#this fic has been in the works for YEARS and i've only managed to finish it today

[kimkaelyn]

Ditto [s. todoroki]

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝑜𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜 — 𝒟𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜, 𝒩𝑒𝓌𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈

→ summary: when you transferred to U.A., you didn't anticipate slipping on a pair of chopsticks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria during your first week. however, what was more surprising was the unexpected fall for the boy who gracefully caught you.

→ pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers

→ word count: 13.1k

→ warnings & tags: sfw, female pronouns are used, usage of y/n l/n, Class 1-A are now third-year students aka 18+, swearing, the usual U.A. chaos, reader has a Quirk, misunderstandings, some training violence, minor injuries, mentions and discussions of insecurities, aizawa briefly belittles the reader as a form of motivation, beginnings of a panic attack but it's cut short, there is one instance of the reader appearing to be ‘flushed’ in regards to a fever, since this is my first bnha fic some characters might be ooc? | please kindly let me know if I missed any tags!

→ author's note: AHHHH HERE IT IS! I've been working on this for almost a year now and I am so excited to finally share it with all of you. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever finish this story, but I kept slowly chipping away at it thanks in part to the encouragement from @andypantsx3, @missrosegold, and @getstarried. Special thanks to @pikatsum for beta-reading this for me! Thank you girls. This is for you🫶🏻

The cafeteria at U.A. High School was a pretty chaotic environment, you quickly learned within your first week after transferring from another Hero Course in the countryside. There were multiple things that could and would happen after the famous students had gotten some much-needed nutrients in their systems.

It was only three days into the school year and nothing had happened just yet, but in the U.A. world, that something was overdue.

The first chaotic event of the year that everyone had been anxiously—or in some cases, excitingly—waiting for happened on Thursday.

The day started off average; you got to school with three minutes to spare, which was a new record, but you had forgotten your pencil pouch in your dorm room, so you had to borrow some pencils from a girl who sat in front of you; Mina Ashido.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the pastel pink utensil from her. There was even a cute little fluffy puffball at the end in exchange for an eraser. Good thing you had an eraser in your bag.

“No problem! I gotcha!” She physically lit up and gave you a bright smile before turning back to focus on the blackboard.

You somehow managed to get through your morning classes running on the four hours of sleep you got the night before. You were cutting it quite close to passing out at your desk during calculus class, but you were saved by the lunch bell.

As soon as you stepped foot into the hallway, you were wrapped up in the faint, delicious scent of your favorite food coming from the cafeteria. Your mouth instantly watered, and you made a mad dash for the source of the delicious scent.

“Hey!” a sharp voice made you freeze in your steps. You glanced over your shoulder to find Tenya Iida, Class 3-A’s representative, glaring at you. The light reflecting off his glasses made him appear more threatening than he really was, but regardless, you still found yourself shying away from his harsh glare and rapid-moving hands. As they passed by, some students gave you apologetic smiles while others were not shy about openly staring at the scene before them, wondering what you possibly could have done to induce the wrath of the student representative. “There is to be no running in the halls!” You cowered some more at his brisk and overly formal tone.

Geez, what a stuck-up, you thought to yourself.

“My apologies, Iida.” You respond with a bow. He accepted your apology with a curt nod before he continued on his way to the cafeteria.

You waited for him to pass before rising from your bow. “Wow, he makes it feel like I broke the law or something.” You mused aloud.

“Don’t take it personally,” a comforting voice said from behind you. You turned to find Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui standing before you. Ochako gave you a slight wave in greeting. “Iida can be quite demanding,” Yaoyorozu reassured you.

“Thank you.”

Tsuyu regarded you with gentle onyx eyes. “It’s L/N, right?”

You smiled, happy that she remembered your name from roll call. “Y-yeah! I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I, um, already know who you guys are.” You suddenly felt shy, and you bashfully rubbed the back of your neck out of nervous habit.

Before your transfer was finalized, you did extensive research into your future school’s history and future classmates. Thankfully—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—a lot of information is public knowledge; the various attacks on the school in the year leading up to and the conclusion of the War between the Paranormal Liberation Front and the Heroes, not to mention the various televised sports festivals, and the fact that the members of Class 1-A are practically household names even before their graduation.

The girls invited you to sit with them in the cafeteria. You had been keeping to yourself the first few days of school, choosing to observe from afar the already established social circles and friend groups. You had waited for an invitation to join one of said groups, and here was your opportunity.

The four of you made small talk as you made your way through the lunch line and to the table. Right away, Asui told you to call her by her given name. You told them about your life growing up in the countryside—with you and Uraraka bonding over your shared reason for becoming Pro Heroes—about the friends you had, embarrassingly funny stories from your junior high days, and eventually what led you to transfer to U.A.

“Well, this is the best Hero Course in the country!” you all laughed. “But to be frank, the only teacher at my old academy who could handle my Quirk retired, and none of the other academies within the prefecture had the resources to help me advance. Plus, my mentor is an U.A. alumnus, so naturally, the only other choice was U.A.”

Yaoyorozu hummed. “It is a shame about your mentor retiring, but that is what led you to transfer to U.A., and for that, I am grateful.” The class vice representative regarded you kindly. “I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason, and your transfer doesn’t change that.”

Uraraka nodded her agreement. “Momo’s right. U.A. is a place where anybody can make a difference, and I think you will find success here.”

You were rendered speechless. The tips of your ears turned red as your classmates regarded you with so much hope and sincerity in their eyes. “Uh . . . I,” you bashfully scratched the back of your head. Not knowing how to respond, you instead reached for the small bottle of milk on your lunch tray and brought it to your lips.

However, before you could take a sip, a BOOM erupted from the front of the cafeteria, accompanied by a gruff voice yelling, “Don’t walk in front of me, Icy-Hot!” You reflexively jolted at the loud noises and lost your grip on the glass, spilling the half-full bottle all over the front of your uniform.

“Shit,” you exclaimed as you instinctually rose from your seat, only to quickly sit down again when the liquid started to fall to the floor. The girls gasped and were quick to hand you all the napkins in the vicinity.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Asui asked as she watched you pat down your sodden skirt.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You waved off her concern as you continued to wipe away the remaining liquid. The napkins managed to soak up most of it, but your skirt was still damp. If you didn’t change skirts, you were going to smell of milk for the rest of the day, and you didn’t want to start off the school year with a reputation for smelling vile. “I’m going to go back to the dorm really quickly and change into a clean uniform. Please let Mr. Snipe know that I will be late for class.”

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Yaoyorozu asked. She began to rise from her seat, but you stopped her.

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You gave her what you hoped to be a reassuring grin instead of a grimace. “Thank you for offering, Yaoyorozu, but I’ll be fine.” Before your classmates could respond, you stood from the table and made your way to the exit.

Great, this is just great, you thought as you walked, not really paying attention to where you were going. As soon as I make some friends, I make a fool of myself.

Unbeknownst to you, there was an obstacle in the aisle directly ahead. You were too distracted by your growing inner turmoil to notice the pair of metal chopsticks lying on the ground before you until your foot made contact and slipped out from under you.

It all happened so fast that you couldn’t even react.

Time froze as you became weightless, and you felt your body become briefly suspended in the air. Before you could react and rotate your body to prevent yourself from violently banging your head on the tiled floor, gravity took hold and yanked you back down toward the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to witness your classmates’ reactions to your misfortune.

Great, now I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of the entire school. Fuck you, chopsticks.

You prepared yourself for the pain of hitting the hard floor but were shocked when you were suddenly wrapped in a chilled warmth. You did slam into a hard surface, but this didn’t feel like the cold tile you expected.

“Are you all right?” a voice asked from above. You opened your eyes, only to find yourself captivated by a beautiful graphite and turquoise gaze. Your mouth opened to respond to the inquiry, but you couldn’t speak. This strange yet calming gaze hypnotized you, causing the rest of the world to fade into a buzzing silence. You watched as the perfect eyebrows of the owner of those magical eyes furrowed downward at your prolonged silence, the action momentarily drawing your attention.

With your attention span no longer zeroed in on the heterochromatic gaze, the world around you suddenly slammed back into your senses at full force. The volume of your fellow classmates’ conversations was deafening at first, but your ears grew accustomed once again to zone them out and focus on the person before you.

It took about thirty seconds for the entirety of your current predicament to register within your brain.

You were hanging about ten centimeters off the ground. The only thing keeping you upright and injury-free was Shouto Todoroki’s firm grip on your wrist.

“Um, hello?” the dual-haired teenager once again drew your attention to him. His grip slightly tightened before he tugged you up onto your feet.

“I think you broke her, Icy-Hot.” A rough voice drawled from your peripheral.

The intrusion of the other voice is what finally brought you out of your stunned silence. “No, I’m okay. Not broken.”

“Did you hit your head?” Todoroki inquired. He steadied you on your feet but didn’t release your wrist from his hold. Katsuki Bakugou was standing off to the side, trying to appear like he wasn’t involved with either one of you.

“I-I don’t think so.” As you reached down to brush yourself off, you caught a whiff of the unflattering scent of old milk emitting from your clothes. You held back your gag and turned to face Todoroki and Bakugou. “I’m sorry to rush, but I really do need to go.” You gave a quick bow. “Thank you for catching me, Todoroki. Bye!”

The two boys watched you sprint away like a bat out of hell. “T’fuck is her problem,” Bakugou muttered. “Fuckin’ extra makin’ me late for lunch.”

Todoroki didn’t respond to his classmate’s remarks. His lips pursed together as he watched you nearly run into a couple of first years before you disappeared around a corner, out of sight.

“Don’ even think ‘bout it, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou drawled from beside him. Todoroki cocked an eyebrow, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise indifferent expression. “Gettin’ involved with ‘hat extra will ruin your precious bloodline.”

You tried to forget about the cafeteria incident, but the embarrassing ordeal refused to secede from the forefront of your mind. As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers a minute, antagonizing and overanalyzing every second of what had happened.

As the night dragged on, your thoughts shifted from the overall event to one single individual: Shouto Todoroki. You knew who he was, of course. You didn’t grow up underneath a rock. Yet, you weren’t prepared for how much more handsome he was in person than on the news or in photos.

You overanalyzed everything he did in the brief two minutes you were blessed to be in his company, every word he said, and every brief flash of emotion that showed in his heterochromatic eyes. Todoroki had tried to approach you after training in Ground Beta once you had returned from the dorms, but you avoided him, not wanting to face him again so soon after the embarrassing first meeting.

By Sunday, you had begun to forget about your embarrassing cafeteria incident. Your newfound friends didn’t bring up the spilled milk, and thankfully, they didn’t see you slip on the chopsticks and fall into Shouto Todoroki’s muscular arms. You breathed a sigh of relief when you found out that last part. You didn’t want them to think you were a total klutz.

Todoroki may think otherwise.

As you were rounding the corner to walk back up the stairs to head back to your dorm room, Todoroki happened to be walking down. You both turned at the same time and walked straight into each other.

He wasn’t fazed by the sudden collision; however, you were taken completely off guard. No matter how strong you may be, suddenly walking into about a hundred kilos of pure muscle would make anyone stumble. While he remained steadily standing, you, on the other hand, fell back onto your ass.

It took about three seconds for the two of you to comprehend what the hell had just happened. You groaned out when pain flashed across your backside.

“My apologies, I did not see you.” Todoroki said as he offered you a hand. You begrudgingly accepted his assistance, face heating as your super handsome classmate helped you to your feet for the second time in a week.

“Thank you,” you bowed your head to him. You brushed away some dust from your sweatpants, finding yourself too shy to look back up.

You felt a firm, yet gentle hand land on your shoulder. You jerked your head upwards to meet Todoroki’s captivating gaze. “Are you injured?” His heterochromatic eyes searched you for any injury, and they glimmered with relief when he found none.

“No, I’m okay,” you reassured the male. “I may be a little bruised in the morning, but I will be fine.” Not to mention my bruised ego.

Todoroki hummed in acknowledgment, his hand still resting on your shoulder. His eyes were hyper-fixated on you, leaving you to feel bare under his intense gaze.

You shifted your weight back and forth as the silence between you dragged on for a couple more seconds. “Um, I—” You cleared your throat. “I should be on my way now. Got things to study, you know.” You told him with an awkward laugh.

You moved to step around him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to move. Your movements are what must have shaken him out of his stupor, with him bashfully stepping to the side to allow you access to the stairway.

“Right.” He said as you walked by. “Take care, Y/N.” You startled at his sudden usage of your given name, but nevertheless, you felt oddly relieved. You smiled shyly and bid him goodbye. Nothing else was said between the two of you, but you felt his eyes on you as you walked up the stairs.

I hope he likes cinnamon; you thought as you peered into the oven.

To be fair, you should have considered that before laboring for over two hours making kinako cinnamon cookies from scratch—which absolutely failed. Therefore, as a last resort, you were forced to run to the store and buy a box mix.

The he in question?

Shouto Todoroki.

It had been several days since your embarrassing first interaction with the dual-haired male and forty-five hours since your second, literal, run-in—not that you were keeping track, of course.

You wanted to do something nice for him as a way to apologize for your newfound clumsiness and thank him for his assistance in both instances. Your calligraphy skills were not . . . up to par, so to say, by any means, so a handmade thank-you card was off the table, and you highly doubt Todoroki was a flower guy. Not to mention his affluent background, so buying him a gift or offering to take him out to dinner was null—and way too straightforward for two people who were barely even acquaintances.

Therefore, you were left with only one option: homemade cookies.

Besides, all the old aunties back home always said the quickest way to win anyone over was through food.

“Ooooh, something smells amazing!” someone exclaimed from the stairway. Smiling slyly to yourself, you turned away from the oven to the new arrival.

You hadn’t interacted much with Rikido Sato save for the casual good morning greetings and thanking him for the delicious red velvet cupcake he baked for you as a welcoming gift to U.A.

“Thanks,” you said, grinning at the male.

The combined low mutterings of more approaching classmates brought your and Sato’s attention to the doorway where Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, and Hanta Sero were entering the dorm.

“Woah something smells fantastic!” Kaminari said, gazing into the kitchen in hopes of spotting the source of the delicious scent.

“Yeah, it does!” Kirishima agreed.

“Oh my gosh, what is it?” Ashido asked as she walked over. Her eyes lit up when she spotted you. “L/N! Did you make something?”

“I did.” You confirmed with a slight nod. “I’m making kinako cinnamon cookies.”

“Oooooh, yummy!” the pinkette exclaimed as she bounced over to peer into the oven. Your other classmates quickly joined her, all of them staring into the soft, golden light of the oven with stars in their eyes.

“They look so good!” Kaminari was practically drooling at the tawny treats. At that moment, the timer went off with a soft ting! You politely shooed your classmates back as you pulled a hand towel over your hands.

“Step back, everyone,” you warned as you opened the oven door. “They’re going to be hot.” You carefully reached in and grabbed the cooking tray, cautiously sliding it off the rack and fully into your cloth-covered hands. Despite taking precautions, you hissed as the hot aluminum seeped through the towel and made contact with your flesh. As quickly as you could without dropping the pan of cookies, you turned and set it down on the kitchen island.

“These look delicious!”

“Woah, man, they look amazing!”

“I bet they taste as scrumptious as they lo—”

You zoned out the boys’ compliments as you moved to the sink and turned on the tap.

“L/N, are you okay?” Ashido asked as she followed you. Her question caught the other's attention, and they, too, turned to watch you quizzingly.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Your response ended with a wince as your skin made contact with the cool water.

“Here, let me see,” Ashido gestured to your hand. With your permission, she took your wrist with gentle fingers and held it up for you both to inspect. Your skin was reddened slightly, but it wasn’t anything serious. You let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, thankfully, but we should still put some burn cream on it just in case,” Ashido advised as she turned off the tap.

You nodded your head again and followed the pink-haired girl as she went to retrieve the first-aid kit. Before you walked too far from the kitchen, you shouted over your shoulder to your classmates, “Please don’t eat the cookies, boys! They are still hot and are for someone special!”

There was a noticeable delay in response to your warning. After a pregnant pause, there was a muffled, “okamph!” in response. You were about to turn around and make sure that they weren’t eating your treats, but Ashido calling your name changed your plans.

“Let’s fix you up, yeah?” She said as you both entered the girls' bathroom. Ashido gestured for you to sit on the counter while she dug through the first-aid kit for burn cream.

“Thank you, Ashido,” you said a few moments later as she lightly applied the cream to the worst of the reddening. Your skin wasn’t blistering, which was a good sign, but it was beginning to ache.

“No problem,” she replied. She began to gently rub the cream into your skin, mindful of the sore spots. She beamed at you as she said, “And you can just call me Mina. We are friends!”

You smiled at her. “Okay, Mina.” The two of you were silent for a couple of minutes as Mina continued to dress your burns.

“So,” she started, breaking the silence. “Who did you make the cookies for?”

You sharply inhaled. “W-what? What do you mean?” You tried to play it off by playing dumb, but Mina gave you an are you kidding me look.

“Don’t play that game with me, girl.” She scolded you. “So, tell me, who is this ‘special someone’?”

You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “One of our classmates. . .” You trailed off, turning away from the pinkette, and absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

Mina’s eyes lit up and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh my God, seriously?!?” She squealed. You turned to face her again. “Girl, you absolutely gotta tell me! Who is it?!” She went to grab ahold of your hands but stopped herself when she remembered your injury. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You said. “But, um, I—” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but you couldn’t find them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You said, barely above a whisper, turning away from your classmate once more in embarrassment.

Mina leaned back, taken by surprise by your change of tone. She studied you for a few seconds, her expression falling when she saw the look on your face; the clenching of your jaw.

“It’s okay, girl,” she reassured you. She set the roll of bandages down on the counter as she finished wrapping your hand. “You don’t have to tell me who your crush is if you don’t want to.”

You whipped back around to face her, eyes wide. “C-crush?!” you stammered out. “W-what?! I don’t have a crush! I never said I did.” you explained.

“Yeah, sure,” Mina smirked at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t of baked cookies for them if you didn’t like them.”

“Um, because I’m nice?” you asked with a lilt in your voice. Mina does have a point, though, you thought.

Mina laughed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

A couple of minutes later, you and the pinkette exited the bathroom, laughing over something Mina had said. Your hand had been expertly wrapped and treated with some burn cream. Your injury didn’t even hurt anymore, but you were still going to check in tomorrow with Recovery Girl as a precaution.

As you rounded the corner to go back into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes fell to the now-empty pan where twenty cookies sat not even ten minutes ago. Mina stopped next to you, and you could see her giving you a questionable look, but you didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge her. You just stared blankly at the pan, trying to process what you were seeing.

What the hell? you thought.

“Ah, man,” a voice drawled out. You slowly turned towards the source; Denki Kaminari. He was lounging against the counter as he rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Those cinnamon kinako cookies were delicious!” Your brain blanked out when you heard that, the organ pathetically trying to comprehend and respond to the current situation.

“You’re telling me!” Kirishima piped up from beside the blond. Sero and Sato voiced their agreement from where they were seated on the couches. “They really hit the spot after the day I had.” The redhead noticed you and Mina. “Hey, guys, welcome back!” he greeted with a wave, a broad smile overtaking his features. “How’s your hand?”

You did not formulate an answer right away, your brain still processing the crumbled remains of your cookies. Your delay didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but before they could question it, Mina came to your rescue.

“It’s okay! Y/N is alright, nothing major.” She informed them. Kirishima’s gaze left you to focus on the pinkette by your side, but Kaminari’s remained transfixed on your blank expression.

“Oh, well, that’s great to hear! I was worried—”

“But you should be ashamed!” Mina cut the redhead off, tone sharp as a blade. “All of you.”

“What—?”

“Mina, why—?”

Kirishima and Kaminari spoke at once, their voices clashing, but the pinkette interrupted them once more.

“Y/N didn’t make those cookies for you.” She said. “She made them for someone special, yet you guys ate them even after she told you not to.” She just about bit the last part out. The boys gaped at Mina, her scolding catching them by surprise.

“Is that true?” Sato asked, rising from the couch to approach you. Everyone fixated their attention on you, waiting for a response.

You hesitated at the sudden limelight, and also in shyness. When you originally set out to bake the kinako cookies for Todoroki, you didn’t expect them to 1.) burn your hand and 2.) for them to be eaten by others. Even though you were upset, you didn’t want the others to be ashamed or scolded. But they did eat them after I told them not to, you thought, pondering your next move.

After a few moments, you squared your shoulders and steadily said, “Yes. I . . . made them for somebody.” At your words, the room’s atmosphere soured. The boys’ shoulders slumped as they realized their mistake.

“Shoot, L/N, I’m sorry,” Kaminari said, stepping forward to gently grab your uninjured hand and bow.

“Yeah,” Kirishima added, scratching the back of his neck and looking away slightly. “That wasn’t really manly of us.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sero intoned, looking sheepish.

Sato came to stand in front of you next to Kaminari, who still had a gentle hold of your hand. “I’ll be more than happy to remake the cookies for you.” He said. “If you want that, of course.”

You smiled, though it was closed-lipped. “Thank you, Sato, but not today.” He bowed his head.

Suddenly, the front doors slammed open, startling the six of you. You all watched, shell-shacked—you did, at least—as a fuming Bakugou stepped inside, loudly exclaiming, “I had ‘hat dumbass villain handled! Damn Sidekick extra jus’ had to step ‘n and—” He noticed your little group gaping at him. “The hell ‘re ya fools lookin’ at?” As the words left his mouth, the other two members of the infamous U.A. trio entered as well.

“Kacchan,” Izuku Midoriya said, trying to placate the explosive male. “He was just trying to . . .” The rest of his sentence fizzled into the background as the entirety of your attention span landed on Shouto Todoroki.

It had already been well-established that the youngest Todoroki son was even more handsome in person, but seeing him in his Hero costume did things to you. Your mouth almost dropped open to gawk at his god-like appearance, but you clenched your jaw tightly shut to avoid that catastrophe. Despite that, you were pretty positive your eyes were as wide as saucers, greedily taking every inch of him in as if it were the last time you would see him.

I should sue him for the cost of my medical bills when I develop heart palpitations, you thought.

“Shut the hell up, ya stupid nerd.” Bakugou snapped at a sputtering Midoriya, drawing your attention once more. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Is he always this angry?” you asked under your breath; half-serious, half-rhetorical.

“Oh, yeah,” Mina confirmed, voice just as low.

Sero snickered from his post next to Sato. “You get used to it after a while,” he reassured you.

One of Kirishima’s blinding smiles makes its appearance once again. “Katsuki’s always been passionate about, well, everything.” He told you, not bothering to lower his voice. “It’s who he is. We love him regardless.”

Sato chimed in with, “Platonically.” The boys snickered and Mina rolled her eyes, yet there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“Even though his sour attitude can be harsh and lowkey over the top,” Kaminari began, eyes shining with mischief. “It sure makes him fun to mess with!” Your companions groaned in exasperation and started to voice their reservations.

“No, Denki. Leave him be—” Mina urged him.

“Awe, come on, man. Don��t—”

“Heyy~ Katsuki,” Kaminari crooned, rocking back on his heels as the pale blond’s attention zeroed in on him. Kirishima and Sato facepalmed. “Why have trouble catching a ‘dumbass villain’?” he teased. “Bad day? Your head not in the game?” The hair on your arms rose to attention as an electric charge swept the room, putting everyone on edge. Kaminari’s baiting also drew the attention of the explosive male’s companions. Your eyes briefly met captivating graphite and turquoise, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave your lungs.

“You’re gonna regret the day you were born, dumbass!” Bakugou bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the electric blond, snapping your attention from the hypnotizing gaze. You fully expected him to charge the male, already taking a cautionary step back, but instead of explosions ripping apart the building, Bakugou grunted and moved towards the showers.

Mina turned to the blond and shouted, “Now why did you do that, Denki? You know better than to rile Katsuki up like that!”

Kirishima dragged a large hand down his face before running it through his unruly red locks. “I’ll go check on him,” he announced before jogging after the sandy-blond. You were at a loss for words as you continued to watch your classmates scold a shit-grinning Kaminari, not even the tiniest bit remorseful for his teasing of Bakugou.

“Please don’t take Kacchan’s rashness to heart.” A new voice piped up. You turned to meet the electric green gaze of none other than Izuku Midoriya, the new generation’s proclaimed Symbol of Peace. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t think we have properly met. I’ve been in and out of campus lately—with missions and such.” He practically skipped over to stand in front of you. He smiled brightly as he gently took your hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m so happy you are here at U.A.!” he excitedly exclaimed, lightly squeezing your entwined hands. You couldn’t hide your wince and small gasp of pain as Midoriya unknowingly squeezed your burns. The green-haired male let go of your hands so fast as if he was the one burned instead of you, eyes growing wide. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” he asked, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your hand. Midoriya’s frenzy caught the other's attention, and all eyes were on you yet again.

The tips of your ears grew hot at the unwavering attention from the Heroes-in-training—especially from a certain icy-hot male who made your heart falter in its beating. “Y-yeah, I’m f-fine.” You stuttered as you met each of your classmate's gazes, trying to reassure them of your stability.

“What happened?” Todoroki inquired, eyes hawkishly zeroed in on your face.

“U-um, well . . .” you trailed off, words fading from your brain as you slightly cowered under his unwavering attention. “I—”

“She burned herself while baking kinako cookies,” Sero spoke for you, having caught onto your growing anxiousness. You didn’t miss Todoroki’s eyes narrowing at the black-haired male’s words. Sato and Kaminari made noises of agreement, the blond absentmindedly rubbing his stomach in content.

Midoriya’s eyes shined. “Really? You did?!” He looked behind you to the kitchen, eyes searching for the aforementioned treats. “Where are they?” he asked when he didn’t spot any, only a plate littered with crumbs. He turned his attention back to you. You opened your mouth to answer, but a wave of shame overcame you as your eyes once again met those of the one you had made the cookies for.

Mina noticed your hesitation, giving you a knowing look as she answered for you. “The three idiots to your left ate them all,” she said with a little bite to her words, glaring daggers at the culprits. “After they were specifically told not to.” She reaffirmed. The boys shuddered at the reminder of their disobedience. The pinkette turned her attention back to the green-haired and dual-haired males. “I patched her up, though. The burns are minor.”

Midoriya nodded his head in understanding. “You should still see Recovery Girl,” he instructed, unashamedly expressing his concern for someone he had just properly met. “At least let her take a look at it.”

“I’m going to stop by to see her in the morning,” you reassured him, words coming back now that your mind was a little clear. His shoulders slumped in relief.

“You should rest, Y/N.” Todoroki’s searing gaze trailed over your form, calculating eyes searching for any additional outward signs of injury or discomfort. “After suffering an injury, no matter how insignificant, rest is important.” He softly chided.

“R-right.” You stammered out, at a loss for how else to respond to your handsome classmate's concern other than compliance. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at that moment. Your feet stumbled as you became lightheaded for a split second. You noticed the dual-haired male take a step towards you, catching onto your sudden exhaustion, but you quickly rightened yourself. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You’re not exactly sure why you thanked him, or what for. His concern, perhaps? He subtly nodded as you turned from the small group, breathlessly mumbling some sort of farewell and something about retiring to your room for the rest of the day.

The others muttered their goodbyes as you made your way to the stairwell.

As you walked up the stairs, head hung low, your throat began to burn and your vision began to blur with tears. The first one fell when you reached your floor, quickly followed by a couple more. You wiped them away, sniffing, as you made your way to your door. You didn’t react to the sudden presence next to you and the weight draped around your shoulders.

Mina didn’t say anything, only traced comforting circles into your back as tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

The next day, you and your classmates were gathered outside Gym Gamma for an impromptu training session. You were surprised that Class 3-A still regularly trained together, but in your defense, that assumption came from someone who didn’t have many options when it came to sparing partners up until your transfer—a major shortcoming in retrospect.

“Today we are working on ‘last stand’ combat.” Mr. Aizawa drawled in his natural I Don’t Give A Fuck tone. “Close-quarter combat in which a violent assailant has obtained the upper hand and corners you in an attempt to defeat you.” He proceeded to explain the instructions of the training exercise and pair the students into groups of four who would take turns being the Heroes and the assailants.

“Midoriya will be with Jirou.” Mr. Aizawa intoned, briefly glancing at the two students to confirm they heard. “Todoroki will be with L/N.” Your muscles stiffened when you heard that. Your heart began to race as you watched the red-and-white-haired male make his way over to you.

“H-hi,” you greeted him, giving a soft smile.

“Hello,” he said, politely inclining his head. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here.” You said before facing forward once more as the first group began their round. You and Todoroki observed the match in silence, with you paying extra attention to your classmates’ movements and taking mental notes of how they incorporated their Quirks into hand-to-hand combat.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Expecting the new additions to be Ochako and Asui, you turned to greet them with a warm smile but paused when instead of your friends, Midoriya and Kyoka Jirou were standing next to you, both with warm expressions on their faces.

“Hi!” Midoriya greeted with a wide smile and a small wave. “I’m excited for this training exercise! It’s going to be so cool to see everyone’s improvement with hand-to-hand combat over the break! And any new moves! Or Quirk Awakenings! Or—” You had a hard time keeping up with what he was saying as it turned into a stuttering rant as he went on about each individual’s Quirk.

The rumors were true regarding his ramblings, you mused to yourself, wondering how long he could go on for before a small hand on his shoulder made him take pause.

“Midoriya,” Jirou intoned. “Calm down.” His cheeks flushed a bright red. He began laughing nervously while absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.

“S-sorry,” he said, shyfully.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I agree with your stance, though. Observing others' skills is an effective way to improve your own. Get an idea or two.” You turned your attention back to the ongoing training, taking mental notes of your classmates’ fighting stances and their defensive moves, trying to get a better understanding of the why behind them. You pulled a small item from your jacket pocket, absentmindedly rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger. The movement caught Midoriya’s attention.

“What is that?” he asked, green eyes alight with curiosity.

“What? This?” You held up your good luck charm; a small, pink parrot keychain from a popular cartoon series you had won years ago at one of your hometown’s summer festivals. It was lucky because at the moment, while little you were trying to win, your Quirk had manifested. “It’s my good luck charm,” you explained the pink parrot’s value to you.

“Oh, cool!” Midoriya exclaimed. “You know, I used to have a good luck charm—it was my super rare exclusive All Might trading card! First edition!” His eyes shined as he reminisced. “I would bring it with me everywhere! Even Kacchan—”

“Deku,” drawled a low voice from the other side of your gathered class. The temperature fell as Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed onto Midoriya. “Don’t say another word.”

“He’s such a fanboy.” Jirou chuckled, fondness seeping into her voice. Midoriya smiled sheepishly, not bothering even to try to deny the label. You spent the time until your group’s turn getting to know the two, quickly finding out that you and Jirou share the same taste in music; vowing to swap playlists after class. You were so caught up in your conversation that you almost forgot about Todoroki's presence, if not for the awareness of a body next to you. His chilled warmth seeped into your muscles, causing you to relax one moment, and tense up another.

“Are you all right?” he softly inquired, spying your tensed posture.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied, softly smiling but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Just a lil’ nervous, is all.”

Todoroki frowned slightly, not understanding how you could be experiencing anxiousness. “Wh—?”

“Oh yeah!” Midoriya suddenly interjected. “This is going to be your first time demonstrating your Quirk, huh?” he asked you. “Or at least this is gonna be the first time I will see it. What is it again? Object—no—um, yeah, anyway I bet it is awesome!” His eyes still shined with his enthusiasm and curiosity. “Sometime you gotta let me ask you about it! I have so many! Does it work like Ochako’s Zero Gravity? Or Yaoyorozu’s Creation?”

You couldn’t help but give a small laugh at his eagerness. You had never met someone as enthusiastic about Quirks as Izuku Midoriya. It was kind of refreshing to interact with someone as passionate as he was.

“Kind of,” you began, silently pondering over what you know of the brunette’s Quirk and comparing it to your own. “Ochako and I have the same limitations when it comes to the weight of an object, but besides that, our Quirks are different.” Your Quirk was object manipulation; you could telepathically manipulate objects within a certain range. To you, your Quirk wasn’t all that—wasn’t anything unique by any means—but to others, you were seen as a powerful goddess. “To be honest, I’m lacking in hand-to-hand combat skills.” You sheepishly smiled.

“Really?” Midoriya asked, blinking in shock. “I thought your previous school would have prepared you for all types of situations.” Jirou nodded her agreement with the green-haired male. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Shouto continue to observe you with a calculating expression on his face.

“Unfortunately, no.” You shrugged. “Their curriculum was more focused on improving the individual’s Quirk than learning how to fight without it.”

“Oh, wow,” Jirou said. “That could put you at a great disadvantage down the line.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why—” You were cut off by Mr. Aizawa calling for your group to begin your training round. “Welp, this is it, I guess.” You chuckled nervously.

Midoriya gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great!” he said, giving you a thumbs-up accompanied by a warm smile.

“Do your best,” Jirou added before moving towards the training pitch.

You started to follow, but a cool hand on your shoulder made you pause, shivering softly. You turned to find Todoroki giving you an expectant look. “You’ll do fine,” he said, confidently. He looked as if he put his entire faith in you. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

You felt a surge of confidence fill you at his words. You gave him a determined look. “Right,” you said. “We got this.”

You swear up and down his eyes twinkled when he looked at you, but it could have been a trick of the light. “You got this.” He replied, softly. The two of you walked into the pitch together, side by side.

The training went . . . not terrible, but it could have been better on your end.

Todoroki, Midoriya, and Jirou were amazing. Even without using their Quirks, they each were a force to be reckoned with. You were captivated by how swiftly they moved—as if they were ballerinas performing Danse des Petits Cygnes.

You weren’t on the same level as them and the rest of Class 3-A. You knew that, and you acknowledged it, but to see and be confronted by it so bluntly in person made you feel a whole other level of embarrassment and shame. You weren’t weak by any means, you could hold your own in a fight for some time, but not like your classmates could—and had.

Perhaps that is what separates you from your classmates. They have battle experience. Hell, they fought in a fucking war for crying out loud while you were on the other side of the country, guarding civilian shelters. You were fortunate not to see much bloodshed, but maybe that brought you to a disadvantage against these future Heroes surrounding you.

The horn had sounded as Jirou pinned you in the dirt for the sixth time, signaling the end of the round. You heard the sounds of Midoriya and Todoroki’s scuffling come to a halt from somewhere off to your left as Jirou lifted herself off of you. She offered you a hand as you began to rise from the ground. You accepted her extended hand with a grimace as the muscles in your back burned.

“Nice work.” Mr. Aizawa said as the four of you approached. “You performed adequately,” he addressed Jirou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. He turned to you. “You, not so much.”

You flinched as the words landed home. Damn, you thought, but he’s not wrong. You had naively allowed yourself to believe that Eraserhead wouldn’t call out your inferiority, at least in front of others. Then again, he was Eraserhead—infamous for his bluntness and apathy.

“Your skills are greatly lacking in hand-to-hand combat,” he continued. “I haven’t seen somebody so physically inadequate since your classmates were first years. Coming from another Hero Course, especially one with its reputation, it’s to be expected that you’re not up to par with your new classmates, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” As he spoke, he never broke eye contact with you, scrutinizing you. Even with one eye, his unrelenting gaze made you feel as if he could see every minuscule detail about you. “Based on the performance I saw today, it was a mistake to put you in this class.”

You heard a gasp from one of your classmates; its owner unknown. You gulped down your shame and remained silent. You had a feeling Aizawa wasn’t finished with you.

“From here on out, I expect you to train harder and push yourself further than anyone else. Extra training, extra classes—anything that will make you catch up.” His eye narrowed. “If I do not see substantial improvement in one month, you will be expelled. No exceptions.”

Your eyes widened, but your shock did not stop you from replying. “Yes, sir.” You said, keeping your tone neutral as you mulled over his words. Although extreme, I understand the reason for Mr. Aizawa’s methods, you thought. He’s right though. I’m far from even scrapping the level these guys are on. I need to be more disciplined and work even harder if I want to stand on equal ground with my classmates. Resolve made, you promised, “I will go Plus Ultra!”

“Yaass, Y/N!” Mina cheered. “Woohoo!”

Aizawa didn’t say anything else to you, promptly dismissing the class. Midoriya praised your performance and commented on his wish to sit down and talk in-depth with you regarding your Quirk. You promptly accepted his request, telling him you would let him know when you were free. He smiled before walking off to join Iida and Ochako.

“If it means anything,” a voice suddenly intoned from behind you. You spun around, having not sensed the person's approach. You weren’t all that surprised to find Todoroki there, softly regarding you. “I think you did well.”

You scoffed but smiled softly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to patronize me. I have a lot of work to do if I want to catch up.”

“You will,” he declared, before quickly clarifying, “Catch up. Especially with my help.”

You furrowed your brows. “Excuse me?”

“Should I repeat myself?” he inquired, his heterochromatic eyes swimming in mirth. “I will assist you in your training and classes.”

You didn’t respond right away, regarding him with suspicion. You waited for him to name a condition for his help, but when he offered none, you relaxed. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You inclined your head. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Shouto,” he corrected.

You blinked at him, taken aback. “What?”

“Shouto,” he reiterated. “You may call me Shouto. We are friends, are we not?”

You gaped at him for a moment, processing his words. “Ye-yeah!” you said a little too loudly. “We are friends, Shouto.”

The small smile that graced his lips lit up your entire world and caused your heart to speed up, pounding almost painfully against your ribcage. “Meet me here tomorrow after class.” He instructed.

“Tomorrow.” You repeated in confirmation.

His smile grew a little wider. “See you then, Y/N.” He said before turning on his heel and strolling away. You watched him go in a daze, in disbelief of what just occurred.

“Oooooooo, Y/N’s gotta date!”

You shrieked at the sudden voice and spun around for a second time to find Mina standing there, hunched over laughing at your reaction.

“Mina!” you shrieked, placing a hand over your heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”

She continued to laugh. “Sorry,” she said once her laughter died down. “You were so entranced with Todoroki that you didn’t even realize I was here!”

“Oh, yeah right.” You responded, playfully rolling your eyes. The two of you began to walk to the dorm. “I wasn’t entranced with him.”

The pinkette gave you a look of disbelief, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, sure,” she retorted. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you ain’t lying to me.”

You scoffed but didn’t attempt to refute her claims. You put your hands in your pockets and looked to the ground, lost in thought. Mina didn’t say anything else, allowing you both to walk in silence.

The next afternoon, you met Shouto at the training grounds outside Gym Gamma for your first tutored training session. He regarded you kindly as you slowly approached, suddenly feeling quite bashful.

“Thank you for offering to do this, Shouto.” You said when you arrived. “It really means a lot. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”

“There’s no need for repayment.” He softly responded. “I volunteered to assist you. Therefore, no repayment of any sort is necessary.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

His soft call of your name made your next words die in your throat. “I assure you, this is fine.” He said. “Your company and attention are substantial enough.” You felt your face warm at his admission. Shouto gestured towards the training pit. “Shall we begin?”

He started by teaching you some stretches that are supposed to help decrease sudden muscle spasms and strengthen them. Afterward, he had you show him the little knowledge you had of hand-to-hand combat to gain an idea of where you stand in regard to U.A. training. Once you had demonstrated the few kicks and different styles of punching you knew, you turned to judge Shouto’s impression.

Your breath caught at what you saw.

His handsome features remained stoically blank for the most part, but the pursing of his lips and slight furrowing of his brows spoke a different tale. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like they didn’t prepare you at all, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure.

“Shouto?” you inquired, voice slightly uneven as your mouth formed the syllables of his name. “Is everything alright?”

His beautiful eyes snapped to yours, and once again you were frozen by the intensity with which he looked at you. His gaze was calculating, and you could just about see the cogs turning in his brain as he silently regarded you. A couple long moments later, his lips parted on an exhale and he finally addressed you.

“We have a lot of work to do.” He declared. “But we already knew that.” You slowly nodded your head, curious as to where he would be going with this conversation. “Thankfully, you’re not completely helpless,” he intoned dryly. “Even though you don’t have many skills regarding physical, non-Quirk combat, I have identified several places where we can start, correct, and then build on.”

You steadied yourself, resolve firmer than ever before. You declared, “I’m ready.”

Shouto gave a quick, but detailed, overview of his plans for your ‘training tutoring’, you referred to your sessions as. He was going to teach you everything he thought you should know—which was everything he knew—in order to successfully become a Hero people could rely on.

The two of you began by improving your physique. You joined him on his early morning run along with Midoriya and Bakugou, who welcomed you with contrasting fervor. When you met for your afternoon training, you would run five kilometers before learning various grades of combat moves, and then concluding your time together by sparring.

It was established early on that neither of you would use your Quirks during your tutoring as the two of you were well-adapted to your respective Quirks—and the strict rules regarding their usage.

For the next several weeks, you worked tirelessly on your training, and your dedication and hard work paid off. At your end-of-the-month assessment, Aizawa was pleased by your rapid and exceptional improvement and announced you could stay at U.A. He also informed you that it was never his intention to expel you in the first place, but nevertheless, he was impressed by your efforts.

You and Shouto continued to grow closer as time went by. You still had your training tutoring sessions in the afternoons, and you became a regular on his early morning runs. You even hung out outside of class and training; preparing pre-workout meals and drinks together, and various study sessions at all hours of the day and night. Once, you even packed him a small canister of his favorite brand of soba noodles for lunch one of the weekends he was interning at his father’s Agency. When he came back to the dorm after his shift, he made a beeline for you and promptly informed you that from then on out, you would be solely responsible for packing his lunches.

“Now why would I do that?” you implored. You crossed your arms, awaiting his response. “Are you gonna pay me?”

