugou was never that soft to anyone, only to you.

"Hey." You looked over your shoulders when you heard a voice coming from behind you. Seeing the familiar smooth ash-blonde hair of his, the feeling of euphoria and excitement filled your heart when you saw Bakugou below you, hair damp from the waters. He was holding a plastic bag with jeans inside it. You closed your eyes when a light appeared around his body, hurting you a bit. As soon as the blinding light disappeared, you came face-to-face with Bakugou's chest. You shrieked out of shock and moved backwards, your face turning red once more at the realization that the ash-blonde male was naked in front of you.

"What the hell, Bakugou!" You immediately shielded your eyes to prevent seeing something you will regret. “Get dressed!”

Bakugou snorted at your reaction, amusement dancing in his red orbs. “It’s not like you don’t want to see my body.”

“Bakugou!” Bakugou only laughed and got dressed. When he was done, you felt a piece of warm cloth placed around your shoulders, the comfort making you purr a little. He pulled your hands away from your face and handed you a white, glowing pearl. It was so beautiful you couldn’t take your eyes off of it.

You looked up at him with your eyes filled with curiosity, “What’s this?”

“It’s a pearl, dumbass.” His cheeks started growing red and he averted his eyes from you. “It’s a...a p-promise pearl for us...mermen…”

“Oh…” Your cheeks heated up, as a tinge of red hue began to dust it as you blinked at the information he gave, gripping at the blanket wrapped around you. What does he mean by that? Is he...giving you hints? Or what?

"Uh...why would you give this to me?"

"Don't you understand, dumbass? I'm giving that to you as a promise that I will claim you when the day comes. So take that shit and put it in your forehead."

"Huh?!" You felt like your world was spinning. You don't understand why Bakugou was saying this all to you. You felt utterly bewildered by all that’s happening right now.

"Bakugou-," Bakugou clicked his tongue before snatching the white pearl from you. He kissed the pearl and placed it on your lips. Your cheeks burned even more when you realized that you had just kissed Bakugou indirectly. His calloused pads grazed on your soft cheeks as he pulled the pearl away from you, the pearl now flat on his hands. You were amazed at how he did that, but the pain on your forehead distracted you.

"Ouch! Bakugou, it hurts!" You tried to back away from him, but Bakugou placed his hands firmly on the back of your head to stop your struggling.

"Shhh...don't worry, just endure it a little bit more. The pain will go away." He cooed, his hot breath fanning the top of your head, sending butterflies into your stomach. When the pain subsided, you stared at Bakugou's features.

"Bakugou..." He arched his brows while still looking at the pearl on your forehead.

"What?"

"Why are you so...I don't know, soft right now?"

Bakugou stilled at your words. "W-what? I'm not, idiot."

You just smiled at him.

"You promised, ok?"

A long silence fell between the both of you. You thought Bakugou wouldn't answer, but his hands dropped on your shoulders, his grip tightening as he raised your chin up, making you look directly at his eyes.

"I know." He whispered, just enough to reach your ears. "But I wouldn't call that as a promise. I don't want to break that. So I will do all of my best to make you mine. You understand? So don't let any other man get close to you. Especially Tape Face." He gritted his teeth at the memory of you and Sero talking last night.

"What? But he's just my cousin!" You laughed.

"I don't care. Tsk. Now go and change your clothes or you'll catch a cold."

"Ok." You stood up and placed a chaste kiss on his cheeks before running away from him, giggling at yourself. "I'll be back, Bakugou!" You couldn't believe that you just kissed Bakugou on the cheeks. You felt like a highschool teenager at that moment, gushing over her crush.

"Y/N!" You stopped on your tracks and turned around, facing Bakugou whose face was once again red.

"It's Katsuki."

Your heartbeat raced 10 times faster. It was like you ran 3 kilometers in just a minute at how fast your heart raced inside your ribcage. A genuine smile appeared on your lips, smiling cheerfully at the ash blonde just a few meters away from you. At that moment, everything felt so right, everything felt so surreal. Like a happy ending in a disney movie, with the two main characters starting a new journey together. A new chapter in a book, the book that contains the story of you and Bakugou's. Of you and Katsuki's.

"Okay, Katsuki."

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cherry3point14 · 4 years

Text

The Wrong Winchester - One Year Later

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Eileen Warnings: Cavity protection required. Word Count: 12,304. (WHY) Summary: One year after the fiasco that was Fourth of July, you’re back in Kansas and back at the Winchesters. This time with their other son. A/N: A sequel for the trope fluff fest that was The Wrong Winchester. Somehow this is fluffier and more trope-y! Listen, I didn’t say it was good, just that it exists. Happy 4th July my bitches! (*sobs in the corner* this was supposed to be a timestamp)

Ao3 if you prefer.

June has been cool this year, more so than normal, but then the heat of July hits like clockwork. Even though you enjoy airplanes, and the AC they provide, you’ve done the drive because Dean hates flying. It’s not even a compromise because the detour your journey takes means that it’s Thursday evening by the time you arrive in Lawrence. Sam and Eileen got there mid-morning. You’re hoping that the Winchesters are so distracted getting to know her that you can slip in like an old piece of furniture, unnoticed and ignored.

It’s when he turns the corner onto their street, and the family home looms in the distance, that it hits you. You’re here, again, and you’re doing this, again. And nobody would ever believe it but this is considerably worse because this time you love the guy sitting next to you.

Not that you’ve told him that yet. It’s been a slow year.

Loving Dean does complicate things though. It means that you care what the Winchesters think of you. Last year, pretending, was a walk in the park in comparison. You knew Sam was fake breaking up with you after you left. You could have cheated on Sam in front of him and it wouldn’t have mattered because it was all, well, fake.

Although you did kind of cheat on Sam in front of him. Boy, did you hope Sam hadn’t told them about that.

Now, the house you’re pulling up at makes your toes curl inside your shoes while hurried excuses start pouring out. “You’re positive you don’t want to stay in a hotel? Take the pressure off your mom having to entertain us and Sam and Eileen. That’s a lot of guests.” You nod to yourself convincingly while you stare at the front door.

He smiles at you like you’re adorable, which you don’t appreciate. “If you’re looking to make her hate you, then yeah, go ahead and tell my Mom you’re taking her firstborn to a hotel for the weekend.”

You huff and pout your lips so he knows exactly how frustrated you are, “I know you’re right, doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“When are you ever?” He counters, smirking as he gets out of the car. You follow suit although you’re convinced that as your foot hits the stone driveway you can hear the ticking of a countdown. One small step for you, one giant leap to your doom.

Dean grabs your case and his duffel from the trunk, settling one on top of the other so that he has a free hand to wrap around your waist. It’s probably a picturesque image, him walking you to the house like that. You’re not sure if he’s being nice or making sure you don’t run away. Dean’s a smart man so it’s probably a little of both.

His hand reaches to open the door but even after the long drive from Chicago, your reactions are lightning-fast. You pull his arm back to stop him and answer the silent look on his dumb face, “shut up. We should knock.”

“Did you give Sammy this much trouble last year?”

His joke drags a smile out of you, not a laugh but a smile. He’s been trying to calm you down the whole journey. You don’t get nervous often, so seeing you this anxious has both worried and amused him. He’s settled for being supportive, he’s done everything he can to take your mind off of this moment. He told you exaggerated fake facts about Kansas to stop you complaining that the entire state was too damn hot. He distracted you with questions about the case you’re working on when you panicked about exactly how Sam had explained everything all those months ago. And most importantly he fed you. A few hours out he’d pulled into a drive-through and minutes later you’d found yourself pulled over on a random stretch of highway, legs crossed, and a brown paper bag in your lap. He’d wiped sauce from the corner of your mouth and watched you wolf down cheese fries.

