#this is pointless but I wanted to nod at a favorite band

[woongisi]

Drum Line Dream // Song Mingi

dom!Song Mingi x sub!gn!Reader // SMUT

WC// 2.1k

Synopsis// Things went a bit off kilter with your college marching band crush. Turns out, all you needed to fix it in the end was some bad luck and deep fried food.

Warnings// semi-public, grinding/dry humping, pet names (baby)

Author's Note// Written in one sitting and definitely not proofread. Nothing too crazy this time but I HAD to get this very self indulgent idea out of my mind. This one's for you former and current band kids, I get you. ☺︎

---------

College marching band. One of your worst decisions, yet one of your best. There was no shortage of drama to be had but at least you'd met some of your closest friends.

You played the trombone, it was large and it was loud. Your type of instrument and coincidentally your type of man. Maybe you'd smacked a few too many people in the head with your slide or emptied your spit valve on the shoes of those you disliked. Regardless, you considered it revenge for how the wind instruments would sneak up on you and blow air into their reeds as hard as possible just behind your ear.

As far as instrumental squabbles went, you found the drum line to be the most tolerable. Sure, some of the snares made it a point to play as loudly as they could, but they kept it localized within their section. You had a hard time admitting it, but you may have held a bit of a bias toward them.

That bias was Song Mingi. Song Mingi played the bass drum. The kind that you had to pull over your head, two heavy straps bracing your shoulders on either side. The kind that burned through far too many expensive wool felt mallets. You never were sure how they beat them up so quickly.

You met Mingi your freshman year and got acquainted with him rather quickly, you never had much time to spend with him as your show for the year had you in separate areas for most of it. The same followed your sophomore. Now, you found yourself in your junior year.

Earlier in the year you'd ushered Mingi over and haphazardly told him he was hot, and that if he didn't kiss you, you might cry. There you shared a kiss high up in the bleachers, hiding behind the row of bass drums. Since that moment things had become a bit awkward, you apologized, claiming you'd been overly emotional and didn't want things to get in the way of your friendship. What you didn't know was the conflict that caused Mingi.

Song Mingi was one of your best decisions yet one of your worst, just as joining the band was. Something about him was addicting. Perhaps it was his deep voice, his tall and slender figure, his bright smile that lit up the room no matter where you were.

Away games were always your favorite. You may not be able to perform at halftime as often, but cheering on the football team was enough. Besides, there was something exciting about wandering the stands of school stadiums previously unknown to you. Some schools, like the one you were visiting this night, had fancier concession stands than others.

Halftime finally hit, you stayed in place for a few minutes to take a look at the opposing team's band and judge their uniforms before meandering your way to the least busy concession stand.

You greeted the student manning the stand with a smile and a nod, taking a moment to skim over the dodgy whiteboard that served as a menu. You settled on a thing of fried oreos, 3 pieces to a boat. You handed the worker some amount of cash and told her to keep the change. It was pointless to try and find somewhere to sit so you settled down a matter of feet away, leaning against the brick wall of the buildings.

Before you could even take your first bite, a familiar voice caught your attention. Mingi had approached the booth, somehow evading being noticed by you up until that point.

“Ah, I'm sorry. We just sold the last of the oreos for the moment.” The student sighed and briefly checked her watch. “There'll be more ready in about 10 minutes… but you seem to be part of the band.”

Mingi nodded with understanding. “I'll have to be back in the stands by then. I'll just take a coke. Thank you!”

Now was your chance.

“Psssst, Mingi!” You half yelled, half whispered and motioned eagerly for him to come toward you. Mingi was quick to approach, fumbling with his bottle of soda.

“Yeah? What's up?”

“That was me… sorry. You wanna share?” You held the boat of fried oreos out as an offering.

“No, no! You spent your money on those. You should have them.”

“I insist.” You stared down at his gloved hands for a moment. “Would you… like some help with that?”

You had removed your black wool gloves and bulky gauntlets before heading to find food. A foresight that Mingi apparently lacked. He nodded shyly, almost embarrassed, and thanked you.

“Here, open.” You grabbed one of the oreos, using your other hand to hover underneath it to guard against crumbs. You leaned inward, allowing Mingi to take the cookie into his mouth. “I've already got my gloves off, don't wanna make you mess with yours.”

Those lips. Forever your greatest weakness. All he'd done was take food from your hand and all you could do was try not to stare. The kiss you shared a year before lingered in the back of your mind. Soft. They were so very soft. Pillowy and normally faintly flavored by whatever chapstick he'd managed to dig out of his bookbag. You couldn't forget the feeling and even now you regretted how fleeting the moment was.

“Hey,” Mingi awkwardly shifted his weight to one side. “Can we talk for a minute?”

You felt like your heart fell to your ass, suddenly

worried about the conversation that was yet to come. Was he angry, upset, confused? You didn't know.

Mingi led you to a corner he'd spotted when the band arrived on the field. The bright lights didn't quite reach through to dispel the darkness and the area was sparsely populated compared to the concessions.

“U-uhm…” It was unusual, the way Mingi was so seemingly anxious. Your typical charismatic musician that so confidently backed the drum line had disappeared, replaced by someone far more vulnerable.

“Your face is seriously red. You sick? Need me to tell the director that you need time out?” You cocked your head to the side with concern.

Mingi shook his head frantically and grabbed one of your hands. Forcing himself to hold your eye contact, he finally continued. “Iwannakissyouagain-”

“What…?” Whatever he'd said was spoken too quickly for you to process.

“I… want… to kiss you again.”

That was when you learned it wasn't one sided, the memory haunted him just as well. Though you didn't expect simply sharing your snacks to lead to a confession, you certainly weren't about to complain.

You gripped Mingi’s hand back, urging him to follow you as you hurried to hide under the home team’s bleachers. Not a word exchanged in the meantime. This side of the stadium housed the press box, meaning there was more solidity to the structure and more places to hide beneath.

Pressing your back against the wall, you snaked your hand up to rest on the back of Mingi’s neck.

“I missed you, Song Mingi.”

Any hesitation that plagued his mind was erased in an instant. Mingi's lips collided haphazardly with yours, his hands holding your waist. This, you thought, is what you'd needed for a year's time. This kiss was unlike your first, already starting intense. Mingi had no problem taking charge, chasing your lips whenever you pulled away like a man starved.

“Mmn,” You tapped the nape of his neck. “Need to breathe.”

Mingi was undeterred, fumbling with the zipper on the back of your uniform jacket. You shrugged it off of your shoulders, leaving it to drape off of your elbows and grant Mingi access to your neck.

“Shiiiit,” You whined against him. You had never given the uniform jacket design any thought but presently you couldn't be more relieved that once you put it back on, the mock neck would cover any marks. “Needed this so bad.”

Mingi's ministrations were sloppy, hungry, sucking and nibbling lightly on your sensitive skin. A shiver shot its way up his spine, leading him to let out a quiet moan. That was a sound you decided you could get used to.

“Can't take it, wanna touch you.” Mingi growled, becoming painfully aware of his growing erection. “I'll make it quick. Promise.”

“Mmk, anything, I'm yours.”

You rushed to remove your jacket entirely, discarding it to the side. You'd just have to handle the dust that undoubtedly covered it from the gravel layer. Mingi's jacket was soon to follow.

Your mouth gaped slightly, taking in the shape of Mingi's waist. Bibbers were tight, form fitting but so often hidden beneath your black and red jackets. You never realized just how slim his waist was but, now, you'd never forget it.

“Damn things.” Mingi grumbled, undoing the velcro and pulling down the zipper to his marching pants before assisting you with yours. There was no bothering with removing them entirely. Black tees and black shorts that laid just above the kneecap were standard for underneath the band's uniforms.

Mingi grabbed you firmly and flipped you around so that you had to brace yourself against the brick wall chest first. His strong arms held you tight against him, one around your waist and the other reaching over your chest and keeping you steady.

In this position, you couldn't see Mingi… but you could surely feel him. His breath was ragged against your neck with his hips grinding against your ass.

“Mingi, holy shit-” You didn't need to look to understand the considerable length of his cock. Four layers worth of fabric was too much, but at the same time so perfect.

Mingi’s arm situated on your waist slid downward, a gloved slipping beneath your waist band and swiftly finding your arousal. The sensation of the woolen gloves against your bare skin was almost cruel, too good and complemented by the unexpected skill Mingi possessed with his hands.

Low moans tumbled from deep in Mingi’s throat, sending shockwaves straight to your core. You'd heard him whine and groan plenty of times whenever he screwed up a formation for the nth time and on hot summer days when you were finally allowed a water break and moment in the shade. It was different to hear his familiar sounds in this manner. Despite the similarities, something felt more primal now.

Mingi was losing his control by this point, grating his aching cock hard against your figure and mumbling incoherently.

“I'm gonna cum, baby.” He nuzzled his face into you, resting his chin on the area just next to the back of your neck.

“Me too, keep going, cum for me.” You sacrificed one of your arms to muzzle your desperate moans. To be caught was one of the last things you needed.

Mingi broke first, a deep and drawn out whine tearing from him. He continued to rub himself despairingly into you, riding out his own orgasm while trying to keep up with you.

It didn't take long for you to follow in his wake. The building coil of pleasure building in your stomach finally snapped, drenching Mingi’s hand in your fluids. Your moan caught in your throat leaving you to choke back a cry.

For a moment, everything was quiet but the buzz of the nearby breaker boxes and the sound of your heaving chests.

“Fuck, thank you. Thank you so much.” Mingi praised and guided you both to rest on the cold ground. He grabbed your hand with his clean one and smiled brightly as if he hadn't just rocked your world in the midst of a football game. “Can we never keep ourselves away like we have been again?”

“Of course. You have no clue how long I've been yearning for you.” You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose you do now.

Only after kissing Mingi’s cheek did you scurry to gather the estranged components of your marching uniform. The game was back on, your bandmates wondering where in the world you could be.

“Mingi.” You whispered with realization, “Your glove.”

“Whatever,” He sighed. “Here's the story, ok?”

Mingi cobbled together some cover up. Some mostly coherent story about how you slipped and fell, dropping your drink leading to him accidentally putting his hand right in the puddle on the concrete. He only hoped they didn't question why your uniform was largely devoid of any liquid.

Reaching the away team's stands, one of the snares crumpled up a nearby napkin and flung it at Mingi’s face with expert aim.

“Dude, where the fuck have you two been?!”

If only he knew.

#song mingi smut #mingi smut #ateez smut #mingi x reader #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines #song mingi scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez mingi smut #ateez imagines #[jo fucks ateez 🏴‍☠️]

[boomhoon]

LOVE SHHH!

A Jay drabble- inspired by Jo Yuri

Synopsis- You’ve declared love dead in your heart, but an unexpected meeting in the hallway has you head over heels for a man who doesn’t even know your name!

Content- gn reader, implied to be set in a highschool, strangers to ???, fluff, Jay calls reader pretty, one swear word in the first sentence, Jay is in a band (☠️). not proofread, 801 WC.

Love is shit.

It’s pointless. A waste of time. A waste of emotion. And i’m definitely done with it.

My last lover cheated on me with a girl at some random party, and my first love ghosted me without any warning. That one a lot hurt because we were doing so well and I still saw them around town (and because they were my very first). The rest in between have been horrible blurs of toxicity and boredom.

Was love always this bad? No. It used to be magical, something I yearned for. Feeling loved, and loving others is something everyone should experience. But is it all we need? Once again, no! I’m free to love myself, do things how I want to, and enjoy everything by mysel-

“Oh my gosh- I’m so sorry, let me pick these up for you.” I bumped into someone in the hall and ended up slammed against the floor. My books and other school materials were scattered all across. People slowly walked by, and made the awkward move of bending to help but then walking away. I groaned quietly, and started picking them up myself. “It’s okay, I should've paid more attention.” I mumbled.

I looked up and saw a gentle hand extend towards me. I grabbed it, and instead of pulling myself up, another hand gingerly came to my back to help pull me up. That’s when I saw him. He had rose gold specs on, he was dressed better than some runway models, he had on cologne which smelt citrusy, and musky. He had concerned eyes, and a soft smile.

“Are you sure you’re all right? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” The man nervously chuckled as his hands retracted from me. I blinked a few times in awe before responding, “Oh no, i’m not hurt at all! Please, don’t worry about it.”

He raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but nodded his head in understanding. “Okay, I’ll trust you on that.” He bent down to retrieve the last of my items before handing them to me. He stopped once he took notice of a certain item. It was a guitar pick, a miscellaneous object I had left in my pocket. But it happened to catch his interest.

“You play the guitar?” He asked a small smile of intrigue, and he looked up from the pick, his head still tilted downwards.

“Yeah.” I nodded quickly, trying to ignore the way he was looking at me. “The acoustic one.” I clarified.

This man was gorgeous.

He nodded, pulling his fingers away from my stuff, and readjusting his specs carefully. “I do too. I’ve also tried out the electric guitar. “I started last year, and it’s become my new favorite hobby.” He suddenly started speaking at a rapid pace. “Did you know that acoustic guitars date back about 3000, to 3500 years from now? The first guitars are thought to have been found in Spain, but i’ve also seen some sources say they could even be traced back to Mesopotamia! Isn’t that crazy?”

I looked at him with slightly wide eyes. He seemed to have a lot of junky knowledge on things.

Not that I wasn’t interested…

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’ve never got into the history of guitars before.” I laughed sheepishly.

“I’m still learning the chords, and how to play some songs. I think that’s all the information I can store right now.”

He simply laughed in understanding. “Yeah I get that. I’m probably the odd one for knowing about the history of guitars. My friends say so at least-Damn that guy Sunghoon-,” he muttered the last part to himself.

I smiled to myself.

“Anyway I don’t want to keep you standing here any longer, sorry for bumping into you.” He raised his hand apologetically, and started walking off again. He seemed busy, which would explain why he was in a rush running down the hall.

But midway, he stopped and jogged up to me again.

“This might seem weird, but i’m in a small band. We’re playing in the garage of one of my band mates, and I was wondering— would you want to come and see me play?” He asked, with a lightly scrunched up face, and a tight smile. Almost as if he expected me to say ‘no’.

“Yeah sure.” I said instead.

His face relaxed, and he pulled out a piece of paper and pen from his bag. He wrote a few things down and handed it to me.

“Alright, i’ll see you there! It was nice meeting you…”

I straightened the piece of paper and read its contents.

It contained the address of his band mate’s house, his phone number, and a small message

### ### #### i think you’re pretty, call me - Jay

I hated love, but I fell in love right there.

————————————————————————

taglist: @sanasour @mars101

A/N: IM SORRY THIS WAS SHORT AGAIN 😫 I might continue this because i have some ideas for it, but omg life is tough! Any interaction is appreciated <3

#Spotify #inspired by jo yuri #enhypen fluff #enhypen jay #enhypen #jay fluff #jay drabbles #enhypen drabbles #jay #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jay park #park jay #park jongseong #jongseong fluff #enhypen jongseong

[bloodcasket]

A BEGINNING, AND AN END

PAIRING: Vergil Sparda x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: Not proof-read, angst, mentions of readers death, depression, loss, loneliness, a relationship that is crumbling.

WC: 1,650

DESCRIPTION: Vergil wonders what exactly he did that made him lose you. He breaks as he realizes his mistakes, and that he will never be able to hold you again.

A/N: This work was rushed!!!!!!!!!! I literally just had a vomit post of all my sad little ideas. Currently hyper-fixated on Vergil! Probably will write more for him. I imagined this concept last night, and I kid you not, I cried.

Marriage was a concept created for foolish beings who wished to bind themselves to one another. When Vergil lived through his life, blinded by a pursuit of power, such things like marriage were nothing but a stupid scheme.

Why would he wish to be controlled by someone? Tied down to them? Love was nothing. Love was idiocy. That is what he thought, after all.

Then you came.

A human, young and kind. You placed your hand in his, pressed your silken lips along his bruised knuckles, and kissed his ruined skin. You promised him love. You showed him peace. You introduced him to light and laughter and mirth.

It was then, after the many days of holding you and growing to love you, that he realized why people did such “foolish” traditions. He grew weak with you. Became sensitive. Was not embarrassed to be genuine with you. He had finally decided.

He would propose.

You had tears swelling up along your waterline, slipping down your upturned cheeks as you smiled, you sobbed the words “Of course I will marry you”.

He married you.

The marriage was simple, no one but you two to promise yourselves to each other. He had found an old church to hold the ceremony, the ceilings tall and pointing to the sky. The tinted glass waned bright colors over your bashful face, your eyes glittering with devotion before you leaned in to kiss him. A kiss to ensure eternity.

Your fingers trembled against his as he slipped the wedding band on, he had not realized his cool façade has cracked along with yours. He was crying with you, so ecstatic to finally have someone who can understand him.

Someone who won’t judge him, someone who will tell him it will be okay. To hold him close in the night when he had nightmares. To lay their head in his lap as he read out his favorite poems.

“Vergil, stand over by the tree! I want to take a picture of you!” you giggled happily, face contorting into an expression that can only be described as glee. You held up your camera, adjusting the device to be suited for the brightened, summer day.

“And what for?” your husband seemed annoyed, looking at you with a nonchalant grimace. “Because I want to capture memories, now go, go!”. You shooed him away, begging him to find purchase near the weeping willow tree. It’s arms swaying in the gentle breeze, faded green leaves swooping overhead, tangled moss falling to the soil.

He obeys, acting as if this was something pointless, but internally, he was blissful, full of pride at the acknowledgement of your adoration. He stands, watching as you snap the picture, and then returns to your side gracefully.

“Well? Was that to your liking?” he asks, leaning down to see the picture, and you nod with a grin, telling him “thank you”.

This was something that became quite frequent. You had recently started to indulge in art, and had brought up to him that you would paint his portraits.

And paint you did.

Your works were wonderful. Your art room his secret sanctuary. A gallery of only him, painted with oils and acrylics, colors that portray him to be a god amongst this tiny Earth.

Inspired by a simple, small photo of him. A photo that is always captured by you.

You enjoyed comparing his white hair to the color of a rich magnolia. Consistently painting him alongside the elegant flowers. You had told him once that they reminded you of him. They were sensitive to the human touch, turning brown from the oils of a selfish finger caressing it. They were independent, and were beautiful while they kept to themselves.

Just like him.

Relationships are hard. He understands this. He knows that if he does not give enough, the ones he finds dear will crumble away. Loyalty, honesty, generosity, quality time, devotion….. so much he must do to keep you satisfied.

He tries, he’s a perfectionist, but when you two wander in public, see the other couples mold into one another, he feels ashamed. He does not like to hold your hand in public, and he feels tense when you initiate certain intimacy. You would get bored of him, wouldn’t you?

He admires how easy you make it look, how you strip him of his clothes, settle him in the tub, speak reassuring words of praise as you scrub the grime off his beaten skin. He relaxes under your touch, wonders why of all people, you chose to be with him. How you don’t hesitate to bend to his will, run miles to retrieve whatever he wants. Speak honeyed words, just enough to make him melt.

You’ve helped rid his nightmares, you’ve made him feel alive. He only dreams of bliss, of divine moments shared with you.

Moments like you and him, taking pictures under the willow tree.

But yet, he cannot even find the courage to move forward. To give you the smallest things you desire.

He grows sour. For once, he feels powerless. Inferior.

He can never give you what you want.

Recently he has grown colder to your touch. Shallow and incoherent with any simple notion.

You will try to reach for him, your pinkie grazing the side of his firm hand. He only tugs away, resisting your affection. You will plead to bathe him, massage the ache in his shoulder blades. He only denies your wishes to care for him.

Your paintings become more erratic than before, a sense of gloom in their glistening wake. A sheen of desolation hidden amongst the thick lines of paint. You have lost inspiration. His divinity and blue aura that was once captured by the bristles of your paintbrush are now fading into a melancholic art piece.

You are afraid you have lost him.

You two seem to get in an argument one night. It is after an awkward vent of your feelings to him in the library.

“I miss when you loved me”, is what you confess.

Vergil shouts selfish comments, says he prefers to be alone. Says you bother him too much. Says that maybe marriage was the wrong decision. He does not mean these things. But you have taken them to heart.

You start to cry, the whites of your eyes now bloodshot. Hiccups erupting from your lips. Sobs that beg him to take all his words back.

He doesn’t.

“Fine” you sniff, “I will let you be “.

A sickening feeling blooms in him when you leave, your bag tossed over your shoulder.

When you pass it is like no other.

He felt it burn through him. Regret. Guilt. Loneliness. He knew something had went wrong.

Your body had been found on the streets, bloodied, bones shattered, arms disfigured. You had tried to put up a fight, that was for sure. It made him sick. He felt numb. Practically in denial of your death. Of your murder.

He could have saved you…..he promised you. You have given him everything he wanted, and yet this…he couldn’t even prevent this from happening.

Your face, swollen and bruised. Eyes blackened and cheeks cut open. Your soft lips, never to kiss his again.

If only he hadn’t been selfish, you wouldn’t have went out that night. You could have been here, with him, embracing him. Telling him that you loved him for all eternity.

The wedding band was still firm on your finger, your blood thick over Vergil’s name engraved on the ring.

Vergil kisses you one last time before your body is sealed in it’s coffin, a wooden box that shall keep your remains concealed forever. Your lips are so cold now, lifeless and chapped. Lacking it’s warmth and tenderness that you usually carried.

A part of him regrets kissing you. Your frozen face and your icy touch will now haunt him for the rest of his life. Terrorize his dreams.

Just a couple of months ago you two had stood in the old Victorian chapel, the stained glass casting an array of colors over your gentle smile. The beginning.

The last image of you is an image of death. They are lowering you into the Earth, shovels tossing dirt over the wooden case. An end.

Dante has offered that Vergil should stay with him, get away from the home that he once shared with you. His brother figured it would be best, a solution to rid him of his sorrow. The elder refuses every time.

Your presence…your glow. It still is fresh, and alive in the walls of the home. He must stay. He must stay for you. Sometimes he swears he hears your voice in the halls, your sweet tone making him panic and get up, just to realize he is only imagining it. He is only imagining that you are not gone. That you are still here with him.

He still visits your grave, as often as he possibly can. In the meantime, he tends to the tree he has planted in your garden, a magnolia tree that is fresh and desperately trying to grow. He wished he could show you.

There had been one night where he had a nightmare, images of you screaming and crying his name, pleading for help as you died, crimson leaking from your lips as you sputter blood.