Shouto slowly blinked at you in the way a cat would. “Why would I compensate you for an action you chose to do?”

You had no retort for that.

As you spent more time together, you noticed some changes. Shouto would stare at you for seemingly no reason, and whenever you called him out on it, he feigned innocence. He also sought you out more often, insisting on walking to your next class or to and from the dorm by your side. He even began to occupy you on your shopping runs, dutifully holding your bags for you. And whenever you would thank or compliment him, his whole demeanor would light up as if Aphrodite herself had shown favor towards him.

You weren’t any better, though.

If Shouto would do so much as even blink in your general direction, your heart would soar and butterflies would take flight in your stomach. At first, you brushed it off as nerves for being the subject of the Shouto Todoroki’s attention, but you were in denial, not wanting to admit what was actually occurring. Looking back, you realized that deep down, you had known all along what was happening, but at the time, you weren’t ready to admit it—to yourself and him.

Regardless of your rebuttals and lack of admission, you were falling for your dual-haired classmate, hard and fast, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

3 months later . . .

“Y/N! It’s starting! You’re gonna miss it!” Ochako shouted from the couches, the other girls of Class 3-A surrounding her, all dressed in comfortable loungewear. It was the class's annual Girl’s Movie Night, which was held every couple of months. Tooru told you earlier that week that they would like to have it more often, like once a month, but given their hectic and ever-changing schedules, the girls had to settle for every few months. They took turns who got to pick out the movie. It was Mina’s turn this time. True to her nature, she selected an early 2000s chick flick set in the States.

“Hold on, wait for me!” you hollered back as you finished pouring the freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl, a few kernels spilling out as you whirled on your heels to sprint into the living area. You nearly tripped over Jirou’s legs as you practically threw yourself towards the last remaining free spot on the couch.

“Ah, sorry!” you exclaimed as you settled yourself into the cushions, checking over Jirou and your popcorn bowl. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, it’s just starting,” Momo said, taking a sip from her cup of tea as the opening credits began to roll.

“Ooh, this is one of my all-time favorite movies!” Mina squealed next to you. “Have you ever seen it before?” she asked.

You hummed, acknowledging her question. You thought hard, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen the characters on the screen before. “I’m not sure,” you said. “I don’t think so.”

The pinkette gasped aloud and theatrically placed a hand on her chest, sprawling backward. “Y/N! You wound me!”

Across the room, Tooru piped up from her spot next to Asui. “How could you not have?! It’s only one of the greatest movies ever made!”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Ochako interjected. “Gonna have to disagree.” You expected them to start arguing back and forth over what is truly the greatest movie ever made, like your friends back home would have done, but they don’t. Mina stuck her tongue out at Ochako before turning back to the movie.

You all watched the movie in relative silence, save for the light background noise of popcorn moving around in a bowl and slurping from a now-empty straw. It was nice, peaceful; a well-deserved and appreciated respite from the grinding hustle of being Pro-Heroes-in-training.

“Just confess already!” Jirou shouted at the screen as the main character allowed another opportunity for them to confess their feelings for their classmate slip through their fingers. “Gosh!” A corner of your mouth curled at her irritation. A few grumbles of agreement sounded from the others as the movie continued playing.

You had to stifle your laughter as the main characters continued to pine after one another, completely oblivious to the other’s growing feelings. I can’t believe there are actually people in the world who are like them, you silently mused. It’s so obvious they like each other. I can’t believe they don’t see it.

“Ugh, the anticipation and pining is killing me!” Tooru cried out, her slippers moving frantically in the air as she kicked her legs.

Asui raised a brow. “I thought you’ve seen this movie before?”

“Well, yeah, I have,” the invisible female said. “But the suspense still gets to me!”

“It is quite intense.” Ochako agreed. “I hope they confess soon. It hurts to see them think the other doesn’t return their feelings.”

“I don’t understand how they cannot.” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. The girls turned to look at you as you continued, “I mean, they’re so obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda annoying at this point,” Jirou mumbled.

Mina snickered. “Y/N, as if you’re one to talk.”

You gave her a questioning look, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on. You’re so obvious, too, with your crush—”

You cut her off, “I do not have a crush.”

“You have a crush?” Asui asked. You and Mina responded at the same time.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, she does.”

“What is this about?” Momo inquired, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“Nothi—” you began but was swiftly interrupted by the pinkette next to you.

“Y/N has a crush on Todoroki!”

The girls gasped and gapped at you, eyes wide.

“I do not!” You said, face burning as you tried to mitigate the situation. “We’re not like that!”

“Oh my.” You thought you heard Momo say under her breath, but you couldn’t really hear since Tooru started shrieking with glee.

“You guys would be the cutest couple!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her spot on the couch and racing over to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I mean, it does make sense given they spend so much time together.” Ochako mused, a finger on her chin as she considered the situation.

Asui jumped on the bandwagon with, “Oh they are definitely into each other.”

“One hundred percent,” Mina agreed.

“Girl, you gotta spill the tea!” Tooru exclaimed as she pulled away. “Tell us everything!” The others voiced their agreement.

“I do admit, I am curious as to how this relationship came to be,” Momo vocalized, setting her tea cup down onto its saucer. “That is if the two of you have gotten that far into your companionship.”

You blinked at the midnight-black-haired woman, shock clouding your brain for a moment as you processed her words. “Um, n-no. We aren’t in any type of r-romantic relationship.” You clarified, but immediately you could tell certain people thought your answer was complete horse poop. “We aren’t!”

“Regardless, you guys are pretty close,” Ochako interjected. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “And all the extra training you do together.”

“The early morning runs,” Asui added.

“Okay, okay,” you threw your hands up in a placating manner. “I understand what you guys are trying to get at, but you’re wrong.”

Mina came to stand beside you, giving you a knowing look. “Girl, Y/N,” she began. “You can try with all your might to deny it, but it’s obvious what is really going on between you and Shouto.” She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And I know you know it, too.”

You stared at the pinkette, pondering her and the other’s words. You wanted to continue denying what they were saying, but you were getting tired of denying your feelings to yourself. You slumped your shoulders, the tension leaving your body as you resolved to come clean with the truth—to yourself and your friends, besides a certain dual-haired male. “Alright, fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, mentally preparing yourself for their reaction to your next statement. “I like him a little.” You confessed, looking at the floor, too afraid to meet any of their gazes.

The room was dead silent for two breaths before Mina erupted in choking laughter. “’A little’? Yeah RIGHT!” She laughed so hard that tears began to stream down her pink cheeks. After she managed to calm down a bit, she turned to face you fully, laying a hand on your knee. “Girl, you’re lying to yourself.” She told you, tone light yet serious. “We have all seen the way you look at Shouto—” the others nod in confirmation. “—and your eyes tell it all.”

You flinched as embarrassment flooded you. “Is it really that obvious?” you asked. You turned to the others to gauge their reactions. “Am I?” They all nodded.

“Definitely.”

“For sure.”

“We could see it from a mile away.”

You gasped. “Oh my,” you covered your face with your hands. “Do you think Shouto knows?”

“I doubt so,” Momo said. “Shouto is quite intelligent and a formidable force to be reckoned with, but as I’m sure you’re aware, his experience and understanding of social concepts and cues are fairly limited.”

“In other words,” Jirou interjected. “He’s none the wiser.”

You released a sigh of relief. At least he doesn’t think I’m a psycho stalker or something.

“Hey, give him some credit, guys,” Ochako remarked. “Todoroki’s more aware than he’s given credit for.”

“Moving on,” Mina said. “Have you thought about confessing your feelings to him?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shamefully looking away. “No. . .”

“What?!”

“Really?!” Tooru shouted. “But he’s so hot!” The sleeves of her shirt crossed in front of her. “I would do anything to be his girlfriend.”

You laughed. “While you are correct about his handsomeness, I don’t even know where I would begin or how I would confess.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N,” Asui assured you. “Confessing one’s feelings for another is a life-changing occurrence.”

“You gotta do it before graduation in a couple months, though,” Ochako added. “If not, then you may never get another chance to do so.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked. “As Pros, wouldn’t we work together often? Why does it need to be before we graduate and turn Pro?”

“Possibly, but with our chosen line of work, there is always a possibility. . .” she trailed off with a grimace.

You understood immediately. “Oh.”

“Although rare in the line of duty, it does happen.” Momo said. “I wouldn’t worry about that though, but I agree with Ochako.”

“Plus,” Mina began, mischief glowing in her eyes. “If the two of you get together before you make your Pro Hero debut to the world, you wouldn’t have to worry about him falling in love with some random civilian he rescues on the street or another Pro.”

You nodded. “You have a point.”

“Either way, I think it will all work out in the end,” Ochako said, her cheeks widening with her smile. “I think perhaps Shouto returns your feelings, and just simply doesn’t know what to do about them or how to address them, therefore you should tell him.” The other girls voiced their agreement.

“Yeah, it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture or anything,” Jirou said.

“Just be honest with him, Y/N,” Asui said.

“Yeah, girl,” Mina added, giving you a warm smile when you met her gaze. “You got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

You squared your shoulders as a burst of confidence filled you thanks to the encouragement you received from your friends. “Okay, I will!” you loudly announced. “I will confess my feelings to him!”

The others cheered as you all held up your lemon water in a faux toast. In your happiness, none of you noticed the shadows shift in the stairwell and the soft noise of retreating footsteps on the wood.

You were screwed.

“How am I gonna tell him!?” you mewled aloud a couple of days later in the cafeteria. You dramatically slumped your forehead on the tabletop, mentally kicking yourself for allowing the girls to convince you that confessing your crush would be an easy endeavor. You felt a reassuring pat on your shoulder. Groaning, you lifted your head from the table to shoot puppy eyes at Ochako. “Ochako, help me!” you cried. “How do I confess?”

The brunette gave you a sheepish smile. “I don’t know, Y/N.” She professed, her eyes apologetic. “Proclaiming one's love for another isn’t really my strong suit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Asui mumbled under her breath before taking a sip of her drink, receiving a glare in response.

“Y/N, sweetie,” Mina cooed from your other side. “I think you’re overthinking it a little. It shouldn’t be but so hard. Just be honest with him!”

“But that is hard!” you said, waving your hands in the air. “I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘hey, Shouto, I think you’re really hot and amazing. Wanna go out with me?’”

“Sure you can,” Momo intoned, trying to reassure you. “Maybe not in those exact words, but when the time comes, you will know what to say.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders. “I hope so.”

As time passed, you found that you did not, in fact, know what to say when the time came to confess your feelings to Shouto Todoroki. Whenever you were near him, you became tongue-tied and could barely speak without becoming a stuttering mess. During each interaction, Shouto would give you a long, confused look, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he watched you struggle for words. He wouldn’t comment on it, bless him, but he must’ve thought you to be a total weirdo.

Yet, he still accompanied you on the walk back to the dorm every day after classes ended, and he insisted on continuing your training sessions every weekend after he finished his shift at Endeavor’s Agency. The two of you grew closer, to your absolute delight, and yet you still hadn’t managed to work up the courage to confess your feelings to him.

Until one day . . .

You were sitting in homeroom during free period, chatting with Midoriya about the latest episode of the rebooted All Might: The Mightiest Man TV series.

“I’m telling you, Midoriya,” you said. “It doesn’t matter how much the animation and special effects have improved, the original will always be better than the reboot.” You crossed your arms and lounged back in your chair, waiting for the forest green-haired male to start sputtering his counterargument. “You can’t change my mind. I will die on this hill.”

“Are you seriously sayin—?”

A call of your name from a familiar tenor drew your attention. You turned towards the source to meet a pair of heterochromatic eyes. Shouto was making his way to your desk, coming to a stop right in front of you. You had to tilt your head back in order to maintain eye contact. After a moment, he turned his attention to Midoriya next to you. “Pardon me, Midoriya, but I need to speak to Y/N in private.”

You and Midoriya gaped at the dual-haired male for a good twenty seconds before you slowly rose from your seat. “O-okay.” You turned to face your green-haired companion. You hoped your eyes were conveying your inner panic as you said, “Midoriya, I’ll be back.”

All he could do was nod as he watched you follow behind Shouto, wondering why you looked so panicked to go with the male. Maybe you were constipated.

As Shouto led you toward the classroom door, Ochako and Mina shot you curious glances. When you met their gazes, they gave you a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, respectfully.

“Good luck, girl!” Mina whisper-shouted.

“You got this, Y/N,” Ochako said. You tried to match her comforting smile with your own, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

You followed behind the dual-haired male, silently wondering what was going on. Once you were outside the classroom, he led you down the hallway to a little corner nook bathed in the golden light of the afternoon.

“Shouto, is everything okay?” you asked, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Is something wrong?” At your inquiry, he finally came to a stop in front of a set of windows and turned to face you.

“Yes, everything is fine.” He reassured you. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

You blinked. “Okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

Shouto likewise paused at your usage of unfamiliar slang but didn’t comment on it. “Um,” he started, but drifted off, not finishing the thought. He opened his mouth only to shut it again after a moment or two without making a sound. You furrowed your brows as you continued to watch him struggle for words.

“Um, Sho?” you prodded. He didn’t respond, however, still thinking over his next words. Shouto never hesitates, you thought with a mixture of wonderment and anxiety. Is something bothering him? you thought with growing concern. You felt your heart come to a skittering stop as another horrifying conclusion came to mind; am I the problem?

“I overheard you and the other girls’ conversation on Movie Night,” he confessed at last, interrupting your spiraling train of thought. He bashfully looked away as if he was ashamed.

“Oh, okay?” you responded, absentmindedly going through the events of the night in question. Your heartbeat began to calm down to a normal rate. “What conversation?” You couldn’t think of anything in particular and were about to ask him to elaborate before the realization hit you like a freight train.

“I like him a little.”

“Okay, I will! I will confess my feelings to him!”

“Yeah, girl, you got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

Oooohhhhh.

Fuck.

Maybe he didn’t hear that particular part of the conversation! You tried to reassure yourself as you waited for Shouto to answer your question. Your heart rate picked back up as panic began to settle in. We were there for several hours. There is so much he could’ve—

“You have an admiration going on.” You hate to admit you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before his formal wording translated into modern speech. You have a crush.

FUCK!

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” you rushed out, trying to save face and whatever friendship you had with Shouto. You felt your cheeks burn. “Please, just forget you ever heard that!”

Shouto snapped his head to you as your words registered in his brain. “Why would I do that?” he asked after a moment. “We live in the same building with shared living space, barely anything is not overheard by another.”

Oh God, how much did he overhear?

“Besides,” he continued. “At our age, it is completely natural for one to harbor feelings for another.”

You blinked at him as his words registered, your cheeks now tingling due to the burn. Gosh, he sounds like a grandpa giving the birds and the bees talk.

“It—it’s j-just,” you stammered. “I-I-I—” You let out a harsh breath in frustration when your words continued to fail you. Shouto raised a brow before his eyes narrowed. Your heart sank when you saw that.

Oh great, he’s annoyed!

“Are you all right?” he asked before moving so he was right in front of you. You squeaked at the sudden warmth of his body heat as he placed a hand on your forehead. “Do you feel ill? You feel warm, and your face looks to be flushed with some perspiration gathering on your forehead.” His eyes frantically looked you up and down as he examined you for any further signs of sickness. “I should get you to Recovery Girl.”

“N-no!” you exclaimed when he went to sweep you off your feet. “Sh-Shouto, I—I’m fine, really. I’m n-not s-sick.”

“Oh?” Shouto blinked in confusion and, adorably, subtly tilted his head to the side. “Then why are you so febrile? And you are stuttering?”

“It’s not because I am sick. I’m just em-embarrassed.” You whispered the last part, and you couldn’t help but look away from Shouto in shame.

“Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed, Y/N?” You shut your mouth, refusing to speak. Shouto sensed your hesitation. The light slowly left his heterochromatic eyes and he bashfully looked away from you. “Is . . . is it because you don’t want to be seen with me?” he asked. “For fear that your crush will see us together and not return your affection?”

You let out a gasp in surprise. “What? No!” You are quick to reassure him—your actual crush—of your intentions. “That’s not it at all!”

Shouto met your gaze again. His eyes lit up with what looked like . . . anticipation? Hope? You weren’t sure, but your heart began to race in trepidation. “Then what is it?”

“I like you,” you blurted out. You shut your eyes and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide from your drowning embarrassment. “Like, not even a little bit, but, like, really, really like you.” You whispered from behind your hands.

There was no immediate response from the dual-haired male. You didn’t dare to remove your hands from your face to check if he was still standing in front of you.

He probably didn’t hear me. You internally slapped yourself upside the head.

Before you could react, Shouto was carefully removing your hands from your face. His touch was gentle, like he was afraid you would crack and break under his fingertips. “Why are you hiding from me?” he whispered. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared wide-eyed at him.

“I—I.” Despite your efforts, words weren’t able to come out of your mouth.

“You should never feel like you need to hide,” he continued. He let out an airy tsk before he reached his hand up and gently tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. You felt your face heat up even more at the action. “Especially from me.”

What.

“W-what?” you voiced aloud. You blinked a couple times, trying to bring your brain back from the brink of short-circuiting.

Shouto chuckled lowly, moving impossibly closer into your space. “I think you need to get your hearing checked out, love.”

You blinked some more. “What?”

“Have I broken you?” he asked, the corner of his perfect lips turning up at the thought. “First you forget your words, and now you have lost your hearing. . .” he trailed off as he continued to stare intently into your eyes.

What is he playing at. . .? you wondered as you blankly stared at him.

The two of you stood there and took each other in for quite a while. In reality, it mustn’t have been for very long—at most a minute and a half—but to you, it felt like hours. You were so close you could see the light reflecting in his heterochromatic eyes and the small streaks of gray in the turquoise-colored one.

“I . . . like you, too,” Shouto suddenly confessed, violently snapping you out of the daze his proximity causes. “I have harbored feelings for you for some time now.”

WHAT!?

“You . . . do?” you asked, skeptical. You were hesitant to believe his words in fear that this whole thing was some sick prank. But—

No. Shouto isn’t that type of person, you thought. He barely understands humor as it is, so he must be telling the truth.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Oh, um.” You fumbled again for words, embarrassment flooding your entire system once more. You licked your dry lips, missing the way Shouto’s eyes locked onto the movement. “Cool.”

Shouto blinked at you, one of his perfect eyebrows raising. “Cool?” he repeated with a sly smile overcoming his lips.

“Mhm.” You dumbly nodded. “Cool.” You paused before muttering a small, “Ditto.”

He chuckled again, subtly moving the tiniest bit closer to you. He was just about crowding you into the corner at this point. “Ditto, huh?” He mumbled under his breath with a widening smirk playing at his lips. “I think I have broken you, dear.”

You grinned. “Perhaps.” Shouto chuckled again before falling silent. The two of you stared at the other, lost in each other’s gazes.

“Can I kiss you?” He spoke on an exhale, his deep voice somehow even deeper. Before you could internally flip the fuck out and fully comprehend what was happening, you were already nodding. That was all the confirmation Shouto needed before he brought your lips in for a sensual kiss. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as you relaxed into him.

You smiled into the kiss. Thank you, chopsticks.

The next day, you and Shouto walked into the classroom holding hands. Everyone collectively stopped what they were doing to openly gape at the two of you as Shouto, always the gentleman, escorted you to your seat. The shocked silence lasted all but three seconds before Mina and Tooru let out ear-piercing shrieks and practically tackled you.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Mina was shouting meanwhile Tooru was holding onto you so tight to the point that she was nearly crushing you into her invisible body.

“AHHHH, I knew this was gonna happen!” she exclaimed before somehow pulling you in closer.

“Can’t . . . breathe.” You wheezed out before your boyfriend pulled you away from the two fangirls and protectively held you to his chest.

“I would be grateful if you didn’t crush my girlfriend to death, Tooru.” He intoned in his naturally dry tenor. His statement only made them freak out even more.

“Ah! Look at the two love birds!” Ochako swooned.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’,” grumbled a deep voice from somewhere in the back of the room.

Before you could turn to shoot Bakugou a death glare, Shouto was already clapping back. “What, are you jealous, Bakugou?”

The desks which had surrounded the blond a moment prior were blown to shiverines.

“I’LL END YOU!”

Fin.

→ extras: snapshot 1, snapshot 2, fic tag

No plagiarizing, re-uploading, translating, or copying of any kind or on any platform of my writing or inserted into any type of AI generator. Do not recommend my work on TikTok. Do not repost on YouTube.

#shouto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #fic: ditto #todoroki x you #shoto x you #shouto x you

[yesimwriting]

okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader

[oh-meretseger]

part 2 (of whatever this is) - Clean Freak

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

notes: 18+! smut (there will be a lot more coming, I’m pouring all my fantasies into this fic lmao so bear with me), Jean being quite a pervert, fantasizing about oral, masturbation

word count: 3,4k

“You're gonna let Jean see you in THAT?!" Sasha yelled out suddenly, right after she promised to stay when Jean was coming over to your dorm to finally finish your project. You had to complete it by Friday, and it was already Wednesday, leaving you the most frustrated with Jean you've ever been. His immature approach to the whole thing made you question how he even got admission to college. The way he ignored all the work and instead kept stealing your notes, your glasses, he pulled your hair, poked his fingers between your ribs made you think he was actually a toddler in an muscular man's giant costume...

"Yeah, you're right, I can't show any surface of skin around that manchild" you glanced in the mirror, and quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants to slide over the tight shorts that covered definitely too little. Your arms were already covered in bruises due to all the damn poking, pinching and suffering Jean put you through this week. You couldn't let him target your legs next.

Since that ominous day in the library, Jean was more insufferable than ever. You had a feeling that it had to do with the multiple seconds you were kneeling on his lap, pressed up against his chest and face... And the awkward, quiet minutes after that you spent trying to hide your blood red face. You tried to ignore the heat that spread through your body whenever that moment popped into your mind, because it just left you confused.

You also tried not to look Jean into his eyes after that, if not necessary, but you could definitely sense him get ten times more irritating since.

And working on that project with him became impossible.

But you guys finally managed to arrange you and Sasha getting a two-bed dorm room together, and it seemed like the perfect, most peacful place to finally finish the project. With Sasha being there, you hoped you both would detain from bullying the hell out of each other, and actually get the work done.

"Pookie, stop covering up, just let it happen" Sasha laughed, sitting on her bed while watching as your movements became nervous. You turned to her confused. "How long are y'all going to pretend you're not into each other?"

You blushed instantly and turned away, hoping she wouldn't see you getting embarassed right away. What is she talking about?

"Sasha-" you awkwardly searched for the right words to reply, and Sasha chuckled again. "Stop being crazy. We're not into each other"

"Sure, Jan" she replied raising her eyebrows, and you let out a giggle at the joke. Although you wanted her to know how much of an insane idea it was to think that you and Jean...

"He's a damn playboy, he probably has a roaster of girls from around the campus that I definitely wouldn't fit into" you said your thoughts out loud while folding the few pieces of clothes laying around on your bed. "He's an annoying idiot anyway"

"He doesn't have a roaster of girls, actually. But I see why you would think that" Sasha smiled as she watched your movements in the mirror. "He does seem like an arrogant jock, but I've known him for years. He's a sweetheart. And there's definitely something between you two, so stop denying it to yourself, missy”

You quickly turned your back to her while quietly smiling at her words. You hoped she couldn't see, but she chuckled as she caught a glimpse of the curve of your lips in the mirror. Sasha grabbed the pair of jeans laying next to her and started changing her comfy joggers.

"He does seem arrogant, and he makes me go insane on purpose" you frowned, putting the stack of folded clothes away to your closet. "But I've only known him for a few months, so surely, you know him better"

"I do, and he's great. And don't call me Shirley" Sasha jumped from the bed, trying to use the momentum to get her butt into the tight jeans, and you bursted out laughing as you turned to her.

Your smile faded rather quickly as you saw her changing her shirt as well, as if she was getting ready to go out.

"Where are you going?!"

"Oooh sorry, Y/N, I forgot I already made plans with Hisu to go out, we're getting froyo" her eyes sparked with pure joy at those last few words, and you felt yourself shatter, instantly starting to panic.

"NO! You promised you would stay!"

"I knowww, I really am sorry" Sasha pouted, and quickly grabbed her cute little crotcheted bag on her way to the door, as you both heard a loud knock. That pout was SO fake, you knew she was doing this on purpose... Whatever her goal was. "I'll bring you a cup of that blueberry one you like, I promise"

"YOU PRO-" you froze in your place as Sasha reached the door and it swung open, revealing Jean standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Jean!" Sasha looked up at him with the most cheerful, chirping voice, as if she didn't just betray you with this evil surprise of hers. Of course, she'd made no plans to go out with Hisu whatsoever, but she did miss her, and getting multiple cups of froyo sounded like a great afternoon plan. Besides, she did want to leave you and Jean to be in private, completely alone...

"Hi, are you not-"

"No, no, no, I've got EXTREMELY important places to be" Sasha cut Jean off as she grabbed him by his jersey, then yanked him through the doorway and into the room. You stood there in shock, watching her leave you, with him, to suffer.

"Sasha!"

"Bye, pookies!"

BANG. The door slammed shut behind her, and you two were left there, completely alone. Your eyes darted to him, and Jean adjusted the jersey on his chest that Sasha nearly ripped apart a few seconds ago.

He was clearly coming from hockey practice, you could tell not only by the oversized jersey he wore, but also by the way his hair looked. It was messy, a few ashy brown strands sticking to his temple, wet with sweat, although it seemed like he did try to quickly comb it back. His face was flushed, the skin on his cheekbones and nose dusted with a reddish tint, his lips plump and wet from the empty water bottle he held in his hand. Your eyes wandered to the stubble on his sharp jawline, fading down to his neck. The skin slightly glistened from sweat, the muscles creating lines of shadow as he raised his head...

"The hell's wrong with her" he murmured frowning, looking up to see you staring right at him. As the hazel eyes met with yours, the heat forming in your center turned into a definite warm, tingling sensation between your legs, and you felt yourself starting to melt.

What. The. Hell.

There's no way you're getting wet at the sight of this idiot, dripping with sweat, smelling like a boy's locker room.

"I don't know, she's in silly goose mode today" you quickly shrugged and turned your head to break the few moments of silence of you looking into each other's eyes. Jean held back a smile forming on his face, and he dropped his backpack on the rug next to your bed.

"Sorry for being late, practice lasted a little longer than I expected" he apologized, throwing himself on the end of your bed without a second thought. You instantly felt your stomach drop at the thud, and turned to see the most horrific sight you could ever imagine.

Jean's sweaty, dirty body laying on your clean, white bedsheets.

"JEAN!"

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Jean yelled out, half-laughing from the element of surprise, as he tried to defend himself from your immediate attack. You jumped on the bed and started pushing his body down with all the strength you could gather. "AGH, you're breaking my ribs, you rat!"

"Get off of my bed, you're fucking dirty!" you groaned as Jean put his big ass palm on your forehead, trying to get you off of him. An intense wave of anger fueled your effort to move the sweaty body twice as big as yours. "You're getting your sweat all over my stuff!"

"You should be grateful for any bodily fluid of a man touching your stuff" Jean laughed, and moved his palm to cover and smush the whole of your face, when you decided that pushing with your hands was not enough, and started bullying his ribcage with your knee. Your shouts were muffled by his hand pressed into your face, but instead of giving up, you decided to let your teeth do the talking for you. "AARGH!"

Jean's muscles lost their defensive tension due to the  sharp pain of your teeth sinking into his palm, and taking adventage of his momentary weakness, you pushed him as hard as you could. His body rolled over and landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

"You're fucking insane" Jean pushed himself to slowly sit up, examining his other hand that you injured with a painful hiss leaving his mouth.

"PTUH, did you not wash your hands after digging in dirt?!" you growled at him, trying to spit out the dirty taste his hand left in your mouth. But that's what you get for biting him, you guessed.

You frantically started brushing off your face when you realized, it was not only your mouth that Jean's dirty palm got smushed into, but also the precious skin of your face.

"Yeah, I jerked off with that hand after that, hope you like the taste" Jean scoffed at you, but the smug look on his face quickly turned into an honest burst of chuckle as he watched you stick out your tongue, trying to get him out of your mouth by the little spitting sounds you were doing.

"You're a prick"

"And you're clinically insane, but here we are" he replied, then pushed himself from the floor to stand up. You followed his actions, then stepped to your closet as you shook your head.

"Here" you threw your largest oversized t-shirt you could find in his direction, and he reached to catch it, followed by the clean towel tossed to his chest. "You can take a shower here"

"A shower?"

"You will NOT rub your sticky body all over my bed" you crossed your arms, looking over to him. You could feel your lips curve into a smile, seeing the confused look on his face, still flushed from running from practice and of course brutally fighting with you. Confusion on that smug face of Jean's was a rare sight to see.

And it was kinda cute.

Huh?

You quickly shook your head to get rid of the stupid thoughts, and pointed your finger in the direction of the bathroom of your dorm. "You stink"

"Get off my back, I'll sit on the chair then" Jean gestured towards the only chair in the room, being Sasha's comfy rolling desk chair - which she definitely didn't want smelling of a dirty, sweating man. You shook your head. "C'mon, I skipped showering and dropped off my stuff at my dorm just to get here in time because of your bitching ass!"

"Don't care, didn't ask" you replied with a snarky, forced smile, and tossed a pair of Connie's sweatpants to him. He lended it to Sasha a few days back, after she yeeted a bucket of chocolate ice cream into her lap at Connie’s and Jean’s dorm.

"Thanks, dipshit" Jean grimaced right back at you, and accepting his loss, turned his back to you to walk into your bathroom. You couldn't help staring at the broad shoulders, his wide back muscles moving under the jersey as he moved, just like his glute muscles under the sweatpants that became visible where the jersey rode up... "Hey, these are my sweats!"

"Tell Connie, he's the one giving away your stuff" you replied with a smirk. "You're welcome, by the way"

Jean shut the door behind him, and you threw yourself on your bed, burying your face in your hands. What the actual fuck is happening in your head?

Jean in your bathroom, on the other hand, was not so confused by his feelings as you were by yours.

He stood in front of the sink and lifted the shirt you gave him up to his face. He closed his eyes as the familiar smell of you filled his nose. It was a clean, kind of a sweet scent, that he knew exactly from all the times he got into your face, bullying you to insanity in the past few weeks.

He smiled to himself at the thought, and threw the clean clothes on the edge of the sink. It was a small bathroom, full of a bunch of shampoo bottles, cream jars, serums, pots, and whatever other girly products he couldn't identify to save his life. There was not much room to put any of his stuff.

Jean started taking his clothes off, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. You were kinda right, he did look dirty. His hair was a mess, a few strands dripping of sweat and stuck to his face and neck.

He saw you staring at it when he caught your eyes after Sasha left.

Maybe you thought of him the same way he thought of you? The way he still saw you as a stuck up little nerd, but found you more and more attractive the more he got under your skin, just turned him on so much. More than anything. Maybe it was because your angry moments made your tough, icy shell break, that you specifically made just to hide from him. And under that shell, you were not the mousy dork you wanted him to see.

His dirty, sweat-drenched clothes dropped on the tile floor one by one, as Jean got completely undressed. He saw you getting flustered more and more frequently, when you two were close to each other. He wondered if you thought of him getting naked in that small bathroom right now.

You absolutely did. You felt your cheeks growing warm under your palms, as you laid there, face still buried in your hands, Jean getting undressed on the other side of the door being the only thought in your mind. You wanted to stop the thoughts, but they sent waves of warmth down your body, making you throb in your panties...

And it felt good.

You've been denying the pleasure of letting these thoughts flow free for weeks now. You gave up. He was within a few feet from you, and he was probably already naked.

Jean grabbed the clean towel, and swiftly looked around to find a place to put it, where it'll be within reach from the shower. There was a wicker basket half-full of clothes, with a familiar pair of socks thrown on the top, covered in small little teddy bears. That was definitely Sasha's. Next to it was what looked like another laundry box. That must be yours.

Jean stopped for a moment. Instead of simply using it as a temporary towel holder, he stepped closer to the box and slowly lifted the lid.

Yes, it was definitely yours.

After a quick glance at the closed door, he carefully reached into it, pulling out a familiar lilac top of yours. He remembered it, because it was quite a tight one, not like your usual baggy t-shirts that you liked to hide under. This one top made it hard for him not to look at the round outlines of your perfect tits, your nipples poking through the thin fabric. Jean lifted the top to his nose, getting a whiff of your sweet scent.

Jean felt like such a fucking pervert at that moment. There has never been a need for him to get creepy, he could basically get any girl he wanted. There was not one time when he felt called to stalk on anyone, or act out of line, being in their bathroom and smelling their used clothes.

Dear lord.

He almost, almost convinced himself to cut it off, and just take a shower. But as he reached to drop the lilac top back in the box, a pair of panties caught his eye on top of the laundry. Fuck.

Jean already felt himself getting hard as he pulled out the soft piece of fabric, and felt it between the tips of his fingers. It was a simple cotton pair, with a blue little bow at the top. Jean closed his eyes, imagining the bow sitting right above your little pussy, and blood flowed into his groin, his cock getting rock hard in no time.

He let out a quiet sigh as he imagined how your wet folds must taste just as sweet and salivating as you smelt. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was extremely wrong... But he also couldn't stop now.

Jean wrapped his fingers around his hardened cock, and jerked himself a little bit while thinking of how he would lick and tease your little clit through this soft fabric. His tip started glistening with precum as the thought of you moaning in pleasure filled his mind. Your eyes would be looking into his, your long eyelashes blinking down at him, practically pleading him to pull the panties aside and lick your wet, creamy center.

"Holy shit" Jean whispered with a quiet, low groan and hesitated for a moment, before wrapping the pair of panties around his achingly hard cock. He had to gather all his strength to hold back his moans as he started to slide them up and down on his shaft. This is so wrong.

But he so desperately wanted to be inside of you.

He bit down on his lower lip, tightening your panties around the head of his cock. The precum leaking from the tip started to form a wet little patch on the fabric. The softness of it, your smell still lingering in his nose and overwhelming his senses, the image in his head of your legs spread wide open for him... It just felt so fucking good.

Jean started to let out a few quiet sighs as he let himself enjoy the thought of eating you out, then the whole of his body jerked in shock as a loud knock on the bathroom door stopped him in his tracks.

"Jean, what the hell are you doing? Quit admiring yourself in the mirror and get in the shower, we don't have all day" you yelled through the door. It took you multiple seconds to talk yourself out of peeping through the keyhole.

Jean quickly dropped the panties back into the laundry box and closed the lid. You heard the shower start running in no time, and you threw yourself on the bed again, as if burying your face in the pillows made all your dirty little thoughts of him go away. You imagined as water ran down on his skin, wetting his hair, dripping from his most sensitive parts...

"Holy fucking shit, I'm out of my mind" you murmured into the pillow, and cursed Sasha for leaving you to suffer in this situation.

And for being so right about you being into him.

In little less than ten minutes, the bathroom door swung open and with a cloud of hot steam around him, Jean appeared wearing the clean clothes you gave him. You sat up on your bed, and instantly bursted out laughing at the sight.

His own grey sweatpants obviously fit him right, but the large t-shirt you lended him was so tight around his chest and shoulders, it looked like it was moments from tearing apart. Not to mention the length of the shirt on his tall frame left the lower part of his stomach completely uncovered.

"I like your crop top, babygirl" you grinned looking up at his face, and Jean frowned, but you could see the glimpse of the smile he was holding back. You forced yourself to ignore the wetness you felt spreading in your panties as you looked at his happy trail peeking from under your shirt. The V-line formed by his hips lead your eyes right down to the crotch of his sweatpants, and you felt yourself blush again.

This was going to be a misery, that was for sure.

"Shut up, clean freak" Jean growled and occupied his well deserved place on the end of your bed.

#attack on titan #aot #attack on titan x you #aot x you #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean #jean x reader #attack on titan smut #aot smut #jean kirstein smut #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #jean kirstein fanfiction #attack on titan x y/n #aot x y/n #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein x y/n #jean x you #jean x y/n

[xreaderbooks]

Reward | Leo Valdez

Summary: Reader has had enough to worry about without her boyfriend coming to ask her for help with a homework assignment.

based on this request

Warnings: Language, Aged-up, fluff, making out like constantly, very slight angst, readers bad at math (cuz i'm bad at math and i cant fake it for the fic)

Word Count: 1.8k

PJO/HOO Masterlist | Navi | Masterlist of Masterlists

"You want me to help you?" A quizzical look befell your face as you look up from your spot under the shaded tree. You sat by the edge of the lake, you were taking a quick break hiding from the younger campers who wanted to train with you as you were a crowd favorite with the new arrivals. You just needed a recharge, a moment away from the energy that overexerted you. "Of all people?"

Leo rolled his eyes, "Who else?"

You snorted, "Cabin 6 is that way." You pointed and nodded your head in the direction of the Goddess of Wisdom's cabin, filled with the brightest minds and much better options to help Leo with his current request.

"C'mon baby, please?" Your boyfriend pouted and lowered his chin to gain your favor with his golden brown eyes that, you were afraid to admit, made you weak. 

"But I'm tired and I want to take a nap, using my brain will probably kill me at this point." 

He knelt with outreached hands, you allowed him to hold both of your palms in his own, you should have known better. He used his strength to pull you up from the ground and brought you to his chest, his hands settled on your hips. 

Instinctively you looped your arms around his neck and rolled your head to the right, tilted perfectly for him to mold his lips to yours. And he did, pecking chaste kisses onto your lips, pleading with you to join him in Bunker 9.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," You nudged your nose against his. 

~~~

The moment you arrived inside the bunker and saw his work table, normally filled with scattered tools and mechanical pieces that were in the process of being fixed or tweaked, was now littered with papers. 

Leo's homework was divided into five different sections that had their respective piles. "By some miracle, I finished everything else, now all I'm missing is this." He reveals papers that were held behind his back.

"Math." You skim the equations on the document in your hands, nothing on this page was anything you would be able to help him with. 

The smirk on his face made you glare at him and fold your arms stubbornly, "Yup," Leo rolled two chairs over to the desk that felt like your new timeout spot. 

"Honestly, I feel like I shouldn't be subjected to torture because you decided to take courses over the summer." 

"What happened to 'you die, I die'?" He reiterated the phrase you had spoken to him as a sort of mantra during the war. Your jaw dropped at the use of them being thrown back in your face and quickly shut it close. 

"In the face of war!" You exclaimed and shrugged it off, "Just for that, you can die alone."

"I did, it wasn't my vibe," He twirled a strand of your hair, and let it fall back into place, stepping back with a hand on his hip leaning the other on the table. "Aren't you testy today?"

"It's been a day, the kids were hard to gather and once I had them riled up they wanted to learn this specific trick they've seen me do but how many times can I let them down gently and tell them they need to learn the basics- drills that they've repeated hundreds of times, that some still aren't getting and will possibly die if they get caught by a monster if they don't get-" You inhale deeply, "So what do I do? I let them learn the hard way to get it through their heads that it's not as simple as it looks and I've only managed after years of fucking practice. And you know what?"

"What?" You wanted to smack the amused smirk off of Leo's pretty face. 

"They didn't pick it up like I knew they wouldn't, now they hate me but still wanna train with me because they still want me to teach them. My body is sore, I'm tired and I hate you for making me do homework," You pout. 

He approaches you with caution, slowly caressing your cheeks in his hands, he presses his lips against yours that were currently being smushed together by his hands. It was a quick but meaningful kiss, only for him to say "I'm going to fail if I don't get this done."

"Leo!" You push him away from you. "What the hell do you mean, you're going to fail, you've been cooped up in here all summer!"

A sheepish smile and pink-dusted cheeks appear at your sudden outburst, he chuckles nervously knowing he just put the cherry on top of your already bad day. "I've been behind on a couple of assignments and I've finished most of them already, I'm mostly caught up"

"Mostly?" You were going to strangle him. You haven't spent much time together lately because of his homework. He decided to take summer classes to get ahead, and he's been busy ever since. You were constantly teaching the younger campers, and helping out around camp, whether in the infirmary or setting up activities to keep busy and you loved it but you missed your boyfriend. 

"But Nyssa had this project she'd been working on and I couldn't help it."

You rolled your eyes and sighed, you couldn't be upset with him- not completely, you understood how hard it was for Leo to stay focused on a task that wasn't something he could physically tinker with, but there had been moments where you wanted to just be with him in his presence and you stopped yourself from going to him knowing that you'd only be a distraction. 

"I promise this is the only one left," He takes your hand and leads you to sit on a chair then sits in another one next to you. 

"I'm so annoyed with you right now," You snatch the paper and look over the equations. 

An hour and a half into the 50-question work packet, you and Leo moved to the mattress lifted by wooden pallets used for shipping crates. 36 out of 50 equations were done, with work shown, Leo had barely any trouble working on it as he was naturally good with numbers you weren't sure you were needed at all. 

You solved a couple for him when he got bored and started leaving trails of kisses from your cheek to your neck and shoulder, you were sure the answer was right and took a break, though when he pulled out of his dazed and loving state he looked over it and kissed you deeply.

"What was that for?" You asked in a whisper. 

"A reward," He held your chin with his forefinger and thumb, pecking your cheek. "For helping me with my homework."

"Well, if I don't help you get this done, who will?" 

"Malcolm and I are pretty tight," Leo has a deep stare on your lips, his thumb swipes your swollen bottom lip. "You've also got eight of them wrong, Mi Amor." 

"I did nine of them," You did the math- that you weren't good at in your head, piecing together that you indeed sucked. "Why'd you ask me to help you, if you knew that I couldn't do math."

"I wanted to be around you, it's been a while since we've been alone." He toys with the bracelet he gifted you on your first anniversary, five charms for the five years you've been together since you confessed your feelings at age 17 after the war ended. You met at age 15 when Annabeth brought him to camp, and the rest is history. 

"I'm still annoyed at you, you know, just because I've let you kiss me a couple of times doesn't mean-" He cuts you off with another kiss like earlier, catching you off-guard, intense and full of feeling. You immediately kiss back, not having the willpower to not, succumb to the charms he begrudgingly has on you. 

You deepen the kiss by entangling your hands in his hair pulling his impossibly closer, it was a synchronized dance at first, the years of being used to the pattern of each other's kiss being shown in the heavy minutes of your mouths moving together in passion. It soon became heated, teeth clashing, tongues moving sloppily, mouths chasing each other after breaking apart two seconds at a time for breath. 

Leo gently laid you on your back, breaking apart to take off his shirt, the moment it slipped off you brought him down to you, he fit perfectly between your legs. You gasp at the sensation of him grinding against you. He parts his lips from yours, to which you whine softly. He licks a stripe from your neck to your jaw and sucks until he's satisfied with the way you sigh and rock your body up and clutching onto the blades on his shoulders on his back. 

He repeats licking, sucking, and kissing soft kisses as an apology for the spots he bit until you were sore.

You pull away from him and flip your bodies so that you are on top, you grab his wrists and pin them to the top of the pillows to see his reaction and wanting to be in control for a while. You gave him the same treatment and brought your body lower so that you could kiss all over his chest and back up. 

You sat up to breathe fresh air, straddling him and releasing his hands only for him to intertwine his hands with yours and play with your fingers. He bucks his hips up playfully, and you jump slightly, your eyes widen for a second, and your lips turn up in a grin. 

"You've gotten better at not... you know," You hint at the control Leo's gained with his fire powers. Heated makeouts like this were often interrupted by the smell of smoke or his skin feeling feverish. 

He lets go of your hands and places his larger hands on your hips, you ignore the butterflies that flutter in your heart and stomach at the way he rubs up your waist and hips. "My hair was steaming earlier, I was hoping you didn't notice, thankfully you didn't or this would've been awkward."

"It's not awkward when that happens Leo, it's a little funny, to be honest, part of the reason why I love you." You tell him earnestly, "Nothing's awkward with you, you're my best friend." 

"I love you," Leo responds with unwavering eyes on yours. "I'm sorry for the time we lost."

"It's okay, we were just making up for it." 