Dean knew how to keep you happy for the hours you’ve spent in Baby. But now that you’re finally standing at the threshold he, apparently, thinks it’s time to throw you to the wolves, which he does, literally.

In one swift movement, the door is open before you can rap your knuckles against it and he uses his arm—the one that’s around your waist—to guide you inside. Except guiding you inside is more like a gentle push, which means you trip your way into the Winchester family home while Dean remains safely on the porch.

“What the f-?” The end of your sentence never makes it past your lips, thankfully, considering the gathering in the living room as you turn your head.

Sam and Eileen are sitting opposite Mary and John, all of them holding a drink, clearly mid-conversation. They all stop. Four pairs of eyes are now trained on you. Even after a too-long second has passed none of them move as if your presence has frozen them in time. A perpetual state of being horrified by your existence.

“Dean!?” You don’t exactly shout but there’s a worried twang to your voice and still, none of them move. In fact, Sam doesn’t even attempt to help, which is a betrayal you won’t allow to pass unpunished or forgotten.

That’s for another day. Right now you’re about thirty seconds away from your first actual panic attack in years.

Dean slips in behind you, eventually. Even walking in with the bags he’s more graceful than you had been stumbling in. Not that you compliment him on that. You’re too preoccupied because you might have broken the Winchesters.

“Honey!” Mary beams with happiness at the sight of her eldest son and jumps up from her seat like a mannequin come to life. Whatever spell had been cast breaks so quickly that it might not have happened at all. Every single person takes a breath again and Mary walks over, wine forgotten on the coffee table, to hug Dean the way you’d seen her do a year ago.

“Mom!” He hugs her back, wrapping her up in his arms and lifting her from the floor an inch or two. You want to say he’s the cutest thing ever with that childlike smile on his face.

That’s what you want to say.

Unfortunately, the innocence doesn’t last as his expression morphs into a cocky smirk with a waving hand in your direction once he lets his mother go. “You remember Y/N, right?”

Is he freaking kidding?

Mary’s face steels, as if Dean had never entered the room. Your best friend and his girlfriend, who you know pretty well at this point, remain safely in their seats. And your boyfriend, your goddamn boyfriend who you love and trust, is standing there at an arm's length like this is an early fireworks display. The fuses have been lit and he is waiting for the explosives to go off.

The only person in the room who dares to make eye contact with you—outside of the matriarch—is John freaking Winchester. And he has the audacity to smile sweetly at you. Or as sweetly as John Winchester is capable of.

“Of course I remember Y/N.” Mary’s words are friendly but her tone does not mirror the sentiment. She taps her chin with one extended finger, thinking, “you were on Sam’s arm last year, if I remember rightly.”

You were going to murder Sam and thanks to your job you’d get away with it too. “I’m so sorry Mary, Sam told me he explained. It was all a misunderstanding, I was only…”

“Only jumping around between my boys? Or was the misunderstanding when we welcomed you into our home and you lied to us?”

You may have met your match. You could never admit this to the district attorney's office but Mary has found a way to silence you with a stare. Your lips snap shut without a good answer for her. You feel like a child being chastised for making a mess.

In fairness you had made a mess last year, however, you cleaned it up afterward.

Your eyes dart to the still-open front door before you rummage up an answer. “I don’t think jumping between them is very fair, Sam and I weren’t a real thing. I mean we’re still besties, even if he won’t call us that, but we were pretending. Which is still wrong but I defy any of you to say no to him when he does that dopey puppy face of his. Anyway I know he told you it was his idea, because it was, and I made sure he told you that because I don’t want you thinking that I came up with it and…”

“Great, you got her stuck in a loop, Mom.” Dean grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

“What?” You interrupt your own rambling to frown at him.

That’s when it happens. Mary breaks out into a grin so similar to Dean's that it’s frightening. If Sam got his smile from his mother then Dean inherited her devious smirk.

“It was your idea.” She answers your seemingly caring boyfriend.

You’re confused, as you should be. Hours. Days. Weeks of dreading this moment and this weekend. None of this makes any sense.

“I hate to sound like a broken record but, what?”

Mary turns her brightness on you, in the distance, John barks out a laugh and cracks his hand against his thigh as if this all went completely as planned.

“I’m sorry Y/N. We were only playing. It’s great to see you again.”

Then she hugs you, stiff as you may be from the complicated mix of annoyance and residual fear that you’re feeling. Her arms around you exude motherly warmth, something you’re unfamiliar with, until your muscles relax in her grip.

Over Mary’s shoulder, Dean is pressing his lips together to stop himself laughing and then finally your brain catches up. That bastard set you up. He sold you down the river. Still mid-hug you silently mouth to him, “I’m going to kill you.”

That sends Dean over the edge and a deep belly laugh escapes him. He doesn’t even attempt to apologize. He’s too caught up in how funny he thinks he is.

“So, you were all in on this? You too Sammy?” You splay your hand across your chest now that Mary has released you.

Mary links her arm with yours and leans in as if she didn’t rob you of ten years of your life, “if it helps Eileen told us we were being mean.”

You smile at Eileen, your now very good friend, as you take a seat next to her, “at least someone has my back.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, “well, Sam’s girlfriends need to stick together.”

And just like that. The final knife in your back sets them all off howling with laughter again. This was obviously going to be a long weekend.

It's not even day one, that starts tomorrow. It's been a few hours at best and you're already in bed and staring a hole in the ceiling. Ordinarily, you might be questioning why there is a suspicious rectangle that is whiter than the rest. As if the patch of paint had seen less light than the rest of the room like a poster had been there or something.

“You gotta tell me.”

You scoff. He has done nothing to earn any answers from you so far. Looking after you during the journey must have been an act to lull you into a false sense of security because he jumped ship as soon as you arrived. Winchesters are a tight-knit bunch.

“Come on, please?”

It sucks that you love this idiot, it sucks that you haven’t told him, it’s even worse that you cannot resist him. You roll over to his whining voice and prop yourself up on your elbow. It was foolish to ever hope for a good night's sleep when he’s amped up to be in his childhood home again. You can’t say that you remember him being like this last year but, then again, last year you were avoiding him since you were pretending to date his brother. “Oh my god, if I tell you will you let me sleep already?”

Dean nods, using a finger to draw a cross over his chest. Even in the dark, you can see the crinkles of his eyes deepen playfully, “cross my heart. I’ll even help you get off to sleep, by way of apology.” His fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear to hint at his meaning, under his oversized Zeppelin shirt you’re sleeping in.

“Nice try Benedict Arnold, I haven’t forgotten what you did to me.”

He knows by the tone of your voice he won’t get anywhere right now, although it’s nothing to do with his betrayal. You’re still obsessed with somehow clawing back any semblance of a good impression. Sex in his childhood bed doesn’t strike you as the correct way to go about that. He doesn’t tease and try to change your mind with filthy words he knows you love. You think maybe Dean knows tonight isn't the night either. Maybe that’s why he’s asking questions instead.

His hand slides up over your waist and settles comfortingly around your middle—almost as if he knows he has some groveling to do. He asks again hoping to get one of the things he wants; answers. “C’mon. Just tell me. I’ll tell you mine.”