“Vergil! Help me!”.

He wakes in a cold sweat, so terrified that it genuinely shakes him. This vision had stayed clinging in his dreams ever since your death, never sparing him mercy.

On nights like this, he rushes to enter your art room, sitting amongst your wooden work chair, now too restless and shaken to attempt to sleep again. He knew if he tried, he would only be met with the image of your lifeless form again.

He sits there, your painting of him underneath the willow tree sitting proudly amongst your art desk. You had told him it was your most prized possession. Your best work. He thought so too.

He cries your name under the glum luminescence of the moon.

He decides this time, he will paint you. No matter how bad he does it, your beauty will always bleed through.

#vergil x you #vergil sparda x you #vergil x reader #dmc x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil angst #dmc5 x reader

[whyare-all-the-usernames-taken]

Ima Marry You

Inspiration photos above.

Where izuku and katsuki love to wake up at random times and cook or bake, this always ends up with them swaying, dancing and laughing to the music they play in their kitchen. One night katsuki wakes izuku up to go do their usual kitchen shenanigans. .But he covers izukus eyes. Izuku goes along with it, he hears his favorite music he uses to slow dance with katsuki. He smells his favorite food and dessert. He also smells his favorite flowers.

“Ready?”

Katsuki asks. Izuku nods and katsuki removes his hands. Izuku gasps. The kitchen is covered in soft fairy lights, on the cabinets there's his favorite flowers meticulously placed, flower petals everywhere. On the table is his favorite kind of cupcakes and his favorite food. Izuku tears up his chest filled with overwhelming happiness.

"Kacchan you did this fo-“

he says as he turns around to see katsuki on his knee holding a box with a ring in it.

“Izuku you’re my evry-"

Izuku with tears in his eyes shouted

“WAIT.”

As he activated OFA and took off into the bedroom at lightning speed. As fast as he took off was as fast as he came back. He also fell to his knees as he looked katsuki in the eyes and said

“okay go.”

Katsuki recovered from the shock and decided to keep going.

“Okay uhh. Izuku, you’re my everything, you’re what keeps me sane, what keeps me soft, what keeps me Going when i dont want too. You’ve seen me at my worst and cruelest and you still stayed. You still supported me and never lost faith in me. You always saw the best. I don’t deserve you. I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much i love you. I worship the ground You walk on. I will love you forever, Izuku Midoriya, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Izuku looks at katsuki with tears steaming down his face.

“Yes, yes fucking yes.” Izuku sobs.

Katsuki is about to grab Izuku’s hand when Izuku speaks up.

“Katsuki.”

Katsuki’s head saps up to look at Izuku, Izuku only uses his name when its a serious situation or they’re making love. Izuku takes a deep breath as he continues.

“Katsuki i have to ask you a question. "

Izuku reaches into his pocket to take out a velvet box. If katsuki was already holding tears back, seeing Izuku broke this broke the floodgates. Katsuki lets out a sob.

“Katsuki Bakugou, you are the love of my life. You are what gives my life meaning, without you it’s pointless. Your smile if the first thing i look for in the mornings. You kisses are something i yearn for. When im in your arms i am home. You show me how much you love me everyday. I promise to always show you how much i love you everyday for the rest of our lives. Forever i will always love you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Katsuki Let out another sob as he screams out and tackles Izuku,

“yes you beautiful fucking nerd.”

They both fall back onto the floor. Laughing and crying as they share kisses, both with their chests full of absolute joy and happiness. Katsuki immediately demanded to have then put their rings on each other at the same time. The both let out a gasp as the finally see the rings. The band Izuku got katsuki is a beautiful rose gold band with a green and blue band within it. The one katsuki got Izuku is a beautiful black band with a red orange band on it as well.

“Kacchan, we match.” Izuku giggles.

“Yeah freckles we do.”

“I love you katsuki.”

“And i love you Izuku.”

#bkdk #bakudeku #dkbk #bkdk fluff #bkdk fanfic

[hopeassassin]

Condemned

This almost devolved into something it shouldn’t have. As always, like clockwork. But this is basically a song fic, so I said to myself NO. You are NOT doing this again.

So here we go.

Inspired by Florence and the Machine’s “Heavy in Your Arms”.

A re-write of the pre-Rakuzan/Touou InterHigh match AoMomo argument, reimagined and with a different twist.

Title: “Condemned” on AO3 Word Count: 6069 Summary: She lifts her head to look into his eyes with the most intense glare he has ever been the recipient of. Satsuki's magenta eyes are sparking with anger, accusation and disdain.

Although looks cannot in fact kill, a part of Daiki certainly dies when their gazes lock.

"I hate you so much that if I could only live without you, I would kill you myself, with my own hands."

Daiki learns quickly about the fact he’s taken out of the Rakuzan/Touou match line up because of Satsuki and what she’s said to coach.

Because, of course she has. 

Who else would notice what he tries to hide if not her? Who else would stick their neck out for him if not Satsuki?

He doesn’t seem to see it the same way though. He doesn’t say anything during practice when he’s told but she can see in his face that he’s livid. 

He takes his duffel bag and storms out without a word to anybody but she can feel in her bones that he has a lot to say. 

She knows better and doesn’t want to get in the middle of that before he works through it. So she stays at practice dutifully that day, despite the fact that all the other team members keep throwing her these furtive, worried looks.

Still, there’s only so long she can procrastinate the inevitable. She has to rip it off like a bandaid and she will need to confront Daiki about this. She has to at least try to make him see things the way they are—see them her way.

She finds him in his room. 

Sulking, seething. 

She almost doesn’t want to open her mouth and speak because she’s sure this will get very unsightly very fast.

Then again, she knew it from the moment he hid from the coach and acted as if he’s fine after his match with Kise when he hurt his arm. She knew he’s becoming dangerously self-destructive and that if she stands up for him, he will not appreciate it and it will blow up in her face.

But the alternative—pretending she doesn’t see, pretending, like he does, that it’s all fine—is just so much worse. 

If he ends up crippling himself because she indulges his negligence and he ends up carrying this grudge that he remained undefeated his entire life—she doesn’t think she can live it down. It’s a regret in her life she refuses to have.

Anything else he has to say and do to her - she can survive that. Some way or another. 

But not that.

Anything but that.

So she tries to explain this to him. That he is in no condition to be playing a full-out brawl against a champion candidate like Rakuzan. It will put unnecessary strain on his already damaged elbow. He needs to rest for now so he can play against them next time.

When his brows knit and his eyes narrow, she braces for the ugly argument she has seen coming from a mile away.

What she isn’t ready for is that as he lashes out, some of the things he says are that she is doing this to him to get in his way, pull his legs out from under him. That she doesn’t want to see him win, she wants him to fail so much that she will even go as far as sabotage him. All so she can have things her way.

It’s so rude of him to even think that, not to mention say it to her, because she will never do underhanded, blatantly disrespectful things like that. 

She doesn’t feel that way and she always does things properly, gives every match her all, takes every opponent seriously—although he certainly doesn’t, so how dare he try to pin his vices on her?! If he wants to project his failures onto her, he has another thing coming.

She tells him so directly, gloves off and no sugarcoating. She tells him that even though he may do that, she never will. She treats every opponent with the respect they deserve for being able to stand on the court, and she believes she can learn from every match. 

Satsuki sees the shadow that crosses his face at her accusation and she understands. She wishes she doesn’t but she is herself and he is Dai-chan, so she understands. That it hurts him to be failed again and again by spineless cowards who aren’t ready to deal with a prodigy like himself. People who don’t have his fiery tenacity, who don’t try as hard as he does, don’t put as much effort forward as he does. It’s only natural that they would get results vastly different than his, because what he invests is much different from what they do.

And she understands, but it’s pissing her off so damn much. That he’s willing to squander it all—willing to fight her over it, too—just over a single match with an opponent they will have three whole years to play against. 

Because she knows the only one Daiki actually sees as a worthy opponent in Rakuzan is Akashi-kun and Akashi-kun only. 

When he cuts her off, the argument veers off into an even more infuriating direction than it already was, because he has the gall to tell her that what she’s doing is for her own benefit and she’s being selfish. That she must have some hidden agenda to get in the way of his game and this must be bringing her some sick kind of pleasure. 

He blames her for having some kind of God complex, that she thinks she always knows better than him, than coach, than everybody, and she has a need to constantly prove it.

He tells her with utter disdain that she probably feels so almighty for having the authority to use him as her little marionette whenever she sees fit just to prove to everyone and himself just how much better than everyone she knows, just to prove herself right.

It smarts, it stings, it hurts, because every little thing she does, every single one, she does for him and to look out for him. 

She also gets that he’s pissed that everyone, every single person around them in every team he’s been in, wants to use him and abuse him for as long and as well as they can, but to blame her for doing the same?!

It’s a new low, even for him (and that’s already saying a lot). His childish anger at her stopping him from playing against Rakuzan is turning him into something she hates even more. 

She lashes out violently, hurt beyond words that he would insinuate something like that. She has given up so many things already, all for his sake, only to have him act like a damn ingrate about it.

"Well, if it's such a pain, why don't you just leave then?! Go to Tetsu, transfer to Seirin! I know you wish you did that to begin with! So just go ahead and do it now! If you need a cue or you need me to say something so you feel free, THIS IS IT! Go, Satsuki! You're free!"

"Shut the fuck up, you moron!" she yells right back at him, tears now streaming down her sides from the raw emotion clawing at her being. "I DID want to go to Seirin with Tetsu-kun, I did want to break free from this chain of unhappiness but it's too late already!"

"How is it too late? You're still alive and have free will, don't you?! So act on it and go do what you fucking want! No one is making you stay. Get lost! I don't want to see your ugly face around here anymore!"

"Well it's just too bad for you then, because I am not planning on going anywhere! I'm here to stay, whether you like it or not! Deal with it!!"

Daiki squashes violently the tiny swelling of pure joy in his chest at her words. The choice she makes even when he is provoking her in the most unbecoming way possible.

Even when he outright pushes her away, she still chooses him. 

Not Tetsu. Not anyone else. Him.

The feeling is resilient so he needs more time to stomp it out mentally than he thinks he would need.

And he has to stomp it out, otherwise his next words will never make it out of his mouth. And he isn’t letting her have the last word in this fight.

"Why?! You don't want to be here, do you? You're miserable, aren't you? Are you stupid or something? What could possibly keep you coming to keep getting hurt?! Get the fuck out of here!"

"Yes, I'm stupid! You're a moron but I'm even dumber than you are, for continuing to do this to myself! What an absolute idiot, right?!"

"Why?!" he roars back, confused and angrier than he's ever been in his life. "Why do it then? Give me one good reason why!"

"Because I love you, you fucking dumbass!"

Suddenly, he feels like he’s been speeding at a hundred miles per hour only to jump hard on the brakes and be abruptly brought to an instant halt. 

The dumbfounded “What?” dies on his lips before he can verbalize it.

The feeling from hearing her say it, from the way she says it, is like she's slapped him across the face.

It's a confession, heartfelt and earnest, despite the heatedness of their argument. 

Yet why does it feel like no blessing?

"I'm in love with you and I can't help needing to keep coming back. No matter that you keep hurting me again and again every time! It's too late already because I'm already so far gone that my own self-preservation doesn't matter. All I can think of is: how is he taking this? How can I help him? Will this make it any easier for him? Will this ease any of the burden he keeps piling up on himself? How is he feeling today? Will this make his day any better?"

"You don't need to do that!" Daiki protests vehemently, making her stomp her foot hard in response.

"I know I don't! I know it in my head, but here I am, doing it anyway! God knows you don't need to get a bigger head than you already have, and that your spoilt ass doesn't need any further spoiling, but here I am!! Doing it anyway! Caring still! No matter that you never care back at all!"

Daiki opens his mouth to rebut her but she gives him no room to say his piece, ploughing on without pause.

"I love you like it's some kind of curse, a shackle on my legs, binding me and keeping me here with you, rotting together with you in your self-made little hell! You will never say anything to keep me here but these damn feelings make fucking sure I continue hanging around your dumb self! It's a damn Stockholm syndrome I can't seem to get away from, no matter how I try!"

All of his words that he wants to fling at her die on his lips upon this last part of her tirade. 

The worst part is that she is still not done, and her words are a mad shout while the tears keep running down her face unchecked. It doesn’t even occur to Daiki that this has been the most he’s ever heard her curse in all their lives. Or that it’s clearly indicative of just how this matter has been eating at her.

"I love you more than I ever should, but I hate you so much more than that! I hate you, I hate you, I hate your fucking guts, Daiki!" 

She stomps her foot repeatedly on the floor in a desperate attempt to vent some of the stifling frustration. The tears splash down onto her hoodie and the ground, and become wet blotches.

"I hate you so fucking much that it kills me inside! I hate you more than you can imagine because the Dai-chan I fell in love with is nowhere to be found! You killed him, and gave me this twisted, fake, ugly version of him that I didn't want! He's nothing like the Dai-chan I fell in love with but I can still see him kind of there, lingering in a familiar touch, or hiding behind a familiar phrase and how fucking dare you?! How dare you kill the person I care for most and give me this fucking useless hand-me-down, washed out version of him with none of the spark he had?!" 

She is glaring hard at the floor now. Her hands are balled into fists, her knuckles white. Her arms are strained as cords and shaking violently by her sides.

"You took away my Dai-chan and replaced him with someone I hate. Now all I have left is this crushing love that is only hurting me, and this overwhelming hate for you and all you've become. I hate it, and hate you for doing it to yourself and to me."

She has stopped crying at this point, but it feels more like the calm before the storm.

She lifts her head to look into his eyes with the most intense glare he has ever been the recipient of. Satsuki's magenta eyes are sparking with anger, accusation and disdain.

Although looks cannot in fact kill, a part of Daiki certainly dies when their gazes lock.

"I hate you so much that if I could only live without you, I would kill you myself, with my own hands." 

Her angrily hissed confession makes his stomach turn. Daiki swallows heavily, spellbound as he continues holding her gaze with more courage than he actually has.

"But I can't live without you, so here I am. Touou's basketball club manager, still right next to you even though it hurts and even though I hate your guts. Because no matter how much I hate what you've become, I still believe like some fucking retard that the Dai-chan I fell in love with is still in there. Under the rotten, sarcastic, arrogant bastard you are showing to the world, he's still there and crying out for help and for someone to save him from you."

She swallows down heavily then, fixing him with a stern look that still has the previous vehemence but the murderous glint is gone. 

"I don't know that for a fact but I believe it in my heart. I believe it with all my soul. And as long as I do, there is no chance of me deserting Dai-chan alone in the prison you put him behind. I will be right here, so he knows that even if no one else cares, I still do. If no one else will understand, I will. I will be right here for who you have become, too, because although I hate you and given the chance, I might very well kill you, I don't want you to self-destruct. I think you're amazing and brilliant and truly the best and I wish this would bring you happiness instead of all the bitterness you exude with every fucking breath you take."

She's crying again, yet her gaze has softened.

"I think you're amazing and it hurts that no one understands you but they all want to use you until they no longer need you. So, contrary to them, I will be here the entire time. Without needing anything from you but your presence. I will be next to you, so no matter how lonely you feel at the top, you will never actually be alone. No one deserves that, least of all you."

There is an alluring pull in her heartbroken expression, tears falling silently down her sides as she peers into his face. His hand raises to touch her wet cheek gingerly but when she feels the caress, she slaps his hand away indignantly.

Surprise, confusion and hurt flit through his face in rapid succession at her reaction.

"Don't touch me!" she spits out venomously, her glare heated as she aims it at him. "Don't start pretending like you care just because of the things I said! Because I know you, I know you better than anyone, and I know you don't fucking give a shit about any of this so—"

Her tirade gets cut off when he pulls her into his embrace while she struggles against it with all her might. They wrestle with each other for half a minute during which he tries to take her in his hold and she fights him stubbornly, refusing to stay still so he can properly hug her against him.

He growls in aggravation when she continues resisting. Her strength is something easily overcome for someone of Daiki's build and power. But the fact he's trying to hug her and she's trying to thwart him in it makes even her meagre strength a force to be reckoned with.

To try to make her settle down, he grabs her with both hands by the sides of her face and presses his mouth upon hers. 

As far as kisses go, this is definitely not the best one because they're both too angrily huffing and pissed with each other for it to be anything other than a mashing of lips on lips.

It seems to backfire on Daiki because although he's overtaken by the mind-numbing realization of how soft and wonderful her lips feel against his, she doesn't share the sentiment. She yanks her head out of his hold in the next second and slaps him as hard as she can across the face.

She must’ve plucked up all of her strength and loaded the hit with all of her emotion as well because his head turns from the force of it.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?!" She screeches so loudly that he whimpers from her volume, and the sting in his assaulted cheek. "I told you not to touch me! What makes you think you can just kiss me like that!? You cannot, you may not!"

He rubs his cheek, miffed, before he turns to throw her accusatory look.

"You were the one saying "I love you, I love you" just a minute ago!" he barks back.

"I also said that I hate you and your stupid mug. Did you already conveniently forget that or your head is so big you never even heard that part?!"

Daiki snarls then and forgoes the care with which he always, even unconsciously, handles Satsuki with. He forgoes it and makes a sudden grab for her. He holds her by her lower hip and the side of her face with two strong arms, unimpressed with her attempts to free herself from his hold.

She opens her mouth to scream at him again when she fails to shrug him off despite her best attempts. He’s having none of that though, so he covers her mouth firmly with his own to keep her quiet.

Her vocal protests are muffled by his lips and he pushes her bodily back until her back hits the wall. Her flailing hands are caught before they can make contact with his face or torso. Her resistance is futile because this time he doesn't plan to let her go or do as she sees fit. 

(She’s said her piece—more than just her two cents in, really—and now it’s his turn.)

His left hand holds both of hers over her head against the wall, while his right holds her chin tight through his bruising kiss. Once she stops violently struggling against him and settles down into smouldering but quiet fury, he relents and pulls away from her.

He doesn't move too far back though, his intense cobalt eyes fixing hers from an intimately close distance. The proximity makes him aware of the teasing way her ample bosom is rising and falling rapidly with her ragged breathing. Her cheeks are flushed—with anger or something else, he ponders—and she is glaring evilly at him from her captive position in his hold.

Daiki throws her an equally unrelenting look full of challenge.

"I heard you well, every single word." He traces the line of her jaw with his fingertips. "I also heard you very clearly say that you love me."

His eyes dare her to refute his statement. She glares back at him but keeps her mouth shut. She's still panting.

Daiki swallows hard while looking into her eyes. 

"If you're in love with me, don't you want to hold me and kiss me?"

"No."

Her answer is instant. 

Her tone has an air of finality to it that doesn't allow for any argument. She looks so steadfast when she says so that coupled with the unexpectedness of her answer, Daiki feels flabbergasted.

"No?" he echoes incredulously.

"No," Satsuki repeats with the same iron conviction. "I don't want you touching me, or holding me, or kissing me, or anything of the sort."

"Why not?" He demands then, unyielding from holding her wrists up by his much stronger hand.

"I just don't!"

His eyes narrow at her reasoning. 

"Give me a good reason and I'll drop it," he challenges her again, his tone even. 

She considers his request for a minute before her face twists in a stubborn and angry grimace. Although she looks a bit ridiculous with her face flushed from all the emotions she's gone through in rapid succession in the past minutes and her profuse crying, he can't help himself when he thinks she’s adorable in that very moment.

"I don't have one. Just let go! You're hurting me! God knows you've already done way too much of that to be hurting me physically too!"

The way she lashes out—with words of painful truth aimed at him like daggers—makes him flinch and he almost pulls back. He almost complies with her command to unhand her but reconsiders in the last moment. 

He resolves to let her go if she answers his questions first.

"You don't have what? A good reason or any reason?"

"Stop arguing and just let me go, you brute!" she yells at him but it's not as loud as earlier. 

He's pressing her harder against the wall, sandwiching her between himself and the hard surface behind. It makes her unable to fill her lungs with enough air to scream at him as effectively as she previously has.

"Answer my question," he whispers against her mouth while pinching her chin securely between his thumb and index finger. Her eyes flash with an emotion he doesn't recognize but it's gone before he can deliberate it. "And I will let you go immediately."

He hopes she can see the promise in his eyes that he will do as he says. His only condition is simple enough, he believes. 

After all, she has already spilled her guts and her biggest secret to him, right? What could she possibly have to fear confessing any further?

Her mouth stays clamped shut. She says nothing and just stares at him from up close until her breathing calms. He waits for her and demonstrates patience she thinks him incapable of through it all. 

"Well?" He prompts at the end of the third minute of tense silence between them.

"I have nothing further to say to you," she informs him coolly. 

There’s a mask of indifference already plastered on her features.

Daiki growls in annoyance, refusing to be brushed off.

Refusing to be treated like this doesn't matter after the heavy shit she's unloaded on him earlier.

He ain't buying it and if she refuses to be civil about it, he will be as crudely provoking as needed to get the result he wants. To get the answer he wants.

Because it’s fucking important, damn it!

So instead of trying to pry it out of her with his words (which he's rather inept with to begin with), he prefers to do it with his actions. He's always been better at acting upon things than talking it out, and an emotionally charged situation like this makes it even more painfully evident.

He kisses her again, pushing into her personal space with no preamble. This time he has the chance to recognize how sweet she smells as well, not just how nice her mouth feels against his. 

She starts struggling against him, trying to break out of his kiss but with her hands captive and her chin in his unbudging hold, she has no prayer of being able to break free.

She realizes this quickly and starts trying to protest vocally but he swallows the sound with his mouth opening against hers. 

When he pulls away to look into her eyes, she's glaring heatedly at him, her lips wet and swollen from his forceful kisses.

He runs his tongue over his top lip to moisten it too while his gaze fixates on her.

"So you hate this?"

"I hate it! Knock it off!! It's not funny!"

He isn't laughing. This isn't some game to him either, although she doesn't seem to understand that.

"So you hate it…" he echoes, voice subdued.

"Yes!" she wails back at him, thrashing in his hold.

"The same way you hate me?"

"Yes!!"

She gasps after her admission even before she registers the meaningful look Daiki throws her way. She has belatedly realized just what she has affirmed and the implications behind it.

“So in other words, you both hate it and you love it, yeah?”

“No!” She is quick to refuse his statement.

Too quick.

Panicked?

Daiki smirks sadistically down at her. He’s grabbed the pulse of the heart of this matter, he believes.