~~~

holy gods, I haven't read this series in forever 

I feel like it's a crime to admit I haven't read the new book yet, i'm rereading the series and waiting for the episodes to come out before i watch the show so im going in timeline order... just wanted to let y'all know. oh, and also i haven't fully read the trials of apollo which i know has info on where the HoO people are at in their lives that i'm not aware of...

#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez one shot #leo valdez/reader #leo valdez/y/n #leo valdez/you #leo valdez imagines #heroes of olympus #heroesofolympus #heroes of olympus fanfic #heroes of olympus imagine #percy jackson #jason grace #piper mclean #annabeth chase #frank zhang #hazel levesque #camphalfblood #camp half blood #bunker 9 #hephaestus #xreaderrequests

[sirdindjarin]

Hell of a View - Rooster x Reader (Nickname Ginger)

This fic is the result of being unbelievably down bad for Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

DISCLAIMER: This is only my second finished fanfic, and the first one I've ever published.

Title inspired by Hell of a View - Eric Church and credit goes to @patheticallydimwiiitted for the song rec/bonkin'-in-the-Bronco suggestion.

Don't copy my shit, plz. Not that it's amazing but like, honor code, guys.

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT (more like sweet smut though), fluff, sexual harrassment/assault references, blood, Rooster punches a douchebag.

WORD COUNT: 5,750

Your skirt flares as you turn to grab the dirty glasses from the bar. As you spin, you feel the breeze from the front door opening. A tall, dark-haired man is walking in toward the bar. 

“What can I get you?” You ask, immediately regretting having spoken as you recognize the man.

“Well, hello, Ginger. Look at you still serving us boys- I figured you’d have been snapped up by now.” He taunts, a hungry look in his eyes at his recognition of you. You’re incensed to hear your favorite nickname come from that mouth once more. It had been given to you by some regular bar patrons after a particularly unfortunate box dye incident, and this man did not deserve to speak it.

Your heart stutters for a second, and anxiety rises in your throat. After three years, the man who harassed you has returned from deployment. You hate confrontation, especially at work. It’s not the best character flaw to have when you work in a Navy bar, but it’s you. 

“You were banned, Jekyll. You’ve been banned for a while now.” It’s said quietly, but you hope it’s forceful enough. In your peripheral vision you see a man’s head turn sharply at your words. He’s behind Jekyll to the left, seated at the piano, yet no longer tinkling random keys. The bar was relatively empty for a Thursday night and the same few songs kept being selected by one blonde man playing pool with a few buddies. Some 70s rock song was whining from the jukebox.

“That’s the thing - it has been a while. I’m not the same,” he insists. “Anyway, someone told me this place lifts bans after a year.” 

“Listen, I don’t know who told you that but they were wrong.” 

The brunette man steps closer to the bar. “I’m sure Penny wouldn’t mind me being here for just one visit. I don’t think you truly mind, either.” His smile is leering. He’s trying to unnerve you. Unfortunately, it’s working. Your mind tumbles back to the feel of his rough hands grabbing your ass like he was trying to leave bruises, his gin-scented words whispered in your face as he pressed you into the wall behind the bar that night. He had taken and dropped the trash bag you’d been holding (“This is no job for a pretty girl”) and held your hands above your head. Once your mind had unfrozen, you managed to knee him and dash inside. He had been after you for weeks at that point. Penny banned him immediately. For good.

“I do mind. You need to go.” You say a little firmer. The glass in your hand is shaking from the memory. The left window behind Jekyll darkens as the silhouette of a man rises. 

“C’mon, swee-” Jekyll starts to say. A hand lands on his right shoulder.

“She said get out, man,” the auburn-haired pianist states. He briefly scratches the corner of his mustache with his other hand - as if he couldn’t be more relaxed. 

Jekyll spins. “What the fuck? Lieutenant Bradshaw?” He laughs, seemingly genuinely pleased to see the man, “Hey, man, how ya doin’?” Then his tone shifts to one a little more antagonizing, “You ain’t been in town for years- you really think you have a say in this, ol’ Rooster boy?”

“Nope. She does, though.” Rooster is so calm, it starts to soothe you, too. You recognize the man who always thanked you after every drink with a “ma’am” despite telling him multiple times to call you ‘Ginger.’ Sometimes when you’d hand him his drink your fingers would touch. He was always warm. Always laughing, singing with anyone. You’d had a serious crush on him since you first saw him. Now, the scars on his neck and chin are illuminated by the sun’s reflection on the bar. His eyes are hard.

“You’re leaving.” You affirm to the other man with the most confidence you’ve felt yet. You set the glass down and begin to walk around the bar. 

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re kicking me out because, what, I fuckin’ complimented you years ago?” He scoffs.

Your steps falter for a second at his callous disregard of his own actions, but you reach the front door and throw it open. Rooster’s eyes look up from your feet and you make eye contact - he had noticed. For a second, you feel self-conscious under his gaze.

Jekyll snaps you out of it. “You’re not even giving me a chance. What a bitch. Stuck up cun-” He doesn’t get to finish the vitriol as his jaw is snapped sideways by the punch. Teeth clack together and a grunt issues forth. Rooster shakes his right hand out once. His lip is curled in a snarl; his eyes flash at the other pilot. You feel your mouth drop open in shock.

Jekyll stumbles - away from Rooster and, unfortunately, toward you - and nearly falls before righting himself. He’s far too close now. 

“What the fuck, man!” He shouts. The entire bar is silent. “I said, what the fuck, Bradshaw?” 

No one says anything. You’re frozen once again as Jekyll looms a couple feet from you. At least you had the benefit of the bar before. Nothing separates you from the anger of the man who now towers over you. His head jerks to you. You’re the easier target.

“This is your fault,” he snatches at your arm, but Rooster is there. He shoves the angry man out the door.

“You know the rules,” Lieutenant Bradshaw laughs roughly, “‘No disrespecting a lady.' C’mon, let’s go, dickhead.” He isn’t suggesting Jekyll go outside alone; it’s a challenge. Rooster stalks out the door after the man into golden-hour light. Your mind spins as you can only watch. The image of Rooster Bradshaw, Hawaiian shirt askew, his knuckles bloody, his hair aflame with the sun, stuns you briefly - and it's a hell of a view.

“You can’t just fucking grab her, and you won’t touch her again. You won’t come back,” Lieutenant Bradshaw orders. “Are you clear on that, Jekyll? I can make it clearer.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pussy. You’re gonna take her side? You’ve known me since A School, man. All this over a four?” Jekyll shouts, insulting you again. 

Rooster takes three powerful strides until he’s in Jekyll’s face but he says nothing. Jekyll’s jaw visibly clenches as if deciding something. 

He makes the decision. 

His left fist slams into Rooster’s stomach; but Rooster was prepared for a low blow, so he hardly bends forward at the pain. However, Jekyll’s right fist lands on the side of Lieutenant Bradshaw’s face, and Rooster staggers sideways two steps. Both men are six-foot-nothing and well-built, but Bradshaw has a stronger emotion than anger on his side. His left hand grabs Jekyll’s shoulder and his right slams into the center of the smaller man’s face once, twice. Jekyll stumbles away again, falling this time to his knees, but he staggers to his feet quicker than you like. His eyes are livid, his mouth and nose full of blood.

Rooster stares him down, a drop of his own blood on the left side of his mouth. His hands are balled and he breathes heavily in anger, facing the sunset. 

“I do not understand your problem here, man,” the banned pilot shouts.

“You don’t need to,” Rooster answers. “You just need to fucking leave.” Rooster straightens his tall frame, and repositions himself so that he’s blocking the entrance to the bar. 

“Know when you're beat, man,” he warns as Jekyll starts toward him, but then a man pushes brushes past you, then another, then a third. The other Hard Deck patrons have seen enough and two of them pull Jekyll away. One man stands in front of the Lieutenant, defusing. Rooster nods once, then deadpans: “Hilarious coming from you, Hangman.” He then turns around to face the building - and you. 

His eyes meet yours, and you’re sure you look terrified. Fights aren’t totally uncommon at the Hard Deck, but fights in which you’re the topic of debate certainly are. Could you lose your job for not stopping the fight? No, surely not. Would Lieutenant Bradshaw get in trouble? Probably, the Navy didn’t appreciate fights between servicemen. It was nice of Rooster to kick Jekyll out, but to continue the fight? How could he have taken that so personally? 

“I’m sorry about that,” you apologize as he nears you, though you did nothing wrong. “I- I never expected him to come back here.”

“‘s’not your fault he’s a fuckin’ dick.” He smirks, his mustache quirking up at the corner. He works his jaw around, testing to see if it was truly damaged. His sweat glistens on his forehead, across the small bit of chest visible in the brilliant light; the veins in his neck are pulsing. You notice his Hawaiian shirt is skill askew and the white undershirt has taken a drop of blood from his mouth. 

“Let me help,” you hear yourself say; your stomach knots. The adrenaline is wearing off and you’re worried about what to say to the intimidatingly beautiful man who just took two punches - For me? You wonder. You start walking into the rear of the Hard Deck. His slow, sure footsteps echo behind you as you step into the cleaning closet and grab a first aid kit. Then into the kitchen for some ice. When you reutrn, he’s seated at a table in the corner. He’s facing you and he looks oddly satisfied, you think. A strangled giggle leaves your mouth at the absurdity of the situation. 

“What?” He asks. “You alright?” When you don’t reply, he continues, “That bastard owes the whole bar a round, but I think he owes you a lot more, honey.”  

You smile softly at the concern, but your heart thuds with his use of the pet name. “Yeah, no, I’m fine.” You debate telling him why Jekyll upset you so easily. You want to open up to him, to explain why you were so shaken when that asshole walked into the Hard Deck. Plus, why should you be ashamed of what Jekyll did all those years ago? That was on him, not you. So, you tell him the short version. 

“A few years ago, he tried to- well, he grabbed- he kind of- touched me.” You finish lamely, partially second-guessing your decision to tell him such an uncomfortable thing.

He’s silent for a moment, his jaw clenching. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. The veins in his tanned neck are visible again and your mouth is dry. “If I’d known that I’d’ve kept goin’,” he snorts. 

“No, I’m really grateful for your help, but I’m glad you weren’t more seriously hurt,” you say, staring at the small cut on his cheekbone. It ran parallel to one of his other scars. How had he gotten those? The one on his neck looked downright inviting. You shamelessly let your eyes drink him in.

“Mmm, you don’t think I could’ve taken him?” He teases, examining his hand.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I think you could take just about anything.” You weren’t just thinking about fighting anymore, and it resonated in your voice. You bite your lip to prevent further embarrassment spilling from you.

Rooster hears the want in your voice. He's been waiting to hear it. His hooded eyes look up at you through dark lashes and he challenges, “You think you could take anything?” His voice is husky, suggestive.

He lifts up his right hand and you wildly think for a moment he’s going to grab your waist, but then you realize it’s for the bandage you’re holding. You take his hand in your own and carefully wrap the bloodied knuckles with gauze, remembering the times you’d accidentally touched his fingers. You had been right, he was warm. Being close enough to touch him, you smell the sea salt and sweat on him. It shouldn’t be as pleasing as it is. You can feel his eyes on your face, though you keep your own on the gauze. You’re working slowly because you don’t want the moment to end, and you’re afraid of what happens when it does. Your hands tremble, but his are steady. Then, inevitably, you tie the gauze. Your eyes flick up to meet his.

His pupils are blown, the deep honey color of his irises ringing the space you’re falling into. Your stomach drops, leaving you feeling untethered. His mouth opens, his tongue flicking across his lips to wet them absentmindedly. The movement brushes his mustache briefly and you want to do the very same.

“How long is your shift?” he asks, breaking the silence. His dark eyes commanding your attention.

“I close,” you breathe out ruefully, frowning.

“Aw, well that’s a shame, sweetheart.” He drawls, waiting for another answer.

“I’m off tomorrow?” You’re unsure why you phrase it as a question.

His face cracks into a smile that would break your heart if it didn’t send you soaring instead. “How do you feel about flying?”

“Flying?” You’re taken aback. You’ve not been on an airplane in years; the last trip had you kissing the ground upon arrival, but you’re not totally opposed to the idea - especially if your pilot was the best the Navy had to offer.

“Sure,” he answers, “Mav’s got this two-seater we’ve been working on. I think it’s ready for a go.”

You only know who “Mav” is because Penny’s been flirting with him at the bar for the past month or two. Though you had noticed him watching Rooster play and sing, the connection between the two hadn’t been obvious. 

Not wanting to give in too easily, you tease him, “Hmm, could be fun. But I think it depends.”

His eyebrow quirks, “Depends on what?” The chair creaks under his weight as he sits up straight, ready for your stipulations. He’s so tall that even while sitting he’s eye-level with you. 

“On who will be piloting.”

His jaw drops, his hand goes to his chest in mock-offense. “Wow. Just cut me to my core, huh?” His smirk returns, “Alright, fine, offer revoked.” Your mouth drops open to backpedal but he continues to tease, “How ‘bout a drive then? That safe enough for you, ma’am?”

Though truthfully you absolutely trusted him as a pilot, the image of him in his baby-blue Bronco speeding down PCH, the Hawaiian shirt he’d undoubtedly wear blowing in the breeze, was too appealing. You tilt your chin up and answer in a voice you hope sounds seductive, “I think that’d be acceptable, Lieutenant.”  

What neither of you were expecting was his body’s reaction to your use of his title. His eyebrows shoot upward in surprise, his back stiffens. He attempts to subtly shift his hips in an attempt to adjust himself, but he knows you saw. That godforsaken, smug smile, crowned by that retro mustache, returns as he murmurs, “Looks like you better save that for later, darlin’.” He then stands and you’re nearly touching his chest. He slowly steps around you and asks, “Ginger, be here tomorrow for me?” 

____________________________________________________

Since Rooster never specified a time, you show up at the Hard Deck the next day at opening. It’s mid-day and the sun is baking down. You’d take the dry Californian heat over the humidity of the South you grew up in any day. There was a breeze from the ocean which pushed at the bottom of your blue sundress. Sitting down at one of the outside tables, you pull a book from your bag. And if he decided not to come, this wasn’t far from how you’d spend a day off, anyway. 

An hour later, the sun had conquered the shade in which you’d been sitting, so you head inside. Penny is at the bar with Maverick. They smile at you and Penny asks, “So where you guys headed today?”

“I actually have no idea. I don’t even know if he’ll be here for sure.”

“Oh, he’s comin’.” Maverick laughs, smiling fondly.

Smiling in response, you ask, “What makes you so sure, sir?” 

The older man takes a sip of his whiskey and says, “You haven’t noticed? Kid doesn’t take his eyes off you. Most of those piano performances are to get your attention.” He laughs again, shaking his head. “He got that from his daddy.” There’s tenderness in his voice, but you’re unsure why. 

Penny looks at you with a knowing smile on her face - you’d confessed your own crush to her a week ago. It had been a literal confession; she’d caught you paying for his drink without his knowledge. She opens her mouth to say something teasing, but the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside fills the quiet seaside air. Worrying about the teasing the two of you would get if he came inside right now, you smile a goodbye at the couple and rush out the door.

Closing his Bronco door is exactly what you’d pictured the day before: Bradley Bradshaw in a tan Hawaiian shirt and board shorts that show off his long, muscled legs. You’re standing there, hands clasped out of anxiety, as he sees you. His eyes meet yours, but they shamelessly trail down your chest and over your dress. He leans sideways against his truck.  

“Blue’s my favorite color, y’know,” he grins. 

Suddenly you realize you match his truck, and you laugh, “I hope you don’t think I chose the color of my outfit to impress you.” You step a little closer.

“The color is not what’s impressing me,” he blurts, then tries to gloss over it: “You’re ready to go?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” 

It wasn’t an attempt to fluster him, that word was part of your daily vocabulary, but again his cheeks blush and his right hand moves to his waistband, adjusting his bottoms. He clears his throat. You’re confused at his reaction; doesn’t he call you “ma’am” just about every day? He gives you a look you don’t quite get, and he walks around to the passenger door. 

Opening the door for you with his right, he holds out his left forearm for you to grab while you climb up into the car. “Ma’am,” he instructs, proving you were right to be confused. 

Deciding that touching him right now would be in detriment to your own self-control, you grab the handle and hop up in the seat before he can assist. 

He shakes his head and teases, “Independent, huh?” 

“Maybe,” you retort. The door shuts and you watch him as he goes around the hood to his own door. He’s so mesmerizing even just walking. His shoulders roll; he struts. It’s the kind of quiet confidence that strikes you in your core; you’re a little embarrassed as your body responds to something so small. He hasn’t even touched me, you chastise yourself, stop it.

He doesn’t need to jump into the car, his long legs equipped for the job. He turns to you, taking in the sight of you in his passenger seat finally. His mouth quirks into that breathtakingly smug half-smile and you flush with heat. He pops on his dad’s Ray Bans and says, “Alright, baby, let’s go.” 

____________________________________________________

“So, where are we going?” You query. The windows are partially down as Rooster rushes along the Pacific Coast Highway. His speed surprises you; you’re not worried about your safety, but you were thinking it would be a lazy drive and it’s clear he’s distracted.

“There’s a hidden spit of beach less than an hour from town - rock piles on both sides. Not a lot of people know about it, and it’s one of my favorite places to think, to breathe.” He answers, glancing at your reaction to the openness of that statement. 

Since he seems willing, you ask him, “What do you go there to think about?” Your head tilts a little, a lock of your long, brown curls rolling into your face. He notices, debating whether or not that kind of touch is too soon. You move the hair away before he decides, so he answers your question instead, his eyes on the road. 

“Whatever is happening,” he chuckles. “There’s always something.” Then he adds, “We’re nearly there.”

Okay, so maybe not that open. You wait for a moment to see if he’ll say more, but he doesn’t. 

You tease, “Ah, well, that’s fascinating. You’re taking me out here to think with you? It’s hard to use that brain without a little help, huh?” 

His head tilts back as he laughs. “Corny. C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“It made you laugh. That was its job.” 

He glances over at you again, this time with a mischievous look. 

“My brain works just fine, thanks. Can’t say much for yours,” he jokes. “Coming out here with a man you barely know? Not very smart, darlin’.” 

You’re torn for a second - obviously, you trust this man with your life, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting in his truck, but you can’t help but briefly question: was he making fun of your naivety? Your experience with Jekyll? It doesn’t occur to you that he doesn’t know the details enough to poke fun at you. Your brow furrows for a second, unsure how to process the joke. Your silence makes him uncomfortable. The Bronco slows as he turns onto a sandy side road then stops a few hundred yards from the main road. 

His seat squeaks as he turns toward you; Rooster backpedals, “Hey, you can trust me,” his eyes bore into yours, begging. “Shitty joke.” 

His eyes are alight with concern, his eyebrows knit together. Rooster mentally berated himself. He’d been incredibly turned on by your outfit, your teasing - more than he expected to be. The entire drive he had spent vacillating between kissing you or waiting, not wanting to screw this up. He’d meant to come across as flirty, but he’d stuck his foot in his mouth instead. 

“Oh. No, you’re fine,” you realize the simple miscommunication. “I just misconstrued that.” 

“No, I’m sorry. Really shitty joke. That won’t happen again.” He promises, knowing he’ll keep it. He reaches for your hand, truly apologetic. Your core sparks up as his calloused hand takes yours. You watch, stunned by the feeling of him twining and untwining your fingers with his own. Still trying to read your expressions, he waits. 

You look up and the light in your core ignites into a fireball as you recognize the look in his eyes. Instead of speaking your forgiveness aloud, you place your free hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing his scars. His eyes close blissfully; his mustache tickling your palm as he tilts his head into your hand. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen a man. 

You both let the moment deepen, and his eyes open slowly, pure desire written in them. He leans in further, and you’re frozen in your seat, hand still holding his cheek. His free hand smooths across your cheek and into your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, and your lips part to breathe him in. Your other hand fulfills a wish you’ve had for weeks: you touch the side of his neck, and it’s a dangerous move. His pulse is racing, skin heated like the sand outside. Your thumb brushes over his Adam’s apple and he swallows.

Involuntarily, you moan, “Oh,” and he’s done. 

He nearly crushes his pouting lips to yours, parting your lips further, and you let his wide tongue dip into your mouth. It feels so good to let him in; you want nothing more than the feeling of him everywhere. The warmth sparks down into your thighs, your stomach. The hand in your hair pulls you in further, deeper. His kiss becomes desperate. Your left hand cups his jaw while the other drops weakly into your lap. When your lips gap in between kisses, a low sound escapes him, sending another wave of electricity through you. His left hand moves to your throat, feeling the soft skin, and he drinks in the soft moan you make.  

He breaks the kiss and looks down with lidded-eyes, about to ask you if you’re okay, when you smile up at him. His eyes glance down at your lips again and you can’t take it anymore: you push out of your seat and climb onto him. 

Rooster smiles so widely, you almost cry. You kiss him again, deeper, still deeper, as he continues to make those noises that only he could. His mustache tickles and burns in a way you’d never thought you'd love so much. Your thighs enjoy the feeling of his hands, his thick arms holding you up. God, you’re glad you wore a dress. He’s holding you off of his lap, though, he won’t let you feel him, yet. Your hands work to slip his unbuttoned shirt off, but he’d have to drop his hold to do so. The noises you make probably sound desperate but you don’t care. His biceps flex as he breaks the kiss again, this time to see your face as he lowers you onto his tented shorts. 

The sound that leaves your lips is a cry of relief at the friction, unstoppable. His dick is already hard as steel, and though the shorts prevent any further study, you cry out at the feeling against your swollen self. Without any thought, you grind your hips against him slowly. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, lips against your cheek. His mustache sends a tingling sensation across your face and neck. Enjoying the feeling of your body as his fingers stroke your exposed thighs, he tilts his head back, which gives you access to his neck. You can’t stop yourself from dropping to lick and kiss him there, biting gently. He goes nearly weak beneath you. You remember your task of removing his shirt, and you all-but rip it off him. His white undershirt, though covering his chest, leaves none of the muscles in his arms to the imagination. You trail your fingers down his shoulder and bicep, momentarily stunned by them. 

He laughs, “You alright, sweetheart?” 

“You’re kinda hotter than me,” you let slip. 

His face falls; he looks hurt. “Are you being serious?” Unsure how to answer that, and upset you might’ve ruined the moment, you grimace. “Holy shit,” he argues, “This isn’t the most intellectual thing I could say because most of the blood is not in my brain right now, but I’m in the Hard Deck almost every day. I love that place, but I don’t need to see it everyday. You, however, I do. I’ve had to - you know - take care of myself more than once after leaving your bar,” he admits. “And shit, that sounds creepy, but I promise, I-” 

You cut him off with a kiss, apologetic that you let that intrusive thought out. Then your hand moves to his shorts. Under your lips, a hitched moan echoes as you unfasten them and slip your hand inside. Your lips part and you look up into his eyes as you feel the sheer size of him. Slowly, your hand strokes along him. His eyes close in pleasure and he mutters, “Fuck.” That word sends your body into a frenzy: you need him. 

“Please,” you whimper. His grip on your hips tightens. Then, remembering, you beg, “Please, Lieutenant.”

His eyes shoot open, utterly black in his lust. His hips swell upward in response.

Again you push him, “Please, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” and you’re rewarded by the feeling of his dick twitching, straining in your hand still inside his shorts.

He takes you into his arms again, lifting you off his lap. You cry out in protest, but he throws open his door. With your legs wrapped around him, and his arms holding your ass, he gets out and walks to the back of his truck. He sets you carefully on the tailgate, stepping back, and you laugh as you realize the truck bed is filled with blankets. 

“This wasn’t exactly my plan, I promise.” His boyish grin devastates your heart. 

“You had a plan?” You ask playfully. You reach for his hand and pull him back to you, unable to stop touching him. His arm snakes around your back and he lays you down slowly, his hot mouth on yours.

Though you can’t see it, somewhere nearby is the shoreline, you hear the crash of the waves and the call of seagulls. The sun beats down, but the breeze from the ocean chases away most of the heat. You’re warmed now by the golden body of the man above you. Rooster’s thigh splits your legs open, his knee edging your legs even further apart. You giggle, and he grins once more. You pull his white tank top over his head, and your heart stops for a moment as the planes of his hard chest, his abdominal muscles are revealed to you. You had no idea he was this ripped.

He laughs at your reaction and whispers, “Your turn, baby.” His hand skates underneath your dress, up your thigh, savoring your expressions at the feeling. Then he reaches your hip, and his eyes go wide as his hand finds no cloth to remove. 

“I had a plan,” you tease. As you speak, your hands push his waistband down. “One I’ve been thinking of every single day since you walked into the bar. I wanted you so badly, Lieutenant.”

His shorts now below his ass, you start to take him into your hands again but he thrusts against you. His biceps frame your head as he ruts along you, and the cry you make dies with the breeze. His moaning mouth goes to your neck, leaving marks from both lips and teeth. He’s almost feral with want. He sloppily kisses the hollow of your throat, then down across to the neckline of your dress. 

“Need this gone,” he orders.

“Yes, sir,” you start to obey, but before you can even touch the material, his arms flex as he tears your thin dress in two.

You gasp in pleasure as his tongue makes its way through the valley between your breasts, his mustache sweeping. The two of you are totally bare to each other, and you’d have it no other way. He thrusts against you again, leaving you gasping. His tongue enters your mouth with an aggressiveness you can’t help but wilt beneath. The feeling is sensational combined with the contact of his skin on your own; like you’re opening every part of yourself to him. But you know that’s not fully true yet, so you hook your calves around his thighs. Your arms cling around his neck, and you hear yourself moan, “Bradley, please.” 

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” He tilts his head back to look into your eyes. “I need you to look at me, okay?” You see the admiration and the lust filling them as you feel him push into you. The moans from both of you mingle in the salty air. The feeling of him inside you is nearly unbearable.

“Oh, my god,” you cry out. He fills you so well. You’re gasping again, “You’re-” 

He silences you with another deep kiss. His thrusts come hard, but slowly at first. But he’s starving and the sound of his hips slapping your thighs turns both of you on even more. He’s hitting you in a place you weren’t sure existed, building the tension in your body with every push. He leans into your ear, keeping his rhythm, and murmurs, “You drive me crazy. Always. Those low-cut tank tops, your tight shorts,” he sounds like he’s losing control. “You know what you’re doing.” He licks your throat and continues, “You’re mine, darlin’. You’re done for now.” 

His words undo the knot in your core, and your body shudders around him. He smiles and says, “That’s my girl.” But he doesn’t lessen his pace. He thrusts faster, needing to claim you fully. 

Your body still shaking, you gather the presence of mind to breathe in his ear, “I want to be yours.”

And he comes apart, his hips stutter, the powerful feeling of release shocking through him. He buries one final push as he lets go, and he leans his head on your shoulder, panting. 

___________________________________________________

The deepening blue, Southern California sky expands above you. Twilight is approaching and the late hour casts its honeyed light. The breeze whistles softly as Bradley twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers. You lay next to him, head on a pillow, your right arm across his bare body. Your fingers trail the lines of his muscular chest until he disappears under the blanket he’d brought. You briefly wonder what you'll wear home now that your dress is mangled; you smile as you decide to steal his Hawaiian shirt.

“I really did not intend for that to happen. I wanted to do it right with you.” He eventually says, his eyes following a cloud.

“Oh.” You wonder if he’s regretting having moved so quickly. “I’m sorry.”

He shifts to look at you. “No, I just wanted you to know I wasn’t- I didn’t want to just-” He raises his hands in suggestion and makes a face like you know what I mean. He explains, “I mean that I wanted this to be real. A real date. Not a one-time-thing.” He pauses, searching your face, “If you feel the same.” 

Reassured, you tease him, wanting him to say it outright, “If I feel the same as what, sir?” You look up at him innocently.

He huffs a laugh, now knowing your game but playing along anyway. His voice starts dangerously low, intentionally sexy, “The same as how you make me feel, honey. Like the world doesn’t matter as long as you’re nearby.” His voice changes slightly into a confessional, “I feel home when I see you, and yeah, maybe that’s crazy -” He trails off, his eyes dance between yours, trying to read you, wondering if he said too much too soon. 

“I would say that’s crazy - if it were anyone else. But with you…” You reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheeks, his chin. You pull him down for a kiss, pure sweetness in it, willing him to feel your emotions. “With you, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I’ll never have enough of you.”

“Holy shit, you’re it for me.” He beams, pulling you on top of him.  

#rooster #top gun 2 #fanfic #fluff #smut #miles teller #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #hangman #rooster x reader #top gun fic #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster smut #glen powell #fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #personal #my fics

[thisreadswhatever]

Anything For The Club: Part One

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader, reader x oc characters

[wordcount]: 1.8k+

[summary]: Being Jax's old lady definitely has it's perks, but when a new crew comes into Diosa, your loyalty to the club and Jax is pushed to limits you didn't think possible.

[series cw]: 18+ minors do not interact! female reader, swearing, sexual harassment/assault (non-canon characters), alcohol use, mix of fluff, smut and angst throughout, p in v sex, teasing, violence, gun use, mentions of blood, murder, blackmail

[authors note]: no smut in this part, but it's on the way! this fic has been a long time coming, after i finally found the courage to take on this request! (thank you again!) i had to get creative with coming up with a fictional gang.. this was not my strongest point but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out. i'm planning on getting these parts rolled out pretty quick as i've got majority of this fic complete. let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. i really hope you all enjoy this one, as i'm enjoying writing it! :)

Friday nights were always packed at Diosa since you had started managing the place, and tonight was no different. You walked confidently up the long hall from your office, into the buzzing lobby full of your girls flirting with the clientele, music blaring and drinks flowing. 

You had really made a turn of the place since taking over the business alongside Nero, Jax gifted you his share after you’d given up your previous job for the club. You both had agreed you’d stop working in the escort industry, and although the money you made was a huge loss to your lifestyle, you were willing to do it to be his old lady.

You used everything you had learned from your old life to create an enhanced version of Diosa, one that was inclusive and prioritised the women you hired, as a result it was utterly thriving. The Club was grateful for it too, they spent countless hours swooning over the amazing girls you hired, who were only the best of the best. You were a staple within the SAMCRO Charter after the years you and Jax had been together. You were known as the main handler of all things outside club business. The men of the Club respected you, the girls of Diosa wanted to be you, and in all honesty you had never been happier. 

The only thing different about tonight was that the Club wasn’t here. Jax and the guys were finishing a run down south near the border, and although you never asked for details, you knew the fact the entire crew had to be there meant it was a big one. 

The men who frequented Diosa knew not to step out of line as they feared the consequences that could follow with it being a known SAMCRO hot spot. When the Club’s presence wasn’t intimidating the clientele, you found the likes of all types walking through your doors, from in and outside of Charming. This never did concern you, knowing you could handle yourself and almost anything you couldn’t was easily taken care of with the backing of the Club behind you.

You helped the girls on the bar with the demand, assisting pouring drinks and taking cash. The reason your girls worked here and nowhere else was because you treated them like humans, and they loved you for it. You demanded they have respect from the clients, and their thanks to you was the huge profit they made. 

You walked from one end of the lobby to the other, helping the bar staff and listening in on your girls' conversations with their clients. A group of men you hadn’t seen before caught your attention as they walked through the entrance. They were six tall and pretty handsome guys, though they seemed a little rough around the edges. They were suited in leather and denim, their patches reading “VAGOS”. You’d heard the name from conversations with Jax and your time with the Club, but had never seen them in Charming before. They were known for dealing with the cartels further south of California. Not the exact kind of people you wanted in Diosa without The Club around, but you weren’t about to turn away the potential cash they had to spend. 

Nero leaned over the bar, speaking to you as he eyed the men up. “Maybe we should call The Club.” 

You shook your head at him as you continued to pour drinks, “No no, don’t bother The Club. Nothing we can’t handle.” 

You strutted over to the group, a tray of drinks in hand, smiling politely. “Welcome to Diosa. The girls are just this way, treat them right and they’ll do the same.” You gestured towards the available rooms. The tallest member of the group smiled back at you, “We appreciate your hospitality.” You noticed the patch on his front stating ‘PRESIDENT’. The men nodded thankfully, and took the drinks from your tray as they dispersed into the lobby. The pack’s leader stayed behind, lingering at the bar.  

You walked back to Nero, who was now at the front desk watching the exchange. “They won’t be any trouble.”, you assured him.

Nero laughed softly, “you do have a way with men, chica. But these guys are from way south, they ain’t no joke.” 

“They don’t look so big and bad to me”, you shrugged.

“Just keep a close eye on them, any funny business and they’re out of here.” 

“You know I don’t put up with bullshit, Nero.” You smiled at him reassuringly, as you turned on your heels, heading back towards the bar. 

The President was still there, drinking a straight whiskey from a short glass, watching the girls around the lobby do their thing. On occasion his eyes would meet yours, and you could sense the meaning behind them when he held your stare. 

You and Jax had agreed you wouldn’t get involved with the clientele, not only for Jax but because you were done with that life. You were happy to flirt and tease the clients, but it never went further than that, and it definitely wasn't a good idea to get involved with the President of another gang.

You continued to work throughout the night, kicking out belligerent drunks and handling business as usual. You were headed back behind the bar when the leader interrupted you, “you’re Teller's old lady, ain’t that right?” He seemed curious in tone, and despite the fuck-me-eyes, you didn’t get the sense that this guy was at all threatening. 

“That's me. Seen any girls you like?” 

"I sure have." His eyes scrolled up and down your body as he spoke.

You shook your head at him. "I just run this place. But if you follow me, I can get you a room with our finest girl."

He ignored your offer, “what’s a fine woman like you doing with a guy like that? You could get any man in California and instead you’re with a SON?” 

You looked at him warily, unimpressed by his blatant disrespect towards Jax. You were used to the harmless flirting and banter from your clientele, but this guy was just rude. 

“Is there something wrong with Presidents of Motorcycle Clubs?”, sarcasm plaguing your tone.

He raised his eyebrows chuckling, “and where is the Pres? I don’t see him here..”, he looked around the lobby, searching for someone he knew he wouldn’t find. “How about you come sit on me instead.” 

You scoffed at his advance, turning toward one of your staff before you left the bar. “Could you get this President another drink, Mandy?”

Mandy was the hardest working girl on your staff. She was utterly gorgeous with long flowing black hair and a smile all the men swooned for. She had stepped back from working in the rooms to your dismay, but she was too good to let go. As a result she ended up in charge of the bar, handling takings and stock, and she really enjoyed it. You both had known each other long before Diosa, and you knew she could handle him.

Mandy answered you with a grin and nodded to the man, “what can I get for you?”

He smiled back at her and asked for another whiskey, watching you storm off towards your office. He seemed generally harmless even if he was rude as hell, but there was something about him made your skin crawl. 

Your cell phone started to ring in your back pocket as you moved down the hallway. The feeling of unease disappeared as soon as you heard his voice on the other end of the line. 

“How’s my girl?” 

You slumped into your office chair, calm instantly. “Missing you.” 

“Me too, darlin’. We thought we’d be heading back by now but there’s been more heat than we expected.”

“When will you be home?” 

“Looking like tomorrow now. Really sorry, babe. How’s Diosa?”

You felt there was no point in giving him details about the gang members in the lobby, it would just be another thing for him to worry about. 

“Busy as usual” you beamed. “I’ll be counting down the hours till you're back.”

“I’ll be there before you know it. Get home safe, okay?” 

“You too. Love you.”

“Love you more, babe.” 

You put your phone in your back pocket and headed out of the office, bracing yourself for the next annoying thing the drunk President at your bar had to say. As you walked through the long hallway back to the lobby, you could see him standing in the entry way. There was no way you could avoid him as he was totally blocking your exit. 

“You lost? The girls are this way.” You pointed towards the lobby, hoping he’d follow. Instead, he moved inward, eliminating the space between you both.

“Actually I was looking for you, sweetheart.” He placed his hand along the back of your thigh, trying to bring you closer.

You pulled back from him, removing his hand sharply. “We have plenty of girls who will interest you. I’ll show you the way.” You tried to squeeze past him, looking for an escape.

He put his arm across your chest, placing his hand on the wall, making it impossible for you to move. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark and cloudy from the whiskey. The feeling that this man wasn’t a threat to you now waivered. This wasn’t a guy you wanted to be alone with.  

“My interest has already peaked, little lady.” 

You pushed his arm off your chest, snapping back at him, “I said I’m not available."

He leaned further into you, whispering in your ear, "I know old lady's like you can keep a secret, sweetheart. Nobody's gotta know."

You pushed with all your weight against his chest, and with the help of the several whiskey's he'd had, you managed to knock him unstable, and he fumbled into the wall. "I said no. Now you and your guys need to get out of here.” 

He stood himself up straight, scoffing in disgust. “So much for hospitality. You ain’t nothing special anyway.”

He stomped off into the lobby as he called out to the other members. “Let’s go. We’re leaving this shithole.” 

They quickly followed, a few of them protesting as they had to leave the ladies behind. The President looked over his shoulder at you as the members ran out the door, any kindness completely void in his eyes. He slammed the entrance door behind them, and they were gone. 

Nero looked over to you from the front desk as he watched you at the bar, pouring yourself a shot of bourbon. “What the fuck did I miss?”

You had taken two shots by the time you responded. “Just an unwanted advance and an extremely fragile ego.” You took another shot, ignoring the burning as the liquid made its way down your throat. “I’m fine.”  

“Knew those guys were assholes. You should head home, I’ll close up tonight.”

“You sure? I’m okay, honest. I can stay with you.”

He shook his head, “just get home and let me know when you’re back safe.” He took the bottle from you, placing it back behind the bar.

“Thanks, Nero. Really appreciate you.”

You knocked back your final shot before leaving Diosa for the night. 

———

part two

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller fiction #jax teller smut #sons of anarchy fic #jax teller imagine #charlie hunnam #sons of anarchy x reader #soa x reader #nero padilla x reader #soa #soa imagine

[harrygoeswest]

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

~~~

A/N: Hiiiiii! I think I announced this like 3 months ago and never finished it, but we're finally here! I actually really fucking love this story. I've never done this 'one bed' trope before, nor an enemies-to-lovers OU, because EVERYONE loves H man, right? Well, not this YN. And he's not too fond of her either. I'm really excited to share it with you. Again, what started as a one shot grew into a two-parter because I simply cannot contain myself when the ball starts rolling. Anyhoo, to my forever friend @all-things-fic, thank you as always for reading this through and making me snort at your comments and being the ultimate validator <3

Word Count: 13,261 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), vomiting, bed-sharing with a sexy man

~~~

Rain. Persistent, unabated, never-ending, relentless rain. It was all you’d heard and seen all day and you were sick of it. You’d never really minded it until today, but thanks to one shit-show after another, you were ready to relinquish it. You wanted it gone. Your summer holiday was already off to a bad start.

“Bad day?”

Where to begin?

A cabin in the Scottish Highlands had sounded like the perfect escape for a four-week break away from the city. You had work to do, deadlines to meet, but at least you could do it without being interrupted. Without the sounds of pedestrians and car horns and wayward seagulls and bike bells. Yep, the Highlands still sounded perfect, but the endless string of catastrophes made you wonder if it really was perfect or rather just a ridiculous indulgence.

No. You deserved this break. Bad day or not, the holiday was needed.