You haven’t spoken much about last year with Dean and you were absolutely fine with that. Last Fourth of July wasn’t exactly a Kodak moment for you. It almost cost you Sam and as much as you love Dean, Sam’s friendship is one of the very foundations of your adult life. Sure last year was the kind of thing you’ve joked about, but the nitty-gritty details had stayed where they should, in the past.

However, being back here, albeit in the next room over to the one you’d previously occupied, has apparently opened the topic up for conversation.

“Fine. You really want to know?”

“With all my heart.”

“God, you’re lucky you’re cute. At the airport. Okay?”

His smile widens until you can see his teeth shine. “You’re joking?”

You bury your face in the pillow, only coming up for air when necessary despite the way he pokes your sides to make you squirm. “No, I’m not joking. I wasn’t sleepy getting off the plane. I was trying to figure out if there was a way for me to make out with my fake boyfriend's hot older brother.”

“You were too good for your fake boyfriend anyway.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “too good for me too.”

He shouldn’t be allowed to catch you off guard like that, it’s against the rules. Yet he does it all the time. The sweetest secrets whispered in your ear while you’re brushing your teeth or watching a movie. As if he needs to tell you as soon as the thought pops into his head. And it’s not fair because he deserved some silent treatment or something. You know he’ll be back to his tricks tomorrow, so he should pay tonight. But now instead of being annoyed at him, your lips are following his while you realize you were never really mad in the first place.

His wandering hand moves to wrap around your neck, his fingers are lost in your hair and his thumb traces over your jaw. This is the classic Dean trick. He thinks he’s so smooth and that one day he’ll manage to keep you attached to his mouth forever if he holds you there, just right.

As much as you want to appease him, it never lasts. Eventually, you always need air in your pesky, needy lungs. Tonight though it ends with your hand on his chest nudging him off of you. “No way. You owe me yours. Come on, when did you start like-liking me?” You finish the question in a sarcastically childish voice.

Dean is nothing if not fair, sometimes, and he would never break a promise. He leans back a little and adopts what you have dubbed his ‘thinking face’. It may be nighttime but you’d recognize that furrowed brow anywhere.

“When I found you in my bedroom.” He finally answers.

It takes a whole second to remember. “Really? You mean when I was trying to find the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I mean a guy comes back to his room and finds a pretty girl...”

It’s your turn to frown, “wait. Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re saying that your ‘moment’ was when you found me in your room, in my pajamas, with bed head and a full bladder?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You were all cute an’ twitchy when I caught you, then suddenly you’re all fired up and telling me off for making fun of you. You were a little spitfire.”

You drop your forehead to his chest and let out a laugh. Trust Dean to like you because you busted his balls.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “good enough answer?”

You yawn, happily, and shimmy down into bed proper. “It was your game De. The question is are you happy with yours?”

He settles down next to you, close enough to hear the deep, “mm hmm” in his throat.

Almost everything is different this year but one fact remains the same. You can take the running gear from Sam but you can’t stop Sam from going running.

He has emergency running shoes in his closet.

The new part is that you’re up as early as he is. You’re sitting on the sofa with your laptop propped up on your knees, with yet another witness statement that you were sure was made up. It was too perfect and a jury would never buy it.

By the time Sam, the sweat machine, returns you’re typing a passive-aggressive email to that effect.

“You had any coffee yet?” He asks with two mugs in his hands, passing one to you.

You take the mug without looking up from the screen and swallow a scalding sip, which you only half notice burns your tongue. “Obviously not. Your mom is in there and she still scares me.”

He laughs but doesn’t question it. He doesn’t need to. Dean may have dealt with you on the long drive and whenever he was in town but Sam deals with you every day. He has been privy to almost every one of your breakdowns in the last month. June felt longer than thirty days.

Sam sits down next to you and starts watching the news channel you’d been ignoring. It takes a minute but eventually, he grabs the remote to pause the screen, “ah, there’s my favorite celebrity lawyer.”

You don't need to look up to know that you are on the TV.

“I won’t be anyone’s lawyer if I don’t figure out why my client insists on lying to me and getting people to lie on his behalf.” Your fingers get dangerously close to pounding the plastic keyboard into smithereens. “Hasn’t he heard of attorney-client privilege?”

“Okay. I think you need a little break from that.” He says prying the laptop from you and closing it on the coffee table, so you can’t see the screen anymore.

You want to be mad at him but, of course, you can’t. You look up at him and his soft smile that’s all kinds of sympathetic to the workload you’ve been bearing of late. If you weren’t being driven insane by the biggest case of your career then maybe you’d be a little more rational when it came to this weekend.

Although, that’s unlikely. You were always going to go crazy about this particular get together.

“I swear sometimes I think he’s actually stupid. I’m trying to help him. Why did he even think he could escape arrest in the third most populated city in America?” You shuffle yourself so that you’re sitting sideways and facing him. Despite your insults about your client, the question is earnest.

“Probably figured it’s the only way he’d get to hire you.”

You roll your eyes, “sure, that’s why I’m co-counsel to fucking New York’s finest Marcus Delaney, who he trusts like a fucking brother.”

Sam widens his eyes at you in warning but you catch on too late; his mother is in the next room. You both hold your breath waiting for a reaction. When nothing happens you relax and he answers the least important part of your statement, “technically you’re a New York native too.”

“Objection, relevance?”

“Well, you mentioned…”

“Nah-uh. Enough about me. You took my laptop away so now we have to talk about you.” You smirk into your cup.

Sam knows where this is going. He told you his news two entire weeks ago, it worked like a charm and was also the biggest mistake of his life. Because two weeks ago Sam invited you to his office for lunch and told you over takeout that he was getting married.

He wanted to tell you because you’re his best friend. He’d told you before Dean and sworn you to secrecy until he’d called his brother later that day. Both of you knew the news was coming anyway, so it wasn’t really a race. Sam had been wringing his hands over how to ask the love of his life for weeks before he did it. You only found out about the ‘yes’ before Dean, because Sam had been trying to calm you down after another ‘4th of July freak-out’.

Sam had forgotten what happens if a seven-year-old gets their hands on too much sugar. Or, to be more precise, what happens when he gives a big, juicy, sensitive piece of information to you. Now he can't get you to shut up about it.

He sighs. He’s still facing the TV even though your eyes are on him. “I should have let you keep working, shouldn’t I?”

“Too late for that, Sammy. Have you decided when you’re telling everyone yet?”

He shifts to side-eye you, “oh, yeah. I was thinking, how about never?”

“You can’t bring your devoted fiance home for the weekend and not tell them!” You’re keeping your voice low but it’s insistent all the same.

“Ok. What about at the airport?”

“We’re dropping you back to the airport.”

“Right, before that then.”

You laugh, “why did you even come this weekend if you’re going to chicken out?”

“I’m not going to chicken out but, would it be so bad if I did? I brought you last year to avoid my Mom's crazy and now… I mean this will be like Defcon two.”

You wonder, briefly, what triggers Defcon one. Considering how quickly Mary had asked you if you were pregnant last year, you’d wager it’d be grandchildren.

In the pause where you both sip your morning caffeine again, neither of you notice the slight creak. The kind of creak where a door begins to open but never does.

“All I’m saying is, getting married is an amazing thing. It’s time to share the happy news. Hell, I’ll go wake Dean and we can do it now.”

“That’s easily the worst idea you’ve ever had. And I’m including the outfit you wore to the first office Christmas party.”

He’s walking right into your trap. “I dusted that number off for your brother over Christmas, you know.”