“Satsuki, you really need to speak up so I can understand, okay?” He looms in her line of vision despite her adamant attempts to turn her head away from him. She can’t go through with it because his fingers are still holding her chin. “You have to give me a good reason why you hate me kissing you, especially if it’s true that you’re in love with me.”

The way he questions the truthfulness of her earlier confession is his attempt to get a rise out of her. He succeeds partially, judging from the way she throws a venomous glare his way, but her lips are still sealed shut.

He scoffs and leans in closer. 

His breath fans against her cheek and he derives a sick pleasure from seeing her squirm.

“Answer the question, or I’ll keep kissing you until you do,” he half-threatens, half-states because he’s fully planning on doing exactly that if she continues being stubborn.

Because if she thinks she can be more pig-headed than he is, she’s wrong. He’s ready and willing to show her just how wrong she is if she keeps pushing it.

And it works, because this time she whimpers and struggles even harder to turn her face away from him. He doesn’t let her but she shifts her gaze away to the furthest wall. 

“Don’t kiss me anymore. Don’t make this more complicated and painful for me than it already is.” She misses his confused look at her quiet admission because she’s still avoiding him to the best of her ability. “I already wake up every morning and go to bed every night thinking about you and the stupid shit you say and do. Don’t make my life more of a living hell by complicating my feelings further…”

She sounds so forlorn and broken that he can’t keep pressuring her anymore. His hand lets go of her wrists and they slowly fall at her sides. His other hand’s fingers release her jaw and he rests his weight against the palm he leans on the wall next to her head. She is now looking away from him in earnest, refusing to meet his eyes as she continues.

“I don’t want to know what it feels like to kiss you. I don’t want to be wondering if you mean it or if you don’t. I don’t want to be haunted with doubts whether I’m right or I’m not. I don’t want any of it, so please… just stop and leave me alone…”

Her sorrowful tone makes his heart clench in his chest but he shoves the feeling roughly away. It’s important that he communicates this somehow, or he will regret it for the rest of his life.

Especially since he’s already torn so many painful confessions from her today.

There’s a twinge of regret in the corner of his consciousness—amplified by the way she seems to try to fold in on herself before his very eyes. He soothes it by caressing the crown of her head like he’s petting something fragile and infinitely precious. He caresses her tenderly, willing some of the discomfort and pain away from her being, if he can, by the simple action alone.

“Satsuki,” he starts quietly, his tone calm and kind. “It’s true that you do know me very well—there are many days when I’m sure you probably know me better than I know myself. And in many ways, that could be true. But there are still some things about me that you don’t know and because you don’t, you misunderstand.”

The way she skittishly starts to lift her magenta gaze to lock with his is heart wrenching to watch but he leaves her to do as she pleases while still petting her head adoringly.

“I don’t blame you. If I were you, I’d probably misunderstand, too, because my timing was terrible and I act before I think as always. But I really don’t want you thinking that I’m kissing you just to shut you up or something dumb like that. Because that’s just my excuse and not my reason why.”

Her eyes are widening and her breathing has hitched in her throat already. Her lips are parting—in surprise or horror, it’s hard to tell—and he cannot continue to study her reaction any further. His heart is racing in his chest. 

He’s nervous and his body is reacting to the feeling more violently because of their earlier verbal standoff. It feels like his blood vessels will burst from the sheer volume and strength with which his heart is pumping.

“This isn’t a joke nor a game to me either. It’s insulting that—knowing me as well as you do—you would think so.” He takes a deep breath because suddenly the air has vacated his lungs and he feels like he’s drowning in white noise. “These important things about me you don’t know—I’ll tell you the most important of them right now: I would never kiss you to prank you or just to win a stupid argument.” 

He admires her courage in being able to say it to his face but he doesn’t have it himself. 

So Daiki leans forward until his lips are aligned with her ear, and his face is twisted out of her sight.

“Because I like you, too. I’ve been in love with you for a long, long time.”

He whispers it like it’s a secret and condemns Satsuki with a heavy heart.

It is his most well-kept secret because she’s been convinced that he doesn’t care, that she’s wrong, he’s just an arrogant, unfeeling asshole and her Dai-chan is gone forever. Her unrequited pining is pointless, but will eventually—maybe, with time—fall into the background of her inner world and she will be able to finally, finally, move on to something, someone, else. 

Less painful, less complicated, less dramatic.

Satsuki knows breaking free from the shackles that are her feelings for him is but a pipe dream now, with his last little confession to her.

There’s no way in any world she will be able to move on to anything—or anybody—else, knowing her feelings are not one-sided.

Knowing that he does things with intention. Knowing that he does care and is just… terrible at showing it. 

Daiki’s intermittent warm breath at her earlobe draws her attention to the present time and moment from her reverie. She swallows heavily, her gaze rising to the ceiling of his room. She kicks herself mentally, over and over, for relishing the feeling of having him so close and the knowledge that he’s in love with her, too.

Oh, God, no… she thinks to herself and the tears well in her eyes anew. Love is supposed to be something that makes you happy, brings you joy, but she’s never had any joy in her love. 

It’s always been her silly secret, a temporary crush. Then it became a complicated matter, not to breathe a word of to anybody. Then it evolved into something painful, until it turned just outright excruciating. It has been a downward spiral and her heart is so heavy, realizing that it’s only going to continue further from there on.

And it will likely only get worse, a downhill steep slope. 

Because she can’t be the one to save him. She can’t be the one to heal him. He’s the one damaging himself but he needs someone from outside to help him out. It kills her that this person cannot be her, even though she’s right there, always there for him, always. 

Her tears start running down her sides. When his thumb brushes them away from her cheeks with the most gentle touch she’s ever received from him, a violent sob tears from her throat.

“I really, really hate you, Daiki,” she tells him through her clenched teeth. 

He pulls away from her to give her a slanted smile that gives his gaze a kind glint.

She doesn’t use the childhood nickname she has for him anymore—at first by trying to distance herself from him in school by calling him “Aomine-kun” anywhere their classmates can hear her, but calling him Dai-chan in private. 

Ever since he starts changing for the worse, she stops calling him that even if it’s just the two of them. 

She uses no address to turn to him—other than derogatives like “idiot”, “dumbass” or “moron” but those don’t count. If she has something to say to him, she just establishes visual contact with him first then says what she wants, if they’re in private. Maybe she thinks he doesn’t notice and he’s dense—and he is, generally speaking. But when it comes to her and the way she treats him, Daiki notices things. 

And it just hurts, to lose something that has been a given for him, so suddenly and so completely, with no ado and no warning.

He’s no longer Dai-chan, he’s not Daiki, he’s no longer anything to her and it hurts. 

So at least when they are among others, he takes the “Aomine-kun” in stride because at least, at least then, she acknowledges his existence and turns to him by name.

For the past two years, he has almost never, ever been “Daiki” to her. She called him that earlier in the height of their fight and he didn’t have the chance to appreciate it but he does notice it. Like he notices every single little thing about her.

Hearing his name from her—despite the venomous claim it’s accompanied by—sends a shiver down his spine that he rather relishes.

The next kiss he initiates is a loud echo of his secret he’s shared with her, because it’s so much sweeter than any of the previous ones they exchanged throughout their mulishly stubborn argument. 

It’s a repeat of the “I love you, Satsuki” that he’s too himself to vocalize more than once in his life. She hears it, loud and clear, in the gentle press of his lips against hers, in the tender touch of his tongue on hers.

It rends her heart asunder because she’s already in the palm of his hand, even without him saying or doing anything. Now she will never be able to escape him, but worse still - she will never even try anymore.

Whether that’s a good or bad thing, Satsuki still doesn’t know. 

What she does know is that she is a heavy heart to carry and her beloved will be weighed down by it—although, admittedly, he has only himself to thank for that. 

He’s condemned them both to suffering and licking at each other’s wounds for the time being, but it’s a sweet kind of torture that she is willing to submit herself to despite her sanity being in jeopardy over it.

That’s perfectly fine for him, though.

She will learn in due time that even outside of the court, Daiki is strong enough to stand, with both his heart and hers in hand. 

He will patiently, diligently, teach her that when he holds her in his arms, he will never let her down and her heavy feet will never touch the ground.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A/N: Did you find all the lyrics references I sprinkled throughout the story for all the parts of the song that inspired this piece?( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I struggled for quite a while with setting up the whole thing in the beginning BEFORE the start of their argument, and also finishing the damn thing. I struggled and struggled and then turned to the actual song on the next day again and, what would you know, I’m actually kinda proud of this now.

Gonna cross-post this everywhere so you can FEEL ME BEING BACK.

This has been yours truly, showing you how she believes song fics should best be done. Hope you enjoyed.

100 Situations, Table One; 032: Torn.

9th October, 2020.

#AoMomo #Aomine Daiki #Kuroko no Basuke #Momoi Satsuki #fanfic #fanfiction #my scribbles #this is a songfic I swear #I built a story around the main argument you see in the speaking brackets #then I thought If I am ever to finish the 100 Situations challenge this needs to be in it #so here we go #100 Situations #Kuroko's Basketball #The Basketball Kuroko Plays #I have too many ideas #my muse is a forsaken creature #and I keep getting more and more plot bunnies biting my rear #hopefully you enjoyed at least #this is pointless but I wanted to nod at a favorite band #and a favorite pairing #otp #I will go down with this ship I swear

[aminiatureworld]

Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

 Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

 Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing  to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

 Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.  

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

#is damn a swear word? #I tagged just in case #I have sort of triumphed over my computer #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #albedo #beidou #keqing #zhongli #albedo x reader #beidou x reader #keqing x reader #zhongli x reader #scenarios #my writing #requested

[iamthemain-character]

something good started in a getaway car

irl au!ben solo x celebrity! reader

Gender Neutral Pronouns

TW: none

A/n: This is probably the longest it’s taken me to write a oneshot. It’s probably a little cringey but honestly this work means a lot to me. AUs aren’t really my thing but I had this idea come to me at like 1 am so here it is. Anywho enjoy! Also if you get my taylor swift reference u are my bestie :D

star wars masterlist

A quiet night. That’s all Y/n was asking for; a night away from press and cameras and everything that harassed them day to day. They had found a cute and quirky restaurant for dinner, and so far it didn’t seem like anyone recognized them. The food was delicious, the staff was nice, and overall Y/n’s evening had been fairly uneventful.

That was until it hit 7 o’clock.

One of the things that made this little restaurant quirky was its live entertainment; except instead of hiring someone, they let people come up and sing, karaoke style. They would tell the band a song, and off they went. Y/n had no intentions of singing, after all that was basically an invitation for someone to tweet about it and suddenly the paparazzi would be everywhere. And their plan almost worked, until the owner of the restaurant was suddenly pointing at them and inviting them to come sing.

Trying to say no was pointless, it was like that scene in the first High School Musical, no one would let Y/n have peace until they got up and sang. So even though they were sure it was gonna blow their cover, they got up and took the mic.

“Do you know [your favorite song]?” Y/n quietly asked the band. When they nodded in response, Y/n turned with a smile as the beginning notes started playing. Despite not wanting to sing, years of touring and singing live had made Y/n at home on a stage and in the spotlight. Their beautiful voice filled the entire room, and soon everyone in attendance had their eye on the performer. When the music came to a close, the applause was very audible.

Taking a tiny bow, Y/n went back to their seat and let out a breath of relief; so far it appeared that no one had noticed who they were. Finally finishing their meal in peace, Y/n was about to order dessert when they saw a notification from their best friend, Rey. Looking at the text message, it included a twitter link and the word “run”. They saw that someone had indeed filmed Y/n singing, and now it was going viral on Twitter. Almost as if on cue, lights started flashing outside as the incoming paparazzi tried to capture photos of the unsuspecting singer.

Acting quickly, Y/n grabbed their things and ran away from the window, towards the back of the restaurant. They nearly crashed into a tall, dark haired stranger who wore a name tag declaring the name “Ben”.

“Oh, sorry, are you lo-“

Y/n quickly cut the waiter off, still holding onto his arms from trying to gain balance. “Please, you have to help me, there’s paparazzi and cameras and I have to get out of here.”

Ben peeked around the corner and was immediately greeted by the sight of people with cameras trying to get past the hostess at the front door. Looking back at Y/n, he contemplated his options. Helping this stranger out could mean he would lose his job, but on the other hand how could he refuse when they were looking at him so earnestly. Their eyes were beautiful and seemed like they peered right into his soul, and so he decided he never liked being a waiter anyways.

“Come with me.”

Together Y/n and Ben ran through the swinging door and through the kitchen, narrowly avoiding multiple chefs along the way. At the back of the kitchen there was an exit that led to the employee parking lot, and Ben led his companion straight to his car. It wasn’t much, just a regular sedan that worked reliably most days, but it was all he had. Quickly unlocking it, both he and Y/n got into the front seats.

“Do you need to go anywhere in particular?”

“Just get me as far away from here as possible please.”

Backing up, Ben pulled out of the parking lot and went as fast as he could down the road without getting arrested. Thankfully his old car seemed to do the trick, the paparazzi were too busy with the restaurant to even think that the star they were pursuing was escaping.

Finally reassured that they were safe, Y/n turned toward’s their driver and savior, fully taking him in for the first time. “Thank you so much, this really means the world to me.”

“Yeah no worries. So uh, are you a big star or something like that?”

Y/n laughed at the question. “You could say that.”

Ben wasn’t really sure what to say after that, so for a while the two just sat in silence. Despite not really knowing the person next to him, Ben felt at ease around them, like the silence wasn’t awkward. Still, he wanted to get to know them better, so he broke the stillness.

“I’m Ben, by the way. Ben Solo.”

“I’m Y/n.” Y/n smiled at the simple introduction, and Ben suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. This person was so incredibly gorgeous, and from what he could tell they were nice.

“So, do you need me to take you somewhere?”

“Well, I left my car at the restaurant. Hopefully I can just wait a few hours and then go back to get it. That is assuming the paparazzi have left.”

“Well, I think I know the perfect place.”

About 10 minutes later, Ben pulled into his favorite spot in the city: the Rebellion Park. It was a historic landmark, but over time most people had forgotten it. Now it was mostly weeds and random animals, but Ben loved coming and just relaxing away from the hustle and bustle of the city center.

After putting the car in park, Ben quickly hopped out and opened the passenger door.

“Oh, well thank you sir. I didn’t realize my getaway driver was such a gentleman.” Y/n remarked with a light laugh.

A blush creeped across Ben’s cheeks, so he quickly turned and started walking down the path. “Well, welcome to Rebellion Park Y/n.” He made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm.

At the front of the park was an old pavilion with a fountain, and despite it being nigh abandoned, some green tinted water still flowed. Just beyond the pavilion was a children’s area, a playground complete with monkey bars and a swing set. The rest of the park was just a bunch of paths and greenery, with the whole entire enclosure being surrounded by old trees. Some rusty lampposts cast a dim light on everything, letting Ben and Y/n see even as the sun was going down.

“This is beautiful Ben. how’d you know this was here?”

“My mother use to bring me here all the time when I was a kid.”

For a moment, the pair just stood and listened to the sound of wind through the trees. Everything looked like it was straight from a storybook, like they really had found the secret garden. Slowly Y/n wandered down the path, curious to see where it lead.

And so the pair continued for a while, just enjoying each other’s company and the scenery around them. Eventually, a swinging bench could be seen along side the path. Both Ben and Y/n sat down on it, gently swinging back and forth as the squeak of the old chains filled the air.

“So Ben Solo, tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, considering I only know your name and that you work at that restaurant, pretty much anything would be nice.”

Ben chuckled at Y/n’s honesty, it was true that they had just run off together and now they were alone in this park. The least he owed them was a little background information. “Well, I’ve been working at the restaurant for a little over 3 years now, ever since I finished college. I studied business management, but honestly I didn’t really enjoy it, so when my friends Poe and Finn couldn’t find jobs either, all three of us ended up there together.”

“Have you all been friends for a while?”

“Nearly all my life. My mom was like the neighborhood mom, and pretty soon I met those two and we became inseparable. They’re good guys, a little crazy but good. Poe, he’s a flirt and is constantly bouncing from girl to girl, but when he really cares about something he goes for it with everything. As for Finn, he’s a little shy and quiet, but he resilient and loyal to a fault. They’ve been my best supporters all these years.”

“That’s really sweet Ben.”

The dark haired man turned to look at his companion. They had that same earnest look on their face, like they genuinely cared about what he said. “So what about you? What’s your life story?”

“Oh.” Y/n said with a laugh. “It’s not much honestly, I grew up in a small town, had a dream of being famous, moved to the big city and followed the stars to fame. Now I’m a ‘celebrity’ singer. I do at least have my friend Rey, she’s like my rock. When everything gets insane, she’s there looking out for me. I guess we both got lucky in that department.”

Ben nodded in agreement, and for a while there was just the sound of the night air and the creaky swing. A breeze soon flowed by, and Ben noticed Y/n fold their arms against themself.

“Are you cold?”

“Maybe a little, but it’s okay!”

Ben took off his jacket he had grabbed out of his car, and despite Y/n instantaneously protesting, he wrapped it around them. He couldn’t help but laugh at their face, so indignant yet adorable at the same time.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

———————————————————————

The two talked and shared stories feom their life for a while, until eventually Y/n decided enough time had passed and it would be safe to go back. The drive back to the restaurant seemed all too short, and soon enough Ben had pulled up next to Y/n’s car.

As predicted, no paparazzi were there anymore, but still Ben escorted Y/n to their car. When they arrived and unlocked the door, they turned back to their newfound friend and savior.

“Thank you for everything tonight Ben.”

“No worries, I’m just glad I could help.”

Ben wanted to say more, to ask for their number or a chance to see them again, but suddenly being back in the city made him quiet and a little shy again. For a moment the two just looked at each other, but finally Y/n moved to go.

“Good night Ben.”

“Good night Y/n.”

With a sigh and a sad feeling in his heart, Ben watched Y/n drive away before getting back into his car and heading home.

———————————————————————

“Solo, I want to see you in my office.”

All three men looked at each other with grimaces on their face; it was never a good sign when Hux wanted to talk to someone. Reluctantly, Ben turned and followed the man into the back office.

“Take a seat Solo.”

Ben did as he was told, slowly easing into the musty upholstery chair that was in front of the desk. For a moment Hux just sat and looked at Solo, making the atmosphere as uncomfortable as possible.

“Do you know why I’ve called you in here?”

“About last night, Hux, if you’d just let me explain-“

The red haired manager held up a hand, signaling Ben to stop speaking. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Leaving during the middle of your shift is extremely irresponsible. We do not tolerate that kind of behavior here.” Here Hux put pause, as if to gauge a reaction from Ben. When the latter’s face didn’t change, he continued. “Still, I believe myself to be a fair General Manager. You may continue work here, but you will be written up as a final warning. Make another mistake Solo, and I won’t be able to be as kind next time. Are we understood?”

Silently Ben just nodded his head, knowing there was no point in trying to defend himself. He eagerly got up, ready to be out of the stuffy office and away from his even stuffier manager. He soon found his friends in the dining area, looking as if they were wiping down tables. Still, this was a slow time, and Ben knew better than to assume his friends were actually doing work. “Wiping down tables” was the excuse they used when they wanted to talk to each other.

Poe was the first two notice their tall friend. “Ey, welcome back Ben. Did Hux finally free you of this place?”

“No, he just said I was going to get written up as a final warning and I can’t mess up again or else he ‘won’t be as kind next time’.”

Finn rolled his eyes as he handed a damp towel to Ben. “Yeah right, you’re basically the leader of this place, like without you Hux wouldn’t be able to keep it running. He’s never going to fire you, just make your life torture.”

Ben bitterly laughed and moved onto the next table, content to listen to the chatter of his friends. It wasn’t long, however, until the conversation came full circle again.

“Wait, so Ben, why did you leave in the middle of your shift?”

“Well, there was this person-“

Instantly Poe was in front of Ben. “Wait, a person? You skipped work to go on a date? Dude I’m so proud of you, finally living loose a little.”

Playfully Ben shoved Poe away. “It wasn’t a date idiot. There was a celebrity person, they got cornered by the paparazzi and asked me to help them escape, so I did. No big deal.”

“Celebrity? What was their name?”

“Uh, Y/n, I didn’t get a last name. I think they were a singer though.”

Suddenly Finn stopped in his tracks and looked at Ben. “Y/n? As in Y/n Y/l/n aka the most incredible singer of this generation?”

At the sound of their name Poe’s jaw dropped. “Wait, Y/n Y/l/n? Dude, they are super hot. I’d skip work to go on a date with them too.”

A bright blush had colored Ben’s cheeks, and suddenly the table tops became the most interesting thing in the world. “It wasn’t a date.”

“So where’d you take them?”

“Rebellion Park.”

Now both Poe and Finn has their jaws hanging down. “Your mom’s park? Dude, you like, never take anyone there.”

Ben waved a hand as if to brush off their words. “I know, I know, but it was the safest place I could think of. And besides, they were really nice. It was if I had known them for a while.”

“Ben’s got a crush!” Poe teased while throwing an exaggerated wink in his friend’s direction.

“Stop it, it wasn’t a date, and even if I did like them, it’s pointless. It was a couple hours, they’re a big celebrity apparently, there’s no way they’ve even thought about me twice. Nothing could happen between us.”

Finn put his hand on Ben’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Did you want something to happen?”

For a little while, there was silence. Ben wasn’t really sure; it felt like it should be impossible to like someone that quickly. But yet, with Y/n, there was something comfortable, something familiar yet exciting with them. He wanted to feel that again and again, and even more, he wanted to spend more time with Y/n. But it didn’t seem possible, he’d probably never see them again.

Fate had a way of proving Ben wrong. About a week after the getaway car incident, Ben was in the same shift at the same restaurant. Both Poe and Finn were scheduled with him, and they were in charge of waiting tables. It was a regular night, a little bit stressful but enjoyable when he and the boys would share snippets of conversation between tables. He had given up all hopes of seeing Y/n again, and his busy tables kept his mind completely preoccupied.

Towards the end of the dinner rush, the hostess, Phasma, came up to him. “Hey Ben, I know Poe is supposed to be in rotation for the tables next, but this person specifically asked for you. And it’s just a party of one.”

Ben was a little confused why someone would request him, but he accepted, not really worried about taking care of one more person. He finished up with his previous table before heading off to the newcomer. Ben was preoccupied with finishing writing down the last notes on the order that he only did a quick glance at the guest before speaking.

“How can I help you?”