When your brother had told you a year ago that he’d bought a holiday home in the Highlands you hadn’t exactly been surprised. He and his wife had been talking about it for years, and he’d finally earned enough money through his music career to be able to do it. Sadly, with your own deadlines and packed schedule, this was the first time in said year you’d been able to find time to go.

Apparently the all-knowing entity in your life had other plans.

You were supposed to come by plane first thing this morning, but your car had broken down on the way to the airport and you spent 3 hours waiting for the AA to rescue you. You had then managed to rearrange your flight to a later one, but because of the weather, all other flights out of Bristol had been cancelled for the day. You then spent a ridiculous amount of money on a 10 hour train from Bristol to Inverness with a change at Edinburgh in between, and were now forking out on a taxi to take you the rest of the way.

At that particular point in time, a cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a dreadful fucking idea.

“Could say that.” You managed weakly.

The driver chuckled to himself and you tried not to squeal. “Nearly there now. Fifteen minutes or so.”

There is a God!

Forty-five minutes later he finally stopped in the middle of a single track road. Your eyelid had been twitching for half that time, and a headache was forming in your left temple.

He turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin. He was missing an incisor and three of his other teeth were gold. “This is as far as I can get you. Cabin is at the top of that hill.”

You gave him a look, then peered out the window. All you could see was rain and mud and a black night. “What hill?”

“You’ll find it. Fare is sixty.”

“Sixty quid?”

He nodded. “Scottish if you’ve got ‘em. I’m a collector.”

“We agreed on forty. And no, I don’t have any bloody Scottish notes.” A Scottish man collecting Scottish money! On what planet?!

“No, sixty.”

You muttered expletives under your breath and shoved the money at him over his shoulder.

“Y’alright gettin’ your own case, love? Don’t really want t’ get wet.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

In the shittiest, snappiest manner you could muster, you got out of the car and retrieved your luggage from the boot, slamming every door you touched. The driver immediately pulled off once the boot was closed, pipping his horn.

“Wanker!” You yelled after him.

Finding your bearings, you located the ‘hill’ he’d been talking about, forcing down your frustration at the size of the damn thing as you started up the pathway. You dragged your suitcase behind you through the mud, grateful it had a hard and waterproof plastic exterior. At least after all this you’d be able to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to reach the cabin, thanks to not only the rain but also the brutal wind. When you finally reached the porch you fell onto it, greeted by the most intense relief you’d ever felt. You took a minute to recover from your exercise, and then fumbled around on the dark porch for the stone your brother had left the key under.

“Aha.” Delighted when you found it, you pulled the key out of the rock and shoved it in the door, unlocking it.

Heat floated over your body, as did warm, homey light. Weird. Why were the lights on?

Then did your eyes land on the thing that was most definitely out of place. 

A loud, shrill scream ripped from your body.

A man was in the cabin. A naked man. Mostly. The only thing saving him and you was the towel wrapped around his waist. Shiny back, muscly arms, damp neck, wet hair. At the sound of your wail he turned around, equally as alarmed.

“What the-?”

In his panic, the grip he had on his towel slipped, and you were given more of an eyeful than you ever bargained for. 

You screamed again and reached for the closest thing to you, then lurched it across the room at him. Then your brain caught up with you, and you pulled the door closed again, separating you from him. You were back outside in the cold.

That man wasn’t just anyone. He’d never been just anyone. He was your sister-in-law’s friend. He was your brother’s boss, to a degree. He was your worst fucking nightmare rolled into physical human form.

He was Harry fucking Styles.

This was officially the worst day of your life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeated, over and over again as you paced the porch, head in your hands. You knocked into your suitcase multiple times and it ended up falling down the porch steps into a muddy puddle. You tripped over a loose piece of decking at least twice. You caught your hip on the porch bannister, too. But none of it registered with you while your brain cycled between images of Harry’s naked back and his large appendage.

How could this be happening? What had you done to deserve such a catastrophic start to your holiday? You couldn’t stay here. Not with that man. That man that you hated, and who hated you in return. This was a disaster.

You dug your phone out of your sopping handbag. No signal. 

“Oh, come on.” You hissed.

Stubborn as always, you tried to call your brother anyway. Repeatedly. Twenty times, at least, each one failing to connect. You couldn’t even leave a voicemail. You raised the phone to the sky like it was baby Simba. Still nothing.

“Fuck!”

The door swung open, and Harry said your name in a low grunt.

You swivelled, glare like a dagger. “You. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He scoffed. He was clothed now, in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. “Why are you here?”

“This is my brother’s cabin! I have a key! He said I could stay here!”

“Well, guess what?” He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Holly said I could stay here, too.”

You wanted to throw your phone at his stupid face. “Fucking great.”

“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding.” He straightened.

“You don’t say…” 

His gaze narrowed. “You’re impossible.”

“At least I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to state the obvious.”

You turned away again and tried your brother one more time. The beep beep beep that told you the call had failed yet again had your stomach in knots.

“There’s no phone signal here.”

“Yes, thank you. Just go back inside.”

“No.”

“For the love of Christ, why not?”

“I’d rather see what you’re going to do with yourself.”

You turned another glare on him. “Oh, I’m so glad that the shitty situation I’ve found myself in is entertaining you, Harry. Please, mock me some more. The resulting anger might actually take the chill out of my fucking toes.”

He looked like he was about to open his mouth, but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this really has been the day from hell. It’s been a categorical disaster from start to finish, and finally getting myself here only to find you, of all people, really is the cherry on top of my whopping slice of shit pie. So please, do me this one favour, and sod off back inside.”

His jaw ticked, and he emitted a low growl before he slammed the door of the cabin and left you in the cold, wet night.

A sob wracked through you, and you flopped down on the top step just to let your body deflate for five minutes. It was so cold you were shivering. Your clothes clung to your body like sheets of ice, your lips were cracked, and a bite ate away at your toes.

You knew you couldn’t do much tonight. You’d have to wait until tomorrow, for when the storm hopefully passed, and you could call your brother to give him a gobful and then walk into the village to find a B&B or cheap hotel. You hadn’t forgotten that your train ticket was a set day return for four weeks’ time. You’d just have to wait until Harry was gone before you took your time to enjoy the cabin like you’d planned.

When you finally calmed down you dragged your suitcase out of the mud and dropped it on the driest part of the deck. You dug around for the jumper you’d brought with you and pulled it over your frozen torso. You also took your shoes and socks off and put two clean pairs on. Once you were wrapped back up in your coat, you settled on the armchair that was the least wet and tried to go to sleep.

After five minutes or so, the cabin door creaked open again.

“Come inside, please.” Harry’s voice was void of any emotion.

“No.”

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“Rather that than share a bed with you.”

“And you think I want to share a bed with you, either?”

“Then we’re both on the same page. I’m fine out here.”

“You are not fuckin’ fine out here. It’s shitting it down, for fuck’s sake, you could get a flu. Or worse.”

You hadn’t opened your eyes so you had no idea what his facial expression read. “I’m surprised you give a shit enough to care.”

“I don’t particularly, but I like your brother and I don’t want him thinking I didn’t at least try to get you to be sensible when it’s fucking biblical outside.”

“I’ll pass.”

Harry took a deep breath, and he muttered, “Bloody insufferable woman,” before he slammed the door again.

You snuggled further into the chair, shoving your hands under your face. You thought that would be the end of it, but no more than thirty seconds later the door swung back open. You pretended to ignore him, expecting a verbal taunt. Instead, all you got was scuffing noises.

Pushing down the urge to growl like he did at you, you squeezed your eyes shut and faked indifference at his huffy grunting. Until he dragged you out of the chair and hauled you into the cabin in three easy movements.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, scowling at him as he locked the door behind you.

“You can be as stubborn and petty as you like about this, but you are not staying outside in the rain. End of story.”

“I was fine!”

“You were not fine.” He folded his arms again. “Look at you, for fuck’s sake. You’re about five seconds away from catching hypothermia. You think I want that on my hands? You, of all people, needing my attention every day for the next five weeks? I don’t, by the way. I came here for a holiday, too.”

“I didn’t bring myself here to be a God damn burden to you, Harry. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why don’t you go and get in the shower, and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down.”

You inched closer to him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Me, following your orders like some sycophant.”

He took a step closer to me. “I would, actually. It might make you somewhat tolerable.”

“Get fucked, Harry.”

“Sounds like you need that more than I do.”

You produced a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, and shoved at his chest once before you stalked away. “Prick.”

He hummed, entertained. “Try not to think about mine while you’re in there. I’m sure the sight of it has left you with enough to be desired.”

Too tired to argue with him anymore, you threw your middle finger at him over your shoulder.

Whether you’d been forced inside against your will or not, you really did want a shower before a permanent chill settled over you. You turned the water on and let it run hot. The second it swilled over your body you let out a helpless moan. 

You stood stoic underneath it for an indeterminate amount of time, just willing your body to warm up. The day washed away from you, worries temporarily forgotten while you soaked up as much heat as you could. Oh, it was glorious. A shower had never been so rewarding.

After a while you realised you didn’t have any of your shower stuff with you, still locked in your suitcase, and you let out a huff. You surveyed what Harry had brought with him and spent too long debating whether it was socially acceptable to wash using your mortal enemy’s shower gel. You decided against it and would properly wash in the morning.

Taking another ten minutes, you decided you were ready to face Harry again and whatever bollocks he might throw your way. You found a towel and gave your hair a dry, then wrapped it around your body. You hadn’t thought this through in your desperation to get away from him.

You stepped out of the room with purpose and marched over to where Harry had abandoned your suitcase after dragging it inside earlier, and carefully picked your way through it to find your pyjamas and toothbrush. Without giving the man even the slightest glance, you locked yourself back up in the bathroom to change and clean your teeth.

“Forget your clothes?” Harry asked at your second reappearance.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” You gave a roll of your eyes.

He sat straighter in the armchair he was settled into, “Why answer a question with another question?”

You ignored him. Instead you gave yourself the opportunity to actually take in your brother’s second home. You realised it was tiny. Like Tiny Home tiny. When he said he’d bought a cabin you thought he meant something like a chalet. But no, this was small. A kitchenette had been built into the right-hand wall by the front door with a fridge, a two-plate hob and a stainless steel sink. Two armchairs sat either side of a small birch table, and a double bed at the back of the room with a cherrywood wardrobe. A woven rug gave the space a homey feel, balancing the bare oak that gave foundation for the rest of the place.

A sinking feeling buried in you when you realised there wasn’t a sofa.

You rubbed a hand into your cheek, feeling slightly cheated by your brother and his wife. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Harry said into the quiet, all malice and jest lost.

“I feel like it.” You admitted, turning your stare on the bed. “I’m just tired.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “I sleep on the left.”

You refrained from giving him another eye roll and instead focussed on settling down. You left your phone on the dining table, plugged in to charge overnight, poured a glass of water which you drank in one long swig, and then returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry had settled on the left side of the bed but with his head at the foot and his feet at the top. If he slept on the left, did that not completely defeat the purpose of his claim?

“Top and tail.”

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not.” You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I am not giving you the opportunity to stick your foot in my face at any given point in the night.”

He kissed his teeth and sat up with a scowl. “Woman, you have got some major fuckin’ trust issues.”

“With you I do, absolutely.”

You waited until he was in bed the right way up before you slipped in yourself and turned the light off. The room was cast in darkness and your eyes struggled to adjust. You faced away from Harry on your side, wriggling to find a comfortable position, and you could hear him doing the same.

His foot was definitely on your side of the bed so you kicked it away. He then tried to take the covers off you, but you were quick to snatch them back. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have some of the quilt, please?”

“You’ve got some.”

“I have none.”

“Bullshit.”

He ripped the covers away again, and you fought the urge to squeal.

“Give some back.”

“You have some.” He said in the same tone you had.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’ve just spent an hour using up all the hot water so I refuse to believe that.”

“What is your problem?”

“You are.”

You grit your teeth. Folding your arms, you scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Arguing with him was fruitless, it just left you angry and wired.

Tomorrow, you resolved to find somewhere, anywhere else to stay. For now, you’d try to sleep uncomfortable and coverless.

~

Had you slept?

No.

For hours you’d imprisoned yourself on the edge of the bed, cold and coverless, hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm, and squeezing your eyes closed just praying that sleep would come. But it never did. You’d think after the day you had yesterday it would be easy to just drop off. Why would it be that simple for you?

You knew it was light outside now thanks to the inside of your eyelids. You decided then to give up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

As you opened your eyes you realised how close to the edge of the bed you were. At the same time, Harry wriggled again, further onto your side of the mattress, and his knee nudged your backside.

Oh no.

Struggling to find anything to hold onto, your body tumbled over the edge. A panicked yelp tore out of you, followed by a grunt and a thud when you hit the floor.

“Ow.” You whimpered. You’d fallen on your front, knee and toe first followed by your head. You rolled onto your back and held onto your forehead as if it might stop the pounding you felt.

Laughter started, and your eyes flew open to find Harry hovering over the side of the bed, green eyes shining. You were, actually, somewhat offended by how entertained he was. If it was acceptable to hit people, you’d be hitting him.

“You alright down there?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, Harry.”

Your own anger made the throbbing in your head worse so you stayed on your back.

“Alright, was only a question.”

“This is your bloody fault - you’re a bed hogger!”

“Yeah? Well you snore!”

“Considering I didn’t get a single second of sleep last night I don’t know how you’ve landed on that conclusion, and I can only assume you’ve made it up to piss me off.”

“You were snoring.” He said in a flat voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

The throbbing got worse again, so you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

“You’ve hit your head.”

If the thought of rolling your eyes didn’t make you nauseous you’d absolutely do it. “If there was an award for Best Observationist, you’d win it.”

“Do you need ice or something?”

His voice had changed and it somewhat startled you. You peeled an eye open again to find he hadn’t moved - he was still hanging over the bed. His expression, however, was neutral.

“Yes. Please.”

He gave a curt nod and then disappeared. You closed your eyes again, willing the throbbing away.

“There isn’t any ice.”

You refrained from screaming, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. “Okay.”

“Here,” his voice was much closer, and he gave a little pat to your knee, “this might help.”

Peeling an eye open, he flashed a couple of boxes of painkillers. “Panadol.” Of course the man had branded paracetamol. The 95p boxes of Sainsbury’s own shoved in your kitchen cupboard looked shameful right about now.

“Extra strength. And that rapid relief ibuprofen.”

“You brought painkillers with you on holiday?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for a long time. Hangovers need encouragement to get fucked.”

You raised a sceptic brow. “And here I thought some magical mystery Nutri-Bullet recipe would be your saviour.”

“Funny.” He muttered.

Huh. How unlike him not to shove a witty rebuttal at you.

“Do you need help getting up or are you just gonna sit on the floor all day?”

Your scowl returned. “I’m fine.”

On shaky legs and with a fuzzy head, you grabbed the side of the bed and hauled yourself up. You weren’t sure if the sudden ringing in your ears was something you should be worried about, but you persisted.

Once sat, Harry handed you the tablet boxes and fetched a glass of water for you while you thumbed out two of each.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Please and thank you in the space of ten minutes?” He goaded. “Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“My parents didn’t raise me in a barn.”

He stood with his broad arms folded across his chest while he watched you swallow down four tablets, face a mishmash of irritation and something else. You refused to believe it was concern so you attributed it to frustration. You were just ruining his holiday the same way he was ruining yours.

You decided to finish the water, and then Harry took the boxes and the glass from you. You laid back down, shielding the room and your eyes with your arms.

“Sure you don’t need a hospital?” His voice was far away.

“Yes. I just need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t answer, and you were thankful. Any more talking and your head might have exploded.

~

You’d fallen asleep. While you hadn’t intended to, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the respite. There was no way you would’ve been able to do anything on zero hours sleep, so a few was better than nothing.

You sat up, noticing that you’d corrected yourself direction-wise on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You must’ve done it subconsciously.

The cabin was quiet. Almost eerily so. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. The only sign that he’d been there at all was his own suitcase tucked away in the corner. No sound came from the bathroom, and all you could hear outside was birds.

Birds. Not rain.

You scrambled out of bed towards the front door and hauled it open, but it was locked. Harry had locked you in. You found the key your brother had left for you on the table and put it to use.

It was glorious outside. Not a cloud in the sky, blue everywhere, green even more so. And it was warm. Summer dress warm. Your feet itched to go outside, but you knew you needed to take it easy. The headache hadn’t completely subsided, but it was tolerable. Barely there. A shower and some food would fix it.

You closed the door and locked it again, determined to start your day. Steadily.

You were about to head straight for the shower when you noticed it. A brown paper bag trapped under a pretty mug, and a jar of instant coffee wedged inside it. The mug lived here - you recognised it from Holly’s old flat. But the greasy brown bag did not. You noticed the letters GF scrawled on the front.

He remembered.

Warning bells started screaming inside your head as you plucked the bag out and opened it up. The smell of cooled buttery pastry wafted from inside, and you pulled out the biggest croissant you’d ever seen.

The message was clear as day. Eat and get some caffeine in you.

This was bad. Angry Harry you could deal with any day of the week at any time of day. You could even cope with jester Harry, because you gave just as good as you got. But this? Base-level concern? It threw you for a loop.

Regardless, you were starving. So you boiled the kettle and made your coffee just how you like it as you tore off pieces of pastry and gobbled it down. While you waited for your coffee to cool once your croissant was demolished, you took a quick shower.

Half an hour later you were out the door and feeling a hell of a lot better than you had done for weeks. You wandered down into the village, the sun a glowing comfort on your bare skin.

You had a mission today: alternative accommodation.

You kept an eye on your phone for patches of signal, and called your brother whenever you found some. He never answered. Part of you wondered if he was ignoring you, and if that was the case you were going to have a very big problem. He only ignored you if he was avoiding you.

And that wasn’t even your biggest problem.

“I’m sorry, we’re full.” The receptionist at the final B&B said with barely an ounce of emotion.

“The sign outside said you had vacancies.”

“I just sold the last one over the phone. Haven’t had time to change it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

You fought a petulant sigh. “Do you know where else I can stay? I’ve tried every B&B here and no one has any vacancies.”

“Why don’t you try an AirBnB.” She suggested with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “You young people seem to love those.”

Ah, so this was a territorial issue. You gave her a flat glare and left without another word.

Yet again, you found yourself in a rut. Your good mood had been successfully wiped away. Maybe you would check AirBnB, but the thought of spending another obscene amount on accommodation filled you with a sickly feeling.

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

Holly went quiet for a minute, and you realised you’d earned the attention of a few passers by. You sat down on a nearby bench, wary of the throb in your head getting worse.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked.

That set you off. You launched into your shitty day from yesterday, from the car breakdown to the taxi driver to hitting your head this morning. Words without breath had never left you so fast and the feeling you were rewarded with after was less than satisfactory. Deflation. Sadness.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going.” You were certain she was lying about that last sentence but you didn’t interrupt her. “I’ll get in touch with Harry and tell him to rein it in.”

“I don’t need you to curb the man on my behalf, Hol. I can handle him myself. I just… I really wish he wasn’t here.”

“Do you want me to make him leave?”

A rare sight of guilt crept its way into the centre of your stomach. You battled the urge to say yes, because you knew if Holly asked him to, he would absolutely go. “No… hardly fair. He was here first.”

“Yeah but I bet you would’ve been if all those things didn’t go wrong yesterday.”

You grunted. You were supposed to arrive just before 9am yesterday morning, not close to 11pm. “Don’t make him leave. I’m a bitch but I’m not a complete cunt.”

“You’re not either of those things by any stretch. My friend just happens to know how to really rattle your cage.”

Ain’t that the truth. “I’m trying to find a B&B or something but they’re all full.”

“Oh, please don’t spend more money.”

“I can’t stay in your cabin, Hol. I didn’t sleep last night and that man does not know how to share a queen bed.”

“It’s actually a three-quarter bed.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned.

“Look, we wanted it to be as spacious as possible there. We didn’t anticipate two people who claim to hate each other having to share it. It’s for cuddling.”

That urge to smack someone reared its ugly head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She laughed from the back of her throat, and as irritated as you were it did make you smile. “Take a long walk, babe. If you’re in the village there’s a great ice cream place near the church that’ll make you forget all about He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can say Harry, for fuck’s sake.”

She screamed as if she’d been burned, teasing you.

“Shut up.” You actually managed to laugh. “Fine. I’ll go find some ice cream. But if they’ve got WiFi I will absolutely be looking for an AirBnB.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Do me a favour and tell my brother to stop being a wuss.”

“Oh, come on, you know he can’t handle your wrath. You can tell him yourself, anyway.”

You started looking around to see if they’d actually come up and were just loitering nearby to piss you off.

“What?”

“We were going to surprise you but I think you might murder us if we did. We’re on our way to you. My Nanna will be coming, too - we’ve got a table booked at the pub in the village.”

Unbelievable. “You little minx.” 

One of the reasons Holly and your brother bought a holiday home in Scotland was to be able to spend more time with Holly’s family. While she grew up in London and has never left it, her mum’s side of the family are all in Scotland.

Holly giggled, obviously delighted with herself. “Sorry. We’re set to arrive in about two hours.”

“But where are you staying?”

“My Nan’s house.”

“Not got a spare room, has she?” You mumbled.

“I know you don’t mean that, but she doesn’t. We’re staying on her pullout.”

“Damn.”

“We’re gonna go straight there and then come to you afterwards, alright?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from your bench. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

“Byeee!”

You were already making a beeline for the ice cream shop by the time she put the phone down.

It was a cute little parlour, like something straight out of a movie. Retro tiles covered the walls and floor in pinks and yellows, two long display freezers to the left full to the brim with every single flavour one could ever imagine. Tables spread across the right and spilled onto the street, and booths in the corner each had a miniature jukebox on top.

“How can I help you?” A man behind the counter asked, dressed in a full uniform complete with the little hat.

“Hi, um,” you gave him the best smile you could, even if you were overwhelmed, “do you have any gluten free cones?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the stand on the top with a variety of cones, from small to ridiculously large in size, “just this one.”

The cone in question was the most pathetic-looking of them all. You did your absolute best to hide your disappointment. “Great, then I’ll have one of those. Chocolate, please.”

“Which type?” He lifted a brow.

You realised then that there were about ten different chocolate flavours. “Er… which is the best one in your opinion?”

That perked him up. He spent the next five minutes listing off reasons why the chocolate and hazelnut flavour was his most popular of all his options.

“I guess that’s the one I want, then.” You forced another smile.

“Coming right up.”

Something made you shiver, but it wasn’t a gust of wind or the freezers you stood by.

“At least try and act like you’re excited about it.” A deep voice murmured, far too close to your ear for your liking.

You practically hissed and took a very purposeful step away. “Jesus, Harry.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t spiteful like it usually would be. “Only you could make ice cream seem rubbish.”

“I don’t think ice cream is rubbish,” Was your only retort. You just wished gluten free cones didn’t look so fucking sad.

The owner handed you your cone and you paid him in cash. “Do you have WiFi in here?”

“Sure. Password’s on the wall up there.” He pointed at a laminated sign, and then turned his attention to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that guy?”

Your cue to leave.

While Harry had an awkward conversation with the parlour owner about which guy he was, you connected to the internet and took a seat on the patio outside with your back to the sun. A satisfied hum left you at the warmth on your skin. You concentrated on demolishing your ice cream before you made a mess of yourself.

Unfortunately, Harry decided today wasn’t the day he was going to leave you alone. He sat down opposite you with a three-flavour cone, the colours unsettlingly unnatural. He looked uncomfortable, and this time it wasn’t because of you.

“What on Earth is that?”

“This is a masterpiece.” At least he could still behave like an idiot even when he’d been ‘spotted’.

“It looks disgusting.”

You watched him with a deep-seated discomfort as he shamelessly licked around his cone. Unfiltered moans came out of his mouth, but you were certain he was acting up for your benefit.

“What flavours are they?” You just had to ask.

“Mint chocolate, bubblegum and ginger.”

“Ginger?” You almost choked on a hazelnut. “Sir, you have a serious problem.”

He laughed again, that same obnoxiously easy sound as before. “Did you just call me sir?”

“I did and I immediately regret it.”

He made a noise, an amused squeak of sorts. “Why did you look so horrified by yours, anyway?”

You shifted in your chair, having just popped the end of the cone in your mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the owner wasn’t listening, pleased to find him distracted by a large family. “The gluten free options for cones was utter shite.”

“How so?”

“Well, he only had one type, and it was poxy as shit.”

He snorted. “I thought it looked small. I don’t imagine it being a lot of fun.”

You were immediately reminded of the croissant he’d picked up for you. You knew that you needed to say thank you, even if it did feel like taking a punch in the gut. “Thank you for the pastry.”

He paused mid-lick as if you’d just spoken a foreign language. He looked ridiculous and almost child-like, green eyes wide and pupils so narrow thanks to the sun they were barely visible. He rescued a drip before he made a mess. “Welcome. How is your…” he tapped his temple.

“Yeah, better.”

“Good.”

You returned to silence, and you got busy looking for a new place to stay. The options were… lacking. You knew the decision to go away during the school holidays would be a silly one anyway, but you wanted the heat. You wanted a summer holiday. Not a cold and wet one. But at such late notice in an area with limited options to begin with, all that was really left were large houses for groups of ten or places miles and miles away that would cost yet more money to travel to. The only other thing you could think of was buying a tent and pitching up on a nearby campsite, but you fucking hated tents and camping.

As time wore on and Harry’s ice cream disappeared, you noticed him growing more restless. You glanced up a couple of times to find him with his head down, but you eventually figured out the source of his discomfort. He was shooting looks at something over your shoulder while constantly readjusting his ball cap.

You straightened in your seat and twisted yourself slightly to get a better look.

“Don’t turn around.” He muttered without looking at you.

You frowned. “Why?”

He never gave you an answer so you did it anyway. A couple of tables over someone was doing a very bad job at hiding their phone.

For God’s sake. 

“Do you want to swap seats?” You offered.

He gave you a startled look, and admittedly you were surprised at your own suggestion. “No.”

“You sure? The back of your head is way less appealing than the front of it.”

You could see the confusion spread across his face and you wished immediately that you could take your words back. He was too wound up to mention it now, but you knew he definitely would in the future.

“They’ve already got about fifteen minutes worth of pictures, there’s no point moving now.” He huffed and readjusted the hat on his head once more, eyes downcast.

You pursed your lips in thought. After a moment you readjusted your seat so that you were hopefully positioned right in the way. Harry gave you a blank look, eyes still darting to the people behind you.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly.”

You knew what he meant. He shouldn’t have to leave just because other people didn’t know how to behave like normal human beings.

A minute later the table behind you stood and left, so something had at least worked.

“Thank you.” He said it so quietly you nearly missed it. “Your lack of subtlety was almost entertaining.”

You weren’t offended by that. You hadn’t meant to be subtle. “I know we don’t get on but I respect your privacy. You should’ve asked them to delete it.”

“Then it just makes me look like a prick.”

“But you are a prick.”

He broke into another laugh. That laugh that held no malice or spite. The one he’d only debuted today. Then he slid back to stoicism. “I’ll be all over the Daily Mail again tomorrow anyway.”

Something weird happened. Anger materialised in your chest, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in the slightest. What was unusual was that it came on Harry’s behalf. Usually you felt this way because of Harry, not for him.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, Harry.”

“Not when you’re me, it isn’t.”

“It is when people don’t know how to set boundaries.”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.” He readjusted his cap again and sunk further into his seat. “Not the first time I’ve been spotted on holiday.”

“With a mystery woman, no less.”

He snorted. “Sorry in advance.”

“For what?”

“You’re about to become the most interesting person on the planet. I’d privatise your Instagram.”

“It already is. Nor is it very interesting.”

“Just… I don’t know. I know what they’re like.”

“You think I give a shit what a bunch of people on the internet think about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Have I ever given a shit what anyone else has thought about me?”

He tipped his head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s their boundaries I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be. If those pictures do make it anywhere, I’ll have no problem telling the next person to fuck off if it comes to it.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Then I really hope for their sake that there isn’t a next time.”

~

You hadn’t left the parlour until you’d come up with a solution to your living arrangement. It took longer than you’d like, but eventually you settled for the only option; in two weeks you’d let Harry have the cabin and move into an AirBnB a few towns over. A bungalow this time with a very big bed. You’d had to fork out a deposit since it was a booking of more than 7 nights, which put another lovely dent in your bank balance. You were really trying not to think about it. 

Harry hadn’t passed comment when you told him. He just gave a blank stare and a curt nod, which was very unlike him. When it came to you, he’d never had any problem parting with his opinions.

You’d been ambushed on your way back to the cabin by your brother and Holly. After changing and freshening up you all walked down to the pub together to meet Holly’s Nanna. You had met her at the wedding but only briefly. Your brother and Holly’s special day had been somewhat dampened by the fact that Harry materialised again whenever you forgot about him and ended up drinking yourself into an early bedtime. The next morning you were rewarded with the worst hangover of your entire life.

Nanna was amazing. One of those larger than life women who weren’t afraid to drop the c word a couple of times without so much as batting an eyelid, and using Malibu as an excuse for a good time. You’d been seated on a round table which relieved you to no end. You were sandwiched between Nanna and your brother which meant there was a decent amount of distance between you and Harry.

“I need you to tell me something.” Nanna patted your arm, giving you her full attention.

It was like being addressed by royalty. “Anything.”

“I hear there’s a story about your brother involving nappies and toothpaste. A serial offence. He won’t tell me and Holly conveniently doesn’t know about it.”

You gave your brother a look.

“Please don’t.” He begged.

“But Nanna asked so nicely.”

“You’re about to embarrass me in front of the man I work for?”

You don’t look at Harry. “It’s not like you haven’t managed that all by yourself on previous occasions.”

“Yeah, don’t stop on my account.” Harry coughed, battling laughter.

“Great, we’re all on the same page.” You grinned. You turned back to Nanna, “Once upon a time, my little brother had to sleep in a crib and wear nappies just like all the other babies. He was cute, it should be said. I have a picture on my phone somewhere of him running around the garden with no clothes on.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat with a scowl. Holly gave him a patronising pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway, beside the point. Like most toddlers he was an absolute tyrant, compared to me - I was an angel.”

“Hard to believe.” Harry muttered.

“Aye,” Nanna shot him a look. She’d been smitten with him all night until that point.

“Don’t worry about it - we’re in an ongoing feud.” You brushed the matter away and continued with your story. “During his reign of tyranny, he adopted a very obscure but passionate obsession with toothpaste. Colgate Cool Stripe only - no other product lived up to his expectations. It all started when, one day, our mother accidentally used adult toothpaste instead of the toddler stuff. An uphill battle began.

“Any time he had to clean his teeth, he’d try and use Colgate instead of the kiddy stuff, and mum or dad would fight with him until he surrendered in a screaming fit and had a toothbrush forced into his face hole.”

Someone sniggered, and your chest inflated. Making people laugh had always pleased you.

“His addiction got so bad, one night he managed to escape from his cot and into Mum and Dad’s bathroom. They found him on the floor with an empty tube and Colgate smushed all over his cute little face. Hours later he had a terrible accident. I won’t go into graphic detail since we’ve just had our dinner.”

Nanna started laughing, a throaty and hoarse sound. Given the amount of times she’d excused herself for a cigarette, you attributed that habit to the unique noise. “And this happened more than once?”

You nodded. “They tried locking it in the cabinet a few times, but he’d always find it. Eventually they changed tactics and just bought Aquafresh instead.”

Nanna hummed and gave him a pointed look. “I’ve always thought you were a picky bastard.”

“Nanna,” Holly gasped, shaking with laughter. She leaned her forehead against her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t be that picky if I ended up with your granddaughter.”

Holly threw her hands up. “Does anyone else want to bully me today? Between that and being called very stupid I think I might have room for one more insult.”

“Your shoes don’t go with your dress.” Nanna said.

After a beat of silence, the table erupted into laughter.

The waiter returned to offer dessert, which you would usually forego since pubs rarely tended to offer gluten free choices without putting up a fight. You’d learned to live a sad, dessert-less existence. But everyone else was having one so you succumbed to peer pressure.

“What ice cream flavours do you have?”

“For the sundae?” The young girl asked with a confused frown.

“No, I’m coeliac so I can’t have it.”

“Oh,” her cheeks turned pink, which was not your intention, “sorry. Um, just the usual flavours, then.”

Neopolitan.

“Great, can I have two scoops of chocolate.”

“Sure.”

She was very quick to hurry off. Something bothered you about that whole exchange but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Aren’t you bored of chocolate ice cream?” Harry asked, but he was fiddling with his napkin rather than looking at you.

“Never.”

Holly kicked his leg under the table but you pretended not to notice.

After the bill was settled, which Harry tried to sneak off and pay for without telling anyone, you bid goodbye to each other and sent your brother, Holly and Nanna off together in a taxi. The waitress hadn’t stopped giving you wary glances ever since you asked for ice cream, and you still couldn’t place what went wrong. You might have been a little short with her but it wasn’t meant with any malice.

It didn’t really dawn on you what was wrong until you were walking up the hill to the cabin with Harry.

A curdling feeling in your stomach had you feeling very queasy very quickly.

“Oh no.” You mumbled, keeping your gaze on the grass below you. Your vision swung and you struggled to keep your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning back to you. He’d been a couple of metres ahead of you for the entire walk so you didn’t have to force a conversation.

You sat down on the grass to keep yourself gravitated, but it was no good. You weren’t nauseous because you were dizzy, you were dizzy because you were sick.

You spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the bushes.

Harry had kept a relative distance from you while you were sick, only handing you a bottle of water when you seemed to give up the last of your stomach contents and take a big breath.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a cautious voice.

Unattractively, you swilled your mouth out and then necked the remaining contents of the bottle. “Yeah, fine.”

“What happened?”

“I think something went wrong at dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

You gave him a levelled look, trying to communicate with your eyes. It seemed like a ridiculous idea considering you could barely communicate together with words, let alone silent glances.

“Ah… did it say gluten free on the menu?”

You nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

You shook your head. Sometimes you liked to put faith in humanity and believe you’d be fine putting yourself in the hands of others. When you were dining with practical strangers, making a fuss about your condition made you feel like a twat, so you kept quiet about it. Now you wish you’d said something.

“Are you gonna make a complaint?”

You shook your head furiously and readjusted yourself to sit back on your arse rather than your knees. “Happens all the time, sadly.”

“That girl knew they’d fucked up, didn’t she?”

“You saw that?”

“I saw you looking at her a lot after the ice cream thing.”

You made a strange noise. “It is what it is. I don’t blame her for not saying anything. For all she knows I could be going home unscathed.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not into making a scene.”

“You could’ve been seriously ill.”

“I know that.”

“If you don’t tell them they fucked up, how are they going to know to stop it from happening to someone else in the future?”

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. You and Harry had made progress today, on some weird level, but this was not part of that progress. “Fine. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.”

“Leave it alone, Harry!” You finally snapped. “How I handle my health issues is none of your fucking business, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s like to have them. Just drop it.”

His jaw ticked. “Fine.”

He disappeared up the hill and into the cabin without so much as another word.

You collapsed onto your back and let a tight sob wrack through you.

You contemplated what the fuck you were doing. This holiday had been nothing but a shit show from start to day 2 and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You should’ve gone home this morning. You’d refused to quit so early on given how long it had been since you had any real time off, but the universe was clearly working against you and you wished you hadn’t bothered.

As it always did, a second round of vomiting ensued, and you were back on your hands and knees hacking up bile while your stomach protested. You cried more as you threw up.

As the convulsions subsided you collapsed onto your back again, but the smell of it was starting to affect you. Slowly, you stood on shaky legs and attempted to make your way up to the cabin.

You hadn’t realised, but Harry was standing at the top of the hill wearing a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. When you caught sight of him you were ashamed. You knew what he’d said came from a good place, but it just really ground your gears when people who had no idea what it was like tried to tell you how to handle it.

He made his way back to you and silently placed his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t work out if the trembling from you was because of that or because you were just sick.

“How much more did you see?” You asked, helpless.

He gave you a startled look, like he was shocked to hear you so vulnerable. “Enough.”

You sighed and kept your gaze on the floor, trying not to fall over.

“Do you have any medication or anything?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”

Once you got to the cabin you headed straight for the bathroom and changed into your pyjamas. You then poured yourself a glass of water and took it to bed with you. You were asleep within seconds.

~

You slept through the night that night. When you woke you felt a shit-ton better than you had the night before, and it left you with a smile on your face. You wriggled your legs and toes underneath the sheets and stretched your arms.

You realised the bed was empty, but when you peeled an eye open it was obvious Harry had slept on his side at some point. You sat up to an empty room. There was no sign of Harry, again.

You didn’t know much about Harry’s daily routine but you would put money on him being an early morning runner. You shivered at the thought.

He appeared whilst you were in the middle of your second round of toast. It was the only thing you could think to try and stomach after yesterday’s disaster. Harry was in regular clothes, not running attire. You owed yourself a fiver.

“Ah,” he paused at the sight of you eating toast, and limply lifted his hand. The same greasy brown paper bag rustled in his grip.

“Don’t be shy.” You patted the table after swallowing your mouthful. “I’ll still eat it.”

“You’re that hungry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to empty your entire stomach contents.”

His nose wrinkled. “Right.”

You took a sip of coffee while he made himself comfortable in the seat opposite you. 

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I slept the night through and didn’t hit my head this morning which is a major improvement on yesterday.”

“That’s something. Do you feel right enough to go out?”

“If I weren’t on holiday I’d be right back to work, Harry. No rest for the wicked and all.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Okay. I was gonna go down to the lake… it’s really warm out.”

“Are you telling me, or is that an invitation?”

He picked his pastry apart. “Both? I don’t know, it might do you some good.”

Concern? From your nemesis? This was bad. “Oh, don’t go coy on me, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth lifted at the corner for the shortest fraction of a second.

“Is it pebbly or sandy?”

An olive branch.

“Both?”

The worst kind of lake beach, then. “The type that calls for a special type of shoe.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“It’s fine. We make do.” You pronounced, and stood from the table with your dirty things. “Give me 20 minutes and we’ll go.”

~

“That alright?”

You peered up at the man blocking the sun with a pinched look. He stood before you in a faded white t-shirt and board shorts, holding an ice cream cone with a single chocolate scoop on top.

“As long as it’s the right cone, it’s perfect.”

“I double checked.” He promised as he handed it to you, and then sat with his own.

This was day four on the beach by the lake. While you and Harry spent the time there together, you did your own thing. He spent most of his time in the water like a fucking fish, and you spent yours on a towel with a book and enough food to feed the 5,000.

You’d found a tolerable medium with Harry. In the day you gave each other your needed space, and at night time you tried not to touch each other in bed. Or smother each other. So far it had worked well.

You hadn’t seen Holly or your brother since that night at dinner. They’d actually been visiting for a relative’s birthday party and had already gone home, leaving you and Harry to suffer together.

“I think you’re running low on your special bread.”

You snorted and covered your mouth. ‘Special bread’ made you sound like some kind of escaped lunatic.

“I don’t know why I said it like that.” Harry shook his head. “But the fact remains.”

“We’re running low on a lot.”

“Maybe we should go shopping.”

You groaned. This is what your life had come to: grocery shopping with a celebrity.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

“Where even is the nearest supermarket?”

“I don’t know - I went shopping on the way here.”

“So did I.”

Has there ever been a more ridiculous conversation?

Harry found his phone and checked for signal, soon letting out a soft sigh. “Five weeks without WiFi was a stupid idea.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You decided to check a map on the notice board outside the public toilets on the lake site and decided there must be a supermarket in the nearest town. Harry drove you out into the Scottish countryside following his sat-nav’s directions to the closest town.

It was a little odd being in the same car as him. While your brother’s work relationship and subsequent marriage had brought him into your life for many a family gathering, you’d never found yourself in quite such a confined space as this. Apart from the bed situation. You were certain he was being quiet on your behalf, because silence was better than small talk. The decision to go shopping had proven that much.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered the second you entered the supermarket.

You followed his nervous gaze to a man with a camera doing a shitty job at hiding. “Go back to the car if you want to.”

“Hardly fair.”

“Being uncomfortable isn’t fair.” You insisted. “Go take a drive and be back here in half an hour. I don’t mind.”

He sighed and handed you the list you’d prepared before leaving. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, please don’t use this opportunity to abandon me here.”

He smirked. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his card. “Use that.”

You frowned at it, and then him in turn. “I don’t mind paying for it.”

“Pay with my card and then send me half when you find signal or internet or whatever.” He turned away, but threw, “Half an hour,” over his shoulder.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself. Now you weren’t grocery shopping with a celebrity, you were using one’s credit card.

Before you started your shopping, you had one more thing you had to do. Stalking the man who was stalking your reluctant companion was easy because he didn’t try very hard to be subtle. You tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around with a bewildered look on his face. “Yes?”

“Delete them.”

~

True to his word, Harry returned half an hour later with a confusing smile. “Guess what I found.”

You let him take the bags out of your hands to shove them in the boot of his car. “What?”

“A fucking Costa.”

“No way…”

“Yes way.” He grinned.

“Where?”

“Literally around the corner.” He thumbed in that general direction. “I got two ‘cause I didn’t know which one you liked.”

“As long as it’s got coffee in it, I’ll consume it.”

Sure enough, two starkly different iced coffees sat in the cup holders in his central console. 

“Which one do you want?” You asked. He did buy them after all.

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

“Please pick one.”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Fine.” He plucked one at random and started drinking as he pulled off. “Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” And you meant it, too.

Silence settled between you again as you slurped away at your coffee. It was comfortable this time. You put the window down and stuck your arm out to feel the breeze through your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder how we got so…”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, but he never finished his sentence. “What?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, Harry.” You poked his arm. “You’ve never been one to mince your words in front of me before. Don’t start now.”