“Oh god. I don’t need to know about you and-and him-and a sexy Santa's helper costume.” He actually gets up, sweeps his mug with him, and sours his face.

“You brought it up, Sammy!” You're grinning all wide and evil, calling after him.

He pauses with his back leaning against the kitchen door, at the same time that Eileen walks in. “I hate you.”

You look up at her and sigh, “you see the way he talks to me when you’re not around?”

This is not the first time Eileen has been caught in the middle of you two, so she laughs and promises, “I’ll talk to him about that.”

Sometimes Dean likes to yank your chain and sometimes you like to yank his. It’s what makes you kind of perfect for each other, any bruised egos or pouting lips are part of the game you play. An excellent example is the way he’d betrayed you already this weekend. You weren’t mad, well, maybe a little, but in the end, you forgave him because it’s him.

In all the jokes there’s one thing that Dean knows not to play around with, one thing that he wouldn’t dare mess with.

Winchester. Family. Baseball.

You had agreed to wear his dumb spare jersey the same as you’d done for Sam. Like Eileen was doing for Sam this year. Although you had to admit her shorts are a little more family-friendly.

You’d even made a sign. A big piece of poster board, some markers, glitter, and stickers that you had gone to Target to buy special. It said GO TEAM DEAN! With a heart to dot the exclamation point. The sign was a surprise. When you’d shown him before leaving for the game he’d called you a dork and smiled so wide you worried his face might break.

You were ready for the game because you were safe. The worst thing that you expect is the comments when you turn up with a ‘1’ on your shirt this year instead of a ‘2’. You’ve already dealt with this from Mary and John but you weren’t so blind to forget about the rest of the family.

Charlie laughs at you when she notices, straight away, and threateningly asks for the story later. Bobby simply says, “switched teams, huh?” Before walking off. Granted he doesn’t seem to judge you, merely stating the observation like an interesting factoid. And Gabe starts, “lookie here when do I-” but smartly stops. He’s too tongue in cheek to be offensive but the look on Deans’ face might have something to do with his change of heart.

All of that you could handle. Par for the course. You had been ready for it because—can’t stress this enough—you were safe. Today was going to be a fun day of cheering on your boyfriend at his weird family baseball game.

You’re so sure of yourself that you even helped Mary pack drinks and snacks, with Eileen as a buffer, because you knew you’d get to enjoy said food. As a spectator.

When John does his ‘gather round me for I am John Winchester’ bit to pick the teams you’re choosing your spot in the stands. A little area in the front row for you, Mary and Eileen where you’re putting the food. You don’t join said gathering because that’s how not relevant it was to your life. You’d find out the teams when they’re playing and you’re only fifteen feet away from them all. You can hear them barking out names fine.

Dean picks Micheal. Sam makes a comment like ‘big surprise’. Bickering ensues until John gets them to focus up.

You could write this stuff in your sleep. You don’t want to call them predictable, considering this was only your second year here, but sometimes the truth is right there in front of you. And the truth is Winchester family baseball is going exactly how you expect.

Actually it’s the one thing that is going how you expect this weekend. Frankly, you needed that, some stability. Something you could rely on.

“Y/N”

Time slows down. In your head, you can hear that siren noise from Kill Bill and the world is suddenly devoid of color, except one. A red light flashes over your vision, as you turn in comically slow motion to find out which one of those idiots betrayed you.

Dean. Of course. The goddamn one you’re in love with.

He has the absolute gall to wave at you from where he’s standing. Smiling like, well, like it’s Fourth of July weekend and he innocently picked his girlfriend to play a game with him. That’s what it must look like to his family anyway.

To you? You feel like Lady Macbeth. Disappointed and betrayed by your significant other who can't do his one job. You’re not even asking him to kill the King of Scotland, all he had to do was not say your name.

Before you have an opportunity to write yourself out of this tragedy, he’s waving you over and your legs start walking. Apparently your body listens to him more than it listens to your own brain. Was nothing sacred anymore?

“There’s my girl.”

Those words would normally make you weak at the knees. Unfortunately for Dean, when it comes to baseball, you’re not melting that easy.

When you reach him you smile until you’re close enough to mutter dangerously, “I’m going to make you disappear and it'll look like an accident.”

You notice people dispersing which means your amazing boyfriend waited to call you till last. Not only did he screw you over but he made you the embarrassing last pick.

He leans in to kiss you and breathes against you, “you know you love playing with me.”

God, you do. You love playing with this dick, who apparently hates you, as well as his dick. Not baseball granted but other games.

“‘Sides,” he continues in your silence, “you don’t want to let all that practice go to waste.”

“All that practice? Practice?” You pull your head back, unable to resist showing him how offended you are, “you mean the time you forced me to go to the batting cages?”

He crosses his hands at your back and pulls you to him until your thighs are pressed against his. Were it not for his jeans then it would be incredibly inappropriate for a family baseball game. Actually, with the jeans, it might still be inappropriate.

“I seem to remember someone enjoying my arms wrapped around her while I taught her how to hit. I also seem to remember that someone forgot all about me in a damn second once she could do it on her own.”

“It was very stress relieving, I kept pretending the ball was the dummy who took me to the batting cages.”

A laugh rumbles through him, his body is so close to yours that you feel it in your stomach.

“Come on, this will be fun. You need more fun.”

You poke a finger into his chest, an inch above the collar of his jersey, “don't pretend you're doing me a favor. if I remember the rules, I don’t have a choice. But don’t you worry, I won’t forget this.”

He grins in that ‘brighter than the sun’ Dean way, “I know baby. I know.”

You’d made it home four times, an impressive three more than last year. None of them were from hitting a home run or anything preposterous. You do hit the ball almost every time though. You still couldn’t catch, throw or run--all three skills are apparently super essential in baseball. You can connect the bat with the ball though. Everyone seems pretty impressed every time it happens, if only they knew how impressed you were every time you manage it.

Your lack of skills aside, when Dean wins, he leans you over his arm and kisses you rightly. As if it’s V-J day and he single-handedly stopped WWII. Eileen sneaks up on Sam, from where she’d been watching in the stands. Although your ASL is not perfect, you’re at least 80% sure that her hand's sign “sucks to be you,” as she walks to him. You might love her a little more than you did ten minutes ago and Sam laughs a little harder too.

Dean chooses a steakhouse. The place is all wood paneling and soft lighting. The ambiance reminds you of your first real date in Chicago, although there will probably be less sticky fingers. From the ribs, obviously.

Mary and John drive ahead and they’re waiting outside when you all arrive. You’ve told Eileen to be prepared, told her to have her wits about her, promised her you’ll jump in if necessary. She’d told you not to worry.

Oh, you hate to see it happen.

As soon as you’re inside you volunteer to sit next to John, it’s the smallest kindness you can do for your friend. She should sit between the safety of Sam and Dean for what is to come.

It starts as you expect and it’s strange being on the other side of the interrogation. Nobody gives a flying crap about what drink or food you order but Eileen? She gets the same treatment you had last year. Silence and an entire table waiting to hear what she has to say. She’s the shiny, new thing everyone is interested in. You’re both glad and sorry. Glad the heat is taken off of you and sorry that it’s Eileen bearing the brunt of it.

Although—and it’s not your imagination—they are a hell of a lot easier on her than John had been on you. It presumably helps that Eileen is a Librarian. Her stories are all child reading groups and teaching elderly people how to use email in the computer room. Even you find yourself a bit smitten and you already knew her.