“Well, I was hoping I could find a getaway driver if the paparazzi ever showed up again. I got a great one last time I was here.”

Ben’s head snapped up immediately, and there Y/n was, looking as gorgeous as ever. A small smile graced their face, making a swarm of butterflies flutter in the man’s stomach.

“Hey.” Great. He just barely got out a salutation, not exactly a Casanova.

“Hi.”

For a moment, Ben and Y/n just stared at each other, but they both burst out into a fit of giggles. It was a beautiful moment, and Ben couldn’t believe Y/n had come back to see him. He had almost come up with the perfect thing to say when suddenly two people arrived on each side of him.

“Hey there.”

“Are you Y/n Y/l/n?”

Carefully Y/n looked between Finn and Poe, and Ben restrained himself from tackling them for interrupting his moment.

“I am.”

Poe took a seat across from Y/n. “Well, nice to meet you, I’m Poe, and this is Finn.”

Finn, who sat down next to Poe, gave a small wave. He was obviously a tiny bit star struck. “We’ve heard so much about you. Also, your music is amazing.”

“Aww, thank you. I’ve heard about you from Ben when he saved me from the paparazzi the other week.”

“Oh really? What’d he say?”

Ben quickly inserted himself into the conversation. “Okay you two, don’t you have some tables to check in on or something?”

Mumbling some words of lighthearted anger, the two men slid out of the booth and started making their way back to work. Before they could go far, however, Y/n’s voice reached out to them.

“Wait! I was hoping I could talk to all three of you about something.”

Poe and Finn both looked at Ben, and the latter looked between them and Y/n. “Well, we’re supposed to get off in about an hour.”

“Perfect. Meet up then?”

Everyone agreed and then scurried off lest Hux came and found them. For Ben, however, it was hard to concentrate. Everywhere he went he found himself looking back to the beautiful person sitting at their table, and whenever their eyes met his it felt like his heart was wrapped in a warm blanket. The hour seemed to drag by, but finally he found himself clocking out and meeting up with Poe and Finn.

The three men went to the employee parking lot and saw Y/n waiting by Ben’s car. A smile appeared on their face at the sight of them, and they hurried to meet up with them.

“Hello again Gentlemen.” A chorus of “hi” came back in response, making everyone laugh a little. “I guess you’re all wondering what I wanted to talk to you about.” Here Y/n took a step closer. “You have to promise not to tell anyone, but I’m going on tour soon. I’ve been looking for people to join my crew, and after what Ben did for me last week, I figured that you three could be perfect. It doesn’t matter what experience you may or may not have, I’m sure I can find a spot for you all.”

Finn was the first to speak up. “Well, I have a degree in electrical engineering and a lot of experience in running lights, sound, all of that kind of stuff.”

Y/n’s face lit up at his suggestion. “Perfect! You can be part of my technical crew.”

Poe joined in too. “Well, I have a lot of experience with dancing. I’m a little rusty but-“

“Say no more, you’re hired. I needed more backup dancers and here you are!”

The smiles on Finn and Poe’s faces said everything; they were ecstatic to be going on tour with Y/n Y/l/n. This also meant they’d finally be able to pursue their passions again. Ben, however, still seemed unsure of himself. Y/n noticed how quiet he was being and gently put a hand on his arm.

“What do you think?”

Ben didn’t look up from the ground. “I’m excited for Poe and Finn, but I’m not sure where I fit in. I can’t dance, I’m not good with engineering, and I certainly don’t know anything about music. I’m just not sure I fit in the picture here.”

“But I have the perfect position for you.”

“What?”

“I have an opening for a boyfriend.”

Ben’s head snapped up to look at the person in front of him, his jaw slack. It was like his daydreams were coming true, but he couldn’t believe it.

Blushing, Y/n rushed to clarify. “Of course there will be a few preliminary interviews, such as going to dinner and bowling and going to the movies, but I think you’d be a perfect fit Ben.”

In the background, Finn dragged Poe away to give the pair some privacy. Ben, however, didn’t notice, too captivated by Y/n’s eyes. His heart felt like it was going to burst, and he hadn’t been this happy in a long time. It was like a piece of him was returning, like he and this person in front of him were always meant to be.

Speechless, Ben did the only thing he could; he kissed Y/n. It was hesitant at first, but as he felt them return it, he went for it. Wrapping his arms around their waist, Ben lifted Y/n off their feet. Their lips were soft and sweet, and it felt like they were made to be connected with his.

Ben knew that he and Y/n had a long way to go, and that there would be adjustments and learning and struggles, but he was ready for it, ready to open his heart again. And despite the fact that with Y/n he would be miles and miles away, Ben felt like he had finally found home in them.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #adam driver #adam driver x reader #ben solo #ben solo x reader #au!ben solo #kylo ren fluff #ben solo fluff #adam driver fluff #star wars #poe dameron #finn

[cherryyharryy]

i have an idea for a request (it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do it) like an angst-> fluff where one of harry’s songs accidentally gets leaked bc of y/n like she has something on a flash drive and the song is on another and they get mixed up and obviously he’s really mad at y/n and they have a fight he’s super snappy with her but something happens to her like she gets into a really big accidental or something and he forgives her bc he cares about her more tha the leaked song

WC: 2.7k

***

Damage control wasn’t even an option. 

Y/n sat there, staring at Harry’s laptop, numb to everything except the blaring desire to go back in time just two minutes. Two minutes is all she would need to undo possibly the biggest screwup of her life.

And the worst part is that this mistake ultimately doesn’t affect her. At least not in comparison to how it will affect Harry. And his band. And his team. Basically everyone involved with his career. 

Her mind is equally begging for her to shut down and come up with a plan—an excuse—something, Is there anyway this wasn’t my fault?  

She checks the time, her heart sinking to her stomach when she realizes Harry and his team will be back any minute. Any minute and she’s done for.

They’ve only been together for five months, officially. She’s still new to most everyone. She’s that girl Harry’s dating.

“I told you he played in that movie.” Jeff’s voice echoes outside the studio. Y/n closes the laptop and prays for strength. 

“I have him confused with someone else.” Harry bustles through the door, a small crowd of people filing in behind him, back to the spots they left an hour ago. “Hey darling,” he greets, “finish your paper?”

Y/n’s frozen, morbidly wishing he had found out about his song leaking on his own so she wouldn’t have to tell him. “Uh, almost.”

He kisses the top of her head and hands her a cup of frozen yogurt. “Your favorite.” 

“Thanks.” She sets it on the table she’s sat at while Harry pulls up a chair beside her. “Aren’t you guys still working?”

He waves in the direction of his band, “Mitch’s gotta fix his guitar.” He snickers, and slides his laptop out from under y/n’s hands. “Had a bit of an accident in the car.” 

Y/n’s head tingles with what must be nerve damage, her place in this world, her place in this room, decreasing in value as Harry opens his computer.

“It’s gonna melt.” He nods to her yogurt.

“I’m not hungry.”

He furrows his brow. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She looks around the room, everyone busy getting back to work, light chatter passing among them. “Uh, actually, I uh, I have to tell you something.” Y/n tries to swallow the lump in her throat with no luck.

“Okay…” He shuts the laptop and gives her his full attention.

“Okay, um—”

“What the fuck!?” The room freezes as everyone turns toward Jeff. “Harry someone’s got a hold of your song!” 

Harry scrambles to his manager, complete shock on his face as they both stare down at Jeff’s phone. “Fuck.” They start to play a video, the sound of a girl screaming, with Harry’s unconsented voice playing in the background, fills the room. “How the hell did this happen?” He’s gritting through his teeth, neck red, veins bulging in his hands as he rips the phone out of Jeff’s hand. “HOW? Someone answer me!”

Y/N considers keeping quiet. Playing innocent. What good will it do to confess anyway? It’s not like it’ll undo what she’s done.

Sarah chimes in from across the room, “It looks like it happened half an hour ago. That’s when this video I’m looking at was posted.”

Y/n’s staring down at her lap, holding her head up with her fingers pressed into her temples when Harry slings himself back into the chair next to her.

“All that work, all that fucking work,” he nearly growls, “for some cunt to spread my unfinished song around for a buck.”

Y/n peers up to the room, a completely different picture compared to five minutes ago. Now there’s talk of lawyers and pressing charges while everyone shuffles around. Jeff slams the door as he steps out with his phone to his ear, and y/n knows she can’t claim denial, it’ll only make things worse.

“Uh, Harry?”

“What is it?” He doesn’t look at her, eyes glaring at his phone while another video plays of a group of people reacting to his song. “Glad they fucking like it.”

“Harry?”

“What, y/n?”

She shrinks under his gaze, mouth dry as she forces her confession out. “I uh, this is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll do anything—I know I can’t fix it—but...”

Harry’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing in on her as a morbid silence forms a little bubble around them. “Go on,” he whispers with grit, “finish what you were gonna say.”

She stutters, desperately trying to figure him out. “I’m just sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How did you even manage to do this?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea what this accident means, y/n?”

She reluctantly shakes her head no.

“How the fuck did you do this?”

“I—I don’t know...I was taking a break from my paper, and, I don’t know Harry.” She’s in tears now, warm and salty as they spill down her cheeks. Her mouth wobbles around another apology, but no sounds make it out.

“Fix it.”

“What?”

He stands up, yanking his laptop off the table, pausing to glare at her one last time. “I said, to fix it.” With that he storms across the room, slinging the door open just as Jeff reenters.

“Harry, your attorney—”

“Forget it.” He turns around and points his phone towards y/n silently sobbing in the corner. “She’s gonna handle it.” He takes one step out into the hall and stops, spinning on his heels to face the studio. “Don’t speak to me until you do.”

Mitch’s guitar that was fixed and propped against the wall, crashes to the floor when Harry slams the door. 

Chatter passes around the room one more time, only now everyone seems to be in agreeance—that girl never should have been allowed in the studio, and maybe, Harry should break up with her.

***

Early morning rain fell outside Harry’s apartment. It was still dark, street lamps burning through the fog in the city below. His home fills with coffee as he pours his fifth cup; the prior four never offering more than a few sips before he had abandoned them somewhere, the counter, mantle, bookshelf, because he can’t talk without his hands.

Y/n sits on his couch. It’s velvet and pink and too big for one person. She hated it the first time he invited her over. If he breaks up with her, she’s going to tell him how ugly it is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” She’s exhausted. She hadn’t hesitated to drive over when he finally responded to one of her hundreds of texts in the week since the mishap. But now she regrets it. They’ve been going in circles with the same argument for the past four hours. She’s convinced he invited her over just to be mean. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I said I was sorry. You know that I’m sorry. And you know that I never, ever in a million years, would have done something like this on purpose.”

“I’m allowed to be angry with you. I have every right to be.”

“Do you, though?” She straightens up on his ugly couch and looks at him leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen. “Aren’t you a little tired of hating me? God Harry, everyone else in the whole world has moved on except you.”

“It’s not everyone else’s song, is it? It’s not everyone else’s months and months of hard work. It’s not everyone else’s unfinished art? Nobody else is having to deal with a girlfriend that is so careless, so thoughtless, that she actually managed to leak my song!”

“Stop raising your voice at me!”

“You had no business snooping around my computer anyway! I told you you could work on your fucking paper, not to go prying around my personal shit!”

“You know what,” she scoffs, shooting up off the couch, “this argument is so pointless. You didn’t want me here so we could talk. You just wanted to torture me because you’re mad that people don’t love your stupid song.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

She brushes his shoulder as she passes by him, and a drip of his coffee spills onto his hand. He curses, and follows her into the kitchen where he lays his final cup down on the island.

“You’re being a baby because people aren’t fawning over you like they usually do.” She shrugs and slings her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not your best song, Harry.”

The veins in his neck strain against his flaming skin. His cheeks are sucked in, and if he bites down on the skin any harder he’ll puncture his face. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was already leaving, dumb ass.” She strides by him once more, practically feeling the heat steaming off his body. When she gets to the front door, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Your couch is hideous, by the way. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy shitty looking stuff.”

When she slams the door behind her, the apartment shakes, and cold coffee spills from each cup.

***

It’s nearing five a.m. when y/n backs out of the complex. Her wipers race across the windshield, but do nothing against the downpour wreaking havoc in the city. She does her best to stay on what she assumes is her side of the road, swerving to the right each time headlights blind her.

“Shit.” Nothing is open, and she can’t even see where it would be safe to pull over to let the rain pass. But her home isn’t that far, and traffic isn’t too bad. 

She comes to a stop at a red light, only to realize she missed a left turn she should’ve made a minute ago. “Damn it. Fucking hell.”

As soon as the light turns green, she spins the wheel to make a U-turn, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, and her own clouded mind, and Harry’s voice echoing in her ears, she might have seen the truck who didn’t even try to avoid her.

***

It’s the headache from hell that wakes her up. And it’s the sterile smell of hospital that jogs her memory. And it’s a nurse not much older than y/n that says something about you’re lucky to be alive. 

She’s poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions before her IV is adjusted and a pill to ease one of the many pains scratching her body is handed to her in a small plastic cup. A police officer repeats half of this process, and somewhere in the mess of her reality, she learns that the other driver was sending a text to his wife when he plowed into her car. He’s at home and she’s here. Lucky to be alive.

She made calls to her mom and friends, and even managed to type out a decent email to her professors for her upcoming absence in class.

When she automatically pulled up Harry’s name on her phone, the last text he sent, the one inviting her over so he could make her more miserable than she already was, sat there in all its taunting glory.

What is she even supposed to say? Hey, I know you hate my existence right now, but I’m lying here in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. It’d be cool if you stopped by.

It’s not long before the sun pops up and reminds y/n of just how early it is. The clouds part, and it’s like it had never even rained, like it had never even been dark for hours, and if she closes her eyes, y/n can pretend that the past week hadn’t even happened.

***

 “How are you feeling today?” The nurse checks y/n’s IV, humming after her question.

“Just sore. Ready to get out of here.”

“We’ve started the paperwork, so shouldn’t be too long. Who’s coming to get you?”

Y/n blinks, feeling stupid she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. The nurse looks over the computer monitor, waiting for a response.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Awesome. Dr. Kirby has to come check on you one last time before you leave. I’ll go see if he can stop by now, if you want to let your friend know.”

As soon as the nurse is out the door, y/n scrambles to turn her phone back on, and once it is, her lock screen is filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.

She’ll respond later; gives her something to do in the car to occupy her in front of Harry. 

She can’t call him. Harry’s not a monster, although the past week doesn’t exactly prove her case, but she knows he wouldn’t refuse to come get her. If anything, he’ll be annoyed she didn’t tell him about the accident sooner. But she’s too emotional to deal with hearing his voice.

She types out a text recounting her last 24 hours, along with the name of the hospital. He immediately reads it, and a moment later he’s trying to call.

To: Harry

I’m too tired to talk rn

She lies. And it works.

From: Harry

I’ll be there as fast as i can

***

“Baby?”

Y/n cracks her eyes open, irritated she never quite fell asleep. Confused as to why Harry’s calling her baby. Angry that she cares. And the next words out of his mouth are ones she’d been predicting.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve dropped everything. You’ve been here all alone, shit. Are you okay? What hurts?”

He’s hovering over her, fidgeting, unsure if he can touch her.

“I’m fine now. Just sore. And tired.”

“Fuck I can’t believe this, I—”

“The doctor already said I can go. I’m not allowed to walk out on my own, so, you need to let the nurse know you’re here. She’ll take me down in a wheelchair.”

“Baby I’m so sorry-”

“No, Harry. You would still be busy hating my guts right now—”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you?”

“Well you did a great job this week making me feel otherwise.”

Harry sighs, gripping the bed frame and dropping his chin to his chest. When he looks back up he has tears brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. “I know I’ve been an ass this week. I—you were right. I took out my anger from no one lovin’ the song on you.”

“Well it’s not no one. A lot of people did. And it’s unfinished anyway. You wouldn’t enjoy a meal if it was only cooked halfway.”

He nods, but y/n knows he’s only accepting her words because of the situation.

“You mean so much more to me than a leaked song. I’m sorry I treated you like shit. And that I—I made you think I hated you. You have every right to hate me.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

His lips twitch, but a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She takes his hand off the rail and smoothes her thumb across his knuckles. “You can make it up to me by getting me out of here.”

“I can do that.” He kisses the top of her head and hits the remote to call for the nurse.

“You can really kiss me, y’know. I’m not gonna break.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly lowers his head to press his lips to hers. He’s timid, and his lips are still damp from tears, but it’s more relieving than either of them would ever admit.

The nurse ends their moment when she pops in the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Hi, you must be y/n’s friend.”

“Friend?” He peers down at y/n, suggestion lacing the word. “Care to explain?”

“Not really, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.” He clicks his tongue, supporting her arm as she swings her legs off the bed. Once she’s standing and steady, he tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down so his mouth can graze her lobe. “Since we’re just friends, I guess you’ll have to sleep on my ugly couch.”

#requests #requested #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #cherryyharryy

[bevvydraws]

“Goodnight, My Lady”

Domestic Adrienette fluff for your dash! <3 

There were a lot of perks to being married to such an amazing, creative, and hardworking woman. But Adrien’s favorite had to be when he happened to check in on Marinette after a while of her working in her at-home design studio only to find her fast asleep. Leaning against the door frame and trying not to chuckle loud enough to wake her, he took in the incredibly adorable scene in front of him. 

Gentle music played from her phone, that had somehow gotten knocked to the floor along with a few other pieces of discarded paper. Marinette was slumped over her desk, snoring softly and drooling a little bit. Her usually neat bun was now a mess, likely from her fiddling and pulling at her hair out of frustration, and her eyeliner had somehow gotten smudged under her eyes. In all honesty, Adrien had never seen anyone more beautiful. 

He took a few more seconds to appreciate the view, before entering the room. Picking up Marinette’s phone, he turned off the music and placed it in his pocket to plug it in later. He picked up the papers that were knocked to the floor and put them to the side for Marinette to look through later. Having that done, he gently lifted Marinette into his arms bridal-style. Her head fell against his shoulder, her drool now getting on his t-shirt. He snorted softly, and made his way towards their bedroom. 

Two small figures flew up to him, likely from the kitchen, and gazed down at his peacefully sleeping wife. 

“She always works herself too hard!” Tikki scolded softly, despite knowing Marinette couldn’t hear her. 

“I hope she’s not too tired to make me food tomorrow,” remarked Plagg sarcastically, not willing to directly admit his admiration for anyone. 

Adrien laughed softly, pushing open the bedroom door and moving around to Marinette’s side of the bed, “You both know she’s been stressing out over this latest line, she always gets like this as the deadline gets closer.” Tikki and Plagg both pull back the covers on the bed so Adrien can lay her down. 

As Adrien reached into the nightstand drawer to get makeup remover wipes, Plagg spoke up again, “Well they’d be stupid to not like her designs, so she should just quit stressing.” He crossed his tiny arms, looking away indignantly like he hadn’t just praised Marinette.

Tikki giggled, “How about you and I go tidy up her studio a little bit so she has less to worry about tomorrow morning? We can even look through her designs and put your favorites at the top of her idea pile.” 

It took all Adrien had not to start laughing hysterically at the way Plagg’s ears betrayed his excitement at the prospect of helping Marinette. With a huff, he ‘begrudgingly’ flew off towards Marinette’s studio. Tikki offered Adrien a soft “goodnight” before flying off herself. 

Adrien turned his attention back towards Marinette, who was still sleeping soundly, and gently began wiping the makeup off of her face. Despite being dead tired, her face still scrunched up in distaste at the feeling of the wet wipe. Adrien smiled as he wiped off as much of her makeup as he could without fully waking her. When he was done, he placed his free hand on her cheek and gently ran his thumb along her now-prominent freckles. 

He took a moment to silently thank the universe for allowing him the privilege of spending the rest of his life with someone so beautiful before Marinette broke his thoughts with a louder-than-usual snore. With a lovesick grin on his face, Adrien disposed of the makeup wipe and moved back to where Marinette was laying. He noticed she was still wearing her slippers, so he gently removed those as well and set them on the floor right where her legs usually hung off the bed when she got up in the morning. He carefully took her hair out of it’s messy bun, setting the rubber band on her night stand. Nodding at his handiwork, Adrien finally pulled the blankets over her and tucked them around her shoulders, lifting the bottom corner of the blanket to expose one of her legs so she didn’t “overheat” as she called it. 

Marinette snuggled farther into the blankets, making a contented sound. Adrien smiled before walking to the kitchen, grabbing two water bottles and a granola bar. He wasn’t sure how hungry Marinette would be in the morning, and wanted to make sure she had something to hold her over until he managed to make some breakfast for her. He returned to their room, put a water bottle and her granola bar on her side, before finally making his way around to his side of the bed. Adrien kicked his slippers off and slowly got under the covers as well, long since exhausted from pointless meetings and desperate for some much-needed sleep. 

Despite his best efforts to not move the bed too much, Marinette still stirred at the slight shifting. She rolled over, her left hand coming up to rest on the pillow as she mumbled something in her sleep that sounded a lot like “mmm...lucky… charm…”

Adrien couldn’t resist reaching out to gently hold her hand, his fingers brushing lightly over her wedding band and ruby engagement ring. He was incredibly grateful for somehow developing good eyesight in the dark. He was able to see the way her now loose hair splayed wildly around her face, looking ethereal in all of her exhausted glory. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before closing his eyes. 

The last thing out of his mouth before falling asleep himself was a soft, “Goodnight, my lady.” 

#bevvy writes #my writing #fanfiction #fan fic #oneshot #one shot #miraculous ladybug fan fic #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug oneshot #miraculous ladybug one shot #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #adrienette #adrinette #domestic fluff #fluff

[elisaphoenix13]

Once Upon A Summer (Ch. 5)

"Well...I did say it would wear off over time." Stephen says as he looks Peter over.

Once Tony got Peter's clean bill of health and assurance that there was nothing to be concerned about, he asked Friday to put in an order for things a two year old would need. Such as bigger clothes, possibly bigger diapers, and oh god...potty training. Was it really worth doing? At the rate Peter was growing back to his teenage body, it was likely Tony would pull his hair out over nothing. He'd much rather change diapers than try the pointless endeavor of getting Peter to use the toilet when he would know what to do when he got bigger. So both he and Stephen decided they wouldn't bother.

"I really hope Pete doesn't live up to the terrible twos I've heard about." Tony sighs.

"I'm surprised you've heard of it." Stephen jests and gets an eye roll from Tony.