His lips twitched with a smile, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A kind of sad contemplation. “I don’t want to ruin a rare nice day.”

Now you were the one struggling to find words. Animosity was just the default practice for you and Harry when you were around each other. After so many years of battling over often ridiculous things, he was right. This was a rare nice day. You hadn’t argued once. Come to think of it, you hadn’t argued at all since the day you were sick. That little spat on the hill was the last one.

But curiosity ate away at you. What was he going to say that had the potential to ruin your good time? Knowing Harry, it could be any number of things.

“I promise I won’t lose my shit if you tell me.”

His face lit up with amusement, but he never laughed. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Right there, in that single moment, you were reminded just why the world had an obsession with the man sitting beside you. Even in the blandest setting, Harry Styles looked like the man who would promise you everything you’ve ever wanted and be able to deliver it to you. The man who held enough charisma both on and off stage for a hundred other men. The man with pretty eyes and pretty pink lips. The man who looked damn good whether he was clean-shaven or harbouring two weeks of scruff like he was now. The man who would spoil you to no end, who would give you a life of comfort and stability, who would drop everything at a second’s notice to be yours. Fuck, he looked like the man who might even die for you.

You’d seen Harry in love and the man gave his whole fucking heart and soul to the person he was with. His inherent attractiveness was just a bonus.

“Tell me, please.” You tried again.

He considered it for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Eventually he sighed, “Do you ever wonder how things managed to get so bad? Between us?”

Ah.

A loaded question, indeed.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

He glanced your way, jaw suddenly tense. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to wonder about it because I haven’t forgotten at all how we did.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the most honest woman I know.”

You were biding your time, mulling over your response. Perhaps this would ruin your nice day, but this was the most open conversation the two of you were ever going to have. Not talking about it would be both a missed opportunity and a disservice to yourself.

“Okay. You’re not going to like it, though.”

“I didn’t expect to.”

You took a deep breath. “The first time I met you didn’t go at all how I expected it to. In hindsight I guess, to you, I would’ve just been a footnote. Your friends have other friends you probably meet all the time and I was just one of the next hundred. Holly and my brother had only just started dating, but Holly and I got on so well we started doing things together as friends without him. She invited me to lunch with… you know, the usual suspects.”

He nodded once, slowly. The usual suspects he wasn’t speaking to anymore for various different reasons. You didn’t keep tabs on Harry’s life by choice, but Holly and the internet provided more about it than you cared for.

“Maybe you were just young. Or maybe there was something different that I just missed or didn’t understand, but you weren’t at all like I expected you to be. Everyone - my brother, Holly, my parents -, everyone said you were amazing. ‘The nicest boy you’ll ever meet’. And sure, you were nice. Charming, even. And you had everyone’s undivided attention, including Holly’s. And mine. But Holly’s more so.

“That girl loves you. And I watched her love you up close and personal and it was amazing and beautiful and I really wanted her to give just even a portion of that love to my brother. And she did, but it didn’t come without a fight.

“I didn’t care that you spent most of that lunch ignoring everyone else at the table. Or maybe I did. I just knew that you only cared about Holly’s undivided attention and she had no quarrels giving it to you. There was a time I thought you might be secretly in love with each other,” you laughed at the reminder because it seemed stupid now, “but when I brought it up with her she laughed so hard she cried and then pretended to vomit.”

“Damn,” Harry produced an offended laugh. “Didn’t know I was that repulsive.”

“Anyway, it didn’t stop her from loving you. Never has. Soon after, I spent a week with her and my brother in Spain on some all-inclusive thing. Before you ask, I was forced to go. Being a third-wheel is absolutely not my style.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think it sounded like you.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Anyway, I watched Holly send constant photos, messages, gifs, any and all digital media to you while we were on that holiday, cataloguing the entire thing. I don’t think you realise how many times I heard oh Harry’s gonna love this. But what got me is you never replying to her. Not once. Her phone screen was just a sea of blue messages against a backdrop of silence. At one point I considered she’d got the wrong number, but then you texted her the day we left with something really dull and generic and I really wanted to hit you.”

“I don’t remember this at all.” He admitted, face paled.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a busy man. I reminded myself of that a lot to start off with, but the whole thing became a recurring pattern. Maybe you think I’m stupid and it’s a bit of an overreaction for it, but I’m quite observant when I want to be. You’re Holly’s best friend, even if she’s not yours. Every time she says it, it’s like she’s been given the greatest gift in the entire world. And she’s such a bright, incredible person. She’s my best friend. Not just because she’s married to my brother, but because she’s the best person I’ve ever met and nothing will ever change that.

“Over the years I’ve watched countless messages and phone calls from her to you go unanswered, seen her face turn down with sadness when you don’t call her back or text out a reply. She deserves more than that. 

“I’ve noticed you do it to my brother, too. I know he works for you so maybe it’s not the same, but it’s safe to say that in their house, Harry Styles isn’t a name that lights up their phone screens very often. Ever.”

Harry fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. “All this time I thought I’d done something to you.”

“No. Worse. You continually managed to upset my best friend, even if you didn’t know it, and in turn you upset me.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to, Harry. She’ll never admit that she’s hurt by your silence because she doesn’t want to lose you. This is why we’re so very different. I don’t hang around for people who don’t appreciate the good they have in their life. I’m a good person, and Holly is an even better one. She deserves more than your attention when she’s only sat in front of you.”

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

His lips twitched again. “The next time I’m in the village with signal I’ll call her. Promise.”

“Don’t promise me. Promise yourself, and her. One day she might snap and decide she doesn’t want to wait for months at a time to hear from you. Because hearing about you through my brother doesn’t count.”

“I know. I get it, I really do…”

“Good. Now, my turn.” You let out a long breath and turned in your seat. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you-,”

“You called me both insufferable and intolerable in the space of five minutes when I got here.”

“Let me finish.” He said, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, I’m scared of you.”

“Calling someone intolerable because you’re scared of them doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. While perhaps you were right, at first I thought you were just another friend of a friend who’d made an appearance for uncertain reasons, it became apparent very quickly that you weren’t going anywhere. It also became very apparent that you were not my biggest fan. That first lunch was one of a kind because you barely said a word. Every other time after that, which I now realise happened to be family-oriented, you hardly shut up.

“I’ve always noticed it. You command the attention of everyone in the room. You’re a storyteller. You could turn an anecdote about a trip to the petrol station into a fairytale. You give everyone in the room your undivided attention, and when I realised you never gave it to me, well… safe to say I was wounded. Holly talked you up to high heaven. Your brother loves you. My own mother loves you even though we don’t get on.

“There’s something about you. And the fact that the only attention you ever gave me was a dirty look or a snippy remark made me petty. So I started giving it back, and I think the more I did it, the more I lost sight of the kind of person you actually are, because I only focused on the side you showed to me.”

He turned into the driveway of the cabin, and you thought he was done. But when the engine shut off, he said one last thing.

“In one of your many little outbursts you said I’ve got a severe case of oosoom syndrome. I never bothered to look it up because I didn’t want to know what kind of idiot you thought I was, but it’s just clicked.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nodded and turned to you with a calm gaze. “I get it now.” He wasn’t just talking about the idiom.

“Good.”

~

The rain was back and heavier than ever. The ground surrounding the cabin was a swamp, the hill that led down to the village was indiscernible thanks to the downpour, and the day was dark and moody. Inside the cabin it was muggy and humid and you felt ridiculous sitting at the dining table in a vest and denim shorts, but you were.

Harry sitting opposite you looked more rugged than usual. His hair was pulled back with a clip, his stubble was shifting into a beard and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hmm…” He gave an obnoxious tap on his chin.

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the seat. “Just put me out of my misery and show me your cards.”

He laughed, peering at you with a lightness in his eyes that was so unfamiliar it almost had you shell shocked. “Fine.” He placed his hand on the table showcasing his win.

It was day three of this charade. It hadn’t stopped raining and all you’d done was cycle between card games and Monopoly. He always won. You were so fed up of him winning that this was the last straw.

You stood and swiped his hand off the table so that they landed in a flurry on the wooden cabin floor. 

“Hey…” he pouted.

“That was childish of me, I’m sorry.” You groaned, and crouched down to pick them up. “I’m so bored, Harry. I think I’m going mad. We don’t even have a TV. We’re in the middle of nowhere with a pack of cards missing the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts and an old beat up Monopoly box with half the properties missing.”

He blinked at me. “I know this. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“Sorry.” You muttered. “When I’m frustrated I just state the obvious.”

“But I thought that was my job.”

You rolled your head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I need to do something. Anything. I don’t want to sit in here anymore. I need air.”

“It’s pissing it down.”

“I’m aware. You have a car… just humour me for a bit. An hour tops.”

“You want me to drive you around for an hour? In a smaller space than we’re already in?”

“Okay, fine,” you sat back down in your chair and attempted to plead with the normal side of him, the non-celebrity side, “what if… when me and my brother were little and we went away with Mum and Dad, if the weather was crap like this we’d get in the car and drive to the nearest supermarket. And we’d have lunch in the cafe and then do a bit of shopping and then come back. And we’d all get one thing to bide the time before the weather got better again. Why don’t we do that?”

A smile was forming on his lips. “You want to try shopping with me again?”

“That prick and his fancy camera won’t be going back there, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” You patted his hand. “Please, Harry. Rescue me from insanity.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” You stood and clapped your hands together. “I’m gonna change.”

Half an hour later you were back at the supermarket in the town over and ready to find as much new entertainment as possible.

“Do you think we should buy them a TV?” Harry contemplated aloud as he stood in front of a large flatscreen.

You gave him a scrutinous look. “And put it where?”

“Good point.” He sighed. “We’re missing Love Island.”

You barked a laugh and carried it down the aisle with you. “That is not what I expected you to mourn over.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

You found your way to the games and books. “Can we get a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Why are you asking me? Get whatever you want, mate.”

You perused the options with as much interest as a car fanatic in a vintage car garage. “Farmyard or harbour? Or circus? Or mountains?”

“Whichever will keep you occupied for the longest.” He said absently, moving down the aisle to the board games.

The circus one had the most pieces and highest level of difficulty, so you plucked the box off the shelf and followed after him. “Have they got the Game of Life?”

He started laughing but never answered you.

“Oh,” you pouted, tapping the spin-off version that was much shorter and way less entertaining.

“Bop-It?” 

“When I was little I completed that.”

He raised a brow at you. “Can you even complete Bop-It?”

“Yes,” you snatched the box off the shelf, “and I will prove it to you when we get back.”

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered, smirking. “We need an actual board game.”

You gazed over the options with the same level of interest as the jigsaws. “You choose. I’ve picked the last two.”

“Absolutely not, I’ll only pick wrong.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Cluedo.”

“Then get Cluedo.” You pointed at it and walked away.

Two hours later and three books heavier you were back at the cabin and starting your jigsaw puzzle. You and Harry sat on your claimed sides of the table, box lid propped against the window and a selection of snacks between you.

“Where the fuck is the fourth corner?” You grumbled, digging through the box like a cat in a litter tray.

Harry glanced at the box lid, then at the jumbled selection of tiles, and plucked it out without hesitation. “There y’go.”

You blinked at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” You pinched it from him and placed it in the relevant corner. “Thank you.”

“A compliment and gratitude? It is a good day.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I’m not very good at the splits.”

That made you laugh, right from the back of your throat. “Have you tried?”

“Many times.”

“For what purpose?”

“I had a thing for my yoga instructor once and she was convinced I could do it so I kept trying just to impress her.”

“My God, you are a sap.”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to know you failed at something for such a pitiful reason.”

He gave you such a megawatt smile you had to look away. “I’m just like any other boy.”

“I can’t believe you had to try hard to impress anyone. It almost doesn’t seem natural.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“I don’t think you’re a robot. I just think sometimes things seem to come a little too easily to you. Skills. Work. Friends. Women. Probably men, too. Some of us have to try really hard to get those things.”

“You have friends. A good job. And I refuse to believe people aren’t interested in you… romantically.”

You lifted a brow at him. “Refuse?”

“Are they not?”

“Have you ever known me to be ‘romantically’ involved with anyone?”

“Yeah, that lad you took to your brother’s wedding.”

Colin.

“He’s gay.”

“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “I wondered why he kept eyeing up one of the groomsmen. Your cousin?”

“Also gay.”

“Have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Not since school, no.”

“Have you… are you… you know?”

You gave him another raised brow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Just because I haven’t had relationships, doesn’t mean I’m a virgin, Harry.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I think we’ve gone a bit off track here.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He slotted a piece into place next to one of the corners. You slotted another one in after that. The pattern repeated itself, in silence, for the next twenty minutes.

“When do you go to your AirBnB?”

You met his gaze with a calm expression. “Six days. Five nights.”

“Okay.” He said as he stood. “Are you hungry enough for dinner yet?”