You’re trying not to focus on her too much though. Let her charm Mary and John, she doesn’t need another face watching her while she talks. Instead, you concentrate on your appetizer, one of those deep-fried onion things you’re sharing with Dean. The unspoken agreement is if you eat smelly food then you do it together.

He shakes his head, making eye contact with you as he takes a particularly over the top bite, when you’re pulled back into the main conversation.

“Y/N, where did you spend Christmas last year?”

“I’m sorry?” You ask somewhat dazed by being called on so soon.

Mary smiles kindly, “Eileen mentioned her parent's cabin, which I know is where they spent Christmas. I realized I had no idea where you spent the holidays?”

“Sure. I-erm, I stayed in Chicago.” Dean's hand under the table surprises you when you feel the weight of him on your knee.

“Oh, funnily enough, I remember Dean saying he was in Chicago too and I thought to myself how strange that was with Sam being gone.”

Everyone laughs at her joke, even your boyfriend while he moves his hand up your thigh.

“Didn’t want to head to New York and see your parents?” She continues her line of inquiry.

You have no idea where she’s going with it, why you’re the one in the hot seat, or why Dean is driving you crazy with his thumb rubbing those incessant circles in your skin. You answer anyway.

“N-No. They go to Europe every other Christmas so they’ll be home this year.”

Mary takes a bite of whatever-the-hell is on her plate. “The boys are coming to us this year too, I guess we’ll have to get better about syncing these things up, huh?”

His hand alone wouldn’t normally drive you as crazy as it is right now. He’s only tapping a slow, teasing rhythm into your thigh for crying out loud. But it’s been a few days and before that a few weeks, and you’d been resolved to not sully this wholesome family weekend. So, your breath is just a touch shorter than normal when he squeezes, and you can only hide it by talking.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess we will.” You agree easily.

“I’m looking forward to meeting your parents, yours too Eileen. Do you think we’ll be meeting yours before Christmas Y/N? Any other big events coming up?”

Were you not focusing on the heat of his hand under your skirt then you might be suspicious of the way she asks that. As it is Dean chooses then to wink at you because he thinks it's hilarious how preoccupied you are.

“Erm, Thanksgiving?”

“Right, right. Thanksgiving.” She smirks like she has a secret.

You stand up suddenly, needing to get away from your teasing boyfriend, “sorry. I’m going to go use the restroom.”

“Hurry back.” Dean’s mocking tone follows you.

Were his parents not at the table you'd tell him to go to hell.

Saturday morning comes faster than you expected. You did have a jump on the long weekend because you’d all taken a day off work this year but Saturday still seemed to have jumped from a cupboard to surprise you.

You wake up as you often do when you share Dean’s bed. One of you, today it’s him, has the other one, you, in what can only be described as an inescapable hold. He’s got one arm wrapped around you, fingers hanging loose over your stomach where you’re laying on your side. His other arm is encroaching on your pillow to surround you and his head is curled in your neck. His breath is slow and hot over your skin. You never imagined that you’d enjoy waking up like this, so incredibly close to someone. And then you met Dean. Sometimes you wrap him up in your sleep, your fingers in his hair, and one leg thrown over his. Either way one always claims the other and you wouldn’t want anything different.

Except at this very second.

Dean is a light sleeper. A bit of a contradictory trait for someone who likes to sleep as much as he does—yours is not to question why—but you never want to willingly wake him if you can avoid it. You’re more than happy to let sleeping Dean’s lie. When you don’t need the bathroom that is.

Even though this isn’t your first time trying you still give it your best shot to slip out without disturbing him.

You think you’re getting there. You’ve managed to roll onto your back for an easier way out, his face is now smashed into his pillow instead of your back, you’ve slipped down the bed a little to get away from his hand on your pillow. It’s only that arm across you that you need to get free from. Today is the day that you’ll finally manage to pee without waking him up. The trick, you think, is not to touch him. You’ve been burned before by trying to lift his arm off of you when you only need to slip out from under it.

“Come on, five more minutes.” He mumbles, fingers come to life to hold you tighter and you swear you see his lip curl because you’ve failed to sneak away again.

“I need to pee.” Who says romance is dead?

He huffs, you’ve hit on what he deems an acceptable reason to let go of you. Barely.

Not that he eases up. You have to wiggle from his hold which makes you crack your first smile of the day. Despite your need to hurry you bend over him and press a kiss to his cheek. “How about I get some coffee while I’m up, see if I can get you to forgive me?”

“You can try.” He mutters in his half-sleep state.

The house is quiet when you leave the bathroom, ridiculously quiet for how full of people it will be later. The calm tricks you into feeling invincible, where nobody else exists save for you and the man you left in bed.

“Morning Y/N.” Mary is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and not doing much else.

“Oh my god!” You recoil with your whole body, arms bent into your chest like you’re trying to stave off a heart attack. You can be a little dramatic at times but the way she’s sitting in silence, illuminated only by the early morning light from the backyard, almost gives the illusion of her appearing out of thin air. “Sorry, Mary. I must be easy to scare first thing in the morning.”

A slow smile spreads over her face, “no I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I like a few minutes of peace before the boys are up is all.”

You grab two mugs, a pretty clear indication you plan to take coffee back to Dean, but before you can fill both she makes you an offer you can’t refuse. “You and I both know he is already back to sleep, he’ll keep for a few minutes. Sit with me.”

Dean's empty mug, your excuse to leave, gets left on the counter with most of your hopes and dreams. The only thing you try to cling to is that Mary wants to carry on sitting in silence, only, together.

“Y/N, we haven’t had a chance to talk, just you and me. Not since last year.”

Or maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for you all along.

“I guess we haven’t. I-eh, I really did mean what I said when I got here Mary. I’m sorry about everything.”

“I’m not trying to rake you over the coals here, and I’m not looking for another apology. I know what my sons think of me, Sam thinks I’m crazy. You were being a good friend.” She shrugs like it's that simple.

It’s kind of ridiculous how quickly you relax, and how quickly you start spilling your guts, “The lying though. I don’t feel good about that.”

Mary is quick. She leans over the table and wraps her hand around yours, “I don’t remember that much lying. I could tell you loved Sam last year and if that’s like a brother, I’m still glad he has you.”

She’s right. You do love Sam like a brother, the one you never had. He’s been more your family than your own. The first family you’d chose and only real family you had, which is why you’d been so scared at first. It’s why you’d been so quick to run from Dean at the risk of losing Sam. Hell, sometimes you wonder if it’s one of the many reasons you love Dean—because he’s the only other person on the planet who loves Sam as much as you do.

Your fingers twitch under her hand, unsure of the loving way she holds you. Unsure if you deserve it or why she offers it so easily. Whatever the answer is, she has your guard down.

“What about Dean?” It’s a loaded question. You need someone else to see what’s there before you can admit it to him. You're looking for confidence because you are unsure of his feelings. Who better to judge than his own mother?

She squeezes enough to tell you that you’re looking down at your coffee instead of looking at her, before she pulls back to lift her mug to her lips again. “That’s obvious Y/N.” She almost sounds bored at such an easy question, ”I knew I was right all along.”

"Right about what?”

Not even a pause. If she was indeed waiting for you this morning then she was waiting for you to ask this question.

“That you are going to be a Winchester someday.”

“No-I, no…” You trail off to nothing and it’s not because of the way Mary is still grinning despite your protests. It’s not her raised eyebrows over the rim of her cup. It’s not even the little hum like noise she lets out in affirmation that yes, you would wear the big 'W' as your last name.