"Haha. Very funny. Just for that you get to change his next diaper."

"Daddy up!" Peter says as he holds up his arms.

That was another thing Tony was still trying to wrap his head around. Daddy. It threw him for a loop, but he would be lying if he said he hated it. He actually kind of liked it. Peter was his kid and it made Tony wonder if Toddler Peter was just voicing how Teenage Peter had felt all this time. Did Peter actually see him as a father figure and was too worried Tony might shut him down if he said anything? Knowing him, it was a possibility. Peter was a people pleaser. Almost to a fault. But he was a good kid who always tried to do the right thing, even if sometimes he went about it the wrong way.

That train of thought brought Tony back to his earlier conversation with Stephen. He brushed the sorcerer off when he pointed out the similarities between them, but now he was just as curious. He did say he would take the paternity test to see if there was a match, and maybe now was the best time to do it. Before Peter grew even more and was more aware of what was going on.

"Hey...about that test…" Tony starts and Stephen raises an eyebrow.

"What about it?"

"We should do it now, I think. Get it over with you know? Bruce can do it and I can trust him to keep it to himself." Tony rambles.

"If you'd like. Should we pack up?" Stephen asks.

"No. We'll pop over then come back. I'm sure Peter would enjoy the beach now." Tony says.

Stephen merely nods and leaves the master bedroom after muttering something about a sling ring. Tony then finally gave in to Peter's request to be picked up, made sure his diaper was clean, and waited for the sorcerer to return so they could make a quick trip back to the tower. Tony knew he was always dressed to the nines wherever he went, but at the moment, he didn't feel the need to uphold his image. He was comfortable in his t-shirt and sleep pants and he was on vacation. Sort of.

He was taking a few much needed days off at least. Most people wouldn't even consider that a vacation.

"Are you going like that?" Stephen asks when he returns to the room.

"Are you?" Tony counters, eyeing the similar getup Stephen was wearing.

It was nice to see Stephen could relax in some clothes that didn't require twenty belts. Nineteen of which Tony was positive were just for show...and to keep unwanted hands away. That was a hell of a way to stay abstinent.

"Touché." Stephen chuckles and makes a gateway to the Med-bay in the tower. "I'm too lazy to change. Especially if we're coming back."

"Me too." Tony steps through the gateway, and actually finds himself already face to face with Bruce who looked very confused.

"How did you…?" Bruce starts and then looks past Tony as Stephen follows through the gateway before it closes. "Oh."

Then Bruce's attention was drawn to Peter and the confusion that had gone away just milliseconds ago was back in full force. Tony was pretty sure he could actually hear the cogs turning in his head.

"Who's the kid?"

"Long story short, Pete was hit by a spell that turned him into a baby while he was out on patrol. Strange and I are vacationing until he's back to normal." Tony says.

"I think I prefer this over an actual visit because of an injury." Bruce says. "Especially since you're not coming to me with questions."

"No...just…" Tony hesitates. "Can you do a paternity test?" He finally asks with a mumble.

Bruce's eyebrows shoot up. "What brought this on?"

"A nosey sorcerer."

There was a scoff behind him.

"Sure."

Bruce had Tony sit down and go first in the hopes that when it came to Peter's turn, the toddler wouldn't fuss and make a two second finger prick turn into a five minute ordeal. Peter watched with curious eyes as Bruce drew some blood from the billionaire, and once he got that put away, he turned to the boy standing next to Tony's chair. He waited until Tony got up and helped Peter into the chair, and then held his hand out.

"Can I see your hand Peter?" Bruce asks softly.

Peter looks down at his hands and then offers one of them to Bruce with eyes still filled with curiosity, and watches as the man disinfects it. Everything after that was so quick, Peter didn't even realize Bruce had pricked his finger until he was collecting the blood. To his credit, he didn't scream, but there were certainly tears welling up in his eyes. Tony felt a little bad for putting the kid through this just for the sake of curiosity, but he would make it up to him. Ice cream always makes things better right?

"Sorry Peter. It's already over." Bruce tells him as he wraps a band-aid around his finger.

"Come on kiddo." Tony says as he reaches out for the boy, only to be given a look of utter betrayal.

"No!" Tony blinks in surprise as Peter hops off the chair, pushes by him, and runs over to hug Stephen's leg. "Want Mama! You mean!"

Two things immediately crossed Tony's mind at that moment. One, he felt awful when Peter gave him that look of betrayal. But then the second thought trumped the first and he tried to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in his chest. It wasn't easy when he saw the expression on Stephen's face. A mixture between mortified, exasperated, and maybe some pity for the toddler. What the sorcerer said next broke the dam of Tony's laughter though.

"Why am I Mom?"

"Well you do coo to him in the mornings." Tony says through his cackling and earns a miffed huff.

"I do not!"

"I have video evidence." Tony laughs some more when Stephen sputters. "Come on Doc. We'll head back so you can bury yourself in the sand."

That was all Stephen needed to turn and reopen the gateway back to the Malibu mansion, and he even picked up Peter before walking through. Tony in the meantime took a few moments to calm down and turn back to Bruce.

"You'll call me?"

"Yeah. I should have the results by tonight. Only because I don't have much I'm working on right now." Bruce says.

"I'm assuming I don't need to tell you to keep this between us?" Tony asks and the other man shakes his head. "Thank you."

Tony turns and steps through the gateway that he was a little surprised Stephen left open for him, and once he was through and it closed behind him, he looked around when he didn't see the two right away. It didn't take much looking to find them in the kitchen and discovering that Stephen had the same idea he had. The man was currently scooping out some chocolate ice cream into a small bowl for Peter, who was looking up at him in excitement. Almost like Stephen hung the sun just for him.

"Hey, I was going to give him ice cream!" Tony complains.

"Well I'm clearly the nice parent so I need to live up to my role." Stephen says. "You're the bad parent that has to get his own ice cream."

Tony sighs. "Ouch. I'm supposed to be the favorite."

He walks over to scoop out his own ice cream as Stephen leads Peter over to the table and helps him into a chair. Even the sorcerer had his own bowl of ice cream and managed to eat it while keeping an eye on Peter so the toddler didn't make too much of a mess. After Tony put away the carton of ice cream, he sat across from Stephen with his own bowl and immediately stuck a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. Even he had to admit it was a nice treat after being poked at.

"You know I don't remember ordering ice cream." Tony says eventually.

"That's because I did." Stephen tells him. "You did say I could get whatever I wanted or needed."

The tone in Stephen's voice made Tony nod immediately. It was like he wasn't sure what Tony had said was genuine or something and Tony didn't want him to think that. He wanted Stephen to be comfortable. Get what he wanted without having to worry about money. To enjoy himself.

That's what part of this getaway was about after all.

"I did...and that's still true. I honestly expected you to ask me if it was okay first. You usually do that."

"I figured you wouldn't notice ice cream on your bill." Stephen says dryly.

"I didn't. If Mom needs his chocolate--hey! Ow!" Tony winces when Stephen kicks his shin under the table. "Come on! It's cute!"

"Only when Peter does it." Stephen huffs. "He calls me that out of care. You call me that to tease me."

"Oh believe me. If I wanted to tease you, I could think of much more adult ways to do it that we would both enjoy."

That got him another kick to his shins but Tony decided it was worth it. Stephen blushed so prettily and it made him wonder if he was actually getting to the doctor. All of Stephen's attention was turned to his own ice cream or at Peter after that, but Tony was content to stare at the blush on the younger's face and had to smile when it took it's time to go away. It probably didn't help that he was staring in the first place. Tony was being obviously blatant about it and, him being him, unashamed.

"All done!" Peter exclaims a few minutes later and holds up his hands as if to prove his point.

Stephen chuckles and grabs a napkin to help him clean his hands. "You sure are. Would you like to go to the beach?"

"Beach?" Peter questions and Tony was thankful the boy didn't mispronounce it. "Yeah."

"Maybe I'll make lunch for us to have while we're there." Stephen says and Peter nods. "What kind of sandwich would you like?"

"Mmm…"

Peter seemed to struggle with deciding so Stephen helped him down from his chair and led him back into the kitchen to look in the fridge. While he listed off the options to the toddler, Tony watched and listened as he absently ate the rest of his ice cream. It was a surprise to see Stephen doing so well with Peter and it was attractive if he was honest. The other Avengers liked Peter well enough, even cared about him, but Stephen took it to a parenting level like Tony did. Peter certainly viewed the younger man in that light.

"Daddy gets tuna." Peter says and Tony chuckles. Teenage Peter was definitely in there somewhere and remembered Tony's favorite kind of sandwich.

Tony gets up with his empty bowl and spoon and takes it to the kitchen to rinse off in the sink so he can put it in the dishwasher. Once that's finished, he turns to look at Peter and Stephen and then crouches in front of the toddler.

"Hey Pete. How about we go get you ready for the beach and leave Mom to make lunch?" He suggests.

Stephen didn't protest "Mom" being used this time. Maybe because Tony was only using it because that was how Peter saw the sorcerer.

"How?" Peter asks.

"Well, for one thing, we gotta get you in some swim trunks. Bet Friday ordered some for you." Tony says.

"I also took the liberty of ordering some sunblock." The AI says and Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter.

"See? Even Friday knows what you need better than I do."

Peter seemed to study Tony and what he did next took the older man by surprise. He wrapped his little arms around Tony's neck and squeezed as hard as he could. Peter was giving him a hug.

Wait. That shouldn't have been surprising at all. Peter was a touchy-feely kind of person and Tony...wasn't. He already denied Peter that hug after coming back from Germany, but he would be damned if he did it again. Maybe it was what Peter said that was surprising to Tony.

"You good daddy." Peter says into his shoulder.

Tony swallows back the lump in his throat. "I thought I was mean."

Peter moves away and pouts at him after holding up his finger. "No more boo-boos."

"No more boo-boos." Tony confirms with a chuckle and even kisses the bandaged finger. "Not because of me."

Stephen snorts. "Now it's just a matter of if he can keep himself from getting boo-boos."

Tony huffs and gets up with Peter in his arms. He really didn't need the reminder that his kid was, in fact, a web slinging vigilante. So he pinched Stephen's ass when he wasn't paying attention as his rebuttal. The sorcerer's jolt and deep blush just before his confused sputtering sent Tony into a laughing fit as he took Peter to the front door where the packages were waiting.

"Stark, I swear on the Vishanti--"

"Don't try to deny that you liked it. Your blush speaks for you. Nice ass by the way." Tony states nonchalantly and gets another fit of sputtering from Stephen.

Peter, having been looking over Tony's shoulder as the engineer walked away, giggles. "Mama red."

#ironstrange #stephen strange #supremefamily #tony stark #baby peter parker

[escapewithbts]

“I’m Not Sure Anymore...” (Part One) - Hoseok

—————————————————-

You stared at the dark ceiling in your bedroom; the silence in the room was deafening. Another night where sleep was just too hard to come by. Your mind wouldn’t shut off, wouldn’t stop the memories from flooding in. They were the last things you could hold on to as 2 months ago your whole world had fallen apart. And just when you thought you were finally getting used to the changes, your brain still wanted to hold on.... as did your heart.

You shut your eyes tightly, a memory you weren’t so fond of coming into view...

Your heart stopped. You caught your breath in your throat. There on the computer screen was the infamous tweet. The reveal to all. One of Dispatch’s elusive claims of k-pop relationships. But this time, staring back at you was a member of the girl group BLACKPINK... and your own boyfriend. They were holding hands and laughing. ‘J-Hope and Jisoo: CONFIRMED’ it read. With shaky hands you scrolled down further to read the replies:

“omg they’re holding hands, it must be true!”

“Ahhh this makes me so happy! J&J are sooo cute together!”

“I really hope this isn’t fake because they make a great couple”

“She is so perfect for him! Both idols in the two most popular kpop bands! They must have so much in common!”

You immediately closed the Twitter window and slammed your laptop shut. You suddenly felt extremely nauseous and jumped up from your chair to run to the bathroom. You kneeled on the floor in front of the toilet, but nothing came out, your stomach just twisted in pain and anxiousness. You sat back against the cold tile wall and hugged your knees to your chest. You didn’t feel like crying exactly, but you felt on the brink of a panic attack.

Suddenly you heard a door slam shut and footsteps coming to the bedroom door.

“Oh my (y/n)-ahhhh, I’m baaack,” Your boyfriend’s sing-song voice rang towards the bathroom you sat in, “Where are you?”

You stood up with shaky legs and left the bathroom, entering the bedroom where Hoseok had just come in.

He smiled wide and stepped towards you.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he squeezed you tightly against him, but you wanted so badly out of his grasp, “I missed you today.”

He released you and looked at your face, his smile disappearing.

“Jagi, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head and looked at the ground.

“You haven’t seen it?” You whispered, not meeting his gaze.

He put his hands on your shoulders and attempted to meet your eyes.

“Seen what, Jagiya? What’s going on?”

You shimmied out of his grasp and stepped back.

“Check Twitter.” Was all you could say.

He looked worried as he hesitantly pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

His eyes got wide as his finger scrolled through all the accounts, the tweets, the replies. Finally he looked back up at you.

“(Y/n)...” he said softly, stepping toward you.

You backed away which caused a pained look on his face.

“Surely you must know this is all lies Jagi...”

You shook your head and looked at the ground.

“But the picture...”

He scoffed.

“It’s photoshopped, (y/n). Come on, you know how intricate these people can get these days with manipulating pictures.”

You shut your eyes tightly, the image coming back in your mind causing your stomach to twist.

“But it looks so real...” you whispered softly.

Hoseok ran a hand through his black hair.

“(Y/n)... please,” he pleaded, “You must know it’s fake. It’s all lies. They just want to make money and make people talk. You know they just do it for the attention. Please believe me, my sweet (y/n). I am only with you...”

You wanted so badly to believe him, but that picture looked so real. Dispatch had been right about couples before. And it made sense, J-Hope being with another idol. It was so much better for his career and his lifestyle. Why hadn’t you realized this before? You weren’t right for him. You were a nobody. Not used to extravagant things, so much money you couldn’t wrap your head around it, people watching your boyfriend’s every move, the rumors, the stalkers, the lack of normalcy. It was so overwhelming.

Suddenly the tears started falling and your breaths became more shallow. Your body was shaking and your heart was going a mile a minute.

Hoseok ran to you, you not resisting this time. He held you to his chest.

“It’s okay, Jagi, it’s okay. It’s not a big deal.” he tried calming you down, running his hand through your soft hair.

You suddenly were furious. How could he think that?

“It is a big deal, Hoseok!” You backed out of his grasp, “It’s not okay! I-I’m staring at my boyfriend with another girl and-and millions of people are saying how great you are for each other, showing proof they knew you two were together all along while I just sit back and watch like an idiot!”

You felt like you were being dramatic, but you didn’t care. You were scared.

Hoseok put his face in his hands and shook his head.

“But it’s not real, (y/n). Please believe. I would never do that to you.”

You took deep breaths to try and calm yourself down though they came out uneven and shaky. You finally looked up into J-Hope’s sad and worried eyes as they searched yours for an answer, a reassurance.

You looked to the side, unable to keep his gaze. You sighed.

“Maybe you wouldn’t, Hoseok...” you mumbled quietly, “But I just, I’m not sure anymore.”

He cocked his head, his eyes wide.

“Not sure? Not sure of what, (y/n)?” He tried to reach out to you but put his arms down remembering how forcefully you had pulled out of his grasp.

“I’m not sure...I can do this anymore.”

He froze, taking a step back with a shocked look on his face.

“Wha-what are you saying, (y/n)?” His voice trembled.

“This is too hard... I’m not sure I’m cut out for it,” tears started to fall from your eyes again, “I think... I need some time. I need to take a step back, for at least a little while...”

He looked at you in surprise and sadness.

“What? Like-like a break?”

“Yes,” you responded quietly, “I-I’m sorry, Hoseok.”

“(Y/n), please...” he trailed off. You could see he wanted to pull you to him, comfort you, make you laugh and have everything back to normal again. But he knew it was pointless to try.

You shuffled around the room, grabbing your things that were scattered about and shoving them in your duffle bag you kept at his place.

Hoseok didn’t take his eyes off you.

“You’re-you’re going now?” He squeaked out quietly.

You nodded, wiping you tear stained cheeks and throwing the last bit of your clothes in the bag.

“(Y/n), please,” he repeated, “don’t do this.”

You looked into his eyes and noticed tears welling up in them. In your one year together you had never seen Hoseok cry. He was always so happy and bubbly. This was a new side you knew he didn’t show anyone, and the fact that you were bringing it out of him made you want to drop your bag and run back into his arms to comfort him. But your mind held you back, unable to see anything but that picture from the internet you discovered mere minutes ago.

“When will I hear from you?” He choked out, attempting to hold back his sobs, “When will you be back?”

You reached the bedroom door, duffle bag over your shoulder and looked back at him. He looked small and defeated standing there.

“I don’t know. I-just... I don’t know. Goodbye Hoseok.” And with that you turned out of the room and away from the confused and heartbroken man who had your heart.

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand next to you and dialed one of the members you had become best friends with through J-hope.

“Hello?” A groggy sounding Park Jimin answered after just one ring.

“Hi Jimin...” you said softly, “I’m sorry to call so late.”

You heard him sigh and let out a few grunts as you figured he sat up in his bed.

“You can call me anytime, (y/n), you know that.”

You smiled. You were glad Jimin had decided to remain friends with you despite what happened. Even though he had known Hoseok far longer than you, it made you happy knowing he would still be there for you.

“Can’t sleep again?” He asked.

You shook your head but realized he couldn’t see you, so you simply answered with a no.

Jimin sighed again.

“(Y/n)-ah... why don’t you just talk to him?”

You bit your lip nervously and fiddled with the bedsheet in front of you.

“I just can’t, Minnie...” you mumbled.

“You know, Hobi-hyung is-“

“Ah! No. Please Jimin.” You interrupted him, shutting your eyes tightly.

The two of you had spoken about what happened, and Jimin didn’t blame you for taking some time, but you would never let him mention how Hoseok was coping, afraid it would tear you up even more. You needed a clear mind, not one filled with the image of J-hope being sad, or worse, moving on.

Jimin scoffed.

“You woke me up to talk, remember?” He reminded you.

“Yes, I’m sorry Jimin ssi.”

Maybe it was time to hear how J-hope was after you stepped back from your relationship after all. Maybe it would help you figure out what to do, what you wanted.

You took a deep breath.

“Is he okay, Jimin-ah?” You wondered softly.

You heard Jimin shuffle.

“You really want to know?” He asked cautiously.

“Yes.”

Jimin exhaled and cleared his throat.

“He’s not doing well, (y/n). He’s in his room or studio most of the time when he doesn’t have anything on the schedule. And if he is working, he’s putting in minimal effort, it seems. We haven’t seen him laugh, let alone smile in weeks. He doesn’t make jokes, his dancing lacks passion. He just... isn’t himself. It’s weird, and to be honest, well, we are kind of worried about him. We are out of ideas on how to cheer him up.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach as tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn’t believe you were the cause of him being like how Jimin described. You never wanted to be the one to take away the well being of everyone’s favorite sunshine.

“Do you at least still care about him (y/n)?” Jimin asked when you hadn’t responded.

You hesitated.

“I-I still love him, Jimin...” you whispered, tears falling from your eyes. And you knew this was true.

“(Y/n) I’ve told you a million times, he was never with her and they hardly even knew each other. I know it’s hard and different than any relationship has ever been, but he adored you so much. Just when we thought Hobi-hyung couldn’t get any brighter, he did when you came into his life. And when you left... just darkness. With the career he has chosen, something like this isn’t guaranteed not to happen again, that’s for sure. But he would never hurt you like that, he loves you too much. With love comes trust, and if you still love him like you say you do, you have to trust him, too.”

By this time you were sobbing, emotions and tiredness taking over. You knew Jimin was right. They scared you, your worries and insecurities, but the way you felt these past couple months without Hoseok scared you more. He was your everything. He boosted you up when you needed it, and made you laugh like no one else could. You missed him immensely.

“I should call him,” you said to Jimin in between sobs.

“No, you should see him in person,” he suggested, “Tomorrow we have some time off. Maybe come by the dorms?”

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I will.”

“Good. It will be okay, (y/n)-ah, I promise. This is a good thing,” he tried reassuring you, “in the meantime, I have to go back to sleep. You should try to, too.”

You sighed. Sleep now? Yeah right.

“Ok, thank you Jimin. Good night.”

“Good night, (y/n). See you tomorrow.”

*

Masterlist

#bts #bts army #jhope #jung hoseok #Hoseok #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts jhope #jhope bts #hoseok imagine #jhope imagine #jhope oneshot #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #jhope x reader #jungkook #jin #seokjin #suga #namjoon #rm #v #taehyung #Jimin

[purplerose244]

Sweet Aftermath

Hi @forthegloryofdragons! I’m your Secret Santa for the @toa-secret-santa event! 😊 At this point it probably looks more like a New Year present, but Merry Christmas anyway and I hope you spent nice festivities!

Here we go with some Jlaire and our favorite punk wizard! ❤❤

Summary: Peace is momentary in their lives but when they get it, they enjoy it as much as they can. Dessert is always welcomed.

Also on the AO3

“Ouch!”

“Jim!” In the blink of an eye Claire was at his side, holding his hand before he could even process the idea of having a look himself. “You dummy, cut the strawberries, not your finger!” Granted that there wasn’t even any traces onto the actual cutting board – it was one drop at max, his girlfriend could be such a mama sometimes –, maybe it would had reached him some kind of prideful chef wound at being scolded for something this basilar.

It didn’t. All Jim could feel at the moment was the slightest pinch at the top of his finger, where the littlest red bubble was forming. It hurt. In a completely ignorable, absolutely meaningless way. But it hurt. It hadn’t hurt this little in a while now.

He couldn’t help smiling a little, even while Claire was already opening the cupboard to get the med kit. He had forgotten this type of common, after being the Trollhunter had become his everyday.

It was nice. And destabilizing. And a little freaky.

Then again, what wasn’t in his life?

While the little med kit was brought onto the counter of the kitchen and the cutting noises interrupted, the cheerful chatters coming from the living room brought his mind back. The party had been completely random, it had started with his mom wanting to know everything about what happened since they had last seen each other – well, she said that after the both of them managed to talk, with the messes of tears they had become with the both of them human again –, and it was continuing with plenty of people and food around.