“If you are, we can eat.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

~~~

Part 2

Talk to me?

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles ou #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles angst imagines

[pulisicsgirl]

holding us together - christian pulisic

summary: when the flu tears its way through Y/N and Christian's tiny little family, she alone is left to make sure everyone is taken care of, but it all gets a bit overwhelming, and Christian is there to take over when Y/N needs him the most; sickly sweet domestic fluff, a little bit of angst, mentions of illness and mom guilt, and a couple time skips (but i was already at 5k, so.... i kinda had to)

pairing: dad!Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 5.0k (i may have gotten a little carried away)

notes: here's the dad!Christian fic that I've been working on! I'm so glad it's finally finished-- I've been thinking about it non-stop for the last like week and a half (the baby fever has been bad recently... 😬). I don't really love the ending, so sorry about that. Please let me know what you think of it! &lt;3

Your feet padded softly against the carpet as you walked into your bedroom as quietly as you could manage. The large cup of steaming tea was balanced carefully in your hand as you tried your best not to disturb the lump of covers on the bed that you knew to be your husband—at least until you had to.

You approached the table on his side of the bed, setting the cup down carefully and reaching to pull back the comforter. There you found Christian, not fully asleep, but not fully awake either. He blinked slowly at you, slightly scrunching his bright red nose as he squinted his eyes at the sudden invasion of light.

“Here, baby, I brought you some hot tea. It should help your throat.” You reached toward his face to brush a couple of curls off of his forehead and his eyes closed briefly, humming at the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair. You continued the motion for a few moments, hoping to bring him relief in any small way that you could. “Chris?” you tried to get his attention again, and his eyes snapped open once more, as if he had forgotten you were standing there in front of him.

He sat up, scooting so that he could rest with his back against the headboard of the bed, grunting as he did so. “Mm, thank you,”  he said hoarsely as you handed him the cup, and you internally cringed at how painful his voice sounded.

You leaned down, pressing a short kiss to his forehead, and you immediately noticed how warm he was when your lips touched his slightly clammy skin. You made a mental note to grab his medicine before you returned to the room.

You hated seeing Christian sick. It didn’t happen often, but it seemed that when he did get sick, he got it bad. Currently, the flu was tearing it’s way through your little household, starting with your eldest daughter Lily. Your best guess was that the sweet three-year-old had picked it up from one of the other kids in her ballet class, as much as she loved to hug on her friends. Regardless of how or where she had gotten the bug, it hadn’t taken long for her to be congested, coughing, and running a fever. It practically sprang up overnight and Christian had picked it up from her in no time. As you had been trying to take care of the two of them, to your horror, your seven-month-old son, Oliver had started coughing, and soon, you were stuck looking on as the three people you loved more than anything else suffered through the same illness at the same time. You felt helpless, doing whatever little things you could to relieve them—making sure to keep up with meds and providing lots of cuddles when necessary (to both the kids and Christian).

Lily was thankfully already starting to pull through to the other side of the bug—you could tell she had a lot more energy this afternoon as she sat on her bedroom floor, playing quietly with her toys, instead of lying miserably on the couch, watching whatever princess movie you turned on for her. Oliver was still pretty much in the thick of it, crying almost constantly and sleeping only in short spurts—you were having trouble getting him to eat much of anything, as well.

Christian had definitely gotten the worst case of it though. He had spent the last two days lying lifelessly in the bed, drifting in and out of sleep. He had forced himself to eat the soups you had brought him for lunch and dinner, unable to stomach much else. He was sure to make his best attempt at telling you how thankful he was for you taking care of him, but with his sickly, fogged brain, he wasn’t even entirely sure how well that came across.

“Drink that. I’ll be back with some medicine—your fever has come back,” you spoke softly, brushing your fingers through Christian’s hair one last time as he took another sip of the tea, humming in response. You double-checked that he still had a full box of tissues and that the trash can was close enough to the bed before you left his side.

As you walked into the hallway, headed to the kitchen to collect the medicine, you heard Oliver’s cries coming from his room down the hallway. Sighing, you took a detour into his room, walking softly over to the side of his crib as his cries continued to pierce the air.

Your chest tightened with despair as you looked down at your son for a moment before picking him up. You weren’t sure what else you could do to help him. You had already called your mother in tears earlier in the day, asking for her advice on how to help your two sick babies and sick husband, but as far away as she lived, there was only so much she could do for you. No matter how hard you tried, you didn’t seem to have that “motherly touch” that she had always shown when taking care of you when you had fallen sick while growing up.

You picked him up, cradling the boy gently in your arms as you rested his head on your shoulder, bouncing slowly to calm him. His cries mostly died down, reduced to cooing and soft whimpers as he rubbed his face in your neck. Holding him seemed to be the only thing that soothed him while he was awake. You had even tried using some “essential oils” your mother had told you about, spreading some on his chest. You weren’t really sure how much you thought they actually did, but you were willing to try anything at this point.

Deciding to bring Oliver with you now that he was awake, you walked steadily toward the kitchen, slowly swaying side-to-side as you went in order to keep him calm. You stopped briefly at Lily's door to check on her as you passed by. All you could see from the doorway were her soft curls spread over the pillow, and you noted the soft rise and fall of the comforter as she slept peacefully.

Once you had reached the kitchen, you opened the cabinet door, sorting through the shelf that had been dedicated to the various medicines that you kept on hand for times like these to find the Tylenol before you walked back to your bedroom. You spoke softly to Oliver as you did so, hoping your voice would lull him back into a peaceful sleep. “Gotta get some medicine for daddy so he can start feeling better. Right, sweet boy?” you cooed at him. “Yes, that’s right. And then daddy can give you all the loving you need to feel better, too. We all know how much you love daddy’s cuddles.” It was true. Christian seemed to have a way with the kids—both of them, to be honest. He was able to get them calmed down on days when it seemed that nothing you could do was helping. It had been even more so with Lily—she was definitely a “daddy’s girl,” through and through. It had been difficult trying to take care of them both without his special touch to comfort them.

Having located the bottle you were looking for, you shut the cabinet door softly and made your way back toward the bedroom, still bouncing the boy you were cradling in your arms.

Christian was still sitting up in the bed, sipping his tea when you walked back in, a soft smile spreading on his face when he saw Oliver laying on your chest. Setting the pill bottle on the side table, you did your best to unscrew the top with one hand and retrieve the medicine he needed.

He whispered a soft, “thank you” as he took the medicine from your outstretched hand, swallowing the pills along with the last of his tea. You took the empty cup from his hands and placed it to the side. Christian reached both of his hands out toward you, wiggling his fingers to tell you he wanted to hold Oliver. As bad as Christian felt, he still loved his kids and loved being a dad.

You giggled as you carefully passed the boy into his hands, and Christian cradled him in one of his arms while he caressed the baby’s face gently with the other. He ran a finger down between Oliver’s eyebrows, tapping his small nose softly, then wiping his thumb slowly across his cheek. Oliver just silently watched his daddy’s face with wide, curious eyes. You could feel the tears burning your eyes at the sweet interaction—Oliver hadn’t been this calm while he was awake in days.

“How’s he been doing?” Christian’s still-hoarse voice pulled you from your thoughts as he looked up at you.

“He’s okay…” you hesitated. “He hasn’t been sleeping or eating very well, but I think he might be getting a little better, so I’m hopeful he’ll be doing okay in the next couple of days.” You forced a smile, refusing to let Christian see how completely exhausted you were after taking care of all three of them for the last few days.

Christian reached out and took your left hand in his, bringing it up to his face to press a kiss to your knuckles—somehow still detecting your tiredness though the mask you had tried to put up. “Thank you,” he spoke so sincerely. “For everything that you’re doing, taking care of me and the kids. You’re honestly incredible.”

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to brush his compliment off, but he wasn’t having it. “I mean it, Y/N.” He squeezed your fingers, hoping you would take his words to heart.

You rubbed your tired eyes, trying to clear them of any tears that had just sprung up. Oliver had quickly fallen asleep in Christian’s arms, mouth open as he breathed steadily.

“I’ll just put him to bed, and then we can go to sleep, okay?” Christian nodded and whispered a soft goodnight to Oliver before you reached down and took the little boy from him. You walked back to Oliver’s room, kissing the top of his soft head and whispering your own goodnight to him before you lay him carefully in the crib and pulled the baby blanket over his legs and waist.

You finally arrived back in your own bedroom, closing the door slowly behind you, careful not to make any noise. Chris was laying down, facing toward your empty side of the bed, and as soon as you were under the covers, he pulled you into him and tucked his face into your neck. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist and you began scratching his scalp and neck, hoping to lull him to sleep too.

You really did hate seeing Christian sick, but the one upside to it was that he became much more clingy than he usually was, which you secretly loved. It always went the same way: he would instinctually reach for you, hesitating as he did so, and then he would pull away and say he didn’t want to get you sick. Then you would tell him you would be fine, because now you had the “impenetrable mommy immune system” and after putting up very little of a fight, he would give in and wrap himself around your body any chance he got as if you were his lifeline that was keeping him from fading away.

The same had happened this time around, and now here you were, on day 3 of his illness, eyes closed in content as you held him in your arms. You felt his breathing begin to grow steady as he drifted off to sleep, and your eyelids felt heavy as you begin to do the same.

That is, until you hear a high-pitched, “Mommy?” ring out through the hallway of your home. You recognized Lilly’s sweet voice, calling to you from her bedroom. “Mommy!” she yelled again, this time a bit louder.

Christian began stirring, tightening his hold on your waist and groaning as you started to get out of the bed. “Chris, I’ve got to go get her before she wakes up Oliver.” You tapped his arms to tell him to let you go, and he begrudgingly obliged.

You found your way into Lily's room and helped her find the stuffed animal she had lost, which had fallen just under the edge of her bed, leaving her unable to find it and sending her into a panic. You tucked her back under her covers, brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead, and kissed her on the cheek. She was already dozing off again before you closed the door on your way out.

When you enter your bedroom once more, you close the door very slowly, trying to make no noise as you did so. You pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed slowly. Turning onto your side to face Christian, you noticed that his eyes are already closed and his breathing is slow—in the time you were gone, he slipped into a peaceful sleep on his own.

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit selfishly disappointed—you always loved to fall asleep tangled up with Christian—but you couldn’t hold it against him. You reach out to place a hand on his cheek, stroking your thumb over the freckles that dotted his cheekbones for a few moment. Then, after placing a soft kiss on his forehead, you settled under the covers on your own side of the bed, with your own arms wrapped around your torso in an effort to comfort yourself.

*****

The next day, your spirits were a bit higher. Lily had continued to improve, even seeming a bit better than the day before. Oliver was still fussy but seemed far more satiable than he had been. Christian even had improved significantly and felt well enough to come down to the kitchen to eat the dinner you had made. You placed the plate in front of him as he sat at the island with Lily, and you took your seat next to him, with Oliver’s high chair to your other side. Your heart warmed at the fact that you were able to eat dinner as a family again, a sign that your little family was beginning to get back to normal.

You began cleaning up after dinner, placing the leftover ingredients back in the cabinets and washing the dishes. Lily had run off as soon as she had finished her plate, running in and out of the kitchen periodically as she continued dancing and singing around the house. Every time she would reenter the room, she ran to Christian, hugging him tightly around his legs before she sprinted back out. You could tell she had missed her dad while he had been “gone.”

As you stood there, drying the dishes you had just finished washing, Christian helped you put them away while he held Oliver in one arm. He spoke softly to the baby as he maneuvered his way through the kitchen. As you finished drying the last couple dishes, you dropped the towel on the countertop and took a moment to just watch your husband, bouncing through the kitchen with your tiny little boy in his arms. In the same moment, Lily came flying back into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping on the floor as she ran, and she wrapped her little arms around his knee. Christian reached down with his free hand to ruffle the hair on top of her head, giggling at her antics.

In an instant, you felt overwhelmed with motion at the scene. You wished you could take a picture and capture this moment forever—the three loves of your life, all together in this moment. But the moment didn’t last long before Lily squealed, unwrapping herself from her father’s legs and sprinting back down the hallway and into her room.

Christian put the last of the dishes in their proper place in the cabinet and came over to stand next to you, leaning back against the counter.

“So,” he started shortly and with a sigh, and you immediately knew you weren’t going to like what he had to tell you. “They’re wanting me back in for some light training tomorrow, since I’m feeling better, and I’ve already been out for four days.”

You groaned, but you knew that, although he was presenting it to you like you had a choice, he didn’t really have all that much control over the matter.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He cast his eyes down to the floor.

“No, it’s okay. I know it’s not you.” You approached him, standing between his legs and rubbing Oliver’s back gently. The baby had settled his face in the crook of Christian’s neck, and his slow blinking told you he was on the verge of falling asleep. Christian settled his free hand on your hip, reaching under your loose T-shirt to rub small circles on the skin there with his fingers. “I’m just worried that you’re still not well enough.”

“I’m honestly feeling a lot better tonight,” he smiled at you, looking into your eyes to show you that he was being genuine. “And I don’t think it’ll be too rigorous. Probably just something light to at least get me back on my feet and back to training.”

You nodded, still not totally convinced, but trying to trust his words. Christian leaned forward, capturing your lips softly with his own, careful not to squish Oliver between you. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the feeling for a short moment before he pulled back.

“I’m gonna put this one to bed,” he gestured to the now-sleeping baby laying on his shoulder. “And then we can just relax for a bit, yeah?”

You nodded, smiling at him at he leaned away from the counter and strode down the hallway toward the bedrooms. You finished tidying up a couple more things in the kitchen and then followed him, wondering how on earth you were going to get Lily to settle down before bedtime.

*****

Christian’s first day back at training turned out to be a disaster for you. Oliver was crying more than ever. Lily grew needy after noticing how much attention you had been giving to Oliver and had resorted to dragging most of her toys out of her room and into the living room, scattering them all over the floor and couches. You had created a list of things you wanted to get done that day, since you had fallen behind on some of your regular chores due to taking care of your husband and children, but you had only managed to get about half of them done (between trying to calm Oliver every few minutes and tending to Lily so she didn’t feel forgotten), and it left you feeling like you hadn’t accomplished anything that day—one of your least favorite feelings in the world. On top of it all, you could feel a headache beginning to form over the afternoon, and your nose started to run while your throat grew hoarse, but you refused to believe you were coming down with the illness that had already torn it’s way through your house—you simply didn’t have the time to be sick.

Now, you found yourself trying to make dinner, wanting to have it ready for Christian when he got home from training because you knew he’d be exhausted after his first day back from being ill. However, that wasn’t going according to plan either—the whole day seemed to have gone wrong so far, so why shouldn’t this go wrong too?

Your brain just felt completely scattered as you tried to juggle Lily, Oliver, and collecting the bowls and ingredients you needed for the recipe you were preparing. It was a fairly simple recipe, but you couldn’t seem to get it right—you kept forgetting to add things and spilling ingredients on the counter. You even burnt the first batch of the meat for the recipe and had to throw it out. Thankfully, you had extra, or that really would’ve pushed you over the edge.

You had finally gotten Oliver to sit in his high chair, playing with and eating the tiny bits of fruit that you had cut up in small pieces and placed on the tray in front of him. It seemed to be keeping him fairly occupied for the time being.

You reached into the cabinet, grabbing a small, plastic plate for Lily, and intending to pull out a couple of plates for you and Christian to eat on. But as you did so, you knocked into a glass bowl to the side of the plates, pushing it out of the cabinet and onto the kitchen floor where it shattered, sending shards of broken glass all over the floor.

Immediately, your eyes welled up with tears, the frustrations of the day finally building up to your breaking point. You bent over, resting your elbows on the countertop and dropping your head in your heads, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks.

You were so busy trying to hold yourself together that you didn’t hear the front door close behind Christian as he entered your home, taking his shoes off at the door, and walking further inside. As soon as he rounded the corner and saw you hunched over the counter, he dropped his training bag, coming around the counter to approach you. He immediately took note of the broken glass on the floor, stepping carefully around the scattered pieces.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?” he spoke softly as he gently took hold of your arm. You jumped, not having realized he was there, and immediately tried to wipe your eyes of the tears that had accumulated. But he gave you a knowing look—you couldn’t hide how you felt from him no matter how hard you tried.

He gently led you away from the counter you were standing at, guiding you so that you wouldn’t step on the glass. Without a word, he grabbed the dustpan, sweeping up the pieces of the broken bowl and threw them in the trash before turning back to you to find you just standing at the edge of the kitchen, arms crossed and head dropped low in shame.

He approached you again, placing a hand on both of your arms. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly. His heart clenched in his chest when you looked up at him with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes.

“I feel like a bad mom.” Your bottom lip trembled, and he immediately pulled you into his chest, letting you take a moment to just cry. “Nothing I do seems to help Oliver get any better. The house is a mess. I already ruined dinner once. And now, I’ve broken a bowl.” You whimpered pitifully into his chest.

Christian unwrapped his arms from his shoulders and placed his hands on both of your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “I want you to listen to me: you are an incredible mother. You are the most amazing woman I could have ever imagined to be the mother to my children. You have done so well taking care of all three of us these last few days, and we would have completely fallen apart without you.” He smiled genuinely as he spoke to you. “You are the only thing that has been holding us all together. You are incredible.”

A small smile lifts the edges of your lips at his words, and you looked down to his chest, feeling vulnerable from the eye contact. Christian presses his lips firmly to your forehead and places a kiss there, with a dramatic, “mwah!”

As he pulled his face away, you noticed the frown that he now wore. “Are you feeling sick, sweetheart?” he asked caringly. “You feel really warm.” He presses his lips to your forehead again to recheck your temperature.

At the same moment, Oliver seemingly had lost interest in his fruit pieces and began wailing loudly. The sudden, loud noise intensified your headache, a pounding pain piercing behind your eyes.

Wincing, you pulled away from Christian and muttered a short, “no, I’m okay,” as you reached to pick Oliver up out of his high chair. You tried to ignore Christian’s concerned face as you shushed the baby, bouncing him lightly as you swayed back and forth while holding the back of his head gently. It took only a few moments for Oliver to quiet, nuzzling his face into your shoulder and letting out small whines.

Christian placed himself in front of you, holding both of your arms with a gentle but firm touch as he looked into you eyes again. “Why don’t you go up and get a shower? I’m gonna finish dinner, okay?”

“No, but Chris,” you sighed reluctantly. “That’s not your responsibility, I—”

“You see this?” he asks, raising his left hand in front of your face, palm facing him. He taps the wedding band with his right index finger. “This means that it absolutely is my responsibility. It’s my responsibility to take care of you and to love you and to be whatever you need me to be. And right now, that means I finish dinner and watch the kids while you go take a shower.”

You hesitated briefly, glancing over his shoulder toward the living room where Lily had begun calling out for you.

“Nuh-uh,” he scolded, taking your jaw in his hand and gently turning your head so that you would focus on him again. “Go upstairs, baby. I’ll take care of it.” He pulled Oliver from your arms, laying the boy on his shoulder. He held him securely with one arm, wrapping the other around your waist to guide you out of the kitchen and gave you a gentle push down the hallway as he turned to go see what Lily needed.

After a steaming hot shower that helped relieve your headache and relax your tense muscles, and a dinner that turned out remarkably well after Christian salvaged it from the chaos you had started with, you found yourself in your room, sitting up in the middle of the bed with your legs under the duvet as you waited for Christian.

When you had come downstairs from your shower, you had passed Lily in the hallway. Her arms were full as she carried the last of her toys from the living room and back to her bedroom—Christian had tidied up and instructed her to take all of her things back down the hall. You rounded the corner to find Christian dishing the food out onto plates, a towel thrown over his shoulder as he worked. You wrapped your arms around his waist as you hugged him from behind and pressed your cheek between his shoulders as a show of thanks. Oliver had cooed, clapping at the sight of his parents together.

Now, you waited for your husband as he tucked both of the children into their beds—he had told you to say your goodnights and sent you off to bed, stating that he would take care of them tonight. So, with a kiss on both of their heads, you handed them off to Christian and did as he had told you to.

When Christian finally entered the room, he was carrying a glass of water and the same medicine you had provided to him only a couple of days before. “A little birdie told me that this might help you feel better,” he spoke softly and a smile played at his lips.

As you took the medicine, he shed his shirt and shorts, leaving him in only his boxers as he slid onto the mattress and settled himself behind you. You were confused by his actions for a moment until you felt his hands resting on your shoulders, his thumbs pressing firmly into the muscles there.

You groan in appreciation, head falling forward so that your chin was touching your chest as he continued to massage your back.

“How is it that you always know exactly what I need?” you ask him and hear his soft laugh.

He leans forward, the warmth of his chest pressing into your back. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he places a kiss on your cheek. “That’s my job, sweetheart.” Your face warmed at his actions as you leaned your head toward him, pressing his nose into your cheek slightly. “And I’ve been doing it for several years, so I better have figured it out by now.” This drew a laugh from your lips, and he went back to the massage he had been giving you.

After a few minutes, he noticed how your eyes began to droop. He took you by the shoulders, gently laying you down onto the pillow. He leaned over to the side table, turning the lamp off, and settled down next to you, pulling you into his arms. Your head lay on his chest and the steady rise and fall of his breathing was putting you right back to sleep after the movement had woken you up a bit.

“Thank you, Christian,” you spoke at almost a whisper into the peaceful atmosphere of your dark bedroom.

“No, baby, thank you for taking care of the kids and I for the last few days. This is the least I could’ve done.” He trailed his fingers lightly up and down your arm. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.” You pressed a kiss against his jaw, and he reciprocated with one placed on the top of your head. And finally, after a long, draining day, you fell asleep wrapped in the comforting arms of your husband, the father of your two beautiful children.

#christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fics #footballer fic #footballer fics #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic blurb

[perseusannabeth]

Chapter 1

A/N: Hi everyone, and happy holidays! This is my contribution to the @acotargiftexchange for the lovely @talkfantasytome! I want to thank the organisers for this absolutely brilliant event. It's looking like this fic will be 3 chapters, so fingers crossed that the rest of the parts will come soon!

This has chef Cassian and writer Nesta, aka my favourite combo. I also have to warn you, as per usual, Cassian's Illyrian cooking is in fact how I cook as a south Asian person.

AO3 is currently down, so I won't be able to post this on there until later, but it will be added. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this!

Summary: Cassian is deeply concerned about the fact that his neighbour cannot cook at all. He decides to start cooking for her to save her from an early death, and it becomes so much more.

Cassian had lived in his current apartment for a long enough time to know most of the people in the building. It wasn't a massive building, so it wasn't hard to run into people. The only person he hadn't run into was his neighbour, who had moved in 3 months ago. 

Thankfully, there were signs of life, like the post being checked, and he could hear the door opening and closing. The most concerning thing he noticed was that his new neighbour seemed friendly with the fast food delivery drivers. Cassian didn't like judging food choices because he knew that people around him already felt self-conscious when they talked about food. Being a chef meant people assumed he knew best, but he could easily teach people he was willing to learn. Still, his neighbour was concerning him a lot. They must be on their way to a heart attack with the amount of fast food they consumed, and from Cassian's observation, they sometimes got food at least once a day or more. But Cassian had never assumed his neighbour's eating habits would affect him.

"So, have you seen her around? It's been a few days, that's all, and I'm a little worried about her," said his delivery driver, Toby. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so tired right now that my brain barely functions. Please, can you repeat yourself?" 

"Nesta, your neighbour. She orders from us daily, but I've not had any deliveries for her for 3 days. I'm just a little worried about her, that's all," Toby said, blushing now. The poor guy couldn't be more than 20 years old. At 20 years old, Cassian can't imagine he would've had the guts to do what Toby was doing, so he had to hand it to the guy. 

"I'm sorry, I haven't heard from her," Cassian replied, unwilling to admit he'd never seen her before and had just learned her name from Toby. "I'll check on her though, don't worry," Cassian said, to both reassure the man and to get him to leave because, god damn it, his food was getting cold!

"Thanks, man, I really appreciate it. She seems nice, and she tips really well." Toby smiled. Cassian just nodded awkwardly and then waited for Toby to finally (finally) move from his door. 

Cassian practically inhaled his food because, yes, he had promised his delivery driver that he would check on his neighbour, but if he was going to check on a potentially dead person, he would not be doing it while he was hungry. Fuck that; he had been in the restaurant since 6am, and he had planned on eating and then collapsing in bed. Now he had to check on his potentially dead neighbour because the delivery boy liked her tips!

By the time he had finished his food, he had managed to work up some energy, mostly just the rage he had to check on his neighbour and delay his sleep. Still, before leaving his flat, he checked his attitude at the door because he didn't want to be rude. He was being neighbourly, even if he was tired. 

When he knocked on the door and didn't hear any movement on the other side of the door, he was suddenly wide awake. He had horrific visions of breaking the door down and finding a corpse as he knocked again, trying to delay the rescue mission playing out in his head. When the door flew open, Cassian nearly jumped out of his skin.

The lady in front of him looked pretty annoyed at him, especially as he gawped at her like an idiot. Her hair was pulled up in something that might have once been a bun but was now just a tangled mess. She was in a long t-shirt that had seen better days; it was stained and faded, and underneath, she wore leggings that were in a similar state. But somehow, despite all this and the deep bags under her eyes, she still was the most beautiful woman Cassian had ever seen. 

"Can I help you?" The woman said, giving him a quick once over. 

That snapped Cassian out of his trance. "Sorry, erm, I'm looking for someone called Nesta?" Cassian asked awkwardly.

The woman had gone from droll to actively suppressing a laugh. "Oh my god, did Emerie actually do it? Are you a male stripper?"

Cassian's eyes widened as he quickly stepped back to distance himself from the beautiful, crazy woman. "Woah, I have no idea who Emerie is. I'm flattered you think I could pass for a stripper, but I'm no magic Mike. I'm Cassian, and I'm your neighbour." Cassian said, pointing at the open door to his apartment.

'Oh," the woman said, now also looking awkward. 

"Look, I just need to know if you're Nesta and if you're alright. I ordered some food, and the delivery driver said he was worried because he hadn't heard from you in a few days," Cassian explained, not wanting to linger in awkward silence. 

The woman's face went bright red at that, so Cassian assumed that this was, in fact, the mysterious Nesta who tipped really well and ordered food every single day. "Listen, I'm assuming you're Cassian, the chef Mrs Culpepper mentioned. I can only imagine what you think of me since Toby felt chatty today. I'm gonna be honest with you, I can't cook. My friend said not to burn down the building, so I've not tried. Really, my takeaway habit is saving everyone, and as my neighbour, you should be grateful, so don't judge me,"

Cassian held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not judging. Just because I enjoy cooking doesn't mean I assume everyone will. I am, however, slightly concerned. Is that all you eat? That can't be good for your health," Cassian said, frowning as he calculated how expensive that must be and the calories. He wasn't the best with numbers, so he couldn't be sure, but he was pretty sure that was a bad time. 

"My friend said the same thing, so she batch-cooked me a few meals. I've got a deadline for work, so I've been even worse than usual, but that's why I haven't ordered any food. When it runs out, which will probably be tomorrow, I'll be back to ordering from Toby," she said with a shrug. 

"Okay, I said I'm not judging, but that sounds horrific. I can't let you carry on like that. I don't think my conscience can take it," Cassian said, looking at her wide-eyed. The way this woman was going, she'd be dead of a heart attack in no time.

"I'll be fine; you don't need to take pity on me," Nesta said defensively. 

"Listen, it's Nesta, right?" she nodded, eyeing him suspiciously now, which made him want to laugh. She hadn't been suspicious before, but now he was questioning her food intake; she was wary of him. "I get to take leftovers from my work. It's one of the perks, but there's sometimes a lot. I tend to bring them home and make myself something with whatever random stuff there is. It's way healthier than ordering out and helps me not waste food. It's a win-win situation for both of us, really." 

"So, you're basically offering to be my personal chef?" Nesta said, trying to figure out what the catch was. 

"Well, within reason. If there's anything you hate or won't eat, I'll consider it, and obviously, any allergies. And if you want something specific, I don't mind making that, too, as long as I have enough time to get the ingredients. And I don't really mind cooking; if I didn't love it, I wouldn't do it as my job." 

A silence lingered, and Cassian wondered if he had gone in too hard on the sales pitch. He wouldn't be shocked if she said no; it was a weird request from your neighbour, whom you'd only met. But there was something about this woman that made Cassian want to offer to cook for her outside of work. His friends knew he never shared his food, not when he was outside of work. He made traditional Illyrian dishes when he was at home. It was a way for him to stay connected with his culture and mother despite his distance. These recipes had been handed down through generations of his mother's family, but there was something private and intimate about them. But he would share them with his neighbour. 

"Are you even real?" Nesta said, staring at him in a bit of a daze. Then, she reached out and poked him in the cheek. "You feel real," she said as she continued poking his cheek.

"I- I think I'm real?" Cassian stuttered, really not sure how he should react. Cassian wasn't shy, but this woman was just something else. 

Clearly, his talking pulled her out of whatever daze she was in. "I'm so sorry; I've been working non-stop for my next deadline, so I'm losing my grip on reality right now," Nesta said, shaking her head to get rid of whatever weird thoughts were in her head. 

Cassian pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Add your number, and I'll text you so you have mine. Then, you can text me any allergies or anything you wouldn't eat. I'll probably just tell you some dishes I can make with the leftovers, and you can let me know what sounds good. Is that okay with you?" Cassian said.

Nesta nodded, handing his phone back with her number added. Cassian shot her a quick text and then put his phone away. "Thank you," Nesta said awkwardly. "You really don't need to do that, but I'm certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth," she said with a shrug and a quick smile. 

Cassian smiled back, said his goodbyes and went back to his apartment. As he shut his door, he took his neighbour in, who was watching him walk away with a contemplative look on her face. He shook his head, shutting his door. Cassian was doing a good deed for his hot neighbour, but he hoped and prayed that his friends wouldn't find out about it. 

With that, he quickly got ready for bed, practically collapsing into his bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he noticed that he was smiling and had been since he had said goodbye to his neighbour. 

***

Cassian had forgotten entirely about the events of the night before when he woke up in the morning. It was so surreal; it felt like a dream. It wasn't until he was getting ready for his morning run that he realised it was true. 

He had a strict no phones policy in the mornings, mainly because his doom-scrolling habit was an awful way to start the day. So until he was ready to leave the house, he wouldn't look at his phone. It had helped with his mental health a lot and made waking up for his job so much easier, too. 

Since he had the day off, he slept till 9, which was late for someone who left the house at 4am every day for work. When he finally looked at his phone, he froze for a second, because there was a message from his neighbour. 

Once he had processed that yesterday had, in fact, not been a dream, he quickly made a note of the things she didn't like (kale being called the devil's lettuce made him laugh way more than it should've); he had a quick glance in the fridge to see what he could make. He figured he would make a quick tuna and avocado sandwich for lunch, and then for dinner, he would make pasta. Both seemed reasonably safe first options for her meals. Then, he could also give her leftover pasta for lunch the next day. 

As he finally left and started his run, he realised this could be the perfect opportunity to work on some new recipes for the restaurant. He wanted to update the menu and add more traditional recipes, but he had been nervous to test them out on anyone. By the time he got to the point he turned back, he had a massive grin on his face. He whipped his phone out and sent Nesta a text. 

Cassian: I've just had an idea. How would you feel being my new taster for some experimental recipes?

Her reply was instant, which surprised him. 

Nesta: you're doing me a favour so if i can help then i'm good with that. Although idk if i'm the best taste tester since my own culinary skills start and end at cereal 

Cassian: All I need is your honest opinion, everyone else in my life is too biased.

Nesta: i'm not afraid of cutting a man down, so dw

Cassian laughed at her message, sending her a quick laughing emoji before he put his phone back to go back home. He was in a good mood and excited about cooking for someone new. Of course, he got to cook for new people at his job every day, but cooking for someone one-on-one was so different. He could get her reactions, and she would give him feedback. This wasn't just a faceless customer; it was his neighbour. 

When he had assembled the sandwich, he put it into a Tupperware box and then cleaned up the kitchen. Once he was done, he finally gave Nesta her sandwich, trying to ignore the excitement and nerves bubbling in his stomach as he knocked on her door. 

Nesta flung the door open with a massive smile on her face. "Well, hello there, neighbour," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "What do you have for me?" Nesta said, looking at the box with excitement. 

"I've got a tuna and avocado sandwich with red onion and some homemade sriracha mayo," Cassian said, presenting her the food with a flourish.

Nesta didn't hesitate to open the box to have a look. "Oh wow, this looks so good, like one of those fancy coffee shop sandwiches which is really over-priced. Did you make the bread, too?" she asked, tapping the sourdough. 

"Oh nah, absolutely not; I'm not much of a bread maker; it's so faffy, but I love the smell of fresh bread. There's another chef in the restaurant who makes bread, but there's never any left, so this is just some supermarket bread."

"Oh, well, I thought you used leftovers," Nesta said with a frown. 

"I do, but I like to jazz them up, so I use things I have at home, too. Don't worry about it, though."

"Nah, absolutely not. I need to pay you for this if you're using your money to feed me. That's not fair on you!" she exclaimed. "I'm not a charity case."

"I don't think you are!" Cassian said, alarmed. "You're going to help me, remember. Maybe I'll develop a new menu for the restaurant."

"I still want to contribute to this because you're saving me a lot of money. Let me pay half towards your groceries at least," Nesta said sternly. 

"I- okay if you insist, but I feel bad taking your money," Cassian said awkwardly. 

"Well, that's too bad. Text me your bank details, and I'll transfer you the money, and if you don't, I'll just have to hunt you down and hurt you," she threatened. 

"You seem like a busy woman, so I'll try to avoid that happening," Cassian winced. Changing the subject, he asked, "So I never asked, but what do you do?" 

"Oh, I'm a writer!" Nesta said excitedly.

"Oh wow, that's amazing! What kind of stuff do you write? I've not had time to read in a while, but maybe I should start that up again."

Nesta's eyes widened at that. "Do not read my books. You're not the target audience, and frankly, I would probably have to avoid you if I knew you'd read them."

Cassian frowned at her, and then it dawned on him. "Oh my god, you write porn books!" he exclaimed. 

"They're romance books! Sometimes they might have some smut, but they're not porn!" she hissed. 

"Right, of course! Well, I'm gonna get going since you've probably got some sex scene left to right or something," Cassian said with a shit-eating grin. 

Nesta froze but then smirked. "Actually, I finished writing that last night after you left. You know, since you weren't the male stripper I was hoping for," she said before turning around and slamming the door in his face. He stood there gaping for a while before eventually shaking himself out of it. My god, that woman was something else. 

***

"Cassian bheta! It's been too long since you called me," his mother said as she answered the phone. He had decided to ring her while he cooked because it was the best way to cook. He couldn't help but smile at his mother calling him son in their native language. He loved his Illyrian culture; the fact his mother had taught him so much of it gave him such pride. 

"Mama, I called you 2 days ago, and I've been texting you too!" he protested with a smile as he diced onion. 

"But you're my baby, my bacha, you don't understand. One day, when you have your own children, then you'll understand," she loved saying that line. It was one of his favourites. Now, he was nearing 30 and not even close to being married. 

 He ignored her comment, knowing no good could come from delving into that subject. "Mama, I'm making Illyrian-style pasta for my neighbour right now."

"Ohh, is your neighbour Illyrian too? Rhys's mum told me that the lady who used to live across the road from her has a daughter in the city! Her name is-"

"Mama! Velaris is a big city; you know I won't run into every Illyrian here, so stop trying to match-make! My neighbour isn't Illyrian, but she said she's happy to try different things. I'm cooking for her because she can't cook for herself."

"She can't cook?" his mother said, sounding scandalised. 

"No, and let me tell you, how I met her was crazy."

He relayed the events of yesterday evening while he sauteed the onion in some ghee, diced up some bell peppers and drained the sweetcorn. After the onions started to go soft, he added the basaar, a mix of spices that Illyrians added to almost every dish.

"Well, it's a good thing you're here to look after this girl; the poor thing has been living off those takeaways; she's in desperate need of some good, home-cooked food!" his mother said the word takeaway like it was dirty. She had always been very strict about eating out when they were younger, telling him they could make it better at home. Only as he got older did he realise they probably couldn't afford to eat out for more than the occasional treat. 

"That's why I offered mama."

"That's because you're my good bacha," she said fondly. "What's this neighbour's name anyway? And what does she do?" she asked. 

Cassian smiled. Illyrian mothers could never resist fishing for gossip, even if it was people they didn't know. "Oh, her name is Nesta, and she said she's a romance writer."

His mother gasped, making him almost drop the pasta as he drained it. "Are you cooking for the famous writer, Nesta Archeron?" his mother asked, her excitement tangible. 

"I don't actually know her surname. Why?" he asked, suspicious. 

"Oh my god, Cassian!" her mother screamed, so excited that she didn't seem to mind busting her son's eardrums. "Cassian, that woman is my favourite author!"

His eyes widened at that. "Mama! I don't want to know if you read those books!" he said, taking deep breaths and trying to clear his mind of that information.

"Pfft, why? Those books are brilliant, and you're a grown man now, stop being a baby. There are no men in my life, but those fictional men are something else," his mother sounded breathless, which was just too disturbing to think about. 

"Mama! Stop, I'll be sick if you carry on, and then how can I feed your favourite author?"

His mother was outraged at that. "Listen here, you! She's writing her next book, so you better feed her well because I've been waiting for this book for a year."

"Geez, mama, I promise I will; now I have to go. I'll give it to her now while it's warm." He said, sprinkling cheese on the pasta he had put in the two Tupperware boxes for Nesta. His mother said her goodbyes because he needed to feed Nesta, not because he said he needed to go. She made it clear her loyalties lie with Nesta, which was concerning. 

He knocked on Nesta's door, and she came quickly this time. She eagerly handed him an empty box from lunch, which had been washed, and took the pasta. 

"I'm not sure if you know this, but I can smell when you're cooking things, so I've been able to smell this for a while, and I'm starving right now. This smells absolutely amazing, so if this is what Illyrian food is like, keep it coming," Nesta said, not taking her eyes off the pasta. 

"Well, this isn't Illyrian food; this is just pasta with an Illyrian twist on it, in all fairness, but I'll keep that in mind." Nesta nodded eagerly. "By the way, my mother wanted me to check. Are you the author, Nesta Archeron?"

Nesta looked up at that. "Yes, I am," she said slowly.

"Right, well, my mother is a big fan and said I need to feed you well so you can write your book because she's very excited. She's basically gonna disown me if I don't cook well for you," he laughed. 

Nesta smiled at that. "She sounds sweet. Let her know that you're doing an excellent job."

Cassian smiled back and returned to his apartment, giving her instructions about how she needed to eat the 2nd box for lunch tomorrow because he would be at work. Nesta thanked him profusely, licking her lips as she eyed the pasta. 

Cassian got out of there quickly after that because seeing Nesta lick her lips did something weird that he didn't want to think about. He had only met the woman yesterday, so whatever he felt, he would ignore it. 

He got a text as he dug into his own pasta while watching a modern family rerun on TV. 

Nesta: this might be the best pasta i've ever had omg you're a god!!!

Nesta: i would eat this for the rest of my life if i could

Cassian: It's not too spicy for you?

Nesta: nah, this is fine, the tomatoes calm it down. Idk if i'm strong enough to handle more than this tho, my tastebuds are probs dead with everything i eat 

Cassian: Lolll, noted

Cassian cleared his dishes and got into bed since he'd have an early night the next day. Before putting his phone away, he quickly googled his neighbour, and lo and behold, a list of her books came up. She was popular, and he had to admit, he was impressed. Her fans were practically rabid for her next book. It looked like a series, so he ordered the first book before he could think about it too deeply. 

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[winterchimez]

Make or Break | Ji Changmin

summary: both you and Changmin have been childhood besties for as long as you could've remembered. but when Changmin finally realised that you are more than just a friend at this point, he decided to take it a step further beyond that.

pairing: best friend Changmin x g.n!reader

genre: best friends to lovers au, fluff, some crack & humour

warnings: soft best friend ji changmin, both changmin & y/n are just clueless when it comes to romance (mostly y/n 😭)

word count: 4,713

a/n: hiya i'm finally back from summer vacation, which means it's back to writing as usual! i'm currently fulfilling the requests you guys have sent in for my 100 followers event, and this first entry is requested by my sweetest @zzoguri i'm so happy you requested this song bcs it's one of my all-time fav b-side tracks! i really hope i've managed to get the vibes you were going for ><

also a huge shoutout to my love @sungbeam for making these gradient dividers for me (which i absolutely LOVE thank you my meimei 🫶) so i'll be using them in future fics & decided to revamp the theme of my blog! 😉

without further ado, enjoy 😊

You were deep in your dreamland before you were jolted awake by a tap on your shoulder. 

As you slowly opened your eyes, you were surprised by the individual who had his face in such close proximity to yours.

“Woah Changmin-ie!!” You shrieked, surprised by the sudden visit of your co-worker right at your work desk.

Or rather, your childhood best friend. 

“Geez, Y/N. Working overtime again as usual?” He began shaking his head while starting to help you pack away your belongings into your bag. 

“Well, it’s not like I had a choice. I have to fulfill my client’s requests by the weekend.” You yawned as you began to give yourself a good stretch. 

“Y/N. You know, you can always ask me for my help. You know I’m only a few cubicles away.” 

You smiled. He was always like that, offering you help in any situation you may be in, and he always prioritises your needs before his.

“It’s fine, minnie. I’m sure you have your own responsibilities to worry about, and may I add, the few deadlines that you’ve somehow missed previously, which earned you a good scolding from your head of department, Mr Kim?”

“Now that’s just mean. I came to help you, not asking you to make fun of me.” He began to pout, which was one of your favourite sights to see and look forward to. You both have grown accustomed to each other’s small habits. Basically, you both knew each other well to the point that you could anticipate what are the small gestures or movements the other party would make in any situation possible. 

He has been there since the beginning, when he moved into your neighbourhood when you were about five years of age. In fact, it was your mother that insisted you went and made friends with him. Given your bubbly and friendly persona, of course, you were pumped and excited to have a fellow friend who was about the same age as you were since you were accustomed to the older kids in your neighbourhood. 

Changmin was too shy to even engage with you at the beginning, always hiding around the corner and refusing to mutter a word even. However, your bubbly persona did not allow him to stay put at the corners of his garden and always somehow managed to drag his ass out to all of your crazy adventures. You climbed trees, played football, and even went to pick some flowers from your neighbour's garden (for which you both got into big trouble). 

But ultimately, in the end, you both eventually became really good friends and ended up attending the same institutions throughout both middle and high school and eventually in university. And perhaps it was fate that you both ended up in the same company right after graduation as well, in the same department. 

As you both finished packing away all of your belongings and switching off the lights around the room, you both decided to head straight out to the door while beginning to decide which izakaya restaurant you both would be drinking while chatting away about the day. 

“The one down the street it is.” 

“For the love of God, did you know how rude it was for Jake to leave me just there as it was??” Your speech began to slur, which indicated you had a little bit too much to drink. But it was a weekend, and Changmin knew that there was no stopping you since you’ll be having a day off the following day anyways. 

And, of course, he would be walking you home because the last thing that he’ll do is trust your drunk ass to get yourself safely back home this late at night. 

The hour was getting late, and you were beginning to lose control ever so slightly of the amount of alcohol you were about to chug down into your system, which caused the man to step up and stop you in your tracks.

Sulking and giving your friend a frown, you began to whine like a child, but the man did not mind even in the slightest bit. In fact, he found it to be cute, in all honesty.

After paying for the meal, he decided to call for a cab to take you back to your apartment, since knowing how you’d usually be a tad bit more talkative than usual, he decided to avoid public transportation to save the embarrassment. 

When you both arrived at your front door, you could kind of vaguely make out that he was trying to tell you something important. But since you were tipsy and obviously not in the right mind, he took your phone from your bag and started typing away. It was normal for the both of you to check on each other’s phones because you were that close. Hence, you didn’t mind it at all. 

Once that was done, he brought you inside the comforts of your living space and helped you tidy yourself a bit until you were sober enough to finish off the rest on your own. 

“Okay, I’ll take my leave now, Y/N. And remember, don’t forget-”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Lock the doors before going to sleep so that the bad guys won’t come and get me. Pinky promise.” You cut the male off and made your usual pinky promise gesture as you shoved the man out to the door. 

“Nighty, Changmin-ie.” You smiled before closing the door shut. 

Changmin took a deep breath in and smiled as he looked right up into the sky. 

“It’ll be all okay, right?”

Changmin’s POV 

As Changmin unlocked the front door to his apartment, he was immediately headlock by the only one among his roommates who still does it all the time to this day. 

“Geez, Juyeon. Why would you touch the man when he’s all filthy from work.” Chanhee protested, as usual, he’ll always come up with something savage to spit at the male. 

“Cut him some slack, Chanhee. Man’s just gotten home from his little date night with we-all-know-who.” Kevin winks and smirks while he nudges Changmin to spill the tea like always. 

As he freed himself from Juyeon, he began to chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck, which everyone could tell how something was up. 

“Care to share the details with us, buddy?” Juyeon guides Changmin right to the couch in their shared living space and gathers the rest to join as well.

It took a while for Changmin to look at three of his friends while finally deciding to spill the tea. 

“I asked Y/N out.” 

The three of them were about to scream and celebrate joyfully before Changmin had to burst their bubble. 

“Without telling Y/N directly, that is.” 

Now that has gotten everyone’s full attention as they looked at Changmin as if he was drunk and didn’t know what he was actually talking about. 

“God, did you just get hit by a truck? You’re not making any sense.” 

“How on earth would you ask Y/N out in an indirect manner?” Kevin questioned, clearly not getting any of this. 

Changmin paused for a bit before bending his head down to his hands. “Well, you see... Y/N wasn’t fully sober. And I took their phone to set an alarm and reminder.”

Everyone went silent, that was until Juyeon spoke up. 

“Oh my god, I didn’t know that was the new trend these days to ask someone out.” Poor Juyeon has always been naive like that.

That caused Chanhee to slap some sense into the guy. “Of course not, man.” The male then turned his head back towards Changmin’s direction. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“Be-because!! I’m starting to think… that Y/N is beginning to mean a lot more to me. More than just friends, that is.”

The amount of ooohs that filled the room caused the male to blush and eventually hide his face in the palm of his hands. 

“Honestly though, I think that’s such a cute idea.” Kevin reassured the man.

“You really think so?” 

“I mean, imagine Y/N just waking up to a reminder saying ‘hey you have a date with the one and only ji changmin!’, cause I’d like that myself.”

“Stop feeding the man with delusions, Moon. What if Y/N wakes up in total shock? Have you ever thought about how Y/N would feel?” Chanhee questioned the male.

“Nah, I’d said you did the right thing, and you’re a man now. That fun little date is something to look forward to.” Juyeon places one of his hands on Changmin’s shoulder while giving it a slight squeeze, letting him know that it’s all okay now. 

With his friends' support that somehow calms his nerves and makes him think that maybe his idea wasn’t so crazy after all. 

“Ye-yeah! It’ll definitely turn out great tomorrow.”

Y/N’s POV

You were jolted awake by the sudden blaring alarm from your phone that was placed on the nightstand. 

You felt annoyed, yet you were questioning yourself at the same time. Knowing your personality, there was no way you would’ve set an alarm on your day off. Unless you were too drunk the night before and decided to do some questionable things that even your best friend Changmin wasn’t able to help contain.

As you turn your body to the side to reach out to your phone, you squint your eyes to try to make out the text on your phone.

A reminder? Now that was odd. You usually never use them ever, since you were more of a bullet journaling kind of person with all of your tasks and chores you had to do.

But when you finally made out the words, you immediately shot up straight from your bed as you tried your best to reread them repeatedly. 

🐿️: Let’s go out for a date this afternoon! I’ll be waiting at the cafe near 7th Avenue at 12:30pm. Don’t be late! :) 

Holy smokes. 

That was when you remembered that Changmin was trying his best to tell you something the night before, but you were too drunk, less sober enough to actually make out the words he was trying to converse to you, which was when he resorted to picking up your phone to type in some words.

You sighed and rubbed your eyebrows with your fingers. 

Of course, it was what happened then. 

Suddenly, you looked up at the clock that was situated on the right side of your room above your desk, and you realised that it was already 12pm at this point. 

Shooting out of bed, you quickly ran to your closet, digging through the entire stack of clothing you owned that you’ve yet to fold away neatly. Not to mention that your table was still a mess with all of your makeup products that you had somehow forgotten to put away the day before because you were running late to work.

As you were already short on time and desperately needed someone’s help, you quickly grabbed your phone and called the best fashionista you would know around the neighbourhood. 

“Choi Chanhee, for the love of God, please help me.”

Changmin stood patiently while having his hands inside his pockets as he waited for his so-called “date” to arrive at the set destination. 

He was wearing a casual white tee paired with a black cardigan along with some blue jeans and Converse shoes. To make himself more presentable, he even tried slicking his hair back for the first time today, which his model friend, Lee Juyeon, obviously advised him to do so. 

Constantly pacing back and forth, he tapped his fingers inside his pocket while having a tad bit of negativity right in his mind. 

What if Y/N overslept? What if Y/N never shows up? 

So many questions went on in his mind, even to the point where he thought that doing all of this in the first place was such an awful idea. 

Just as the clock was about to strike 10 minutes before 1 pm, Changmin was greeted by a loud panting sound that was coming from his left side. Sure enough, he found you running towards his direction and finally coming to a halt when you reached in front of him.  

As you tried your best to calm your fast-paced breathing down, you finally mustered up the courage by looking up to your best friend, which was where you were left stunned, and so did the male himself. 

You wore a bright lilac top that paired extremely well with a pair of navy linen trousers that you got for sale on Amazon Prime Day. You paired the outfit with a white cardigan and somehow wore matching Converse shoes with your best friend. 

What a coincidence. 

What really stood out the most for Changmin was the way you presented yourself. Sure, he has seen you in your usual makeup for the past 5 years working at the company, but this was the first for him to see you in a completely different style. Instead of going for the usual heavy work-like makeup, you went with a subtle yet sweet makeup look that you’ve recently been doing for the past couple of weeks on weekends. 

Changmin was stunned, to say the least. He was definitely in awe of your beauty.

“Umm... Changmin-ie? Is something on my face?” 

“N-no! Of course not! I mean.” Clearing his throat and turning his head off to the side to somehow hide his now-turning red-flushed face to the side, he managed to cough out the words that he’s been dying to tell you.

“You’re really beautiful.” 

The most beautiful person ever, to be exact. 

Now it was your turn to feel the heat rising up to your cheeks, and you quickly placed one of your palms to quickly hide them from your friend. 

“Th-thank you.” 

As you both stood there for a few seconds in awkwardness, Changmin finally decided to break off the tension and gestures for the both of you to start walking down the streets and head to your next destination. 

During the entire time, you noticed how Changmin seemingly tried to keep a distance from you, way more than he usually does. You thought it was odd since he usually walked pretty close to you without feeling any sort of awkward feelings in between. But, it was clear that something was going on between the both of you today, and neither of you could really pinpoint what it was, quite frankly. 

As you both reached the cafe that Changmin chose, he quickly found a table situated right by the windows near the end of the cafe and reassured you that he’d be back with some mouthwatering pastries and desserts while you sat and waited. 

You were about to protest since you both usually head to the cashier together to split the bills and choose what you guys wanted together, but since he insisted, you thought that you couldn’t refuse, no matter how many times you tried to talk to the man himself.

As you finally sat down and relaxed by looking out at the windows, Changmin quickly speed ran towards the display, took a picture of the pastries and desserts available, and sent them to the 98z group chat.

Chucky’s father: guys, which one do you think Y/N would like (inserts pic) Chucky’s father: i’m torn between getting the passionfruit meringue or the crispy caramel chocolate honey cake.   Kitty boy: well, why won’t you ask Y/N for their opinion? Melon pan: silly boy, obviously Changmin is trying to impress Y/N by picking something they’ll like on his own Chanel’s next top model: hold up while i key in those desserts into an online generator brb  Chucky’s father: asjdhdjdj okay  (seen for 2 minutes)  Chanel’s next top model: okay my phone says the passionfruit meringue.  Kitty boy: can you get the chocolate honey cake for me when you get back home please

You were beginning to worry as Changmin took longer than usual to get the food back to your table. Just as you were about to stand up to see what really was going on, the male returned with a tray filled with tons of mouthwatering desserts and your favourite drink, matcha latte.

“Changmin-ie, all of these-” 

“Don’t even think about splitting the bill, my treat today.” 

“Woah, look at you go. Did you just get a rise recently from Mr. Kim?” You nudged his shoulders. 

“I guess you can say something like that.” 

You both had a great time devouring all of these goodies while chatting and laughing away at so many random topics you both always seemed to enjoy talking about, ranging from how you both used to get into trouble and eventually ending up in the detention room during high school, to how you actually help saved Changmin’s ass from that one time where he almost exposed Mr. Kim’s secret stash of girl group albums hidden beneath his desk. 

Throughout eating halfway, you noticed how Changmin was staring quite intensely at your lips, which you knew very well how you had gotten some cream on them. It was something you didn’t mind at all, you can be a pretty messy eater at times when you get a little bit too excited with food. 

What was different this time was that Changmin actually leaned forward and wiped the cream away, not with the tissues that were given, but with his thumbs, and then proceeded to lick them like a puppy. 

Holy- 

You swear from the back of your mind something’s going on today.

Chucky’s dad: hey umm… Chucky’s dad: how do I yknow… hold Y/N hands in the best and most natural way possible  Kitty boy: umm… ask Y/N directly??  Melon pan: i’d say just go straight for it  Melon pan: be a man and take Y/N hands right away  Chanel’s next top model: ^^ what mr.kevin moon said  Chucky’s dad: okay sure it’s worth a shot i guess

As Changmin puts his phone away, his eyes are only met with your dangling hands on your side as you walk out of the cafe giddily. Having an internal battle with himself on how to grab hold of your hand is painful, so much so that he gets so frustrated with himself.

To the point that he immediately grabbed hold of your hand immediately, and a slight bit roughly too.

Puzzled, you asked the man for the sudden gesture. “Chan-changmin? What’s this all about?” 

“I.. umm… I thought your hands might be cold since it’s rather chilly today… and umm… I guess I could give you some warmth. If that’s what you’d like.” 

Funny. Changmin never speaks with sudden involuntary pauses in between. He’s always very straightforward and upfront with what he says, sometimes being a little too direct, as you would scold him. But this? It was truly something else. 

“Oh, umm yeah!! It is kinda chilly, thanks for the little warmer, I guess.” 

As you both slowly walked down the streets hand-in-hand, Changmin eventually loosened his grip and intertwined his fingers with yours, easing into this whole holding hands scenario. With that, a smile began to appear on his face as he quickened the walking speed, which meant you had to do the same since you both were literally holding hands with one another.

Okay, weirdo. 

It was about ten minutes after the somewhat relaxing and breezy walk when you both finally came across a florist shop. You thought Changmin was going to sign you up for the flower arranging lessons that they have been hosting since you literally told him how you’ve recently discovered the beauty of the activity itself and that you’re willing to give it a shot as a side hobby. 

Hence, you skipped happily right into the building, leaving Changmin behind to catch up with you.

Again, as you were out of sight, Changmin quickly whips up his phone and begins texting away for more help from his buddies.

Chucky’s dad: y’all, everything is going great so far Chucky’s dad: we’re finally at the florist  Melon pan: OMG IT’S FINALLY FLOWER TIME  Chucky’s dad: my question is  Chucky’s dad: which one should I get for Y/N 😭 Chucky’s dad: like something sweet yet meaningful Chanel’s next top model: okay but like go for something that symbolises love  Chanel’s next top model: but don’t get roses cs that’s so overrated  Chucky’s dad: 😭😭😭 Kitty boy: oh i found this website with a list full of potential ones to give Kitty boy: maybe it helps?  Chucky’s dad: thanks i’ll be needing them 😭

Once again, your best friend was gone for a period of time. You didn’t think much of it, thinking that he would probably ask some inquiries about signing up for the workshop.

What you didn’t expect was for the male to return with a bouquet of perfectly wrapped and decorated magenta lilacs, which you thought was very odd because you thought he would get you lavenders instead, your favourite kind of flowers. 

But the male didn’t say much and just shoved the bouquet right to you and demanded your thoughts about them immediately. So, of course, you decided to let out your most genuine train of thought. 

“Umm.. are you trying to get me into liking a new species of flowers?”

“Wh-what, no!! I mean… there weren’t many lavenders around for the day, so I decided to get you the closest shade of purple I could possibly find.” The male stammered while scratching the back of his neck, trying to fight against the awkwardness and the unexpected question that came from you.

In return, you smiled at your best friend while allowing the male to understand that he was somewhat still safe and the plan was a success. At the end of it all, you both still managed to secure a slot for the next workshop that will be happening the following weekend, and you both promised to attend before exiting the store.

If only you knew that those magenta lilacs were Changmin’s indirect attempt to tell you about the beginning of a new relationship with you.

Chucky’s dad: okay folks, change of plan Kitty boy: whatttt whyyyy Kitty boy: did you fail  Chucky’s dad: i mean Chucky’s dad: i did not expect Y/N would be so innocent 😭 Chanel’s next top model: or who knows Y/N might be doing it on purpose  Melon pan: OOOOOHHH Melon pan: like a playing hard-to-get situation  Chucky’s dad: do you really think so? Chanel’s next top model: nvm scratch that, i don’t speak Y/N language  Chucky’s dad: ajsksdjk  Chucky’s dad: Chanhee, for the love of god, please- Chanel’s next top model: okay fine Chanel’s next top model: i can guarantee that this next plan will surely work.

You were holding your bouquet while happily skipping down the road when your friend suddenly stopped you as he grabbed hold of your arm.

“Hey, Y/N. Can we, you know, just sit down and talk for a little bit?”

Now what in the world is going on with this dude today? 

Not wanting to question his actions further, you played along as he brought you to a nearby bench by the riverside. As you both found your comfortable positions, Changmin decided to pull out an item from his back pocket, and it was surely something that you hadn’t seen in a really long time.

“A paper fortune teller? Really, Changmin?” 

You both used to play with this simple yet intriguing fun game when you both were a lot younger. It was a thing of the past, where the youngsters would write down random topics ranging from their favourite colour to animal and began doing their magic with the paper fortune teller to see what you’ll eventually end up with at the end. 

But what does this have to do with any of these now? Unless Changmin was going through something in his own personal time where he is in dire need of using fortune telling method to help him decide the actions he should proceed with. 

Not explaining much to you, he gets you to choose each category from each layer from the paper, from your favourite television show at the moment to your favourite bubble tea chain store in town. 

As Changmin was working with the paper and eventually reached the final layer, he slowly and carefully unwrapped it fully to reveal the contents that were written within.

Y/N. Make or Break? 

You could’ve sworn that Changmin probably had a concussion, and whatever he was writing made absolutely no sense at all. Now, it was finally your turn to feel slightly frustrated and push the male to come clean and explain all of the weird behaviours and gestures that have happened throughout the entire day. 

It took a while for Changmin even to mutter up a word, but when he eventually did, it was definitely something that you weren’t expecting to hear from your best friend. 

“Listen, Y/N. All of these tiny little events I’ve done up to this point are all carried out from the multiple fantasies I’ve had about you.”

“Wh-what?” You immediately defended yourself by covering both of your arms across your body, starting to panic a little bit. “Are you trying to be a pervert, minnie!” 

“Of course not, Y/N! Okay, that came out wrong, what I meant was that it’s been a while since I’ve begun to see you differently.” 

“Ah-ha! Another dirty comment, Ji Changmin! Don’t test me-” 

“Stop! Hear me out!” Clearing his throat while grabbing hold of one of your shoulders to calm you down, he then decides to continue. “I am starting to believe that I care a lot about you. More than I have ever had when we were kids.”

Oh. 

“And…I don’t think I can see the Y/N that I’ve grown up with within you anymore, but rather, a much more mature and beautiful Y/N that makes my heart flutter whenever I see you face-to-face.” 

This time, he places the paper fortune teller down on his lap and takes both of your hands in his, and he now returns a rather serious look with you. 

“All of these dazzling fantasies I’ve had, from yearning for the day to be able to hold your hand to buying you a bouquet of flowers that indicates the start of our new relationship with one another, I definitely do not wish to leave them behind. In fact, I’d like to make them into a reality. And all of these ecstatic and vivid emotions I have towards you, I can no longer ignore them any further. Y/N, I don’t just like you anymore, I love you. And I ask this once more.”

“Make or Break?” 

Oh. Now, you were finally putting the puzzle pieces together. 

It took you over ten seconds to process the thought while staring at your best friend blankly. You have never dated, let alone been exposed to enough media or content in relation to romance. And because of that, you were slightly afraid. 

“Changmin-ie? Can I ask something first?”

“Of course, Y/N.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally posing the question. “Which of the two options will guarantee that our relationship now wouldn’t change for the worse?”

Oh, for the love of god, you were just so innocent. 

Changmin paused and had to take a few seconds to think of the right words to say in this situation. “Well, it is your decision, Y/N. At the end of the day, I’d like for us to remain as close as we can, like how we’ve always been. But if you’re willing to take a step further with me, I promise to hold you tight and never let you go. I’ll be with you eternally.” 