It’s that you can see it. You’ve had a year of long-distance with Dean; scheduled weekends and facetime dates. You’ve been itching to tell him how you feel but terrified of scaring him away, scared of moving too quickly with the guy you don’t see enough, scared he doesn’t feel the same. And yet in the back of your mind, the vision is forming, pushing its way to the front without permission. Dean on one knee. You in a white dress. The moment you both say ‘I do’.

Is this what becoming a hopeless romantic feels like? Or were you always this much of a total sap?

“Don’t worry, I know.” She reiterates again.

Mary has a reputation, she’s pushy enough, so you assume that’s what this is. You assume she’s making a premonition, not looking for confirmation of something she thinks she already knows. So, you look to escape what you think is the awkwardness that you can’t answer.

“I’m going to get Dean his coffee or-or we’ll never get him out of bed.”

She nods you to leave but disagrees with your evaluation, “I think you underestimate how much my son loves fireworks.”

You smile wide, remembering how his face lit up in the dark the year before, “You’re right. Still, I should go get him up.”

Then you pour more coffee, including Deans, and run. If anyone else caught wind of this conversation they would never believe you were a defense lawyer, let alone the lawyer who’s been plastered over the news defending a celebrity on a murder case.

Dean has, predictably, gone back to sleep since you left. Although the light sleeper that he is, he is roused by the door opening and the smell of coffee.

“Baby?”

That’s all it takes to make you forget the conversation with Mary ever happened. You can’t help but laugh at his sleepy voice as you slip in next to him, careful not to spill anything while he fidgets awake, “who else would wake you up like this?”

He rubs at his eyes, “oh, y’know, my other girlfriend.”

“You’ll have to introduce us one day, we can compare notes.”

You’re still not used to the Winchester’s if you’re being completely honest. To you, barbecue has always been a type of food, and not necessarily one your parents approved of. It was never a place, a home. That’s what today is. Saturday afternoon and the sun is high, there's a faint twang of country music coming from somewhere. Not loud enough to hear the lyrics but loud enough to identify the genre, loud enough to wish you were wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone has a beer or a burger, or both. And it’s not all dopey eyed niceties. There are teenagers, Claire and Alex, hating everyone from the other end of the yard. Occasionally there’s a “screw you” or a “you idjit” shouted from the many random conversations happening. But it’s still somehow perfect in the imperfections. It’s cozy and homely. It’s a family. Love.

It would be easy to feel overwhelmed and convince yourself that you don’t belong. It’s lucky that you have your boyfriend. And since he has disappeared on you, Sam and Eileen. Although she is doing a much better job than you at fitting in.

“She’s going to make me look bad,” you tell Sam while you both watch Eileen animatedly tell Uncle Bobby something that makes him howl. Even his stoic expressions are hidden behind his beard but Eileen is a stand-up comedian, apparently

“That’s not hard is it?” He teases.

“That might hurt if you hadn’t picked me to bring last year, to protect her from all this.” You use the neck of your bottle to draw a circle in the air around the whole motley crew of his family.

Before you register his movement he has an arm around your shoulders, you’re expecting a headlock so you’re pleasantly surprised when he pulls you into a side hug. “That’s the first time you’ve joked about it since… since last year. I’m glad. Everyone else is over it, you’re the only one hanging on Y/N/N.”

You don’t want to choke up in the middle of their backyard but sometimes Sam’s big brother moments hit you like that. “I never said I was very good at letting things go.”

He huffs. “You’re too tough sometimes. That’s why I picked you to help me.” He sucks in a slow breath, “you have to get out of your head... and maybe stop being so annoying.”

You shove him back so he can’t lean on you but now you’re out of his hold he’s looking down at you with those damn puppy dog eyes. He hasn’t asked for something which means he’s trying to use them to make you feel better. You hadn’t realized you’d needed to feel better, was your face sad enough to warrant a Sam pep talk

“I’m fine,” you wave away his concern. “Have you decided yet?”

“And there I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Is Eileen happy to let you forget?” You counter him with an expectant look. “She wants to tell them but she’s happy to let me make the decision since it’s my family.” He says in a pointed, not pointed way.

You shake your head, “she’s going too easy on you. Good thing you have me to put you in line.”

“I thought I was the line?” It takes you a beat, you’re actually surprised he remembered you saying that to John.

“No, that was what I had to say when I was being paid to make you look good.” His face turns somber, “I never paid you.”

“Tomayto, tomahto Sammy.” You finish the beer in your hand, “you know I’m not pushing you, right? If you don’t do it, there’s always Christmas, or send a save the date.”

He shoves at you this time and the air returns to its normal lightness. “I know. You only want me to put on my big boy pants.”

“I could care less about your pants. I want you to take the heat off me, obviously.” You hold up your bottle to him, “I’m out. You need another one?”

He chuckles, ducks his head, and looks at his fiance again. “Yeah, dutch courage might help.”

“Dare to dream.” You sympathize, patting him on his shoulder.

Sam might tell them today, he might not. You wouldn’t judge him either way. He knows you aren’t judging him. You’re nudging him, not so gently. You’re being for him what he is for you. A good friend. Sam has a tendency to drag his heels sometimes and his relationship with Eileen is one of the few things you’ve seen him jump into wholeheartedly. He is, after all, engaged in under a year. You’re beyond pleased because you’ve never seen him so happy, all you want is for Sam’s family to enjoy seeing that too. If you elbow him in the right direction it’s only because you know he’ll regret it down the road.

Besides, it’s not like Mary can scare Eileen away. She already said yes.

So, Dutch courage it is. You don’t condone drinking to excess in front of his parents but a few more beers wouldn’t hurt. They’d only loosen his lips.

The cooler is by the door to the kitchen, for easy refills whether that’s ice or beer. It’s out of the way. Most people stay close to the grill or their seat if they have managed to command one.

You assume your trip will be short and sweet. There’s no one else standing by the plastic box, which means no awkward cooler small talk to get trapped in. It’s half-empty but there are enough bottles that you won’t have to top it up even taking one for you and Sam. Then you stand up with a bottle in each hand, about to turn tail when at the edge of your peripheral you register Dean and Mary in the kitchen.

The window to the kitchen is wide and open and you should walk away. You almost walk away. Then Mary speaks and you can hear them so clearly that you have no choice. You duck down and sit precariously on top of the cooler.

“I know I’m not supposed to rush you but Dean, honey, I can’t stand it any longer. When are you going to announce it? I’m dying!”

Your interest is piqued. Unfortunately. It’s wrong, completely and utterly. Dean should be allowed his secrets whatever they are. Still, it’s not your fault that he chose to have this conversation, with his mother, in the kitchen. Where anyone could walk in or overhear them.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Although to be fair Dean doesn’t sound like a willing participant in this conversation, so maybe he doesn’t have a secret you have to worry about.

You don’t dare get up and peak through the glass since they sound quite close, but you hear Mary sigh.

“I heard her talking to Sam about it. How she wants to tell everyone and-and if it was up to her she’d have told us all already.”

The sound of the fridge opening and closing before he answers. “Still not following, Mom?”

“The proposal Dean. You asked her to marry you. She all but admitted it to me this morning and I’m so, so happy for you. I did think you’d talk to me first but… When am I getting my big announcement so we can celebrate?”