Food gently cooked by the best chef of the Lakes’ house… not much of a competition really. But hearing his mom from the other room, chatting and gasping and laughing again, was enough to forget the bowl of popcorn on the table that she still somehow managed to mess up.

Jim breathed in, and then breathed out. Everything felt so new, yet exactly the same.

“Skin’s fragile. I forgot.”

“Well put it on a memo, it’s pretty important if you ask me. A mental memo…” The witch stopped midway, as she was pulling the plastic off the band aid. “I wonder if there’s a way to make that? A magical note stuck into your brain so you don’t forget it? I should ask Teach.” At last, the little medication was applied, At least none of the little red fruits got dirty. Yet Claire still wasn’t letting go of his hand, and when Jim looked up, there were those big brown eyes in front of which he could do absolutely nothing. “I’m serious, okay? Don’t get hurt, or at least try not to get hurt. I really think you had enough for a while.” She probably wanted to sound ironic.

It came out sad. Of course it did. And a lie as an assurance would had been pointless, the former Trollhunter would had made every single choice of his life all over again, to ensure the safety of those he loved. But maybe out of egoism, he would had not dragged them all in like this, knowing how much they were going to suffer for his sake. He wanted his friends near, yet not nearby. Did it make sense? Who knew? Maybe it didn’t have to.

Claire held onto both of his hands, looking up at him, lips curved in a little hopeful smile. And that put an end on any thought. It didn’t matter after all. As a human, as a half-troll, as a full troll, the sight right before his eyes had not changed. And he didn’t want it to change.

Jim sighed softly, nodding with a smile.

“I’ll do my best.” Claire sighed softly.

“Please do.” She leaned and kissed his cheek, and oh, magically there was absolutely no more pain into his entire body. A witch indeed, eheh. “What do you need the strawberries for?”

“Decoration mostly, but there’s so much chocolate in this that you need something fruity to make it less strong.” Right on cue the timer went off. He quickly stopped the noise and hurried to the fridge, taking out the cream that seemed perfectly chilled and ready to use. “Also should I say, strawberries and chocolate? Mucho romantico.” He shot a wink towards his girlfriend, who made that fond eyeroll from whenever he attempted to speak Spanish.

“Whatever, charmer. Get it over with, I’ve been smelling amazing stuff all evening and I’m really tempted to paralyze you with a spell and have it all myself.” Well if that wasn’t one of the sweetest compliments for his cuisine he had ever received. “How can I help?”

“Get me the sponge cake, it’s near the window.” Jim gave the cream a further whip to make sure it was airy and homogenous, before pulling out a spoon from the drawer – reminding himself last minute that he couldn’t and probably shouldn’t munch it anymore. “Alright, now for the tester…” He could had taken it himself of course, his sense of taste was back to human-like. Yet it was still hard to accept it, like his mind wasn’t fully into the all magical transformation that brought him back. He just needed a bit more of time, maybe. “Mrs. Nunez? If you could be so kind?”

“Oh well, if I really have to…” Claire smirked, putting the baking tray in front of her boyfriend with the sponge cake all rested and ready for the use. Then she leaned forward, taking the spoon into her mouth. She licked her lip. “Mm, oh yeah.”

“So it’s good?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “What? Let me brag a little, I’m good!”

“What if I still prefer guacamole over this?”

“Claire, you make amazing guacamole, but you also make a major bowl of it with, like, three tortillas. That kind of love is a little hard to match, even for my chef skills.” He got an elbow, because clearly some people couldn’t handle the harsh truth. “Just tell me if I should add something or mix it some more.” If it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t going into the cake.

She knew that. She knew it, and she grinned widely, putting a hand over his cheek with a very evident intention into her eyes. With the sudden realization Jim had to claw onto the bowl with both hands to prevent any catastrophes like letting it drop accidentally, because kissing Claire was that mind-blowing – and it took him quite a bit to make this cream, thank you very much. A chocolate kiss that got him such jelly knees he was considering just letting himself go with the unconsciousness, it would had been the sweetest knockout of all of his Trollhunter life. This girl had gotten so much more confident since they first started to hang out. She was as gentle as a lady, and as vigorous as a warrior.

His Claire. His amazing, beautiful Claire.

She pulled away first, perfectly in control of the situation, smiling softly at him. The aftermath was possibly even better, knowing that this was real and it happened and it was going to happen again. Somehow he still could hardly believe his luck.

Claire bit her lip, staring with those big impossible eyes.

“Too sweet, maybe?” Jim shook his head with a grin.

“Nope, absolutely perfect.” Did that come out corny? Smoothness wasn’t exactly a skill of his, hopefully he didn’t ruin- and Claire was kissing him again, never mind, he loved life.

“Okay mates, quick update, we’re out of snacks in the other room and since I lost rock paper scissors I got sent here also to sneak on the dessert, and if you’re wondering how I lost let me remind you that Binky got four aaaaaarrrrm…” He loved life a little less with their good old – apparently very old – master wizard coming into the kitchen uninvited. That sheepish little grin was kinda funny though. “So, you mess with the timeline once, and you acquire the magical ability of having a terrible timing. Noted.”

Jim pouted. Claire laughed. Jim laughed. That was just how it was, also his girlfriend suddenly had that malicious look into her eyes that told him he wasn’t going to dislike the next following minutes – and he knew she had that look before she became a shadowmancer so… destiny?

“You’re actually right on cue, these dirty dishes are dying to meet you.”

“Uh… how badly are they dying?” And now the witch was glaring, the wizard immediately raised his hands for surrender. “Can’t blame one for trying.”

“Try and ruin another moment between me and my boyfriend, you’d wish I was only blaming you. You got out with little.” That was probably true and that was probably a given, hence why a second later Douxie was over the sink, pouring down the water and reaching for the soap. Claire gave him a firm nod. “Alright, what do we got?” She turned to the counter, gathering a few snacks onto another tray. “Okay, all kinds of chips, cold popcorn from the microwave Barbara made oww, socks, so many socks, a few burritos Krel’s friend brought…” Given the discovery that aliens were real, having an extraterrestrial as a taco seller so responsible for the burrito that had gotten Gatto that nasty stomachache somehow even made sense. “This should do for a while. Be right back.” She gave him a peck on the cheek and went to the living room.

Again, human’s skin was sensible. Jim hadn’t realized it made a difference before, he had been sturdy, strong as a half-troll. And so hardly soft and easy to please. It was still a little complicated listing off what was good and what was bad of his current situation. But one thing for sure, he loved how Claire’s kisses were sweeter than ever.

A snort. Apparently he had been staring at the door for a while, and Douxie was holding back his laughter with little success. So the former Trollhunter grinned back, giving him a shoulder while putting down the cream onto the squared sponge cake.

“Shut up and do the dishes.”

“Roger that.” The wizard stopped the water as the sink was full, getting to work. A minute of silence was filled solely by the tinkling of dishes and the dripping of water. A nice moment of normality. It had been a while after all. “You know, I gotta say.” Douxie wasn’t looking, yet there was definitely fondness into his eyes. “Spending 900 years adventuring and protecting the world, I’ve seen a lot of things. But a witch learning how to control dark magic in order to save her human-half-full-troll-hunter boyfriend? That one I’ve been missing.” He was fast at cleaning, swift and careful. He must had done it quite a lot at the restaurant he used to work in.

Jim sighed, nodding softly, his eyes lingering on how nicely the chocolate smelled and look. He carefully pushed the remaining onto one side, smoothing the surface.

“I’m so lucky to have her.”

“She’s also lucky to have you. You’re pretty great, and brave. To the point where it gets scary. And worrying. A lot.” Douxie laughed a little awkwardly, clearing his voice. “Not that I can talk, really.” Right, the two of them got so close to their demises for the sake of others.

They were similar. Very similar. Jim couldn’t help smiling.

“We really need to stop trying to die.” The wizard cracked a real laugh.

“Got that right.” Another moment of peace followed, and to this mindless noise Jim was starting to get used to again. “What are you making anyway?”

“Bouche de Noel.” Wow, exactly the same frown as Claire, was it a wizard thing? The confused judging eyebrow? “Yes, you don’t have to tell me, it’s a Christmas dessert. Yes, you don’t have to tell me, it’s disgustingly anachronistic. And no, you really don’t have to tell me, because I’m not trying to pull a Christmas on July thing. You got a British accent, not an Australian one, I wouldn’t even have a stretch to work on here.” Another little laugh. “I’ve been postponed it since forever not knowing if I had the bakery skills, but now that I got functioning tastebuds back I’m all in for it.”

With the cream down, he finally went over the cake, rolling it carefully to form the base of his dessert. It had chilled perfectly and had maintained the form, it looked just like the one in the picture where he got the recipe from. The thrill of making something with his own hands. Another absolutely pointless fun of just a human. It felt great.

Douxie gave it a peak, whistling.

“That looks and smells possibly even better than the mince pies from Camelot. For what’s worth I’m very glad we’re getting Christmas today!”

“Right, because you never know what might… uhm…” Jim swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. From the wizard’s widened eyes, it looked like he couldn’t take that back even if he wanted to. “… today feels so nice. My friends are all here, my mom is here, my girlfriend is here. It hasn’t happened in a while, and I guess I realized how rare this is. We’re not even at the end of summer and we got three different apocalypses, so I thought of… not having too many regrets?” Now that it was coming out it felt very stupid. And insecure. Which wasn’t exactly weird coming from him, but at this point? A fight more a fight less? What was the difference?

He didn’t want to know what it was. He got too close already.

The master wizard breathed in and out, extremely deeply, the washing work momentarily forgotten. He picked a towel from the counter, slowly passed it through his fingers, then let it down. Only to bring one hand onto the former Trollhunter’s shoulder.

“You’ll make a fruitcake, at the real Christmas. A Panettone, or a strawberry cake maybe?” He was smiling, with that renovated determination that had gotten him ever since he came back from beyond the grave. “So you better invite me, and all the others. We’ll have another party just like this one, all together. Every single one of us.” That sounded like a promise. And this guy, this wizard was always ready to give everything for his promises.

So Jim nodded. It was barely a confirmation that everything was going to be okay. But the effort, that alone, was worth at least hoping for. They were all in this together.

Luckily for the guitarist there wasn’t much to clean up besides the bowl and various plates – for now at least, he was half sure Claire was taking this long just to pile up other stuff –, but he stayed to watch the trunk taking form. Two cuts for the shape. Ganache all over. Without worries.

Without problems. He was here. Right here, safe and alive… oh.

“I didn’t thank you, huh.”

Douxie blinked, taken back.

“… there were, like, five dishes. Doesn’t really compare with my shift at Benoi-”

“For saving my life.” Another sequence of batted eyelashes, and it was almost too easy imagining what were going to be his next words. Today Jim felt completely in charge of the situation, finally. “And I’m not talking about the whole turning back into a human thing, neither about the Arcane Order, even though that’s also worth mentioning.” Having Nari around was mildly unusual for that, but she was adorable enough to forget about it. “Claire told me about you guys at Camelot. About trying to find a way back to our time, saving everyone, saving me… the dungeon break was your idea. I wouldn’t have escaped if it wasn’t for that.”

Douxie seemed to have problems grasping this, or simply accept it. He turned his eyes back to the sink, almost as he wished there was still something to make himself busy with.

“It was nothing.” This time it was Jim who snorted.

“You messed up a timeline for one single half-troll, that’s a bit of something. I mean… I doubt Merlin would’ve done it.” That was probably uncalled for. But despite knowing how much those two wizards were close, it didn’t erase what that old man had done to him in the past.

There was no hatred into those amber eyes though. Just thoughtfulness.

“… I knew it was risky. But I also knew that too much depended on you.” The wizard managed a sad smile. “If that wasn’t a mistake, because Merlin didn’t believe in them, then I guess I really wanted to believe in the unexpected possibility that you were going to create… I didn’t want to leave a single friend behind.” He scratched the back of his head, shrugging a little. “Also my wallet couldn’t bare losing a tipper like you.” Sarcasm had to be some kind of special power of those who had been playing with life for too long.

Maybe that was also what made them so similar. Maybe that was also why, in some way or another, they had managed to survive. Jim smiled, bringing an arm onto his shoulders.

“Thank you, Douxie.” The wizard looked at him in bewilderment. And then, slowly, he lightened up, clenching his hold onto his shoulder. Giving him the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there hadn’t been many satisfactions for him lately. And this one came right on time.

“I did fix something after all.” He smiled too. “You’re very welcome, my friend.”

“So NotEnrique bet and won all the socks at Monopoli and I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming, that brother of mine will be the death of- aww, look at you.” Claire smiled at them, putting down the empty tray. “Having a little moment?” When he had taken that little detour for school at the beginning of this adventure, he definitely didn’t expect that one day he was going to be found by his girlfriend preparing a dessert for a bunch of mythical creatures and humans, while sharing a bro gesture with Merlin’s apprentice.

Did he ever say that his life was weird? Because boy oh boy it was.

Douxie took all his time to gave him one last pat and then turned to the girl, this time him being the one to showcase the little menacing grin – he never did dark magic before right… right?

“Indeed we were, guess who ruined it and will join me at cleaning dishes?”

“… well played Casperan. And that’s the only reason why I’m agreeing.” Claire huffed humorously, getting the dishes she just brought in onto the sink. “How’s the cake?”

“Almost done, just need to cover it and decorate it.”

“Good, because Toby got to his praising of your culinary skills, with plenty of more details now that he got all confident about making that one movie. So I’m pretty sure there will be a riot unless they get cake.” She breathed out, picking up a sponge only to look intensely at how her boyfriend was putting down the chocolate bark of the Bouche. It used to bring him such crazy butterflies in his stomach he could had passed out just by the knowledge alone. Now he couldn’t think of a life without those eyes on him. “We really need to do this more often. Just… this.” No silence felt more eloquent than the one that followed. It barely needed a nod from the two of them, while the dessert was finally put altogether with the covering and a smoothing for the surface.

Jim picked up a fork and started passing it over the covering, creating traces that made the trunk look somehow real. He moved the tool steadily, enjoying this, enjoying every moment of this peaceful time of them. Then he turned to the strawberries, all arranged nicely onto the cutting board, and he smiled a little.

He picked up a knife and one of the fruits.

“Let’s see…” He engraved it, creating little petals getting smaller towards the center, and placed it onto the cake. “Roses for my love.” Claire giggled, lancing her arms around his neck from behind. Then Jim picked up another strawberry, cutting it in thin pieces, then placing them onto the surface to form a note with a long tail, the only notion he had about music – at least not including that one piano kinda-serenate to Senor Uhl for not repeating the year. “And a note for my friend.” He completed with a few leaves of mint all over. “I think we’re ready now.”

Today Douxie looked so easy to please. Or maybe he really did spend a long time without being recognized for much. Because his amber eyes were shining, and it looked like he was holding back a much wider smile.

“Were you always this mushy, or was it Claire that has changed you?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, don’t ever want to find out.” Jim picked up the dish with the Bouche on it. “This is all I want.” The witch tightened her grasp – never mind, butterflies still lived.

She showed her tongue to the wizard.

“Jealous that I got the sweetest guy ever?”

“Nah, I have a punk rock soul, I’m immune to pure cheesy lovey-dovey situations.” Douxie grinned, looking fondly at them. “But if I can say it…” He lingered onto them, perhaps a little troubled. And somehow it was clear, he was pondering about the future, it was a thing that he couldn’t help doing apparently. Despite that, his eyes were sincere, and this determination still as solid as before. “Yeah, the both of you have great taste in people.”

They were going to have more parties like this. For sure.

With Claire right next to him, Douxie opening the door, and the number of smiling familiar faces waiting for him, Jim managed to push away the thought of tomorrow, with everything that was most likely still going to come for them. Here, now, they were happy and alive. It was enough.

So he snickered, showing up the cake to his cheering family.

��Merry Christmas, everyone!”

#toa secret santa 2020 #tales of arcadia #toa #toa wizards #toa trollhunters #wizards #trollhunters #jim lake jr #claire nunez #douxie casperan #hisirdoux casperan #jlaire #fanfiction #secret santa #toa fic #toa fanfiction

[thatnerdnextdoor24]

Under the Mistletoe

I hope your holidays were wonderful! Here is a little gift, from me to you!

Read Part One.  This is Part Two!

Ao3

More Kit/Ty

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

Ty was moderately fond of Christmas. When he had been younger, he could just barely remember Christmas with his parents. He remembered the last Christmas they had had with their mom, how thin and weak she was. He remembered that the next year, Helen, trying to keep them all together while his dad struggled to fix what was broken. Then there were the years with Julian. He made Christmas a simple, but fun affair. But then Livvy died, and Ty's days bled together and neither he or his ghostly sister could tell, exactly, when the holidays had come and gone.

It was more recently, when he and Kit moved in together, that Christmas had dug a bigger he in his heart. Every year they went to Devon for Christmas morning, then to Las Angeles for dinner that night. And the rest of the day? That was just purely Kit and Ty. 

Christmas was alright in Ty's eyes. It was just like any other holiday. He never found himself overly excited, but this year, there are butterflies in his stomach. He's wondering if the gifts he got for his loved ones, (which used to be a short list but was now much longer.) Were good enough.

“Do they know we’re on our way?” 

Ty wrestles himself from his thoughts, returning to the present. In a pick up truck, heater blasting and radio just quiet enough to be heard over. Irene sat in his lap, asleep in the weak sunlight drifting in from the windshield. The phone in his hand vibrates with Julian’s recent text. “Yeah.” Ty answer's Kit’s question, his gaze drifting to look at his boyfriend. Kit’s smiling, fingers tapping and voice humming with the music. The morning light makes his hair glow gold, and his Herondale ring glint silver. Kit glances his way, and smiles. "Think it'll be fun?" He asks.

Ty shrugs, "I think it'll be loud." He says, frankly. "And a little fun." He concedes. Big parties were not Ty's idea of fun. But...parties were always better with Kit there. Always more fun. Always more laughs. Even when Ty would have to step out because things just felt too loud. Kit would be right behind. To hold his hand, hug him tight, tell him it was ok if he was done for the night. Ty usually was. Kit never complained about leaving early, was always ready with an excuse to leave if needed. Always seemed content to come back home and spend the night with each other and no one else. 

It was one of the reasons Ty loved Kit so much. 

Sometimes he wondered, in the back of his mind, if Kit ever got annoyed or tired of Ty. If maybe, one day, he would decide that Ty wasn't worth the trouble.

"Probably." Kit agreed. "There are going to be a lot of people there. But at least we know most of them." His hand falls from the wheel and intertwines with Ty's. With the truck turning off the highway and onto a familiar road, Ty licked his lips. "I don't know if I'm ready for Christmas madness." He says. Kit sighs wearily, "No one ever really is." 

Their eyes meet for just a moment and Ty feels himself smile. They pull up the road and park outside the Institute. Irene wakes as they stop, perking up in excitement as she realizes where they are. Before they leave the truck, Ty leans over and steals a kiss from his boyfriend. "It'll be okay. As long as we keep you away from the alcohol." Ty and Irene dash out of the truck before Kit could respond with anything more than a laugh.

They didn't even reach the front door before it was thrust open. "Ty-Ty!!" Tavvy barreled into Ty's awaiting arms, he grunted slightly under the weight. Tavvy wasn't a little kid anymore, that was for sure. But that didn't change the way he always greeted his brother. Even though Ty lived 20 minutes away, and was over every Saturday morning, Tavvy still hugged him as if he hadn't seen him in a hundred years. Ty squeezed his little brother back before Tavvy released him, and crashed into Kit instead. A laugh from the front door tore Ty’s attention to Julian, who was grinning and holding the door open. Irene darted between his legs and into the Institute. No doubt heading for the fireplace. “How was the drive?” Julian asks, like he does every time they visit. “It was fine,” Ty answers, like he does every time. He smiles at this little bit of normal routine. He treasures it, knowing it will soon be ruined when all the guest arrive and the little kids start running around and there are a more people cooking in the kitchen than the fire department would like and-

“Faster!! Faster!!!” Ty is pulled from his spiraling thoughts by Tavvy’s laugh. He turns to find Tavvy has managed his way onto Kit’s back, and Kit is spinning him around and around, faster and faster. Julian rolls his eyes at them and helps Ty unload the gifts they brought from the truck and Ty’s heartbeat calms down. He sneaks a couple of deep breaths when no one is looking. Emma emerges from the hallway, she conscripts Ty to help her put a few more decorations up. Mostly, the mistletoe in the door ways. It’s been tradition for Ty to put those up, every year. His dad used to put him on one shoulder, and Livvy on the other. Together, the three of them would search for the best, or most inconvenient, locations for mistletoes. Now though, Ty did it by himself. 

Julian has taken Kit into the kitchen. Ty can hear them laughing as they start the cooking for the night. When they had first started dating, Kit’s cooking skills had taken him by surprise. Kit had just shrugged and said, “Jem and Tessa taught me some.” As their relationship grew, Kit told him the whole truth. “My dad didn’t take care of himself.” He whispered into the dark between them, one night. “He didn’t take care of me, either. But I was a kid and I didn’t understand that I needed to be taken care of. But he was a mess, a huge, ugly, mean, mess. But he was my dad, too. I thought that meant that I was supposed to take care of him. So I did a lot of the things that he didn’t. I learned to cook, and clean. I bought groceries when he forgot, or when he was out of town for a long time. I just…” He looked over at Ty, his fingers feather light as he brushed away hair from Ty’s face. “I just learned to keep going.” 

Ty hoped that he had shown him, that it was okay to be taken care of. He hoped Kit had learned to sit back, sometimes, and let others do their jobs. 

“I think it looks good,” Emma said, stepping back to look at their handiwork. The mistletoe hung, just out of reach so it wouldn’t get caught in anyone's hair. (That had happened one year, and Helen still refused to walk underneath mistletoe.) But the red berries caught the light just right, and shimmered a little. Ty nods, and Emma reaches up to ruffle his hair. He swats her hand away, but he laughs all the same. He loves the way that Emma tries to make the hole in his heart, where Livvy used to be, a little smaller. “C’mon,” she says, and Ty already knows what she's going to say. “Let's go play some checkers,” 

He’s already nodding before she’s finished. Though, playing checkers on Christmas Eve wasn’t a Ty and Livvy tradition, that one was purely Ty and Emma. The checkers board is worn and faded, and some of the pieces have seen better days but they don’t complain. They set it up in the family room, in front of the fireplace and Christmas tree. Irene has already made her home there, and comes to lay her head on Ty’s lap as they play on the floor. The two of them play while the rest of the Blackthorns make their way into the room. Helen and Aline pass their baby daughter back and forth between themselves. The baby is constantly changing which of her moms is her current favorite. 