Just like that, you have finally made up your mind and know firmly now what the future holds. If it was this man who has decided to spend the rest of his life with you, then you can be rest assured knowing that you’ll be in safe hands.

You smiled and nodded your head vigorously before giving the male a reply. 

“Make it work then, Ji Changmin.” 

a/n: idk abt yall but growing up asian i used to love playing with those paper fortune tellers, and i thought it would be a cute idea to include it in this fic 🤭

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu (join my permanent taglist here!)

#deoboyznet #kvanity #k-labels #kflixnet #k-films #the boyz #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz x imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #tbz scenarios #changmin #ji changmin #changmin x reader #q x reader #ji changmin x reader #changmin imagines #q imagines #changmin scenarios #q scenarios #changmin fluff #q fluff #the boyz fluff

[thomase1]

Neigbors and headaches

Pairing: Loki×Fem!Reader (other than some thirst, platonic)

Warnings: intense pain, some thirst, touch of angst and lots of fluff/comfort.

Word Count: ~1.700

Thank you @tessathechild for proof reading and helping me! 💙

What, Sel has actually managed to finish and post something once?! Its a good day!! Yes, this one story made it out of my 22!! drabbles and WIP's I've got.

Just a little thing I wrote, thinking of my migraines I sometines get. Saying that, I have written this based on my experiences with a few extras sprinkled in. So this is a cofort/hurt fic.

Loki has been your neigbor for over a year, but you never really spoke. The occasional 'hello' but that was it. Sure you know who he is, would be hard not to, considering he and his collegues are all over the news. Saying that, you are aware of his powers, his heritage and title, to you that just meant there was somebody in the building able to help in case of a robbery or shooting. Other than that, he was just another neighbour on your floor.

Which brings us to the problem. Youve got a migraine, the worst one youve ever had. Normally its located to one side, but this time its just your whole head, pain thundering against you skull. Three days it plagues you already, which is also the amount of time you barely slept. You got about four hours in total, every time you did fall asleep when the pain let off of you for a while, you got violently ripped from slumber again. It never went away for long. Which only made the sleep deprivation worse. Working in this state has been a challange, actually getting your work done impossible. To your horror, your boss noticed today, threatening to cut your payment short would you not 'change your work ethic'. As if you deliberetly got a migraine keeping you off sleep for days.

And you cant go to the doctor either since you got them on your toes already. The sheer amount of pain medications you get perscribed is, understandably, a red flag. The dosage and intensity of them, an even bigger red flag, but what are you surpossed to do?! They just dont work, none of them did.

Which leads us to you, currently knocking on Lokis, or how you adress him, Mr. Laufeyson, door. Its almost 10pm and the lack of sleep let all your pride melt away. You did not want to bother him, but you just cant bare it anymore. Your job is on the line for crying out loud! After a short time, the door opens; an annoyed Mr. Laufeyson peeking through the gap.

"Can I help you?", he beats you to it, irritation etched in his features.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but I have a strange request." Your heart is beating in your throat, maybe this wasnt a good idea after all, he does seem pretty annoyed.

"What is it?", he sighs, opening the door a little more.

He is wearing forest green pyjama bottoms and to your delight or horror, you arent quite sure yourself, no top. He looks like a marble statue you would see in renown museums and galleries. His chest is on eye level with you, makeing it difficult to not stare at his neatly trimmed black curls there. Your eyes wander to his perfect pecs, his well defined ribs leading down to his chiselled abdomen. That V-line made your breath catch in your throat for a moment, the small trail of hairs leading back down to that, sinfully, low hanging silk. Your eyes linger on the impressive bulge of your opposite for a second, a cleaning of his throat ringing in your tormented head, makeing you wince briefly. But also, you snapped your eyes up to his face again, your eyes blown wide in shock.

"Is it not a little rude to knock on my door at this hour, just to stare when I ask you a question?", his words seem displeases, but his lips are curled into a knowing smirk.

Now you clear your throat, a blush dusting your cheeks pink "What were you saying again?".

He gave a low chuckle, shakeing his head, "I was asking to what I owe your visit, Miss       L/n.".

"Oh, yes, sorry. I- Ive got a bad migraine and could not sleep for three days now. I was wondering-", you stutter but get stopped by him.

"I see. Migraines are quite the torment for midgardians I have heard.", he lays a pointer finger to the bow in his upper lip, thinking.

"Yes. Mine arent affected by pain medications either, I would not bother you if they were.", you tell him earnestly, your eyes dropping to the floor.

"It is rather fine, shall we get to your apartment so I can figure out a way to help you?", he asks with a soft smile that calms you down like a weighted blanket.

"Really? Yes, that would be so nice of you, thank you so much." You sway a little, pulling at your sleeve.

"Let me just get a shirt and some shoes and I will be right there.", he tells you, leaning the door closed.

A moment later he returns, now wearing a basic grey v-neck shirt and some brown slippers. "After you.", he gestures with his hand.

You nod enthusiastically, which you instantly regret, your pain reigniting like pouring gasoline to an open flame. You groan in pain, holding onto the nearest wall, your head feeling like it is sinking and rising repeatedly.

"Are you alright?", he grabs your upper arm, holding you stable.

You groan a "yes".

"I dont think you are, lets get you home, come on.", he hooks an arm around you waist, helping you over to your door.

You dig out your keys, trying to open the door, but your vision is playing tricks on you. He grabs them from your hands, "Allow me.". He quickly has the door open, nudging it open with his foot. Finally inside, with your shoes off and seated on your little two-seater sofa, you look at him. The pain eased off a little by now.

"Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson. I'm very sorry for the trouble.", you twiddle your thumbs.

"No trouble at all. Call me Loki please.", he sits down next to you, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

"Y/n.", you smile back at him. There is a comfortable silenence for a bit, until another groan of yours breaks it.

"Its worse again?", you hear his voice through cotton balls, thats what it sounds like at least.

"Yea.", you whimper, unable to explain it further. He waits until your eyes open again and you take a deep breath.

"So it comes and does in waves?"

"Its always there, but I can function with that pain. But then there are these sudden intense pains that just have me helpless.", you explain to him, noticing you are a bad host, "I'm sorry, would you like something to drink? Tea perhaps?".

He waves it off, "You were barely able to speak a momemt ago, let alone brew tea. I am just fine, thank you. And those pains, are they pulsating, throbbing, stabbing,..?".

You think about it, "The normal, bearable pain is pulsating, the sudden ones are throbbing, like a jackhammer.".

He humms his confirmation and thinks for a moment. "I think I have a spell that could help with that, though only temporaryly I'm afraid.", he looks at you a little sad.

"That sounds good, please just make it stop for now at least.", you beg him, the desperation clear in your voice.

He nods, "Make yourself comfortable.". You lean back into the cushions, to which he whispers, "Very well.".

He turns to face you better, giving you direct view of his jaw muscles. "You will feel a tingling first. After that you will alternately grow cold and very warm. Do not worry, that is totally normal.", he explains to you calmly.

"Understood."

He lays his hand on your head, palm flat against your forehead. You look at it expectedly. "Close your eyes?", he suggest, you follow, "Lovely. Now just stay calm and breathe for me.".

Just as he finishes what he says, you feel your skin tingle, growing warm after a brief moment. Very warm and then suddenly cold. Then warm again, but it stays at a soothing temprature, like a heating pad.

The pain subsides, almost like a wave washing it into nothingness. You smile and humm at the peaceful release from your torment. You havent even noticed in how much pain you were for the last thee days straight, until it was gone.

"Better?", he asks you.

You leave your eyes closed, savouring this moment of peace, you confirm his question with a 'mhhm'.

You hear his low timbre of voice tell you something, but you cant grasp his words. Your exhaustion kicked in right away, sleep taking you in a matter of seconds.

"Should it come up again and bother you or if you have any side effects, come to me at once.", Loki tells her but doesnt get an answer.

He feels her body growing limp. "Y/n?", he asks her in a whisper, only getting her even breath as confirmation.

She fell asleep. He smiles to himself, 'Poor thing is exhausted.'.

He gets up to leave, but as he's stood in front of her door, he glances over one last time. 'She would rather sleep in her bed, I guess.', he thinks as he sees her beginning to slump over to the side.

He walks over to her bed, drawing back the covers and then goes to collect her into his arms. Carefully as not to wake her, he walks over and sets her down. He makes sure her head lays comfortably and drapes her duvet over her.

He conjures a piece of paper and a pen, writing her a little message.

Dear Y/n,

you fell asleep, so I took the liberty of moving you to your bed, ensuring you sleep comfortable.

I did lock your door by magic, but you can unlock it as usual.

Just in case you ask yourself how that took place.

I hope you are well rested and pain free when you read these words.

Loki.

He places it on her nightstand and leaves her apartment, locking it as he told her in the letter. That night, he, too, had a peaceful sleep, feeling a sense of pride of being able to help this sweet neighbour of his.

When you woke up, you were confused at first, but quickly found the note Loki left you. You are so ashamed for falling asleep on him, not even thanking him for helping you. How embarrassing.

You defently owe him one.

#loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x sick reader #sick fic #hurt/comfort #migraine #sexualapocalysesociety

[papercupids]

here (always).

pairing -> seungmin x reader. ft. bang chan.

warnings -> a lot of parental trauma on both y/n and seungmin's side, alcohol, seungmin is a jerk and then eventually transitions into something that resembles connell from normal people, some curses here and there.

word count -> 9.5k

summary -> as kids of the rival businessmen, all you and seungmin have been taught is to hate the other family with passion and to be better than them always, but its only about time when you fall in love with each other and he messes up. will he ever get to make it better?

a/n -> this is loosely inspired by our beloved summer (the kdrama) & normal people (the book + the show) and i've been writing this fic since august last year :") its only recently that i got the motivation to finish it !!! lemme know what y'all think??

listen to this playlist for songs that remind me of seungmin!

act i. last year of highschool, midterms result.

“And for the first place, we have two people who are quite close to the other, kim seungmin and-”

The microphone boomed through the filled but silent auditorium, everybody was on the edge of their seats about the midterm result, but one thing was certain, deep down, they knew it would be either you or Kim seungmin in the first place. It was annoying how many times jiung from section c, or geum hee from section a, and many others had wanted their name to be announced by the greasy voiced announcer but had failed. 

Yes, you. You didn’t need to hear your name even to know it was you. It always has been that way, the both of you fighting for the first place.  

“However, their results differ just by a point,”

This piqued your interest, you knew your mother wouldn’t let you live it down if you let seungmin win ever. 

“y/n l/n, congratulations!”

Claps erupted from the hall and two rows from you, you could see seungmin smirk as he clapped too, but slowly and sarcastic, he’d lost but somehow he still managed to have that annoying smirk plastered over his face. You aren’t one to back down though, you bow down dramatically and offer him the most shiteating grin that you can muster. 

From the last three years, it has been this way, both of you just a point ahead of the other or sometimes not even that, just quite literally neck to neck. And this, to the amusement of both of your parents, has become a regular topic of discussion at the dinner table. 

It seemed like both of your families were destined to be rivals, your fathers in business, mothers in the bragging part and then the children in the academic stuff. And you weren’t quite sure why the two families would still insist on having dinner together occasionally, stabbing each other with words as much as possible. 

“To y/n, to the perfect 499 you scored,” you rolled your eyes, as yeji fake toasted her water bottle, she knew you hated the whole thing because a) it was worthless b) even if you thought it was worthless, you had to work your ass off for it. 

“I don’t know how you do it honestly, i’m practically dead with my 450,”

“You know i don’t have a choice,” 

She nods understandingly. 

"i feel bad for seungmin, you know, losing by just one point? he's gotta have a dent on his ego for sure,"

"let's rub it in," you smirk

The break was almost ending and you see seungmin entering the class, his friends cheering him on as well. You nod at yeji and get up, mischief on your mind, and tap at seungmin’s shoulder. The boys quiet down as they see you. 

“Congratulations,” he extends his hand to meet yours. 

“For losing to me again,” you wink as you sit on his desk. 

“Oh, come on, all of us know, i just let you win,”

“You’re one sore loser, seungmin,” you roll your eyes and get up. “See you at dinner.”

The conversations resume but seungmin looks at you, chatting away with yeji then joining a couple of other people, picking up your backpack and then ultimately leaving the classroom. 

He hated that he lost again, he knew very well he could have done better. 

But then he shrugged, there’s always a next time. 

the dinner was as crisp as the first few times, in one of those restaurants you could have a closed off booth. thankfully, or you didn't know what you would do if others could listen to the petty bickerings your parents were doing.

the greetings are through gritted teeth, seungmin looks completely dashing in a tuxedo, but his eyes are downcast. this was one of those times you felt sorry for the whatever jerk façade he had on, in school and here he was what he really could be.

it was fixed that whenever the results would be out, both of your families would go out for dinner, under the pretext of "celebrating their kids' hard work"

but you knew it was far from that, it was just something where they could brag about their own families and insist on paying the bill.

“So, seungmin, where are you looking at for college?” your mom asked, she wasn’t actually interested in knowing where seungmin was going she just wanted some material to compare you to later, to taunt you on how his choice would be better.

“Oh, actually, the same as y/n,”

“So the national university, then?”

He nods, chewing through his food. 

“I doubt he’ll make it though, the way he’s studying,” his dad interjects. 

And you swear you can see his face betraying him for a moment but he keeps a poker face as he says, “i’m gonna work harder, father,”

“You better,” your mum offers, “i want to keep on having these dinners, at least until you both bring your spouses to us, here,” 

Seungmin’s mom chuckles, “yeah, then, you can continue the legacy, with your kids,”

You, for one, knew that this was something both you and seungmin could collectively agree on, to never do the same your parents did with your kids. 

While you say your goodbyes, your mum holds you both and says, “i hope you get in the university, i really do, and you should work hard for it!” 

“We will,” you both smile to each other before leaving. 

Late that night, you have your headphones on as you look through your books, deciding what subject to study next as you munch on an apple. 

This is the time you enjoy, the night, the silence, your music and-

The changing of the track allows you to hear the light taps on your window, and you run to it, light steps as if anybody would even pay attention to those sounds. 

Sliding the window open, a brunette guy, about your age, comes inside, wearing a blue hoodie covering his head. 

And kim seungmin. 

“Hi,” he grins as you pull him in for a hug. 

He smells of the outside, the night and the comfort. For as long as you live then, you’ll always associate this fragrance with someone you love - deeply, truly. 

As you pull away, your face is just inches apart from his. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he cups your face then kisses your forehead. 

And then another kiss, this time on the lips. “I love you,”

This had been going for a while now, when two people are in the same shitty situation together, going through it with a person who’s having the same hell as you makes it easier. 

Later, you’re on the bed, lying fully clothed, looking at the beige ceiling of your room, your hands intertwined, its the way he makes you feel, like there's no train you're running to catch, no flight that's leaving, you're here and he's here, it's content.

“Do you think i’ll make it? In college, i mean,”

You turn to look at him, “you’re one of the most intelligent people i’ve ever met, seungmin, you shouldn’t be doubting yourself just because your dad said so,”

“Right,”

you make a dissatisfied noise.

“Look at me,” you make him look at you, “we’ll both be alright, okay?”

“Okay,” a grin makes way on his face. 

"i don't know though, i shouldn't doubt myself but everytime he says shit like this, i just end up wondering if i should really even do this, i don't even know if i'm capable enough, i just really don't want to disappoint him ever," 

"c'mon, minnie, we both know he's just frustrated and he can't find a better outlet than you because god knows how your mother would just stab him on the spot if he said something like that to her,"

"right, it just hurts sometimes,"

and you turn to him, brushing his cheeks with your thumb, "i'm sorry,"

he hums in response.

"you know i'm always here, right?"

you kiss him on the cheek.

he just smiles a little in response. 

And you don’t know when you fall asleep, just that seungmin’s arms are the best place to sleep, better than any expensive pillow you could ever sleep on. When the sunlight hits your eyes, you’re alone, and much to your dismay, a pillow in place of where seungmin was.

In your chats with seungmin, he has attached a picture, of you sleeping, “i shall now blackmail you with this photograph - fail the next exam, or this is going to be on every phone in seoul haha”

You type back, “oh no shit i guess that way they can have a new wallpaper ;)”

Seungmin replies “🤢 i dont think ive ever seen anybody as narcissistic as you”

You quickly text back as you button your shirt, “yes u have” 

Another text, “in the mirror”

To which he sends a rolling eyes emoji. 

After saying goodbye and “see you at school” you quickly delete the chat with him before heading downstairs for breakfast. 

You didn’t understand why seungmin insisted on keeping the whole secret, but then looking around at the breakfast table with your parents trying to explain to the cooks about some new diet they’d heard about from seungmin’s parents, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. The idea of a competition was instilled so deep into their minds that they wouldn’t have ever even thought about such a thing. 

And at school, it’s the same day over and over again every week with the only relief being the student sitting about two benches ahead in the row next to yours. He smiled at you when no one was looking and a look passed between you both, which was somehow more precious than any grand gesture could have been. 

And the nights, your favourite part of the day, where you could be yourself, no guards up. Just him and you and all of your plans for each other, some music too maybe, but that’s it. In those moments, no stress could touch you, no harm. It was just bliss, just you both.

In that moment, you swear you could see forever, maybe a lifetime with him. 

But reality caught up with you in the morning, that even if a forever was there, with him for you, there were too many challenges in the way, challenges that were exhausting but you were still getting to them, one step at a time, as he kept your ship afloat.

just as the school year progresses, the one social event you'd been dreading catches up quick as you sit in the cafeteria, sipping on some apple juice as some members from the council are busy lining the hallways with banners of the school colours, purple with yellow, and on it, written in block letters, 'the annual dance.'

as if sensing that you are thinking about it, yujin takes a bite from a sandwich as she asks, "have you thought about who you're gonna take?"

"i don't think i'm gonna attend, it's useless anyway,"

"oh, come on, these are the years you'll later miss, you'll be 67 someday and when your kids ask you about the fun stories of your youth, you'll have nothing, do you want that?"

"i think you're just overdramatising it,"

"and you're not paying attention to me, you NEED to come,"

you sigh, there was sometimes no way to win an argument with yujin and you hoped somebody from the table would rescue you but all the other girls were engrossed in their own topics. most of them, about the dance.

the truth was, you would be lying if you said you entirely didn't want to go, because you did  but you weren't sure what that would entail. and a small part, okay, alright not that small but it wished seungmin would ask you to the dance.

it seemed impossible with the status of your relationship in the public but you hoped you could get past it, because as yujin said, these would be the days you'd end up missing.

but anyway you weren't even sure if dances were even seungmin’s thing.

so you sipped the last of the apple juice as yujin ran you through the pros of attending the dance.

"you can ask hyunjin, he has literally been eyeing you since the freshman year," 

"ew, what no, come on, yujin,"

"well, what about yongbok then?"

"no,"

"jeongin?"

"as if."

"hey! what about seungmin?"

and you can't even muster a clever response to that, yujin, thankfully doesn't seem to notice that she's struck a nerve. she continues chewing through the rest of her food and then finally, sighing, "at least sleep on it, okay? i want you there, really,"

you thank your friend and then head back to class, an entire day of books, notes and more books awaiting you.

the upcoming nights, there are just texts, "i can't come, i'm too tired," and there was no way you could have made 2 steps out of your own home without being caught so couldn't really blame seungmin.

but thank god for facetimes then. whatever you were doing, whether it was making notes for biology or tidying up your wardrobe, he was there, watching you, smiling at your little circumstantial jokes.

and after he fell asleep, you would look up at the ceiling till you could fall asleep, wondering how long someone could keep a secret.

maybe college would bring something more solid, and promising for you both. you desperately hoped it would.

you don't know why but on this particularly cloudy day as your family decided to drive out for lunch, your mind went out to the day you first met seungmin. you had been known him since freshman year but this was the incident that really made you see see him, in a different light altogether.

it was about march, and the air was crisp with the onset of spring, it was the perfect day for your physical education period where everybody was pondering whether they should play dodgeball or volleyball and they were actually serious about it. 

but you weren't quite in the mood to play, and looking back you didn’t even know if it was a lie or just something you were doing out of sheer boredom but you were heading straight to the nurse's office when you heard soft piano sounds from the auditorium because the door was slightly ajar and the tunes were so delicate and just flowing together that it almost sounded like someone was playing a prerecorded track.

but when you stepped in, you saw him, sitting on the bench and playing through, completely engrossed and as you move closer you realise he's also humming some lyrics.

you take a seat in one of the chairs, the melody providing a great relief to your ears as compared to the nonsensical chatter of your classmates and he's way too much into it to notice you there anyway.

and he slows down his movements on the piano as the tune ends on a light note, he finally turns, freezing when he spots you there.

expecting a snarky comment from you, he's picking up his backpack.

"that was good,"

he didn't think you were physically capable of compliments, so he just stood there, trying to make sense of it.

"thank you?"

"i didn't know you played, your parents never told mine i think,"

"don't tell them." it comes out as a threat when its actually meant as a request. he'd learnt how to play it from a friend and he didn't want his parents to know because they'd be all over him for wasting his time on something that 'unproductive'.

"oh, um, okay," 

and that was the day you began wondering about an aspect of the boy you were used to knowing, it became endearing to you the fact that he could have a whole lot of himself away from those pretentiousness of it all. 

and after that it's just inevitable, somehow you keep bumping into each other, sometimes during grocery shoppings, sometimes during bus rides the seat next to him would be vacant and you'd just sit there. any enmity was just pushed back gradually, as if you both were just different people here, new versions of yourself, it was almost refreshing. 

and then came the planned meetings, at cafès and small restaurants way too far from home so you couldn't have a chance to be recognised by anyone.

it just meant something that was meant to fall in place.

seungmin is tired; tired of sitting every day at the same dining table and being pulled apart, for every little thing he does or doesn't. he tries to concentrate on his food, on every strand of the noodles he's eating, on every crunch of the meat, so that the things he's actually meant to hear will tune out.

"and it's coming up," turning to him, his mother looks at him eagerly, "when is it?"

"when is what?"

"the dance?"

"somewhere in december,"

"seungmin, today is the 5th,"

oh, that could be the reason his face feels drier than usual, oh, it was also snowing. he needs to pay better attention to his calendar. 

only if he wasn't spiraling though.

he's convinced the only thing that's keeping him rooted and connected to reality is you.

"i think before christmas,"

"have you asked someone yet?"

he imagines the kind of trauma he would unleash upon himself, all the members sitting on the table and the servers, who are alert at every movement each of them makes, to refill every glass to ensure the stew is hot, if he announces he's dating you.

it would be hilarious in some other universe, but right now he was here, and if he was going to survive anymore of dinner at the same table, he needed to be rational.

"i haven't yet, i plan to soon,"

"you better, i don't want to hear about my son being a complete loner who doesn't even date, we don't want you being labelled as 'the nerd',"

seungmin's mother sheepishly asks, "do you know if y/n's taking someone?"

"i don't know,"

he's not even sure what you think of dances.

"you need to be better, seungmin, be better,"

it's the one dialogue which keeps on playing in his head, long after he's asleep, even in nightmares the monsters aren't chasing him to kill him, they're asking him to "be better, do better," and it stings as he lets it slide like he always has.

everywhere around you, you can see people holding hands, newly in love, their futures after the dance unknown.

the public displays almost makes you want to throw up but then you kinda wish you were holding hands with that one guy across a few tables, too, he's smiling at something someone said but as he catches your eye, he smiles at you, blinking twice. 

"i love you!" you want to scream to the whole cafeteria, standing on one of the tables. "i love you so much that i can't hide it anymore, i wish we didn't have to,"

it wouldn't be of any use, he's not keeping it under wraps voluntarily, and you know that. 

the sandwich on your plate doesn't look quite desirable but you're hungry enough to eat it in slow and unsatisfactory bites.

there's a sudden pause in the discussions of the girls at your table, and yeji moves in closer to you.

"do you know who asked yujin to the dance?"

you arch your eyebrows and then look at the mentioned person who is engrossed in conversation with one of your other friends, karina, and they are most probably going through their outfits for the dance.

"uh huh,"

"your arch-nemesis,"

your hand froze at the side of the table where you kept it for support and you stopped mid way of chewing your bland sandwich, and stomach lurched out, threatening to make you throw up in front of the entire cafeteria. you just pray yeji can't see it.

"i'm so surprised, right? i've never even seen seungmin look at her even,"

and you can't process the rest of the gossip which she seems to nonchalantly throw around.

"are you sure?" you ask, you can feel your lips begin to tremble.

"what do you mean 'are you sure?' i saw it, he asked her in the library, and she rolled her eyes at him but then obviously said yes."

as the bell rings, you dump the rest of your sandwich in the trash, and walk back to class, where seungmin is settling in his desk and dropping the books for the period that's about to follow, on the desk.

since the bell is about to ring, people are hurrying about trying to fit in a few minutes of free time before the agony of the class begins and running around; someone once said, what the school truly is, you can only know at lunch time. or not. maybe you just made that up in your panic and anxiety as you approach seungmin wordlessly and grab his hand, leaving no room for argument as you drag him out of the class, to the staircase where no one cares enough to go and whoever does has already left.

"in public, y/n? really?"

you can't answer him, so you blankly stare at his face.

"you asked yujin to the dance."

he shrugs, how was everything of so little meaning to him?

"yes, i guess,"

"i guess? do i really mean that little to you?"

"y/n, are you hearing yourself? we can't be seen together like this and you know it's because our parents would rip out ours and each other's throats if they knew, and they wanted me to go to this bloody dance, which, by the way, i'm telling you already i won't be enjoying. and the last resort was asking someone other than you, it's not a big deal, really."

and the bell rings. 

you don't even have anything to say so you withdraw your eyes from his; seungmin knows he's fucked up but he can't do anything about this.

he's sick of having things he can't control, but he can't do anything about that either.

the only thing that keeps him going is that he can change it, in the future. that it will be better.

and he walks away. the students, with their unpausing chatter are gathering inside the class again as he walks, and you stand there trying to figure out if the whole thing was just a bad, bad fever dream or maybe worse, a joke seungmin's family had planned, how easily can we make our son break hearts? 

you wouldn't be surprised if it was one of their tactics.

and the rest of the day passes in a haze, like a flashback, but you do remember not looking at him even when you see him staring at you, you can't. you aren't sure how much of this hurt you could take, if your parents didn't want you to date then you shouldn't. period. 

this was it. 

and the next few hours, you spend putting your phone on do not disturb and you're surprised by how much you can study when you don't have anyone to distract you and don't have to constantly check your phone for notifications, maybe this was for the better afterall.

but as you slowly reach towards the end, you can feel your notes stain with your tears, god, fuck him. 

and you can't even escape him in your own room, because every corner, there is something or the other connected to him, whether the plushie which smells just like him after he sprayed it with his perfume once or the watch he gifted you on your birthday, it's all there.

a pathetic thought creeps in your brain, you should just let him in, it's not his fault. and you knew it wasn't but you shouldn’t have been suffering either, it was unfair.

maybe all those road trips in the usa and the expeditions in maasai mara were meant to be just a dream. it just seemed worthless that you were stupid enough to think this could work anyway.

amidst the small chewing sounds and the slight clatter of plates on the table, mostly no one talks at the dining table, no one has to, anyway, they have nothing to talk about. 

If you remove the whole bragging to neighbours and relatives aspect from your family, they could actually end up being pretty cool too, not interfering much in your life except your studies. 

“You just need to study well, y/n, everything else will fall into place,” your mother always told you, she didn’t want you to be dependent on anyone, financially or emotionally. It was always one of her main principles, “stand on your own feet, then you can fall in love with someone, or not,”

So that part was pretty neat about your family. And you didn’t think your father was in quite a hurry to marry you off too, but you wondered if it’s just because you are just about to come of age, will things change soon? You hoped they wouldn’t.

After a lot of failed attempts and second thoughts, you finally clear your throat, and unnaturally which makes both of them stare at you. 

“Mum, dad, i need to tell you something,”

He’s been trying to call you for hours now, every call being forwarded straight to voicemail. 

He really had messed up, and if this proves anything it means he should have never listened to hyunjin rant about the dance, and how important making a move was, he just wanted to rewind time as far back as he could in the day and never pick up the books yujin dropped and ask her about the dance. How could he be so dumb?

“I don’t know what came over me, y/n, really, i’m sorry, please,”

And at that moment, a knock sounds at the door, “yes?” he calls out.

It’s his mother, holding a plate of different fruits, she pushes the door open with her hand and quickly shuts it off before balancing the plate again. 

“Seungmin, have you been studying late again?” she places the plate on his study table, and ruffles his hair slightly. 

“No, mum, just trying to revise a bit.”

And she sits on the corner of his bed, facing him and smiling endearly. “Good,”

“Have you talked about the date?” the topic he was dreading. Right now there was nothing else he wanted to talk about more, hell, he could even take her nagging right now. 

“Yes,” he answered half-heartedly, “yes, i asked someone,”

“You don’t seem too happy about it,”

“Because i don’t want to take her,”

“Then do you have someone else you want to take?” 

Yes. he could almost say it, could he? He wanted to shout, yes and i love y/n, a lot, at that. 

“No, i just think dances are stupid,”

“Oh, well, you could just leave early, if you want, just dance a bit,”

She stands up and starts flattening the sheets on his bed, cueing that she’s about to leave, “oh also, who’s this bang chan?”

“Hmm, he was an alumni, a senior, why?”

“y/n’s taking him to the dance,”

“What?” he almost shouts, and then regains his composure.

“Well, obviously, their mother called,”

He doesn’t say anything, he just hopes his mother would leave the room soon and closes his eyes so she can’t see it, the tears. 

After putting the pillows properly, she turns to leave. 

“Sleep soon, seungmin,” 

“Hmm,”

And as soon as the lock clicks, he opens them again, leaning against his desk, “fuck!” he whisper-shouts, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he bangs his palm on the table. 

If it didn’t hurt like a bitch, he would have actually given it to you on how genius the idea was, how it had struck the exact nerves it was meant for. 

He didn't sleep that night, he had too many mixed emotions inside him, he didn’t know what to even say to you, like what exactly even gives him the right to be hurt when he was the one who initiated the hurt on you first? 

He had unknowingly made what was one of the biggest mistakes of his life. 

At the other side of the city, you were hurt, you had thought revenge would make it better but it couldn’t, it didn’t, you just wanted to be wrapped in seungmin’s arms again, and stay that way, forever. The plushie, a bear one, didn’t do much of a good job of a substitute. 

and you couldn't believe that what you had put off doing for about over 6 months was so easily just done and it had went well at that.

"i'm dating seungmin,"

it had obviously garnered shocking reactions from your parents but only because of the abruptness of the confession.

"i mean, i was, not anymore,"

"well, i mean i could somehow see the both of you giving each other glances so this wasn't a surprise for me,"

your mother loved to know things, this was one of the things she knew, whether she was pretending or not, you couldn't tell but you went with it.

"why did you break up?"

"oh, well, he thinks it'll be a huge deal if his parents find out so he's not telling them and he asked someone else to then dance,"

"then you should, too," your father piped in.

"ask someone else?"

"yes, if there's anything we're gonna do is defeat them,"

and you laughed at the absurdity of it, but he was right, it would take the edge off.

so you'd call an old friend from school, chan, who was now in college, to come with you, that way it wouldn't even be weird.

the days leading to the dance brought extreme awkwardness, with neither of you knowing what to do in case of bumping into each other except admire the walls, or the ground if you do. 

"bang chan's hot, god, how can you take him 'just as a friend'? you might at least have some hots for him, hmm?"

"nope, he's hot, i admit, but not my type,"

"oh, well, then what's your type?"

"i don't know but not chan,"

she signs and shakes her head. 

"who are you taking?" you ask her out of curiosity but when she goes absolutely red in the face, it amuses you.

"i'm taking lia," she says quietly.

"oh my god, yeji! that's great, oh my god," you didn't know there was something going on there but you were glad it was, you could totally see it happening.

later in the day, in the library, you can sense some weird commotion and whispers a few tables away and to your absolute dismay, you spot seungmin there, along with a couple of his friends, so you go back to your book immediately. 

when you glance again, one of his friends  jisung was standing right beside you eagerly.

and you look at him questioningly.

"what?"

"um, y/n," he says. and you still hold the harsh, hostile look in your eyes, the few other people left on that table are looking sheepishly, including seungmin, who stole glances, seeming like he didn't really want to be interested in the topic but you know he was listening in, he had to be.

"i wanted to ask……"

"will you go to the dance with me?"

and you now glance directly at seungmin, really? lets say he couldn't tell his friends that he was dating you but he could at least have stopped one of his best friends to not ask out his girlfriend,  no, ex girlfriend.

but you feel sorry for the boy in front of you.

"i would have loved to, jisung, but i already have a date,"

he gives an understanding smile and when he begins to turn away, you call out to him.

"but save me a dance, will you?"

as he turns to go, you look at seungmin, his sorry face hangs there, and you shake your head. this was the last straw.

The doorbell rings, and you look at the time, it’s chan. 

You hold out your hand to your parents to stop photographing you, they’ve been doing that for the past half an hour, ever since you walked out all-ready. 

“Chan!” you greet him as you smile at him, it’s been a good while since you saw him and he’s definitely finer than what he was, grew nicely into his features, yeji had told you about him and you could see it now. 

He was holding a small bouquet of baby’s breath and as you lead him in, for a second round of photographs, he greets your parents and they make small talk too. 

After posing awkwardly for a couple of photographs, you look at the time again, you should probably leave. 

“y/n,” your mum calls out to you, and then whispers, “don’t think much about seungmin, okay? Don’t let him ruin your night,” you nod.

“Let’s go?” you ask as chan is talking to your father about something, nodding. 

You put the bouquet on the kitchen counter, asking your mum to place it in a vase for you, and finally leave, your parents reminding you of your curfew. 

“So,” chan holds the steering and looks at you, “long time no see, huh,”

You smile back, you’re meant to be happy today, no thoughts about seungmin please. 

As he drives to the venue, the rest of the conversation is about how the school has changed, some digs at the teachers, and how your studies are going. 

No one knew you were bringing chan, except yeji of course, but the others simply were quite engrossed in their own dates so much that they hadn’t asked and you didn’t think you would have told them either. But the thing with chan was that when he was your senior, he was The Crush, the guy everybody unanimously had a crush on, the nice guy, he was approachable, sweet, gentle, everything you could ever imagine being ideal, so you bet this won’t be something thats going to die down soon. 

Seungmin spent the past week trying to figure out how he’ll face you, preparing himself for the moment you walk in with chan but no amount of preparation could have readied him for this, the look on your face as you walk in, your arms interlocked with his, he’d have thrown up. 

“Everything okay?” yujin asks him. 

“Yeah, yeah,”

The dance in itself is not a very airy place to be, with people crowding around every empty corner and the dim lights fluctuating and the music was also way too uptempo for him but for whatever reason it was, he waved back as his friends called out to him.

he could feel yujin looking at him as he slowly joined them, because she wanted to dance and he didn't and to avoid that conversation was easier than saying no.

"oh did you see chan? can't believe y/n out of people snatched him?"

"what's there not to believe?" seungmin was now looking at you both talking to a few friends of yours, arms still not apart.

"well, you know, you expect nerds to be a little anti social you know?"

"well, good for her i guess,"

and he feels her tug at his arm.  

"seungmin, come with me,"

he follows, even though he knows what's going to happen, he just feels like these days despite knowing certain things are going to happen, he can't stop them from happening. odd.

"why did you even ask me?" this is the second question, he can't remember the first one.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to?"

"what?"

"i said, sorry i didn't mean to,"

"honestly seungmin, screw you, i can't believe i rejected felix for you,"

"i'm sorry,"

she's already gone.

i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, it keeps on repeating in his mind, he's sorry, to you, to yujin, to everybody else. he wished he was better, he could be, he just didn't know how to.

be better, be better, it was what he kept on hearing a lot of and he wished somebody would give him a manual for that. he was trying his best, so where was he failing? he failed at recognizing that as well.

and now he can’t move from this staircase he’s sitting on, the muffled music can reach his ears but its not as bad now, his thoughts drown it out now. that and maybe the "small" amount of whiskey jisung gave him. he shouldn’t have done that either. 

He leans on the wall, he should go home now, but he’s not ready to answer his parents’ queries so he sits there and waits, so he can go home peacefully. 

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep in that position, his limbs huddled together for warmth but he feels it when someone puts an extra jacket on his shoulders. 

In his drowsy state, he can still make out your figure, he’s convinced it’s a dream. 

“y/n,”

“are you drunk, seungmin?” 

he nods softly, he can feel a warm pang of guilt.

“I’m here,” and then looking at a figure beside you, you're talking to it, “can we drop him home? Its close,”

And he falls asleep again, in the backseat of the figure’s car, mostly because he still thinks he’s in a dream, an extended reality dream. 

“I’m sorry, y/n, i’m so sorry,” he keeps on saying. He realizes now why he slept so hard and unconsciously that day, because he’d been not sleeping properly for about two weeks, tossing and turning and then ultimately just giving up trying to sleep at all. 

He can’t walk properly, he sees you put his arm around your shoulders and lead him in, to the door. 

“Will you go from here? Are you sure?” he nods, still yawning. 

“Thank you,” you nod at him. 

The car door slams as you sit inside, taking a minute to compose yourself as you look at chan. He’s already looking at you. 

“You love him,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Loved.”

act ii. 6 months later. 

he doesn't know how it happens but one second he's completely stressed about the first semester papers, trying to go through everything and anything he has missed, a sharp memory crosses his mind -

he's spinning in the chair that sits by your study as you lie on your back, questioning him about geography, there's a quiz the day after.

the moment that you look up at him, smiling as he gets an answer right is etched in his mind and its about to replay when a certain someone knocks over the table he's hunched over, nose deep in his books.

"hey," it's chan. 

he's immediately embarrassed looking at him because the last time he met him he was just muttering sorrys and leaning over to you for support.

"oh, hey," he bows at him as chan takes the spot in front of him.

"long time no see!" 

chan is a great person, he's very bright and he has that infectious aura of bright things except he doesn't want him here for two reasons, a) he's in stress, he'll get overwhelmed if he's not reading over every word and making sure he knows all of it, and b) he's not in the mood to be discussing the last time. this is the worst time to be bringing up the past.

Chan takes one of the books in front of seungmin and flips through it, “midterms, eh?”

He doesn’t wait for seungmin’s response but seungmin nods anyway, “don’t stress much, it’s alright,”

“Yeah, i’m just, cramming a little bit of last minute revision,”

“How have you been?” seungmin is just about to answer when chan’s phone rings, he says a little “excuse me,” and answers his phone. 

“Yeah?” “oh, it’s 7 already? I didn’t realize,” “i was just in the library,” “yes, i’ll head over there now,”

He cuts the call. 

“Hey, seungmin, c’mon, let's grab something to eat?”

“Oh no, no, it’s okay,”

“Just come on, we’d love your company,”

He wished he had asked who the “we” meant. 

-

Chan wasn’t mean, he wasn’t a bad guy. Quite far from it, actually. So it came naturally to him to invite the poor boy for dinner. The boy he had seen, not even six months ago, breaking down pathetically in public. He just wants to be nice, he swears. 

He doesn’t know or quite weigh the consequences, maybe because all of it is so spontaneous or maybe its his naivety on the subject. or maybe its the fact that deep down he doesn't like the way things were last time when he saw seungmin. 

So when seungmin walks out with him, after gathering all of his books and pens and pencils from the library table, they talk about the college, the professors, the courses they’re taking and they pass by various cafes and little bookstores, and grocery stores. Seungmin loved this street, he’d walk around it every time things got overwhelming, to remind himself of the universe, of other people, of how small they all were, how small everything was. It was just comforting to him in an odd way. 

They take a turn in front of a hamburger place and step inside, the pop music is a little too drowned out by the laughs of a group of people from their own university, they seem to be having a nice time. 

And he’s looking around as chan seems to have spotted the table where they’re meant to be going, seungmin follows, scanning the place, he’s never had the actual nerve to go inside one of these places, mostly because he’d be too anxious to eat all alone and he didn’t have.. Many friends. Just one, his roommate. 

In his peripheral vision, he sees the older male hugging someone and later pecking them on the cheek, was he third wheeling? He felt incredibly awkward in that moment but Chan looked back at him and called out to him, and he saw something which made him want to absolutely just regret everything he had done today that led up to this. Why did he get up on the left side of his bed? Why did he wear his beige shirt instead of the white one? Why did he go to the library when he could have easily stayed home. 

You. standing there. Smiling until it froze uncomfortable, the smile. Neither of you expected the other there, it was a complete sneak attack. One that perhaps chan should have got the memo to not have arranged if he was there at all that night. 

Chan wasn’t mean, really, but he couldn’t resist himself when he saw that boy on the table, all alone, his nose buried in the book, if memory serves him right he was somewhat popular in school, he’d have about five to six guys around him, not notorious at all, just good guys, who were popular. And Chan wanted to take a dig at him, the guy his potential romantic interest still couldn’t let go of.

And he should have known better, but at that moment it only seemed right to do it.

“are you crazy?”

“i really thought it would be nice for you to reconnect,” to say you were angry was an understatement but chan, at the same time was calm and composed which made you all the more angry.

“reconnect? after you saw what happened that night? after i told you how much i was still hurting because of him?”

“well, then wouldn’t it be a little better to talk?”

“NO!”

“oh, well, then, i’m sorry, i just thought it’d be too rude to not invite him since he already looked lonely,”

you sigh, there was no way it was that, you’d learn that in the months of being around him that he was nice, really nice, but sometimes he didn’t think much about the consequences, it was part of why you’d never date him, even if he kept on asking you to go out with him, on multiple occasions. 

despite getting over the dinner, making minimal and formal conversation, like you didn’t know each other inside out, it just kept playing in your mind that exactly a year ago, you were looking forward to this, on how this would be the best part of your lives. 

but this did confirm what you had long thought to be true, that you would never actually hate seungmin, in fact, never would stop loving him. 

as you said your goodbyes, you wanted to do nothing more than leave chan’s side and run towards seungmin, join him, have him tell you how his year had been going, how did he convince his parents to agree to him pursuing music as a subject when all along they wanted him to go into computer science. 

“chan,”

this was your stop, your cozy little apartment, the one you wished seungmin could come into, this time by the front door. 

he looked up, and you smiled at him. 

“it’s okay,”

he smiled, too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He knew that instead of the outcome he thought of getting, by putting your past in front of you suddenly, it wasn’t going to go the way he wanted to. 

you love him, still. 

your hand hovered over the contact that you hadn't blocked but the message had been left on seen for quite some time. a blank profile picture and a username that you once thought would be tagged in a soft launch. 

the last few messages sound desperate. 

"y/n… please, sorry, hear me out at least,"

"i miss you, i'm sorry, can we talk, please?"

"y/n…."

that’s all. you remember debating hundreds of times, to text back, to call him, to ask him, to let him apologise. but it didn't end up happening.

a few days after that awkward meeting, it’s a tuesday, and you're so tired of it all already that you're yet again debating dropping out of college. it’s the day of the week when it was particularly hard because they all had engagements or plans for dinner, but you. 

maybe you can blame that you've never seen seungmin around on the fact that you were never sure if he was actually around but now that you do know he's around, it seems like every face kind of resembles him.

 so when you get out of the library on that particular tuesday evening, anticipating yet another convenience store dinner,  you’re too egoistic to admit that you were relieved to see the real seungmin there, even if you have no clue on how to react or respond to the fact that he's standing right there in the same aisle - browsing different types of jam and this seemed to be the only way for you to get some coca cola. 

he gives you an awkward smile as he holds two bottles of the jam, there’s strawberry and an orange jam.

"hey," it's a soft one, but you can tell by the tone that it isn't out of a simple obligation for him to say hi, he genuinely does seem to be wanting to talk to you.

you walk to him slowly. "hi, what’s up?"

"can you choose one?" he points to the bottles.

a bit later, you’re sitting inside a restaurant you had frequented for only the first month of you starting uni, quickly growing sick of the same dishes over and over again but since it was a close option, it was doable.

"i told my parents before the dance," you confess, he looks surprised, yes, but it wasn't one of the reactions you imagined, he wasn’t hyper or overly interrogative of you he just nodded.

"well, kind of a similar thing happened for me," he says quietly.

and seungmin explains how he felt like a complete pressure cooker in the days that led upto your breakup and that it finally lost control the day after the dance. he had a complete breakdown and something he always expected, happened.

although his father still doesn’t talk to him and neither does his mother except asking him once in a while about how he’s doing, he actually feels content with himself, all his life he’s done everything his parents wanted but he really couldn’t have lived with himself if he had let them dictate his life here as well. and he’d made a mistake by not speaking up sooner, maybe he would have had you still if he did, but at least eh improvised on it

he hesitates a little when he gets to the last part, and an awkward silence follows, but you’re glad you have food left on your plate so you can pretend to be interested in it.

"so, music, huh. what instrument?"

"piano.."

you smile at the memory, it seems such a long time ago that you met at the auditorium, you were so unaware about the memories you would hold with this person. 

"i'm learning the guitar as well,"

"you should play for me sometime,"

you mentally slap yourself for saying that, it was too soon to have ideas for meeting again but it seems like your mouth had a mind of its own. thankfully, seungmin isn't very aware of the debate inside your mind.

"obviously,"

another period of silence follows, in which seungmin grapples with the aspect of asking a question that he isn't sure if he should ask or not, but then gives in, the worst has already happened.

"so, you and chan are a thing?"

you accidentally let out a laugh. ever the curious man, your ex. 

"no, no," you shake your head. "i mean i like him, he likes me, we're friends alright, and it helps to have someone who knows his way around, so that's why we hang out," 

"oh, that’s pretty cool. i wish had someone like that,"

seungmin feels so relieved right now that he could break into a dance, he could even grab the waiter by the collar and grind on him. he was just that happy.

as you leave, he points to the opposite direction of where you're heading, "that side's me,"

"alright then i'll see you later,"  

but he turns around quick, “hey, wait, y/n,” you give him a questioning look.

“i can play the guitar for you, if you want."

in your more than a year of being together, you’d never seen seungmin’s room, mostly because he was too scared for you to come there although he would like to give an excuse of he didn’t want you to walk alone to and back from his place. but deep down, you did kinda know the reason, you’d have been pretty blind to not. 

so when he enters the number on the keypad, you look away. and as he invites you in, he rushes to put a few things into place, straighten the sofa, and take the dirty plates to the sink. there are notes lying around but mostly a guitar, just sitting on the sofa. 

“uh, would you like something to drink or eat?”

“did you forget we just had dinner?” you laugh. 

“okay, okay, yeah. i’m sorry, i’m just nervous.”

after making you promise to not laugh at any bad notes here and there, he finally starts playing. it’s clear that he is nervous, and he has a certain blush on his face. but you take this moment to scan him. this seungmin compared to the one that you dated, it seemed to be really different. there was an obvious change in the way he carried himself. he was struggling with himself but not in the way that he was before, this time he seemed free. free from carrying his family’s pressure everywhere he went. 

he played some taylor swift song from her initial days because he liked the country genre and he’s good at it. why he would think that you would laugh at him was beyond you. 

“you’re really good at this, minnie, uh, seungmin.” 

it grows awkward as your old nickname for him slips out and he ultimately puts his guitar aside. 

“i want to say……” he sighs. “there’s no easy way to say this, but i’m really sorry, y/n, for all the things that happened back then, i can’t skip the accountability because i reallly messed up but believe me when i say i didn’t really mean for it to happen, it was just a really bad time.”

you nod, “it’s, um, alright, i thought about all of it and it’s alright, we were really immature,”

“me more than you,” he comments. 

“yeah, but it’s alright, what matters is that you’ve changed, and for the better, look at you playing all these instruments, it’s admirable,”

he blushes a little, “thanks,”

after that one meeting, you’d been texting seungmin, on one excuse or the other. you’d forgotten your scarf that night in his apartment so he suggested you could grab breakfast together and he could hand it over. 

or later when you asked him if he wanted to study together for abit, which spoiler, did not end in you both studying because as compared to your school days you didn’t have pressure to absolutely be the best but you could actually enjoy the process. 

chan is.. upset, but deep down he did know that he didn’t stand a chance because he could tell that you were never over seungmin, so he gracefully stepped back. and he’s seen you around campus, hanging out with him, and he was happy that you were actually enjoying his company. 

“you know what would be really funny now?” seungmin laughs as you’re both sitting on your sofa, you’ve called your friends over to introduce them to seungmin. you’ve been hanging out with him for over a week now and they wanted to know who this new guy was. none of them really knew it yet that he was actually the ex you started crying over when you’ve had too much to drink. 

“what?” you ask, opening up a packet of chips meant for later, sit down next to him and then pass it to him.

“well, you could pretend you never dated me in front of your friends,” and his voice drops a little low, “like i did,”

“seungmin,” you place the packet aside and take this chance to do something you’ve wanted to as soon as you saw him again, kiss him. his lips are so gentle, and you’re so, so thankful to the entire universe out there that he exists at the same time as you, and that eventually made his way back to you. and as he kisses you back, you can sense the desperation in his actions, he reaches his hand out to rest at your waist but hesitates, so you place them there. 

“i would never pretend about that,” your face is still so close to his. he feels like he could cry, seungmin never really thought he could have you back, he feels relieved right now, he has the world in his palms now. he pulls you in close through the grip he has on your waist. 

“i’m never letting you go again,” he whispers in your ear. 

and the bell rings.

“is this a bad time?” giselle and ningning look at you suspiciously, “why do you…..?”

as they enter and look at seungmin, the puzzle solves itself, “okay…”

“actually we just thought of something we had to do, so what we’re going to do is leave,” giselle announces, dragging ningning out the door despite your protests to join the party. you also hear her call somi, “change of plans…”

#seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #seungmin angst #seungmin x y/n #seungmin imagines #seungmin scenarios #seungmin headcanons #seungmin fluff #seungmin fanfic #skz fluff #skz seungmin #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz angst #skz fics #skz #skz x reader #skz headcanons #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic

[scummy-writes]

Winter Comforts

A fic for @misty-moth. Thank you for your support!

Pairing: Arthur/Reader

Words: 2143

Tags: Depression, comfort, fluff

The snowfall after your first night at the cabin was more than anticipated, causing an extra chill in the cabin you rented for the week. While it wasn't unwelcomed as an added bonus to the atmosphere of your lovebird vacation, it was enough for Arthur to designate himself as the one to take Vic out, refusing to let the risk of illness touch you.

And that's where he was now: out in the yard, watching the way you busied yourself with putting another log in the fireplace. There he stood with arms crossed, puffs forming in the air from his deep sighs.

Meanwhile Vic stepped cautiously through the snow, his small, boot clad paws crunching with each step. He only stopped exploring long enough to relieve himself, and in that time his owner finally stopped looking so worriedly in your direction, crouching down to make eye contact with Vic with new determination.

“Alright, Vic, we have our work cut out for us this week. Our bird has been putting on a brave face for us and refuses to say what's truly bothering her.”

Vic looked at Arthur with a small huff, chilly even through the sweater you'd knitted him, as he tried to finish his business as fast as he could manage. Yet Arthur continued, his focus on figuring out how to triumph over your depression causing him to neglect the cold.

“I've already devised plans to keep her mood up, in and out of bed, but what I need from you is the best charm you can manage. I need you to harken back to your youthful days as a pup and pretend to have that energy once more! Of course, this isn't all for nothing- with her mood lifted, she's bound to spoil you tenfold, Vic.”

Vic huffed once more, giving his owner a tired look before shaking the snow from his fur. But the man continued, used to this behavior for years.

“And… I'll let you get onto the bed with us in the mornings we're here. What do you say?”

The shaking slowed to a halt as Vic contemplated the words, staring Arthur down as if to call his bluff. But when Arthur merely just stared back, waiting for an affirmation of sorts, Vic slowly began to wag his tail before taking determined steps towards the cabin.

“Atta boy!”

.

Inside, the fire you set up crackled and popped, providing a comforting warmth to the abode. Once you had finished stoking it, you couldn't manage yourself up off the floor. Instead, you seemed entranced by the flames, watching them dance as your thoughts whirled in your head. You hardly seemed to notice when the other two came back in, only breaking out of your trance when Vic excitedly collided with you, paws hitting your back in excitement.

“Whoa!”

You turned to face the pup, chuckling as you saw his boots had been kicked off in a haphazard trail towards you, tag wagging wildly as his round eyes looked up at you. An impossible gaze to resist, and you found yourself smiling once more as you stroked his head, cooing as Vic melted at your touch.

It didn't take long for him to curl up by you, overjoyed in the belly rubs he received as Arthur doffed his overcoat and shoes.

“I say, Vic strolls into the room and you're putty in his paws! Won't even pass me a glance.”

There it was- that adorable grin when he was being ridiculous. At the sound of your chuckle, relief washed over him. It seems as though your depression wasn't as poor as he feared.

You met his gaze as you rolled your eyes, continuing to pet Vic's stomach.

“Are we going to have this conversation again? About how many more merits you have in comparison to a dog?”

“Well, I do distinctly remember you insisting I was acting like one last night- hey!”

Laughter followed as you playfully threw one of Vic’s boots towards Arthur, the writer mocking offense as your giggles persisted. Soon, the two of you were caught up in tossing the boot back and forth, teasing words before each one, and Vic settled down with a huff of understanding that belly rubs were long gone for the moment.

.

It had been a while since the two of you could settle in like this. You sat between his legs as you both stretched out on the couch, nestled in a blanket while Vic sprawled out in front of the fireplace. While he dozed, the two of you read a book of your choosing; Arthur, a mystery novel from a new author, and you, a random romance you had plucked from the mansion’s library. 

With a pencil in hand, Arthur underlined descriptions he favored while making notes in the margins, humming intrigue at the way the plot was unfolding. For him, it was easy to deduce from the beginning who was at fault in the story, but he was enjoying the way the author could still make the story interesting despite that. Certainly a novel he’d recommend to you. A copy he hadn’t marked in, of course.

Between every few pages, he’d cast his eyes towards you. He couldn’t get a good read on your face in this position, but every so often he’d feel the way your breath would pause at a passage, how your shoulders would tense- and sure enough, one look at the book in your hands would confirm the male lead blundering his way through affections. 

Another reference to add to his mental notes, of what made your heart speed up.

Yet now, he watched you thumb the corner of the pages rhythmically, the same set of pages you had been reading the past time he checked on you. He furrowed his brows, but allowed himself to read a few more pages of his novel before worrying further. But when he looked back, you were still doing the same- shoulders tense as you were lost in thought.

What kept causing that? What was making you worry on this little retreat? When Comte had offered to let Arthur use this cabin as a romantic get-away, he had been hoping this would cure those bouts of long sighs and tired eyes. But they kept persisting, no matter the amount of hugs and kisses Arthur gifted, among more sentimental offerings.

Carefully, he set down his pencil and book aside, wrapping his arms around yours. Setting his chin upon your shoulder had some tension melt away, but you were still wound tight in other ways.

“Luv…” he murmured against your ear, massaging his thumbs against your skin, “what’s troubling you?”

“I’m fine.”

The response was automatic, almost cold in the attempt to dismiss his worry, but you faltered immediately, fumbling over your words to ease the bluntness, “I mean- I am fine. I’m okay, I promise.”

You turned to face him then, a soft smile on your lips, but it was a poor mask that was easy to see through. And there, Arthur was at the crux of how to handle the issue. Pushing too hard could result in you hiding even further away. Meanwhile, time may be what you needed, but… It was difficult watching the way you crumbled, even if it was in small pieces.

He hummed in response, a gentle kiss pressed against your cheek. “Haven’t we discussed this, luv?”

You drum your fingers on his arm, neglecting his question. So he continues, calmly. In a quiet tone that causes your motions to stop.

“I know all too well how one may be keen to hide it all away- that void threatening to swallow you whole, how your heart aches through the days. But we promised each other to speak up before that burden gets too heavy.”

The crackling of the fireplace fills the air, merging with the tension after his words. Arthur watches as your eyes flit away again.

“I feel like I should be saying that as well.”

“What ever do you mean?”

Glancing at him again, there is a murmur of frustration in your gaze, mixed in with your own worry. 

“Do you think I wouldn’t have noticed? You can try to hide by flirting like a man preparing to never see his lover again, or by covering my concern with kisses and prose, but you can’t hide those bags under your eyes, or those times at night when I wake up in your bed, alone.”

Arthur frowns.

“Luv…”

“I don’t know how else to make it clear to you that I am here for you. I’ve tried so much…” You trail off, voice raspier than before. 

In the moment that you take to briskly wipe at your eyes, Arthur realizes where this enigma of your worry stemmed from. And he wants to laugh mockingly at himself, for getting so lost and scared at the sight of depression taking over you, that he neglected to consider the most damning possibility.

His arms hold you tighter, letting you continue to refuse looking his way. He doesn’t prod or force you to turn around, knowing well by now that when your emotions overflow, it’s difficult to let anyone watch. So Arthur holds you, letting tears fall down your cheeks as you process your next words, trying to convey your struggles.

“I know I can’t take away your pain. I know that it will linger inside of you, no matter how many years we stay together. No matter what luck comes into our lives. But I can be here for you. I can listen, I can hold you when it’s too hard to handle the world- I can do so much, but only if you let me in, Arthur.” Another shaking breath escapes you, and your next words come out so quiet, as if you’re fearful of the words themselves, “if we can’t talk about these things, how are we supposed to stay together? To get married…?”

With that, you crumble apart. Arthur pulls you properly into his lap now, letting you nuzzle into his neck, letting his shirt soak up your tears. Each shaking sob from you has him murmuring reassurances, promises that saying such a thing wouldn’t bring ruin to the relationship. 

And he waits. Until you can breathe properly again, until you’re ready to listen to him to speak.

“I think we’ll be fine.”

“How can we be when-”

“For instance, did you know we’ve been worrying ourselves sick over the same issue?”

You peek up at him, questioningly. Arthur takes that moment to brush back the wet hairs sticking against your face, his smile soft.

“It seems we’re both having trouble letting each other in on the secrets of our heart. I can’t promise that there won’t be moments like this again in the future, but for now…” Arthur presses a chaste kiss against your temple, sighing along with you, “I can apologize. I didn’t realize you felt like this, luv. I’m so used to burying my emotions that I neglect understanding it can hurt others.”

“I’ve been trying to think of how to bring it up, but…I just kept getting scared that this wouldn’t change.”

“It will. I’ve just got to get used to the fact that I’m lucky to be loved by you,” he pecks your cheek once more, “and I’ll stop leaving you at night when the nightmares plague me.”

You study his face with your reddened eyes, and Arthur tries to ease the pangs of guilt in his heart. But you seem to relent, shoulders relaxing as you return one of his earlier kisses.

“You promise?”

Arthur hooked his pinky with yours, grinning, “promise.”

.

Vic gave you a dubious glance after inspecting the sugary fluff on your finger, giving it a few more sniffs.

“It won’t bite you! But if you don’t want a bit of marshmallow, I can just take it back-”

A low whine rang out once you pulled your finger back, and you and Arthur fell into a fit of giggles at Vic’s contradictory behavior. But you gave him another chance, and the pup happily lapped up the small treat before you could take it away again. Yet, after a few smacks of his jows, Vic unceremoniously plopped the now-wet mess on the carpet. At your surprise, he merely settled into a comfortable heap in front of the fireplace again, his curiosity sated over what you and Arthur had been laughing about for the past few minutes.

After cleaning up, Arthur watched as you happily stick another marshmallow onto your stick, poking it into the fireplace while you used your free hand to pet Vic. The puffiness of your eyes had calmed down enough, and now the smile left on your face held no hidden meaning; you were happy. Relaxed. Everything that Arthur wanted for this trip.

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!):

@yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381 @fang-and-feather @xbalayage

Ikevamp Masterlist || Ikepri Masterlist || Ikevamp/Ikepri server

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur

[novamirmirsblog]

Steven's Mom

Genre: fluff/angst/smut +18

Pairing: Natasha x reader

Word count: 3874

Request: no

Warnings: poorly written smut, cheating

A/n: This literally took me a good month to write, so I think it's safe to say this may be a little bit shit. If the punctuation seems off, it's cause Grammarly keeps being weird and making suggestions -_- BUT ENJOY! Cause I'm not sure when the next fic will be finished XD Yes, smoking is bad but holy shit is it hot when the right people do it.

Masterlist Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Relationships.

That word has always scared you.

Your friends would talk about their recent boyfriends and how they were going on cute group dates and where was your boyfriend Y/n?

Your answer was always that there was no point in settling down with one person when you were yet to try them all. Especially seeing as you had only just reached your 23rd birthday.

Sure, some may have seen that as 'flighty behaviour' and yes, perhaps you should have gotten a therapist when you were a lot younger - but you were always told you were going to be a heartbreaker and the long trail of flings you left in your wake was testimony to this.

Perhaps heartbreaker was a strong word. You were sure that only going on a few dates with a guy hardly led to their hearts being broken but you were pretty and could accentuate your almost forgotten accent which made all the boys fall into a line.

You had moved to America with your family when you were 16 but due to your desire to fit in, you had worked extremely hard on switching your native accent for an American one. It felt as if you were betraying your family but it was too late to break that habit 7 years on.

Using people as a means to an end is never a good plan. Especially when that person was a friend but when Steven had asked you out, you couldn't help but see a goldmine of opportunities.

Steven was sweet. He was the kind of all-American guy that was shoved down the western media consumer's throats. He played baseball throughout his school career and taught the little leagues on weekends. He had the body of a god and the heart of a saint.

For all intended purposes, Steven was perfect.

Steven would be your salvation.