You suck in a breath and hope that it didn’t make a sound. If you can hear them it stands to reason they might hear you. Neither of them seems to. Or they’re distracted. Dean is silent for a too long beat, Mary is clearly confused, and she’s thrown you under the bus along with her, for good measure.

“You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t know what you think you heard…”

A pit forms in the bottom of your stomach at his tone, how against the idea he sounds. It’s fine, you try convincing yourself, he’s defending Sam’s secret.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean. I know you and your brother think I’m nuts but I want you both to be happy. That's all.”

There’s a part of you that knows you should stop this. Come to Dean's rescue and clarify. You could fix this in thirty seconds or less. That’s what you would do if you weren’t stuck like your feet are made of cement.

“You've gotta cool it with that, ok? Y/N is just a girl I’m dating, that’s it, and I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. You breathing down her neck won’t help anything.”

You have to remind yourself that you’d wanted to know his secret. But maybe you’d only wanted to know because you hoped, assumed, that he felt the same as you.

You’d never actually expected a proposal. Not for years. You’d have been happy with not getting one ever as long as you got Dean. He was your prize, not some ring. But his tone says you don’t have him in any way that you want, you’re just a girl he’s dating. Just a date. He didn’t even say girlfriend. He didn’t even say he likes you.

“Oh, well. I’m sorry. I must have had my wires crossed. I’ll leave it alone.” Mary sounds deflated and disappointed. About a tenth of the hurt you’re spiraling into.

She also sounds like her footsteps are getting closer.

You need to move this time. Because the only thing worse than hearing this conversation is one of them knowing you’d heard this conversation.

The beers get left on the decking next to the cooler you’re still balancing your weight on. You stay low, curled over, as you take long steps along the side of the house. Your immediate plan is to get out of the way while Mary re-enters the backyard but it’s a mere thirty seconds before Dean comes striding out after her. He looks around, maybe for you, maybe for anyone else, it doesn’t really seem like it matters.

You’ve been worrying if Dean loves you, if you would scare him off by telling him you do. You’d never considered that he’s not anywhere close to that. He might never be.

Your mistake had been to immediately take solace in his room. It’s so his. It smells like him, every single thing reminds you of him. It’s the inanimate object version of going to cry in his arms.

It only made everything so much worse.

Though Dean’s room doesn’t contain a small library like Sam’s, there’s still a desk and a padded desk chair. The desk is covered in random things; a picture of him and Sam while Sam graduates Stanford, some sunglasses and amongst other things a small model car. A model of the impala that you’d toyed with while you were sneaking in some emails last night. He’d told you his dad gave it to him as a kid because his obsession with the car had begun early. However currently the chair is not where it is supposed to be. It’s wedged under his door handle because neither brother has a lock on their door.

You’ve spread out since you’ve been here. Your laptop is in the only free spot on his desk, your case is open on the floor where you’ve been living from it for two days now. Not to mention your things everywhere, a mascara here, or a lipstick there. At home, you only manage to stay any semblance of tidy because everything has its place but this is Dean’s space. It’s not even his, it’s his teenage space, somewhere he outgrew but visits every once in a while. Not even he completely fits in here anymore.

The point is you clearly don’t belong. Not even an inch. Dean liked you but that was it. As painful as it is to admit that’s not enough anymore. You’ve outgrown dates and sex, well, you’ve outgrown only having those things. For the first time in your life, you want the next step and Dean doesn’t. That’s the risk you take when you care about someone, getting hurt is always a possibility.

The only problem is you promised yourself no more pretending. Last year was enough for a lifetime. So, you can’t skip back downstairs and pretend you hadn’t heard what you did. You can’t sit next to him and watch fireworks and not be heartbroken.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” There’s a knock at the door that spooks the makeup you’d been collecting out of your hands. You don’t answer him instead, you scramble for the things you’ve dropped and scoop them up faster.

He twists the doorknob and you carry on your task because the chair will protect you.

Then the door starts moving. You expect to hear resistance after a second but the room is filled with the squeak of plastic wheels.

You’d forgotten that the damn chair is on wheels.

The makeup is dropped again, spilling out over the floor once more as you fall to your ass and slide across the carpet. You’d never managed anything close to a slide in baseball, never ever needed to learn one. Now you perfect it in all of two feet. Your feet plant either side of the chair and your hands wrap around the seat pushing it back until the door closes again. This was a mistake, the chair is only making it harder to push back, you should have moved it and shoved yourself against the door, it’s just too late for a redo.

“Hey, hey. Open the door.” It’s hard to tell if he’s angry, he mostly sounds urgent.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, still, it’s impossible to find the words to answer him. You don’t want to say something you’ll regret, or can’t take back, even if you’re hurt. In your silence, he keeps pushing, literally and figuratively.

He twists the handle again but this time there’s a little weight on his side. The weight pushes against the chair and by extension you. It’s not his full weight, he’s bigger than you though so even his half weight is starting to force you backward. You scramble to gain some traction, planting your feet better, shoving some more. The carpet gives you some friction but not enough to help against the force of Dean Winchester. You keep moving.

After a minute things are about a hundred miles south of ridiculous. You love ridiculous, when you’re not trying to run away that is.

Dean is one foot in the room, thick fingers wrapped around the door and his head pushed in looking at you. There’s a confused knot in his forehead while he takes in exactly what he’s forced his way to look at.

You straddling the bottom part of his desk chair, shoved against the door, and looking up at him wildly.

“Really, sweetheart?” He asks with a mix of frustration in his eyes and a curl on his lips, “what the hell?”

That’s enough to snap you out of it and jump up from the floor. Your hands smooth over the wrinkles in your jeans as if nothing happened. “Hi, Dean. Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

You may be hurting, sure, but if your parents taught you anything it’s how to cover any emotion with pragmatic denial.

He steps all the way into the room now without you in the way. “Someone else? Comin’ into my room, looking for you?”

“Could have been anyone,” you shrug. Careful to keep your voice steady and neutral while you go back to collecting your twice dropped makeup from the floor. “Wouldn’t want any of your cousins to wander in here.”

“Right. Because they’re leaving the yard while there’s food on the grill, come on it’s like-”

“I heard what you said to your Mom.” The last thing you wanted to say makes it to the tip of your tongue anyway, as you dispense the collected make up into your case like a dump truck.

He parts those lips of his, which means he’s worried about something and then he smiles. He smiles at you while you’re doing everything not to cry.

There’s a quiver in your voice despite yourself, “it’s fine I get it. I wish you’d told me yourself but I can’t do anything about that. And I know I shouldn’t have been listening in and I’m sorry. Can you give me a few minutes to get sorted please?”

Dean cocks his head, takes a step closer to you, and then stops when you grimace, “what?”

“You said you-that we-I’m not expecting anything but I thought I was more than ‘just another girl’ you’re dating.” You shake your head, trying to stop those tears now you’ve said it out loud. Feeling your vision blur and wobble anyway. “Like I said it’s fine. I’m getting out of here though. I found a flight home, there’s no point in you driving me home eleven hours when it’s four to St Louis.”

Not to mention the fact that you couldn’t stand to sit in the car with him that long while you’re feeling like this.

“Woah, Woah, Woah baby.” He doesn’t pause this time. He doesn’t care about your frown as he approaches you, he’s more concerned about fixing whatever you have gotten in your head. He’s on you in an instant. One warm hand on your shoulders and one at your chin, lifting your face to his and taking in all your sadness. You hate that he’s making you stare into his eyes like this. Those green, soulful eyes had been one of the first things you noticed on his beautiful dumb face and now this feels like a goodbye. Of course, it's not a goodbye. He’s trying to tell you just by looking at you that you’re a goddamn idiot. “Have you met my mom? Remember when she asked if you were pregnant when you’d been dating Sam like a month?”