Dru, Ash, and Cristina have taken up the floor next to them and are playing some kind of card game with Tavvy. Mark is helping Ash cheat by looking at other people's cards for him. Kieran is doing the same thing for Crisrtina (How Kieran managed to get the holiday off, despite being the literal king of Faire, Ty has absolutely no idea) But somehow Dru is still winning. Julian and Kit are still in the kitchen, and every once in a while shout for Cristina’s help. Mark has offered to help them, and each time there has been a resounding “NO” from everyone within earshot. 

Despite the familial chaos around them, Emma and Ty have made a sort of bubble of calm around themselves. As they take turns creeping their pieces across the board, a shimmering of silver catches Ty’s eye. Emma’s wedding ring sits on her left hand, catching the glow from the fire. She sees him looking and smiles. “I had asked Julain for his Blackthorn ring,” she says, and rolls her eyes. “Because it’s a cute tradition and all. But then Julian flat out refused. I thought he was just attached to his ring or something but, then he told me that it would be pointless.” She slides the ring of her finger, holding it out to him. Ty takes it with gentle hands. It's a simple silver band, there's a gem set in the center. Upon closer inspection, Ty realizes that it's no precious gem, but a bit of shining sea glass. He smiles, thinking about Julian’s sea glass bracelets. He hands the ring back as Emma continues the story.

“He said that exchanging family rings is a sign of each family now accepting the couple as their own. He said it would be pointless for me to have a Blackthorn ring, because I’ve been a Blackthorn this whole time.” She smiles softly at the ring, at the memory. And Ty finds himself agreeing, “That’s right. You’ve always been a Blackthorn.” Emma’s cheeks turn a little pink and she leans over, kissing him on the temple. “Thank you, Ty-Ty.” They smile at one another, for a second, before Emma holds up her right hand. Both a Blackthorn ring, and a Carstairs ring, adorn her fingers. “Still wanted a Blackthorn ring, though. They look cool.”

Ty laughs and shakes his head at her a little. The two of them settle into another comfortable silence as their game continues. Ty moves one piece to the edge of her side of the board. As Emma goes to king it, Ty whispers, “I would want a family ring, too.” He’s not even sure when he’s started thinking about it, but recently, Ty has found himself awake at night, imagining what it would be like to get married. Emma blinks in surprise. But Ty smiles, and he knows it's a dopey, love sick kind of smile, as he looks at his own hand and imagines a Herondale ring on his finger. “Like you said,” His voice is quiet, like he’s sharing a secret, “It’s a cute tradition.” When he dares a glance back at Emma, she’s smiling at him and giving him a look he can’t really understand. 

She almost looks like she's going to say something when a cry from the other side of the room breaks into their thoughts. Tavvy has stood up, his hands on his hips as he glares at Cristina, Mark, Ash, and Kieran. “You’re cheating!!! I can’t believe you!!” He shouts and they look away, guilty as charged. Dru has collapsed onto the ground, laughing. Emma shares one last glance at him, and winks, before going to help Tavvy dole out punishments. Ty sits there for a moment, wondering why he feels like Emma knows something he doesn’t. 

~♡◇♤~♡◇♤~♡◇♤~

Cooking with Julian is always a high stakes game. Most of the time, Kit tries to keep Julian from even looking at what he's doing. Knowing that no matter what he does, Julain will tell him it's wrong. Truth be told, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the way Kit cooks. In fact, Kit is a damn fine cook, and he knows it. Julian just has a very specific way of doing things, and if it's not done Julian's way, well then, it's not right. 

It doesn't help that the two of them have a silent rivalry when it comes to cooking and secret recipes. 

Despite this, they still manage to work in a smooth and seamless team. They know what dishes they will make, and which ones they will not touch. (Kit will never stuff a turkey. Sorry, but he draws the line at shoving his hand up a turkey's ass.)(but likewise, Julian will never let anyone know how bad he is at making pies.) This was the first time that the LA Institute was holding the big Christmas party. So Kit got the feeling that Julian wanted to impress everyone. Kit wasn’t sure why he wanted to do that, everyone has been impressed by him since he took over the Institute at age twelve. But it was also kind of sweet, the way Julian still wanted to impress the people older than him. Kit would never say that to his face, but he would think it every now and then. 

As they cooked, the conversation between them flowed easily. They laughed and teased and Kit was immensely grateful that Julian never brought up the one thing Kit didn’t want to talk about. Even though it was clear that he was dying for news, Julian never brought up the engagement. Kit’s anxiety was already high, buzzing constantly under his skin. The last thing he needed was for people to start voicing the questions he already had or to judge his plan or his idea. 

Truthfully, Kit didn’t even have a plan. Not really. He was just praying to the Angel that the perfect opportunity would just….happen….

His peace in the kitchen with Julian didn’t last long, however. While they put everything in the oven to bake, or the fridge to chill, the two of them went to join the others in the living room and wait for their guests to arrive. Kit wasn’t entirely sure what had happened while they were in the kitchen. But somehow, Cristina, Mark, Kieran, and Ash were all wearing Santa hats that had “Naughty List” written on them, while Emma took photos on her phone. Ash and Cristina were trying to get the phone from her. Mark seemed to be enjoying the attention. Meanwhile, Dru and Tavvy were inhaling chocolates, and every once and a while they would throw one just to see if Kieran could catch it in his mouth. For the King of Fairie, he was surprisingly undexterous. 

Among all this chaos, was Ty. He was sitting on the couch with Helen and Aline and their baby. He was laying his head against Helen’s shoulder as she ran her long fingers through his hair. Kit thought that Ty might fall asleep at any moment. He came to join them as Julian took the baby from Aline’s arms. For a man who, by all accounts, should be tired of children. He adored babies. Kit let out a laugh as Julian threatened to keep the baby for himself and Aline threatened to stuff him into the turkey. 

Ty opened his eyes just enough to give Kit a sleepy smile as he sat down. “Hey,” Ty murmured. “Hey,” Kit said back, pulling Ty’s legs onto his lap. Ty leaned a little farther back against Helen, and she swatted his hair away before turning to talk to Aline and Julian. Giving them a little pocket of privacy. Which Kit appreciated. 

"How's it goin’?" He says in a singsong voice. Ty shrugs, "Pretty good. Emma and I played checkers."

"Did you win?"

"Of course I won. Someone in this relationship has to be a winner." 

Kit feigned offense. "I'm hurt. To think my own boyfriend could be so cruel." Ty chuckled, but didn't say anything, his eyes already closing. It only took moments for Ty to fall asleep against his sister. Kit slid Ty's shoes off and placed them on the floor, knowing how much Ty hated sleeping with his shoes on. When he looked up, he realized that the chatter of the Blackthorns had stopped. Now, everyone was looking at him. Most of them were smiling mischievously. Kit felt his cheeks go red. "What?"

Emma snorted. "What', he says. Like he doesn't know." She stuck her tongue out at him, he would have returned it if Dru hadn't thrown a chocolate at him. "Oww!" He hissed as it bounced off his forehead. Dru paid him no head, "When are you gonna do it!" She all but shouts. Both Kit and Helen shush her, Kit holds his breath as Ty shifts a little, but doesn't wake. He lets out a sigh of relief. "Watch it," Kit warns, tossing the chocolate back at Dru. She catches it effortlessly. 

"You didn't answer the question…" Ash points out. Kit finds that he can't look at them. Any of them. So he looks at Ty's legs on his lap, and picks a speck of lint of his Christmas sweater. "Tonight," he says, simply. "When?" Cristina prompts. To this, he stays silent. The silence draws on, awkward and heavy between them all. 

"Kit..." Aline draws.

"Christopher." Mark throws his Santa hat at Kit. He swats it away and feels his face grow hot. 

Finally, Ash just sighs and announces, "He doesn't have a plan. He thinks the 'right moment' will just happen." The room erupts into outraged shouts and groans. Helen and Kit shush everyone again, and by some Christmas miracle, Ty stays asleep. Everyone lowers their voices, but still berates Kit for his poor planning. 

"You can't just know. Knowing you, you'll probably just chicken out." -Dru.

"Por el amor de Dios. You've GOT to be kidding me," -Cristina.

"Do you have any plans? At all???" -Helen.

"You put too much trust in him," -Tavvy.

"Alright fine. All that matters, is that he has a ring," At Aline’s addition, Kit perked up. "I do have that!" He said, a little too excitedly. "Where is it?" Mark asked. Kit held up his right hand, with his Herondale ring. 

There was a mixed chorus of replies. Helen thought that he should probably clean the ring before he gave it to him, which was true. Mark thought that giving your family ring was cheating a little. While the room broke into sides about whether giving your family ring was romantic, or cheap, a hand came to rest on Kit’s shoulder. It was Emma, who had come around to the back of the couch. "Hey, Kit?" He turned his head to her at that. Emma smiled at him, and then nodded to Ty, "You're going to be just fine." 

Her assurance in him flooded warmth in his chest. He found himself smiling, letting out a breath of relief. Emma pressed a kiss to his cheek, and patted his shoulder.

So maybe Kit didn't really have a plan. And maybe he was a total coward and even just thinking about getting down on one knee made his palms sweat uncontrollably. But Emma Carstairs, yes, the Emma Carstairs, hugged his shoulders from behind, and told him "You got this." So. Yeah. Kit had this in the bag. 

Hopefully.

~♡◇♤~♡◇♤~♡◇♤~

The party was in full swing. The guests had arrived right on time. (Well, the Lightwood-Banes were fashionably late. But that was expected.) The dining room hadn't been big enough for all the guests. So everyone had gathered their food on plates and spread out through the Institute. Kit had forgotten how many people he actually knew. Every room he went into, he ran into a familiar face. Every room had a different game or conversation, a different Christmas song in the background. Though he stopped in every room, there was only one face he wanted to find. He and Ty had gotten separated at some point, and in a party like this, it was nearly impossible to find each other again. 

He was passing through the kitchen when a small figure, glad in a red and green tutu, crashed into his legs. "Kit-kat!" Mina yelled, and held her arms up to be picked up. She was getting too big to do that, but neither of them cared. Kit scooped her up and tickled her side. She laughed, and the sound was sorely missed. Kit visited Devon almost weekly, but it never felt like enough. "Did you grow taller since last week?" Kit asked. A laugh from behind caught him by surprise. Tessa and Jem were in the doorway, both in cheesy Christmas sweaters. "She most certainly did." Jem remarked, coming to put his arm around Kit’s shoulders. 

Kit leaned into him instinctively, letting Jem's steady presence reassure him. He took a deep breath of his dad's scent, and then asked, "Have either of you seen Ty?" Tessa shook her head, "No. I take it you haven't asked yet, then?" Kit shook his head. 

"Kit," Mina whispered, cupping her hand around his ear, like she was going to tell him a secret. "Can I be the flower girl at your wedding?" Kit held in his laugh, looking at her seriously. He nodded once. "Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way." Mina beamed. Kit glanced over at Tessa, and found her smiling a secret sort of smile at him. She nodded to the back door, "Shall we?" 

He wasn't sure what they were going to do, but he nodded all the same. Jem took Mina from his arms, and ruffled his hair. Tessa held her hand out to him and he took it. She lead him out the backdoor and into the statue garden. Kit hadn't realized how hot it was before the cold air hit his face. A breeze rippled through his hair. "It's strange to see Christmas without snow," Tessa remarks, staring out at the stars. Her soft brown curls were pinned up with pearls, gleaming softly in the low light. Not for the first time, Tessa looked both impossibly young, and wise with age at the same time. 

They sit on a stone bench, and are quiet for a long moment. "I want to give you something, Kit." Tessa finally said. Kit raised an eyebrow, "You know, Christmas isn’t until tomorrow." Tessa smiled, "Then consider this an early present." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. 

"What, you proposing to me, now?" 

Tessa rolled her eyes and handed him the box. Kit clicked it open, and his breath caught. "Tessa…" 

Inside the box, was a shinning, silver, Herondale ring. It looked just as old as Kit's, but it was smoother, and a little smaller. Tessa wrapped her arm around him, "The one you wear," she says, "Was James's." He turns to her at that. "I didn't know." The fact that she had given that to him, even when he was fifteen and angry all the time. But Tessa only shrugs. "I figured, both my sons should have it." 

She brushes a finger against the ring in the box. "This one," she whispers, "Was Cordelia's. You can tell, because she didn't get nearly as much ichor on it as James did." She laughs at this, and Kit thinks about the pictures of Cordelia at the house in Devon. "I imagine her pure beauty and talent repelled dirt and ichor." He murmured and Tessa snorted. "She was...one of a kind. Like your Ty." She nudges Kit, and when he looks up at her, the soft and loving look she gives him makes his eyes well up with tears. 

“Will proposed to me on Christmas, too.” She says, her voice impossible soft. He hugs her then, tight. His head tucking under her chin like he was a teenager again and not a young man. “You’re going to be just fine, Kit. He loves you, and you love him, and that's all that matters. The rest is just…” She gestures at the garden around them, “I was going to say snow, but maybe in LA, it would be sand.” Tessa shrugs at her failed analogy. “Nothing else matters,” She explained, and looked him in the eyes with a stern look, “Just as long as you love one another. And I know you do.” 

"Thank you," he crooked. Tessa kissed his forehead. "I love you, Kit," she whispered. She knew how hard the words were hard for him to say to her, and to Jem. So when Kit whispered back, "I love you, too." She squeezed him tight. 

Kit left Tessa in the statue garden, and made his way back into the party. The ring, a comforting weight in his pocket. His head felt clearer and he knew where Ty would be. 

Kit knocked on the trap door before lifting it up. He climbed onto the roof, instantly getting hit with memories of him and Ty sneaking away at dozens of events. Sure enough, Ty sat at the edge of the roof. When he saw Kit approach, he grinned. Kit sat next to him, "Hey stranger," he ran his hand up Ty's back. He felt him shiver. 

"It got kind of loud." Ty said, by way of explanation. Kit nodded in agreement. Even now, a gentle Christmas song floated through an open window and up to the roof. "We can go whenever you want," he reminds him, like he always does. Ty tends to get it in his head that his needs don't matter. Kit does the same thing, too. So they take care of each other. With little reminders or quiet company. 

Ty shakes his head. "I'm good," he glances at Kit, "I just want to sit up here, with you. If that's okay?" He tilts his head, his dark hair falling into his silver eyes. Kit reaches out and brushes it back. "Of course it is," his hand lingers on Ty’s cheek, and he leans into the touch. Ty turns his face, kisses Kit’s palm. 

Something happens at this moment. Maybe the light just, hit him just right. Maybe the goddamn Angel himself sent a sign. Maybe Kieran was down below, using some Fairie King Magic to make everything just right. It didn't really matter how it happened, the point is, everything was perfect. Nothing in Kit’s life had ever been perfect. Except for this. Except for Ty.

A cool breeze turned their noses and cheeks red. Their fingers into icicles. Baby It's Cold Outside is playing softly in the distance. And Kit finds himself humming along. So he stands up, and holds out his hand. "Dance with me," He says, his voice sounding low even in his own ears. Ty laughs but takes his hand. "We can have our own little party right now," Kit grins, pulling Ty up. 

Ty rolls his eyes but let's Kit lead him in a dance, anyway. "You're a dork," he remarks. Kit spins him, "And you're beautiful." Ty blushes. Even now that they're grown and Kit tells him he's beautiful every chance he gets, Ty still blushes. And it makes Kit's heart soar. Kit tugs him closer by the waist, "I love you," he whispers, and feels his voice crack a little. Because it's true. Kit loves him, more than he knew he could possibly love someone. And everyday, it grows just a little bit more. 

"Ty, I-"

 Shit. 

He can't even get the worst out. He swallows thickly. There's a pressure building in his eyes. He knows he's going to cry, but at this point. Ty has seen every twisted, rotten, vulnerable, messy, wonderful side of Kit. He's seen him cry a dozen times before, so really, at this point, Kit doesn't care. 

"Ty, I love you so much." Tears are already welling in his eyes and his feet are struggling to keep moving. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Kit has to clear his throat to keep going. They've stopped dancing now, and Ty is wiping away his tears with gentle fingers. 

"What's wrong, Christopher?" 

Kit hiccups a sob as his name leaves his loved one's mouth. "Nothing. I'm sorry I just-" he forces a watery laugh. "I don't want to be with anyone else. Tiberius. I love you. Do you….do you understand?" From the way that Ty blinks at him, the way his face is pinched in concern, Kit doesn't think he does. He curses himself. Trust him to make some confusing love confession while sobbing. At this point, there is only one way for him to be completely clear. Kit takes Ty's hand.

He gets down on one knee.

Ty's eyes widen. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His fingers tighten their grip on Kit’s hand.

"Tiberius." Kit says, his voice steadier. He reaches into his pocket and retrieves the blue velvet box. He clicks it open. 

"Will you marry me?" 

There's a silence for a long time and Kit fears the worst-

Until Ty meets his eyes. Kit sees that the reason he hasn't spoken, is simply because his hand is covering his mouth, tears streaming down his cheeks. But he's grinning from ear to ear and nodding rapidly. "Yes." He chokes out. "Yes. Angel yes, I'll marry you, Christopher!!" He tugs Christopher up and it's hard to tell which one of them pulls the other into a kiss, but it's watery, a little salty, and the sweetest thing Kit has ever experienced. Ty’s hands fist into his sweater, and Kit tugs him closer with one hand, the other carefully holding the ring up and out of the way. Ty kisses him harder, like he can’t express how he feels in any other way than by closeness and pressure and heat and-

Kit stumbles back, his foot sliding on a patch of ice and he comes crashing down on the roof, pulling Ty down with him. He lands with a loud bang and he groans as pain spikes up his back and Ty’s elbow collides with his ribs. Ty can’t even apologize, he’s already laughing. Kit joins him and then there they are. On the cold, wet, icy roof. Tears flowing down both their cheeks, and they’re laughing. Kit manages to slide the ring onto Ty’s cold finger, but he can’t bring himself to find the strength to stand. 

The trap door suddenly bursts open and Julian Blackthorn’s head appears, “Is everything okay?! We heard a bang-shit, what happened?” 

Kit and Ty laugh harder as Julian pulls himself onto the roof and the heads and faces of all their friends and family pop in and out of view. Kit wonders if they’ve been waiting down there the whole time. If Tessa ran off to tell everyone that Kit was going to do it as soon as their conversation had finished. 

Probably. 

They all share bewildered looks, but instead of forming coherent sentences, Kit just laughs, brushes away a tear, and holds up Ty’s left hand in victory. A roar of cheers and applause erupt from down below, one that sounds like it starts from Emma and Ash. Julian pulls them up and brushes off some of the dirty ice from the roof, before they are ushered down the ladder and into the warm, welcoming, rejoicing arms of their family. 

Even as Jem squeezes him tight and Jace ruffles his hair, Kit’s eyes never leave Ty’s. 

He grins.

Ty grins back.  

#The Shadowhunters Chronicles #shadowhunters #shadowhunters chronicles #Lord Of Shadows #lady midnight #queen of air and darkness #KITTY FLUFF #look at kit #kit herondale #kit and ty #kit herongraystairs #kit rook #Ty Blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #the blackthorns #tessa gray #tessa carstairs #tessa herondale #jem carstairs #Mina Carstairs #mark blackthorn #cristina rosales #Kieran Kingson #kit and kieran- #kit and dru's underrated bromance #ash morgenstern #dru x ash #Drusilla Blackthorn

[ezzydean]

tell me

for @notsuchasecret

i love you 

Mattsun scrunches his nose up in a way that Tooru does not find adorable — except for all ways he finds it disgustingly adorable — and gives Tooru an almost betrayed look as he sets down Tooru’s coffee cup.

“Since when do you like blueberry cappuccino?”  Mattsun licks at his lips and scowls, clearly trying to get rid of the flavor.  “Since when do you like blueberry anything?”

“It’s not like I hated it or anything.”

“You did when you were sixteen.”

Tooru scoffs and takes a sip of his cappuccino.  “I hated a lot when I was sixteen.  People, places, things.  Thankfully it was temporary and I got over most of it.”

“You never hated me,” Mattsun teases.  Tooru sets down his cup with a soft sigh.  He can feel Mattsun’s gaze and he forces himself to meet it.  “Or did you?”

“Not something I’m super proud of but, for at least a little while, yeah I did hate you.”

Mattsun’s gaze flickers around his face.  “You’re serious,” he finally says.

Tooru nods.

Sixteen had not been a good year for him.  Then again seventeen had been a bit of a crushing blow and eighteen had been a nightmare of hard work and an aching body that sometimes felt three times as old as it was.  But sixteen… sixteen sucked.  There’s no nicer way to say it.  He told Mattsun that he hated a lot when he was sixteen and he did.  But it would have been more accurate to tell Mattsun that he hated everything when he was sixteen; his family, his friends, his body, school, volleyball you name it he hated it that year.

He finishes his cappuccino and is rinsing his cup out in the sink when Mattsun finally speaks again.

“I didn’t realize,” Mattsun says quietly.  “I mean I noticed some things that you were suddenly very opinionated about but I didn’t realize that—”  He stops talking suddenly and Tooru glances over his shoulder.  Mattsun is still looking at him but his eyes are a little glazed like maybe he’s looking at Tooru but seeing sixteen year old Tooru instead.  “Oh,” he breathes out.

“Yeah.”

Hajime may have been his best friend since they were kids but that just meant that he sometimes had blinders on when it came to Tooru.  Oh sure he could put his foot down and even now he’s one of the few people who can chastise Tooru with nothing more than a stern look.  But Hajime didn’t always notice the smaller things which, at sixteen, was one of the reasons Tooru hated him for a little while.

Coincidentally noticing those smaller things was the reason that Tooru had hated Mattsun for that same little while.

“I did realize,” Mattsun says softly.

“You did.”

“I just didn’t realize you were serious about it.”

“I don’t think anyone did,” Tooru says airily as he dries off his cup and puts it away.  “And I’m pretty sure you and my sister were the only ones who even noticed enough to call me out on any of it anyway.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?  You were a giant miserable mess but oh it was okay because nobody else took it seriously either.  Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Why are you getting so upset?”  Tooru leans against the counter and crosses his arms across his chest defensively at Mattsun’s tone.