~~~~~

After 3 weeks of non-stop dating, your university friends wanted to see the boy who had managed to keep the notorious serial dater interested for more than one date. You decided to introduce them all, telling your university friends that Steven was a friend from high school.

Obviously they all swooned.

You truly were living the 'American dream'. However your American dream all came crashing down one Tuesday night.

It had been two months since the first date and Steven had invited you over to his house after seeing a movie. You took your shoes off and hung up your jackets before you both made your way to the kitchen. Steven backed you up to the kitchen counter, kissing along your neck using too much tongue. You were a strong believer that neck kisses should be mostly teeth. The tongue was reserved for other acts. The sound of heels filled you with relief. You liked Steven but he needed to work on his game. It seemed that Steven was too engrossed to realise his mother was standing in the doorway.

You locked eyes with her and let out a soft gasp. You thought you saw her left eyebrow twitch but you couldn't be sure because as she took a step towards you, the trance broke and you pushed Steven away.

"Babe?"

She cleared her throat and Steven spun on the spot, his jaw dropping in a comical way before closing again as his face went red. "I can explain..."

"No need to explain Stevie, just don't do it in my kitchen please."

"T-this is Y/n, Y/n, this is my mom."

"Natasha." She extended her hand for you to shake.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs Romanoff." You shook her hand.

"Please dear, I've been divorced for years. It's Ms now."

"Of course. Sorry." You apologised, the urge to wipe your boyfriend's saliva from your neck was growing the longer this conversation went on.

"No need to apologise lyubov."

"Well, we're just gonna go up to my room now..." Steven gave his mother a kiss on her cheek before leading you out of the kitchen.

~~~~~

You stayed the night with Steven but when you awoke, you were in an empty bed. To say you were disappointed would be a lie but you were a little offended that Steven had left you to wake up on your own. Just because you weren't utterly infatuated with him didn't mean he could leave you in his house without so much as a goodbye.

You debated whether or not you should wear the clothes you had from yesterday or steal one of Steven's many, many hoodies. You decided on the latter. One benefit Steven bought was the fact his hoodies absolutely engulfed you, the bottom of the jumper comfortably resting just above mid-thigh.

You crept out of the house, not realising a pair of eyes followed you the entire way down the drive, cigarette smoke obscuring her view.

~~~~~

You didn't see Steven till the following weekend. Personally, you felt it was too soon to be seeing him again, but you had put him off for longer than he would have liked, so you indulged him. The two of you decided to get milkshakes before going on a walk about the local park. It was a predictably mediocre date, and your mind drifted from Steven's blonde hair to a deep auburn. You weren't sure why you were thinking of red hair till you remembered that was the colour of Steven's mum's hair. You hadn't even realised Steven was talking to you till you saw him looking at you expectantly.

"Sorry babe, what was that?"

Steven laughed "Are you ever here Y/n? I was asking if you wanted to come back to my place?" He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in.

"Sure. I wanna drive though." You smirked at him, knowing there was no way he would let you behind the wheel of his precious baby.

"Ha ha." Steven mocked "Get your pretty ass in the car."

~~~~~

The first crack in your perfect American dream life happened when Steven left you alone.

Steven had forgotten he was supposed to be at baseball practice. You were flicking through Netflix, Amazon and Disney+, unable to choose anything, when you heard the front door open and close. You assumed it was Steven coming back, but the slender fingers that slid down your shoulders made you tense and turn around. You strained your neck, looking up at Natasha, her hands still resting on your shoulders.

"No Steven?" She asked, her eyebrow gently raised.

"He" You cleared your throat before continuing, hoping to focus on something other than her hands.

"He..." Natasha prompted you to continue, her thumbs gently creeping up to where your top exposed your neck.

"Had to do something with the little leagues." You rushed out, trying to stop the heat in your cheeks.

"And he left you all on your own, poor thing." Natasha said, drawing shapes along your shoulders as you tried to suppress a shiver.

You weren't sure who the 'poor thing' was. Whether it was you, or Steven.

"You know, I hide my accent too." Natasha said, her lips felt dangerously close to your ear as she let her Russian accent coat her words. "How about you let me hear your real accent too?"

You watched as she moved around the sofa, coming to stand in front of you.

"Um, I mean, I don't know what to say..." You said, your own voice sounding foreign to you as you spoke in your native accent for the first time in years. Not even Steven had heard your true accent.

Yet here you were, showing it to a woman you had met twice.

"krasivaya" Natasha reached under your chin, tilting your head up at her.

"W-what?"

"It means beautiful."

You swallowed, unable to move as she let her fingertips run down the front of your neck.

"Natasha..."

"Yes, sweets?" She responded, her eyes held a gleam that her words did not reflect.

"I don't think this is appropriate."

"What isn't appropriate?"

That made you pause. You weren't sure what made this interaction inappropriate, but you were certain it wasn't. The way your heart pounded in your chest in a way it never did with Steven confirmed that idea. Although your words said that this was wrong, your body didn't want this to stop. With every movement Natasha's nails made against your throat, more goosebumps erupted.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"...no"

"What was that?"

"No." You said with more confidence than before.

"That's what I thought." Natasha bought her fingers back up to your chin as she leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you till your lips crashed. She moved to sit on the sofa next to you, and you put your leg over hers, moving closer to her. You sat on her lap, fiddling with the top of her mom jeans as she ran her hands through your hair, getting lipstick all over your lips. You rested your arms around her neck as she ran her hands under your top, making you moan into her mouth. She shuffled under you, making your hips bump against each other. You bit her lower lip, and it was her turn to moan, the sound travelling down your throat. She pulled away after that, resting her forehead against yours, her eyes still closed as you opened yours.

You weren't sure how long you sat there with Natasha underneath you, but it was long enough for the sun to dip below the horizon. The two of you didn't say anything, but you didn't need to. It was a kind of peaceful silence you never had with Steven.

Your phone buzzed, breaking you out of your peaceful bubble.

It was your brother.

"Fuck. I've gotta go." You stood up, instantly noticing the lack of warmth you suddenly craved. You grabbed your coat and left the house, shouting a hurried goodbye to Natasha.

~~~~~

You received a text later that night from an unknown number. The only thing that gave the identity away was the sign-off, 'сладких снов'. You looked it up.

It was Russian.

Natasha had wished you sweet dreams.

~~~~~

There was something off with you, and Steven was beginning to notice. Steven usually hated his name; he was named after his mother's close friend. A close friend that had led to the breakdown of his parent's marriage. He hated it until he heard you say it. It sounded like peaceful autumn afternoons. In fact, you often reminded him of autumn. To begin with, it was your sweet laugh that reminded him of warm autumn colours, but as time went on, he realised while you were like autumn, he was summer. As often as he wished it wasn't true, Steven knew the thing he had with you could never last.

Steven knew something was wrong. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

~~~~~

Natasha came to your student accommodation on a chilly night in October. The two of you had been texting non-stop in a way you had never experienced with anyone else you had met. She was like an addiction you didn't want to quit.

The two of you wasted little time undressing, and you found yourself hitting the bed with the back of your legs as Natasha ran her hands through your hair, kissing you fervently. She placed her hands on your lower back, easing you onto the bed as she climbed on top of you, legs slotted between yours comfortably. Your neck burned as she kissed her way down it, letting her teeth graze against the soft skin.

"No marks." You panted out, pushing your chin to the ceiling so she could get better access to you.

Natasha made an almost growling sound, the frustration clear as she shoved two fingers into your wet core with little warning.

"Just wait till you're completely mine, printsessa. Everyone will know who gets to leave marks on you."

All you could do was moan, the sound brushing over Natasha's ear.

"Shhh, printsessa" She took the fingers that weren't currently pumping in and out of you to your lips, "we don't want your roommates hearing. They'll wonder why you're enjoying it so much." Natasha scoffs before adding, "There's no way you sound like this with Steven."

The sound of your boyfriend's name leaving her mouth felt wrong, but you didn't have time to feel guilty when you felt Natasha's tongue licking long stripes along your clit. You fell into bliss as you bit your lip hard to stop Natasha's name from escaping. The tinge of metal that spilled onto your tongue made you almost cum again. Natasha looked up at you, her hair beginning to stick to her forehead as she winked.

You panted as she kissed her way up your body.

"How about you make me feel good, darling."

It was your turn to slide down the length of her body till you got to her hot core. Your limbs were heavy, and while you wanted to lie peacefully, you wanted to make Natasha cum more. You had a feeling it wouldn't take long, judging from the way her hips bucked ever so slightly as your breath tickled over her. You grazed your teeth gently over her clit, making her moan before leaving a hickey on her inner thigh.

"Hey!" She let out breathlessly, digging her nails into your scalp and pulling you away by your hair. "What makes you think you can leave marks on me."

"But you look so pretty with them." You pouted for a beat, seeing her expression stay stoikly unimpressed, before adding "Mommy." Her pupils blew even more, and you could have sworn she let out a whimper. Her grip tightened momentarily at the title and you took it as a sign to continue.

You continued to lick and suck, putting two, then three fingers in. You watched as she arched her back and moaned out your name. When she was finished, You took your fingers out, licking them clean as the two of you refused to break eye contact.

You lay there in her arms as she drew patterns across your back and gently scratched your neck. "It's late."

Natasha hummed in agreement.

"You should probably stay the night, right?"

You craned your neck to try to see her expression. Natasha put a finger under your chin and leaned down. "That's probably a good idea." She said, her cocky grin stayed on her face till she gently captured your lips.

That night the two of you slept more peacefully than you had in years.

~~~~~

You lay stomach down on the bed, Steven's voice echoed through your room. He smiled through the screen.

"Baby, I'll pick you up tomorrow at 7:30 for dinner." he grinned. He knew something was off but wanted to hold on to the dream for a little longer.

"Yay! I can't wait!" You were lucky the American accent made just about anything sound enthusiastic

Natasha stirred, turning in her sleep, rustling the sheets gently as she re-adjusted.

"Who was that?" Your boyfriend asked.

"Oh, just one of my friends staying over." You rolled onto your back, accidentally giving Steven a glimpse of silky hair. The movement gently jostled her, disturbing her sleep, causing her nose to scrunch up as she began to wake.

"Okay baby, I've got to go now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Love you, see you tomorrow." You hang up the FaceTime just as you felt a gaze burn into your skin.

"Morning." She grumbled out, sleep making her voice husky.

"Good Morning." You smiled at her as she rubbed her eyes, waking up fully. "We have to tell him."

"Hmm." She closed her eyes again, you were half convinced she had gone back to asleep.

"Not tomorrow though." Her plump lips seemed even fuller from both last night's activities and sleep. "Tomorrow, you have your date." Her mocking tone did not go over your head. She searched the nightstand for the pack of cigarettes she had left there. However, she quickly gave up, settling back down in bed and closing her eyes again.

"Are you jealous?" You asked, a smirk twinging your lips as her eyes snapped open to look at you.

"Of course not. I just didn't think my son was the romantic type, that's all." She said, before kissing you softly.

These early morning kisses were your favourite.

~~~~~

Date night arrived. Or at least it was supposed to. The booking Steven had made got cancelled, so he drove you back to his house, much to your dismay.

You looked hot. Your hair was up, accentuating your long neck and your red lips contrasted beautifully with the black dress that hung lightly off your figure. You were underdressed for autumn, but the previous night with Natasha made you feel beautiful and powerful, and that dress was begging to be worn.

You were confident when you chose that dress but going to Steven's and the thought of having to see Natasha in said dress filled you with dread.

It wasn't that you didn't want Natasha to see the dress; you just didn't want her to see the way Steven looked at you.

You were right to be worried.

It was Natasha who answered the door just as Steven was about to put his key in. The gasp was audible but she played it off as shock that the two of you were back rather than how she felt about you looking like that with him.

"Hi mom. The booking got cancelled." Steven said, his shoulders hung low.

"That is a shame sweetie." She said, rubbing his arm and ushering him into the kitchen. "Good job I just finished cooking."

You and Steven sat opposite each other as Natasha bought the plates of food out. Once everyone had a plate in front of them, she sat next to you. You bit your lip and refused to look up from the plate.

You bit into what looked like a little square pasty and suppressed a moan. Letting out the sound you wanted would only cause more problems than needed. "Wow, this is delicious."

"Thank you krasivaya. They're Pirozhki." Natasha said, her accent bleeding through in a way you knew was deliberate.

You tried to cover up the growing heat in your face by shoving more food in your mouth. Your leg jumped as you felt Natasha's hand on your thigh. You glanced up from your plate, your eyes meeting Steven's as regret punched you in the gut. He was so sweet and didn't deserve what you were doing to him.

This was wrong.

You wanted to move your leg, not wanting to be a cheater. Not in front of the man you were supposed to love. The only thing that stopped you was the wet patch growing in your panties from the way manicured nails traced along your skin.

You let out a sharp sigh, disappointed in yourself and feeling incredibly guilty about how you found out you liked girls. You were hurting an innocent man.

"You okay babe?" Steven asked, his voice full of concern.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you couldn't take it anymore. You looked at Natasha, and the concern in her eyes was as clear as day. You just hoped she wouldn't hate you for this.

"Stevie, I can't do this anymore." You looked at his beautiful eyes. Eyes that should have been the ones you felt giddy about.

Steven smiled gently "I know."

A sob got caught in your throat. You weren't sure why you were about to cry; whether it was from relief or sadness that you couldn't be what Steven needed, you couldn't tell.

"How..." You trailed off, not sure what you wanted to ask or even how to ask it.

"You've been acting off Y/n. You have been for a few months now. Someone else has caught your attention and that's okay. I just hope they make you happy in a way I couldn't." Steven stood, most likely getting ready to go for a drive.

Tears rolled down your face freely now. The incredible guilt was ten times worse now. He truly was the sweetest man you knew.

"I just need to know, who is it?"

You froze, not wanting to tell him it was his own mother who stole your gaze.

For the first time throughout this entire conversation, Natasha spoke. "Do you really want to know?"

Steven pulled his eyes away from you, his expression turning steely. His jaw clenched, and fear flashed through you briefly. "I can't believe you."

Natasha's nails dug into your leg slightly, the only indication that she was nervous.

"Steven," You desperately let out. You weren't sure how to make this better. It wasn't like you were fucking his friend. This was his literal mother.

"No. No. I, I need to go. I can't stand to look at either of you right now."

Just like that, Steven left your life.

~~~~~

"Well, that went just about as well as could be expected." You sighed, glad that everything was out in the open, but a heaviness still weighed in your chest.

Natasha was standing on the back porch, leaning over the rail, looking into the darkness of the back garden. You had gone out to join her after you had collected yourself.

"Yeah." Natasha said quietly.

"I'm sorry." You weren't sure which bit you were apologising for. Was it the way you strung them both along for so long? Or was it the fact that you had broken a mother and son bond? There were countless crimes you had committed and not enough time in the world to apologise for them all.

Natasha sighed. "It's not your fault. I knew this would happen eventually."

There was a pause before you spoke, you weren't sure if you wanted to hear the answer to your question. "Do you regret it?"

She opened up her cigarette pack, lighting it and taking a drag before she answered. "No." She blew the smoke out from her nose.

"Those things will kill you." You said, watching as her plump lips crawled up into a smirk before blowing a particularly large smoke ring at you.

"Not if you kill me first sweetheart." She closed her eyes and allowed the moonlight to ease away any stress she was holding.

"Do you want to stop this? Before I kill you?" You knew the answer to this question before Natasha even began to speak. Her thoughts hadn't been a mystery to you for a long time now.

"Don't even ask that Y/n." She said, the panic slipping into her words. "I adore you."

"I adore you too."

With one last drag, Natasha snuffed out her cigarette, closing the box and throwing them over the railing into the bin below. She stepped towards you, trapping you between her and the railings. She kissed you harder than she had ever kissed you before, with more desperation than you had ever known.

"Why did you throw your cigarettes?" You asked, shocked that she would throw away the thing that had always been with her.

"I don't need them anymore. You're my new addiction."

#natahsa romanoff #natalia alianovna romanova #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #black widow angst

[rubydubydoo122]

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

Bruce couldn’t do this. Sure he fights criminals on a daily basis, he’s fought aliens, hell, he’s been to space, for crying out loud. But he could not look at his dead- undead son. He could barely look at Jason as a 21 year old, much less looking how he had weeks before he died. 

“Bruce, I know this is hard, but–”

“No, Dick, you don’t, because you were off planet to even know what was happening.” It was a low blow. Bruce knew that. He knew he was burning bridges, but he wanted to be alone. He didn’t want his kids to see him break down. He could fix those bridges later. 

For a moment, Bruce could see the fiery 20 year old Dick desperately trying to be let loose, but then Dick glanced at his siblings, “Why don’t you guys go upstairs, while Bruce and I talk things through.” Dick wasn’t asking though, and they knew.

So the four of them headed up the stairs, leaving Bruce with Dick and Alfred.

“Are you going to slap me halfway across the cave again? Are you going to take away my keys again? We’ve been down this road before, Bruce. It wasn’t fun for either of us.” Dick leaned against the table and crossed his arms, “The only reason I’m not screaming at you right now is because I know that I have to be here for those kids. Cass, Tim, Steph, Duke, Damian . They need me here, but Jason? Jason doesn’t need me , he needs you . He wants you.”

Bruce thought about all the things that had driven a wall between him and his second son. “No he–”

Dick groaned, “B, when he saw me come out of the Batmobile instead of you, I could see his expression crumble.”

“When he realized you were in the cave, he was so eager to see you, Master Bruce. He was hurt when you barely acknowledged him.” Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “The boy upstairs is not the broody Red Hood nor the Robin who died in that warehouse yet. He’s the child you brought into this manor to make sure he was loved. The boy, who despite all the darkness around him, still managed to shine brighter than the sun. We’re not saying this situation will be easy, Lad, but you have to try. For Jason.”

“I don't know if I can .”

“Jesus Christ. I forgot you don’t speak Emotions . Fine. I’ll give you a language you understand.” Dick went over to the computer and opened a new Mission planner “Mission: Fun Sized Jason. Rule number 1, Don’t make him upset. Rule number 2, don’t brood more than usual. Rule number 3, Don’t let Jason know something’s up between your relationship with him because that will probably break Rule number 1. Mission Objective, keep Jason happy until we can get him back to full size. Alfred is allowed to add rules and Objectives. Understood?”

And suddenly, Bruce had a little empathy for Damian’s Robin under Dick’s Batman. “Got it.” Bruce gave his oldest son a slight smile. “Honestly, this might be my hardest mission yet.”

Dick and Alfred shared a look, “You’ll do fine, Master Bruce.”

“I’m gonna check up on everyone, I can come back down once I’m done, if you want.”

“I’ll be fine, Chum, I’m just going to call Zatanna and finish putting a bit of info in.”

Dick nodded, “Alright.” He made his way to the stairs, “Goodnight Alfred, Goodnight Bruce, tell Z I said hi.”

Dick’s first destination was the kitchen. It was usually the first place Cass and Steph went after patrol. Because Steph grabs a midnight waffle for her ride home. 

Though when he got to the kitchen, it was just Cass sitting on  the counter with a mug of tea in her hands. She tilted her head, the question of are you ok clear as day. 

If Dick tried to lie, Cass would just see through him. He sat down next to her, “Everything went well with Bruce, it’s just that…”

“It’s strange, conflicting. Seeing Jason.”

“Yeah.”

“He is a cute child.” Cass rested her head on Dicks shoulder. And Dick rested his hand on hers. “Tiny.”

“Yeah,” Dick chuckled, “Like no one would’ve expected Jason to be as tall as Bruce.”

They sat together in silence until Duke came into the kitchen, and Dick patted the space next to him as an invitation. 

“I’ve been thinking, if you, or Bruce, or even Alred, need me to keep Jason company while you take a moment to work through… memories, I’d be happy to do it. I don’t have any history with him, we’re close enough to the same age.”

Dick patted Duke’s shoulder, “You’re a good brother. Just don’t let Bruce throw him on you too much because I’m trying to get him to try .”

“Maybe it’ll be easier for Bruce after he gets over the initial shock. Even Damian was shocked. He didn't even try to stab Jason. He was wearing Jason’s jacket.”

Right! Damian! And it was strange. He was having a very different reaction than Dick had expected. Dick had to talk to him, but first “Did you get a picture?”

A grin spread across Duke’s face. “I already sent it in the groupchat.”

Dick hopped off the counter, “Lovely. I’m gonna go check on him. And then I’ll check on Jason.”

“Anything you need us to do?”

“Um.. yes, there is one thing.” Dick paused for effect, “Go to bed.”

Damian was leaning on Titus in the corner of his room, with Alfred the cat in his lap. It was a strange revelation that his Akhi was his wayward brother all along. Yet, it also made perfect sense. They both were in the League, and Todd had said something about mother taking him in.  He just did not expect Todd to be Akhi . He didn’t even think that Akhi was still alive. One day Damian had been drawing next to him and the next he was gone. Akhi had two modes; Stay still, or protect. He would immediately fight whoever Damian was supposed to spar and pull him out of reach of any attackers. Akhi would hold Damian while mother was busy, or sit next to him, or follow him if Damian started to wander too far. Yet he rarely ever spoke. Maybe that’s why he never drew the connection between Todd and Akhi. Because even though Todd could be silent if he wanted to, he spouted out the signature Robin quips like second nature. Or yelled at father, taking shot after shot, barely giving father a chance to speak. And above all else, behind Todd’s eyes you could see the calculations, you could see him taking in his surroundings or contemplating risks he was willing to take in the moment, you could see him playing out plans in his head to see every possible outcome. Whereas Akhi had alway had a far off look. Like his mind was never really there. 

There was a knock at the open door, Dick leaning on the door frame, “Are you ok, Damian?”

“Tt.” He started drawing swirls into Alfreds fur, and then smoothed them out.

Dick moved to sit next to Damian. They sat in silence, though it felt like Damian could hear Dick staring with concern.

Damian spared a glance at Dick, “Todd spent time in the League. At Nanda Parbat. Under my mother’s care. With me.” Alfred’s fur was suddenly a lot more interesting than it had been minutes ago, “I didn’t even know it was him, not until a couple of hours ago. I’m the son of the greatest detective, and I didn’t even realize that my Akhi was my brother.” It was making him feel young, seeing Todd like this again, “I thought they killed him, but I- I guess they put him in the Lazerus pit after that, and then he couldn’t come back, because he had to come here, but I wish mother had– Todd, He protected me, Baba . It was only for a little while, but he protected me. He showed me kindness.” Damian met Dick’s eyes which were slightly glossy.

“Well, that does sound like Jason. He’s always had a soft spot for kids.” Dick let out a wet laugh, “He was like… your Guardian Angel.”

“That was horrible Richard. Not funny at all.” Yet Damian could feel a soft smile pulling at his lips, “But yes. He was.” 

“It’s his Bruncle instincts.”

Damian frowned, “Bruncle?”

Dick grinned “Brother-uncle. Since you see me as your Baba .”

he groaned and shoved Dick out of his pet cuddling area, “Nope. That’s it. You do not get any more speaking privileges for the rest of the day.” though he could feel a warmth spreading across his chest. 

“Come on-”

“Nope. Bye! Bye!”

“But–”

“Goodnight, Baba .”

And Damian could see Dick completely melt, “Goodnight, Bibic.”

The first thing Jason did after he stormed upstairs was grab his journal from the hidden drawer in his dresser. Screw Bruce, he was going to figure out what happened to him. 

The only problem was the dates only went to April 25, 2018. He didn’t even finish the notebook. The entries didn’t seem like something was wrong–

Sheila Haywood .

There was a gun pointed at his back as betrayal and shock sunk into his stomach. “I lied.”

A blonde woman turned away from him while lighting a cigarette.

He read through the page. Sheila Haywood was…his mom? But what about his Mami? The one who raised him? Does that make her his step-mom? 

Jason scrambled back to the drawer to take out a pen and flipped to the next page. He was going to figure this out. 

First off, Bruce was a lot colder. Like close to Kelvin cold. 

Second, all the scars. There’s a certain amount of scars that made sense for whole vigilante gig, but the amount he had was closer to the amount torture victims had. 

Third, If Ms. Haywood was his mom, is Jason in her custody now? Well, he’s 20, so probably not currently, but did he have to leave Bruce? Is that why his room is pretty much the same? 

Fourth, Why was he at the League of Assassins? If he asked Damian would he give him a straight answer?

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and almost immediately jumped up. And then relaxed when he realized they were Dicks, and they were stopping at the room before his.

He crept closer to the wall to try to catch the words.

“...But I- I guess they put him in the Lazarus Pit…”

Oh.

Guess he had his answer to number four. Though why would he need one? Did it have to do with number two? Maybe number two should be number one, but he’d already written in pen. 

That also probably answered why his eyes were more green than blue. And the white streak. It did feel a bit too emo for him.

He heard a laugh come from the other side of the wall and felt a twinge of jealousy flare in the pit of his stomach. Sure, he and Dick had their good moments, but it wasn’t usually that easy. There was still tension that loomed over any attempts of brotherly bonding. Sometimes Jason wishes Bruce actually introduced him to Dick before he took up the mantle of Robin, because maybe then they’d be closer brothers.

“Goodnight, Baba.” And just like that a wave of guilt washed over him because he had thoroughly misinterpreted their relationship. Jason honestly thought Damian was Bruce’s. They had very similar facial structures. 

And then there was a knock at the door, before it slowly opened, “Hey, Jason–”

“I didn’t realize you were Damian’s dad.”

Dick just gaped like a fish, “I– what?”

“I was under the impression Bruce was the kid’s dad, baba.” Jason swatted Dick with the back of his hand.

“Oh.” Dick laughed, “No. He’s Bruce’s. He’s also twelve.”

“So?” Jason shrugged, “You’re like, 30. It’s possible. And why else would he call you Baba?”

“Stop calling me old! I’m 27! Also, your math makes that barely legal.”

“‘Barely legal’ does not stop Talia Al-Ghul.”  Jason frowned. He thinks he was 18 when that happened. “Hold up, I’m not 18 yet.”

Dick was suddenly standing ramrod straight, “Excuse me, what?” 

That was his scary voice. Abort, abort, abort , “Why was I in the Lazarus Pit?”

“How much of our conversation did you catch?”

“I zoned out after Lazarus.”

Dick crossed his arms and huffed, “No, we’re going back to Talia–”

“Is Bruce depressed because he lost custody of me to Sheila Haywood?”

And that seemed to send a slap across Dick’s face, “How do you know about Sheila Haywood?”

Jason crossed his arms “I’m a detective, Dick.”

Except so was Dick, and he immediately spotted the journal on Jason’s bed. “It was in your journal?”

Jason nodded.

“What’s the last date in there?” Dick sat down on the edge of the bed.

Jason went to go sit next to him. “April 25, 2018”

Dick nodded, his normally clear blue eyes looked stormy.

“Something bad happened, didn’t it?” 

Dick looked like he was contemplating something, and then turned to face Jason, “I’m only going to tell you this because I know if your older version was here he would tell you.” Dick took a deep breath, “You would say, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit, you don’t need to know.” You would do that while leaning against a wall or something.”

Jason blinked at Dick, because that buildup was rude. “I wouldn’t say that! Also, it’s me . I would tell a younger version of me every moment of my life. I’m pretty sure an older version of myself would too.”

“Look, Jason, I was in space at the time. I don’t know all of the details, and Bruce never felt like filling me in on it.”

“What about the report?”

“Ok, yeah, I’ve seen it, but you know the reports are nothing like actually being there, or hearing the story. And it’s never something you or Bruce want to talk about. You’ll probably get the memory back once you’re back to full size.”

Jason huffed and pulled himself into his sheets. “You’re no longer my favorite sibling. You are dead last. Getting my hopes up that you would give me an answer. That was just cruel.”At least he knew there were reports on the bar computer about what happened. He could sneak down there and figure this out himself. 

“Eh, fifth place is not that bad.” Dick stood up, “or are we counting Stephanie?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still in last.” Jason turned over to face Dick as he was leaving, “Though, I do accept bribes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Little Wing.”

“‘Night, Dickiebird.”

#jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #robin jason todd #duke thomas #cassandra cain

[eemamminy-art]

I've been sitting on a fic that I finally finished after slowly picking at it for the last two years.

I feel like people don't really talk about this anxiety around sharing things-- I mean, there is always that anxiety of like, is it good, will people like it, stuff like that, but I guess for me the anxiety's a little different. Don't get me wrong I do have the other anxiety too, I'm very self critical and I do not have confidence in my writing in the same way that I (occasionally) have confidence in my art.

But the thing that's got me in a chokehold is well, that fanfic is complicated for me.

I barely read any fic at all. I barely write either, but I think a lot of writers will only put out a couple of things in a year anyway, but they're at least reading things during that time.

I've never been much for reading. Well, maybe when I was very young and just learning to read, but at some point it became really difficult for me. I don't have any official diagnosis and I always got good grades so there was never any cause to look into it, but reading has always been such an ordeal for me. I'll read a page and get so distracted in outside noises or my own thoughts that I have no idea what I just read. I have to concentrate really deeply for anything to sink in, create a voice in my head to read it to me, and even that sometimes doesn't work and I'm really slow. I use a screen reader and that does help but it still takes immense concentration for me.

Then there's just well, my pickiness. If it's boring or out of character, well that just makes it all the more difficult to focus. Too long and the screen reader's voice begins to drone and I tune it out and my thoughts wander away even as I scan the words going by. If it's not tagged well and I run into my trigger (which is often not tagged for at all) then I not only feel like I wasted my time but also am upset and lingering on the trigger for sometimes hours, sometimes days.

So then, what to do when I post a fic? What justification is there for anyone to bother with mine when I won't bother with theirs? Whether my reasons are good enough or not, whether it's easier for them to read than it is for me, whether you say fandom is give and take or not, I feel like I'm not upholding my end of the deal. You read mine, I read yours. Except I don't, other than maybe a handful of things each year.

And I know it's a problem. I know it makes people feel slighted. It's the same way I feel slighted when I try to engage with other artists and they don't give me the time of day or share my art in return, and then I begin to resent them for the rejection. I'm certain the same thing happens to me with fanfic, that I have all these reasons for why I rarely read fic, and then when I read the 2 or 3 fics that I can manage each year, it's a slap in the face to those who weren't among those rare few.

So I feel held back by it. I'm so bad at responding to ao3 comments too because I feel guilt about it, about not participating in the way everyone else does. So I was excited to finally think of an ending to this fic only to just... do nothing with it.

I have to wonder if anyone else experiences this? Or something similar? Or knows at all what I mean?

#personal #writing stuff #fandom stuff #ok to reblog #I'm just kind of rambling I suppose but I think about this whenever it comes to fic #it's such a difficult subject for me #idk what to do with myself really #when I try to read more I get burnt out immediately and it's not fun