“Fake dating. Why does everyone forget I was fake dating him?”

He chuckles, “‘course. Faking. Well, you heard her, right? She thinks we’re the ones getting hitched. Imagine if I’d thrown fuel on the fire and told her that you’re my girl, I love you and that you’re it for me.”

There’s a big, huge lump in your throat stopping you breathing. Too gigantic to swallow down. Tears still want to rain over your face, again, but you refuse to be the girl that cries because her boyfriend, who she loves, finally told her what she’s been waiting to hear.

Wait, you need to say something back.

“I love you too.”

His smile is slow and lazy but it’s perfectly timed with how gently his body leans in to kiss you. His shoulders drop while you’re sighing into his mouth like every romantic comedy heroine. His hands still on your shoulders relax their hold a little and you realize, he might have been doubting how you felt too.

“That’s good to know.” He breathes. “But see if I’d have told my mom all that, with the whole family here, she’d have us shotgun married before I got the chance to actually ask you.”

Your eyes widen, “no. You’re not?”

“Nah, planning on knocking those socks off when I do. Fair warning though, that’s coming.”

A strangled laugh comes out of you because you are, and have always been, the stupidest person alive. Dean loves you. He loves you and you love him. And why have you waited so long to say it?

“Move in with me?” It seems like the next best thing to every sweet thing he just said. It’s not enough but for once you’re happy to be second best in a conversation. You’ve been thinking about it long enough, hating the distance and the weekends you’ve spent apart. It’s so obvious that you should have worked it out months ago.

“What?” He gives you the pleasure of seeing his goofy confused face while your finger traces the curve of his bottom lip. In case you ever forget.

“Move in with me. Move to Chicago to be with me. Benny can manage in St. Louis and you can open a second location... or be chief of police or a fireman or just eat deep dish all the day long, whatever you want. Be with me in Chicago? Everyday? Sam’s there too. How can you be his best man from three hundred miles away?”

Another kiss and a bigger grin that comes from his chest, not even you expected it to be this easy. Which is more of that stupidity because with Dean it’s always easy. You can only imagine how rosy your cheeks are as he answers, “you had me at pizza.”

You get to the foot of the stairs when Sam pops out of the living room. You’ve schooled your beaming grin into something more subdued because you don’t want to draw focus but Sam’s probably still just waiting for his beer. He tilts his head down and asks, “you good?”

Before you can tell him that you have never been better, Dean saunters down the steps behind you without any concern for drawing attention. “Sammy, how many times have I told you, you can’t have her back. She’s mine now.”

Sam purses his lips at his brother, which is still funny to you, and you press a hand to his chest to distract him from their brother games. “We’re all good Sam, I’ll fill you in later. The important thing is are you ready to go? Weekend is nearly over.”

He smiles at you, “couldn’t do it without my legal eagle.”

Finally, he gets it. “Legal eagles for life, Sam.”

“You two are a pair of dorks.” Dean slumps an arm over both of your shoulders, “I can’t believe I love a dork even dorkier than my dork brother.”

If Sam notices any difference or the massive L-word Dean dropped, he keeps his reaction in check. Besides he’s engrossed in something else, he kind of has something huge to announce to his whole family right now. Something you’ve been dying to witness since he told you.

You turn in Dean’s arm to threaten him, “he can still drop you and make me best man, you know that, right?”

Dean feigns anger, “he would never.”

“Keep talking pretty boy and see how fast I’m planning the bachelor party.”

“She thinks I’m pretty.” Dean turns his head to smile at Sam and involve him in your sparring match, you know since best man is his decision, but Sam is now bitch facing the pair of you.

He doesn’t say anything, just swings an arm out towards the kitchen and beyond that the backyard. An annoyed invitation to join him and his fiance for the big moment you’ve all been waiting for.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on De. Let’s go let Sammy-boo and Leney-bear be as disgusting as we are.”

You’re already in the kitchen when Sam shouts after you, “I told you not to call us that!”

“Eileen said she didn’t mind!”

Weirdly, the party in the backyard is exactly how you left it and yet you feel like everything changed, for the better, in the last twenty minutes.

Eileen sees all three of you step out of the house and senses that its time. Or Sam had already told her it was before he went looking for you. Either way, she walks over to Sam who magically ends up in the middle of the yard.

You can feel the excitement buzzing from Dean where he’s standing next to you, you bet he’s feeling that from you too.

“Hey everyone, I kind of have an announcement,” Sam calls out.

Most of them look around but nobody moves and he hasn’t captured everyone's attention in the way John does at the baseball game. For some reason that line from Highlander pops into your head, there can only be one. It’s a concerted effort not to snort at your own joke.

John is, however, one of the people that heard Sam so he hollers, “cut it out, Sammy’s got something to say.”

That’ll do it. The music shuts off and everyone gathers in a circle around Sam and Eileen. You notice then that Eileen’s ring has appeared back on her finger. You know she had it on a necklace until this announcement but the sleight of hand to make it happen is impressive.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll keep this short and sweet because I know you’re all waiting on more food but while we had everyone here we thought we should tell you all.”

Somehow, you hear Mary’s heart stop from twenty feet away.

“As most of you know Eileen and I met just over a year ago,” a few people who haven't been briefed share looks since he’d been ‘dating’ you last year. “And well, I’ve never been happier or more in love with someone in my life. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and a few weeks ago I got my act together and asked her to marry me.”

Eileen holds up her hand then, beaming, ‘and I said yes!”

They had to have rehearsed that on the flight.

Chaos ensues. Everyone claps and cheers and people try to move in to congratulate them. Above all of that Mary screams like she’s being murdered. She rushes forward letting every thought in her head fall out of her mouth, “But I thought Dean and Y/N… so you’re telling me it was you all along? Oh Sammy, sweetie, I am so, so happy for you. Oh god, I’m so proud of you.” She wraps her arms around him and crushes him. “And I’m so happy you’re going to be part of the family!” She lets go of her son to give Eileen the same bruising hug.

“Well done, son.” John claps Sam on the back with, you think, the faintest hint of proud tears in his eyes.

Dean wraps his arm around you then like he'd been unable to do it until everything with Sam was ok. You lean into his chest and whisper only loud enough for him, "he's going to be so excited about you being in the city with us."

"You think?"

"I know it. Granted not as excited as me."

He rests his chin on the top of your head, slotting you into him like a puzzle piece.

In the background, it goes on and on until everyone has said something to the happy couple. Even Bobby gets this choked noise caught in his throat. The whole display is actually very touching.

When they finish the mayhem John proposes a toast in which everyone raises their drinks. Then the drinking and eating continue, with much more vigor than before. The whole thing goes from a Fourth of July celebration to a party. The music is a little more upbeat, the hard liquor is brought out early and the hum of everyone feels excited.

Sam—who has been hugged, pinched and shoved playfully enough to last him till the end of days—wanders over to you and Dean with his fiance in tow. “Are you happy now?” He directs the question at you specifically.

You reach up to grab his face with both hands and jiggle his head while you baby-talk to him, “my little Sammy, I’m so proud of you.”

Dean and Eileen both laugh and it's one of those perfect moments you only expect to see in the movies. You realize then that with these three people around you could actually look forward to the Fourth of July with the Winchesters for years to come.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

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