“Why am I?  Tooru.  You.”  Mattsun runs his hands down his face and lets out a disbelieving laugh that twists something in Tooru’s chest so sharply he’s a little afraid something just broke in there.

He watches Mattsun shake his head and look up like he’s asking some higher power for guidance and wonders if Mattsun is still in love with him even after all these years.  It’s been a constant in his life for nearly two decades now.  No matter what else is going on in his life he’s always known three things for sure: Iwa-chan is his best friend, his mother’s favorite fruit is peaches, and Mattsun is in love with him.

“Why are you here, Tooru?”  He startles at the question.  At Mattsun’s tone.  At the way Mattsun is studying him.

“What do you mean?  I retired.  I came home.”

“Not here in general.”  Mattsun waves behind himself, gesturing to the apartment as he says, “Here as in: in case you missed it this is my apartment, not yours.”

That something in his chest twists again and this time he’s surprised Mattsun doesn’t seem to hear the sound of it snapping in two.

“Home has never really been a place for me, Mattsun.  It’s always been a handful of people.”  

Tooru spins the ring on his pointer finger idly, staring down at the dark band as he wills his anxiety to cooperate, to not drag him under.  He takes a deep breath, refusing to meet Mattsun’s eyes and he lets out an airy laugh and heads out of the kitchen.  He grabs the few things he had left laying around Mattsun’s apartment and shoves them into his duffel bag.  He had gotten used to not really unpacking things since he left after high school.  He was never entirely sure when he’d be leaving, was always looking out the windows at the sky and twitching with a need to go.  To move.

To run.

He can feel Mattsun’s gaze on him the entire time and it makes him calm and restless in equal measure, something that Mattsun has always been good at.

He’s sitting in front of the door attempting to untie his shoes, duffel bag on the floor next to him, when he feels more than hears Mattsun come to a stop behind him.

“Leaving already?”

Tooru snorts, yanking at the knot in his shoelace.  “Well you made it abundantly clear that I’m not welcome here.”  He curses softly as his shoelace just gets more knotted and tangled.  “So I’m going.”

Mattsun plucks the shoe from his hands and after a minute he holds it in front of Tooru’s face, lace knot-free, and wiggles it when Tooru doesn’t take it right away.  Tooru huffs at him and grabs the shoe.  But he doesn’t put it on right away.  Because the thing is.  He doesn’t want to leave.  He doesn’t want to go back to his empty apartment across the city where he’s barely unpacked despite being back for almost a month now.  He doesn’t want to go and stare at his blank walls and pretend he isn’t ignoring calls from his mother and avoiding Hajime and, for once in his life, hoping nobody recognizes him when he steps outside in the morning.

“I never said that and you know it.  You know what I mean, Tooru.  You always have.”  

He does.  He knows what Mattsun means.  Just like he knows Mattsun loves him.  Just like he knows that clouds go in the sky and ice melts when it’s hot.  He knows.  That doesn’t mean he has any idea what to do with that knowledge.

“What do you want from me?”  He hates how defeated he sounds.  How unsure of everything he sounds.  

He is unsure.  Of almost everything.  But that doesn’t mean he’s okay with people seeing it.

“That depends.”  

He wants to turn around and look at Mattsun.  Or lean backwards and peer up at him.  Or maybe curl into a ball and disappear from the world for a little bit.  He wants a lot of things.  But he already got one of the biggest things he’s ever wanted in life when he went to Argentina for volleyball.  How can he even think about asking for more?

“What does it depend on?”

“Are you going to go halfway across the world again?  Leave everything behind and chase after a dream?”

Pure anger chokes him for a moment, memories of all the people who had told him his dreams were silly or pointless or out of reach suddenly threatening to overwhelm him.  Memories of everyone who had told him he’d never make it.  That he’d never be good enough.  Teachers and coaches and teammates and doctors and fellow students.  

“I didn’t just chase my dream.  I caught it.  I held it in my hands,” he bites out.  “So don’t judge me because you stayed here and putzed yourself into a job at a funeral home.”

Mattsun’s fingers dig into his scalp for a second before running through his hair.  “Again.  I never said that.”

Tooru lets out a shaky breath as his anger vanishes.  It’s always amazed him how easily Mattsun can do that; a simple brush of fingers or bumped shoulder and Tooru settles into his own skin again.  He anchors Tooru, grounds him in a way no one else has ever managed.

“I don’t plan on leaving again,” Tooru whispers.

“Good.  Not that I didn’t want you to chase your dreams.  I did.  I do.  Even if you decided tomorrow to go off again I’d support you.”

Thoughts of leaving flicker through his mind.  Images of places he’s been and places he could go.  Memories of being offered coaching spots and public speaking opportunities.  A couple years ago, a couple months ago, hell a couple weeks ago they sounded tempting.  Now they just sound exhausting.

He’s exhausted.

“So.  What do you want from me, Mattsun?”

“I want you to stay.”  Mattsun settles onto the floor behind him.  He’s a warm weight against Tooru’s back as he wraps his arm’s around Tooru’s waist and tugs him back enough to hook his chin over Tooru’s shoulder.  “You went and you caught your dreams and now you’re back.  I want the chance to catch my dreams.  I want you to stay.  Here.”

Tooru leans back against Mattsun’s chest.

“Here as in your apartment?”

“Here as in this city.  Here as in my life in general, if that’s all I can get.  But if I had it my way?  Here in my apartment.”  He squeezes Tooru and sighs.  “In my arms.”

If there was an Olympic event for most emotional whiplash moments in the span of five minutes he’d definitely be medaling.  Maybe not gold.  But definitely at least a bronze medal.  Because any trace of anger is long gone and his heart feels about seven sizes too big to properly fit in his chest right now.  With Mattsun pressed against his back, breath warm against his cheek, Tooru feels balanced for the first time in a very long time.  

Mattsun has always been waiting for him.  Not in a stagnant way or anything.  Mattsun has lived his own life, has had his fair share of ups and downs and experiences.  But he’s always had a place for Tooru at his side, in his life.  Just waiting for the day Tooru came back.

He can stay planted on the ground and stare up at the night sky without worrying what would happen if he floated off into that fathomless ether.  Because he could shoot off into space, rocket around among the stars a bit, and never feel the slightest bit lost.  He knows that Mattsun will never tie him down, will never drag him under the surface, anchored to the point of drowning.  But he’ll always be there.

Mattsun is his map, his compass, his North Star.

“Do you still love me, Issei?”  Tooru swallows down all his worries and licks the fear from his lips.  His dreams of pro volleyball are his past and Mattsun is his future.  A future that he’s pretty sure will be bright enough to outshine even the sun   one day.  “Are you still in love with me?”

“Yes.”

He closes his eyes and relaxes back into Mattsun’s arms, body boneless and soul drifting free.  

“I missed you,” he admits softly.  “Even when I was on top of the world and had my dreams right there in front of me.  I missed you.”

He can’t say that he’s in love with Mattsun.  Not yet.  But he knows Mattsun understands and he’ll get there eventually.

They have the rest of forever, after all.

#haikyuu #OiMatsu #oikawa tooru #matsukawa issei #OiMatsu fic #hq writing

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Six Feet Apart

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Summary: Dean is fed up with a lot of things about the Coronavirus and safety guidelines, but he’s got a compelling reason to follow them. Sometimes it’s funny what a little faith can do.

Warnings: Obviously everything surrounding the ‘Rona, mentions of terminal illness, some angst, some feels but a positive ending

A/N: @rileynicole1967​ requested a Dean x reader fic based on “Six Feet Apart” by Alec Benjamin. This is definitely not what you asked for because it took a weird turn, BUT it was very therapeutic for me to write and I still managed to give it the ending you asked for. So I appreciate the request more than you know :) 

[IF you happen to be curious about the inspiration behind this:   I’ve been in a rough place for quite some time-- hence my Tumblr absence. Not that the self-disclosure is really needed, but my grandma is in really bad shape with her cancer and I’ve been trying to make things work with a guy who very well could have been “The One” under non-’Rona circumstances. I’ve been caught in a terrible, anxiety-inducing middle between obviously wanting to date and spend time with a guy who is out in the world everyday, but only being able to do so much without risking my grandma’s health. Aaand kind of mine too. Stupid faulty meatsuit haha. Anyway. Life has been so stinking heavy but this helped a little.]

Keys. 

Mask. 

Wallet. 

Phone.

It was routine now. Dean had gone through the process so many times that his body practically went on autopilot as he grabbed the items on his way out of the motel room he’d checked into late last night.

There were days he thought the guidelines were frustrating, inconvenient, and even a little pointless. He knew he’d probably get the virus at some point anyway and he’d made peace with that. Maybe he’d be able to fight it off just fine, maybe he wouldn’t. But the chances of that happening were like anything else in life. Even if the world had managed to come to an eerie halt, that didn’t mean it applied to people like him and Sam who still had work to do. 

Although he knew he had everything he needed, he checked his pockets again just to be sure. If it were up to him, truthfully he wouldn’t even bother with the mask or the “social distancing” crap. 

But it wasn’t just about him anymore. And he couldn’t afford to take any chances.

Oh, I miss you most at six feet apart when you’re

Right outside my window, but can’t ride inside my car

And it hurts to know just how lovely you are

And be too far away to hold, but close enough to break my heart

I miss your smile

Feels like miles

Six feet apart

Dean pulled into a worn concrete driveway in front of a modest white house. The front porch, which he’d become quite familiar with lately, contained two cast iron chairs and a matching table. He’d never been inside, couldn’t risk the possibility of bringing the virus into her home if he’d unknowingly come into contact with it. While he was constantly on the road chasing cases, she only left the house for treatments, appointments, and intermittent trips to the porch when he could make it back to visit.

He sighed heavily, putting the car in park before turning to glare at the offending bit of fabric on the leather seat beside him. He hated wearing that stupid mask. Hated the way the material trapped each breath, circulating the warm air right back to his face. He hated how stuffy and suffocating it felt. Sometimes it even made him feel a little claustrophobic.

But she’d sewn it herself and given it to him so he could stop using t-shirts, bandanas, and any other piece of clothing he could find in his trunk as a makeshift mask each time he came to see her. Sometimes he struggled to keep in mind what a thoughtful gesture it had been. That having to wear it might be annoying, but it really wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. And if a stupid piece of fabric had even a small chance of keeping them safe, then he could deal with it for a few hours, couldn’t he? 

A few hours, he thought sourly. Nowadays they were lucky if they could even get that much time together. But he’d take what he could get.

Reluctantly, he grabbed the mask and looped the elastic bands around each ear. After fussing with the edges, trying in vain to make it fit comfortably, he let his head fall back against the seat in frustration. As he examined the space above him, sinking deeper into his ruminating thoughts, he began to wonder how much longer he could keep this up and if all of this was really worth it.

So far, so far, but so close

Like a star out in the cosmos

Can’t touch the beauty I see

That’s how it feels at six feet

It had been a while since the last time he’d been able to visit her. When the front door opened and two women emerged, he climbed out of the car and walked straight to his usual spot on the overgrown lawn. As he got closer and appraised her condition, he tried to conceal his reaction.

She looked rough. Despite the fuzzy robe she wore, he could tell how feeble her figure was beneath. Her movements were slow and deliberate, making him suspect she may have fallen again recently. He clenched his jaw, recalling how she’d been too weak to pick herself up last time and had remained on the floor until someone came to check on her the next morning. 

With help from the other woman, who he assumed was a new caretaker, she settled into the cushions on one of the chairs. Her chest heaved and her eyes fell closed as she took a moment to recover from the exertion of her short walk. When her eyes finally fluttered open, they were a stark contrast against her sallow skin.  

“Long time, no see,” she teased, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Dean nodded. “How’re you feeling today?”

“Can’t complain.”

In a way, he knew she was lying. He had a feeling she was having a rough day, but she was never one to complain. He had quickly learned that no matter what was going on in her life, she was the kind of person who worried about everyone else and put their well-being before her own. He wondered what kind of update the doctor had given her this time, but he was too afraid to ask.

“It’s so good to see you.”

Her gentle admission shook him from his thoughts. The edges of her eyes crinkled and he could just imagine the smile she wore beneath her mask. 

Space and time are interwoven

Well, at least that’s what we’re told

When I was young, I was suspicious, but it’s true

Time sticks like glue

I feel so blue

Here missing you

So I think I’ll build a time machine and go back to a time

When we didn’t need to measure six feet on the ground

When I came around

That’s not allowed

I can’t go back now

He’d never really been the relationship type. He hadn’t been looking for anything when their paths had first crossed, but there was something about her that had captured his interest. The more they’d gotten to know one another, the more he learned just how much they had in common. 

It had made him feel uneasy at first-- how easy she was for him to talk to. She rarely pressed him on anything and she had a way of making him feel comfortable even with the hardest conversations. They’d shared their life stories; their favorite memories, biggest letdowns, family dramas, and everything in between. After all of the monsters they’d each faced in their lives...this one was the deadliest and ugliest he’d ever had to face. And of all the people in the world who didn’t deserve to go through something like this, she topped the list.

Okay, sure, no one really deserved a death sentence. But didn’t it always make it worse that bad things always seemed to happen to good people? 

Dean had beaten leviathans and reapers. He’d taken out loads of vampires, ghouls, and ghosts. He’d ganked more angel and demon douchebags than he could count. But when he had asked her to let him help-- when he’d mentioned what Cas could do or offered to work with Sam to find a spell that might heal her-- she politely declined. She had simply thanked him and explained that it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else fighting for their lives like she was. That her life was in no way more important than anyone else’s. She’d told Dean sometimes these things just happen and have a little faith, you never know.

Dean had of course tried to argue, but he couldn’t quite put into words just how special she was. That she didn’t deserve this and he’d give anything to change their circumstances. At one point he’d even considered tracking down a crossroads demon and making a deal to switch places with her, but he knew she wouldn’t have wanted that. 

No matter how many times he tried to bring it up or how much he wished he could fight this one for her, there was nothing he could do to fight the monster slowly killing her from the inside out.

So, I miss you most at six feet apart when you’re

Right outside my window, but can’t ride inside my car

And it hurts to know just how lovely you are

And be too far away to hold, but close enough to break my heart

I miss your smile

Feels like miles

Six feet apart

It seemed like there was never enough time. They’d talked all afternoon and neither one of them were ready to say goodbye but, when she suddenly shivered, he knew it was time for him to leave. It wasn’t cold outside by any means, but it took a lot more to keep her warm these days.

He couldn’t help but linger a little longer, admiring her from where he still sat in the grass. Sometimes just being in her presence helped ease a little of the hopelessness he always seemed to grapple with. It was starting to take a toll on him-- not knowing if things would ever get better or if the world would ever return to some sense of normalcy.

What he wanted more than anything was to walk right up on the porch and wrap his arms around her. It didn’t make sense how much he ached to just be near her. He’d never admit it out loud, but it was almost physically painful how much he wanted to reach out and touch her-- to hug her, kiss her, or even see her smile without their stupid masks.

But she was barely holding on and he knew her body was fighting every moment of the day just to keep her alive. 

He hated wearing his mask. He hated how he could be so close to her and still feel so far away. He hated not being able to hold her and he hated that there didn’t seem to be an end or a solution in sight for the state of the world at the moment. He hated that she was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. And he especially hated the fact that the universe had to have a pretty damn cruel sense of humor to let him meet someone like her in a time like this. Even though he was fed up with feeling like he was stuck in another one of Gabriel’s twisted, incessant pranks...the thought of walking away and not having her in his life at all was far worse. 

So he took it one day at a time. He knew there was a chance he might get the virus at some point and usually he was ready to accept whatever cards fate dealt him. Maybe he’d be able to fight it off, maybe he wouldn’t. But she wouldn’t be able to. And he knew if he slipped up, if he somehow managed to pass it along, that that would be the end for her.

He hated a lot of things lately and he wasn’t sure if they’d ever really go away. But there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that every single inconvenience and moment of frustration was worth it for him to be able to spend time with her-- even six feet apart.

***

Dean was staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. The nightmares didn’t come as often anymore but, when they did...well, they were no walk in the park. He let out a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he pushed the images of her sunken face from his mind.

The movement had jostled her, and he hugged her closer when she began to stir. He placed a gentle kiss on top of her head and she hummed softly as she nestled further into his chest.

When they were in the thick of it, it had been so hard to see a way out. To believe they’d be okay or ever have a shot at actually being together. To believe there would be an end to the virus or that there was any chance she could get better. 

Sometimes those dark days, when all hope seemed lost, felt like nothing more than a distant nightmare. But Dean refused to let himself forget. Maybe it was morbid, but every moment with her felt a little bit sweeter when he reminded himself of how grim those days had been and of everything they’d had to overcome. When he remembered everything she’d had to endure.

It was honestly a miracle that he was lucky enough to hold her in his arms like this. Everyone had asked him on numerous occasions if he’d done something, but even he didn’t have an explanation. He really didn’t care whether it was faith or something supernatural or even just one of life’s unexplained mysteries-- all that mattered was that she was healthy and alive. 

So he kept the memories of those days close and promised himself he’d never take the time he had with her for granted. They had made it through one of the darkest times in either of their lives and he had no doubt they’d face more in the future. But, with her by his side, he had faith they’d find a way to make it through those days too.

So far, so far, but so close

Like a star out in the cosmos

Can’t touch the beauty I see

That’s how it all feels to me

So far, so far, but so close

Like a star out in the cosmos

Can’t touch the beauty I see

That’s how it feels at six feet

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[pearl-pilots-in-chains]

Ice Cream Expertise (All the Little Lights #1)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Kawoshin

Rating: G

Summary: Shinji is faced with a dilemma of sorts, and is characteristically indecisive. Fortunately, Kaworu is there to give some helpful advice. Or maybe just call himself an ice cream expert. Let's be honest, it's a bit of both.

Notes: This is intended to be the start to All the Little Lights, my attempt at a relatively happy Evangelion high school AU featuring the pilots we know (and maybe love) actually getting to live a normal life (including all the cute gay romance they deserve). That said, it also works totally fine as a one shot. Considering it's an AU, there's going to be some rather interesting deviations from canon, some of which are alluded to here. So, if something seems off, that's probably because it is.

As usual, any errors, grammatical or typographical, are mine. I apologize in advance.

This was originally posted to my old AO3 on May 21, 2020. I hope you enjoy it!

_________________________________________________________

Shinji Ikari was not having a good day. No, perhaps that was an understatement. He was having a distinctly bad day. School had been tedious to say the least, considering that testing week was approaching, and the teachers seemed to be doing their best to “prepare” the students using every form of academic torture known to humankind. Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it had been a hectic hell all the same. Not to mention the fact that his best friend Touji was going through a rough patch (not the first one, mind you), with his girlfriend Hikari, which led to a tense mood within their friend group outside of class as well. Adding onto this was the fact that he was getting worried about his sister (what wasn’t new?) Rei, who had been especially quiet the past week or so, even by her standards. That was usually a sign that her depression was going through a rough spot. He had wanted to mention something to his mother about it, considering she usually had better luck at getting through to Rei than he did when his sister was going through a difficult time, but unsurprisingly, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He was gone too often, and his mother was gone too often. There was all of a one to two hour period when they were both home and awake on any given night. Rei always ending up alone probably doesn’t help her state of mind improve either. I wish she had more friends. People she could connect with.

And, of course, to top all that wonderful baggage off, he had had work after school, which had gone lovely. Just lovely. A simply wonderful group of customers had come in, and stayed for a better part of three hours, ordering intermittently while they all talked (way too loudly, in his opinion) at their shared table, which, in a predictable move, they hadn’t even bothered to clean off. He was a barista, not a waiter, despite what some people seemed to think. To make matters worse, they had been laughing so hard partway through their “discussion,” that one of the party had practically flung her iced latte through the air by accident (how someone could do that by accident, was a whole other topic for conversation), sending its contents flying halfway across the room (in a bafflingly impressive display, he had to admit, as irritating as it was). Of course, he had drawn the short straw and been the one tasked with cleaning it up. His boss seemed to get a special satisfaction out of giving Shinji all the “fun,” jobs. Okay, maybe Mr. Anno’s not that bad, but he still gets a kick out of watching me suffer. Or something like that.

Shinji sighed as he pulled his car into the store parking spot. As he exited it, he glanced down at his phone. 7:16. That meant he should have enough time to get home and get dinner going before his mother got home. These days, it seemed as though she worked progressively later and later. It had been a couple months since she’d been home before 8. She was almost certainly still out at the base at that moment. Whatever project she’s working on now is one of the more intensive ones.

He headed for the doors. He was planning on making stir fry, which meant that he needed to get soy sauce for sure, since he knew they had run out from the last time. He thought they had most of the rest of what he needed at home. So, this should be a quick run. Just in and out. After a day like today though, he was tempted to grab something sweet. Come on, after this whole mess, I think I at least half deserve something to take my mind off of it. Just a little.

Inside, he made a bee line for the condiments aisle. Alright, first things first. Get what I need. Then, maybe, I’ll just check out what they have. He grabbed soy sauce, and then wavered for a moment, trying to decide just for what he was in the mood. Okay, just something little. Nothing too big. I am going to be cooking, after all. Hmmm . . . I mean, it’s probably not the best idea, but . . .

Making his decision, he set off for the frozen section. Once again, he paused when he arrived at the aisle, looking through the glass freezer doors at the available options. I’ll just get a pint. That should be more than enough. Even if Rei goes for some too. ‘Cause mom hardly ever eats anything sweet, so I doubt she’ll have any. He tilted his head, tapping the soy sauce bottle against his thigh as he considered the selection. Why are there so many flavors? I didn’t even realize they sold Pumpkin outside of November. And Lime-Raspberry? What would that even taste like? Who comes up with these things? I’ll go for something classic. I could always do Vanilla. But, that’s a little boring. I don’t even really like it that much. Chocolate’s always classic, except that Rei doesn’t like it. And her favorite is Cookie Dough, which I don’t like the texture of . . . there are way too many choices here. Running his eyes over the racks, he did a quick count. Forty-two different flavors. Why are there forty-two different flavors? I wonder if anyone’s ever tried them all. Then again, that might take a while. And be kind of pricey. Dammit, I’m getting distracted again. The only conclusion that Shinji was coming to was the fact that he liked ice cream far too much, and was wasting far more time than he should be trying to pick out something. Maybe I should just get the soy sauce and head home. He peaked down at his phone. 7:29. Yeah, I’ve already been here longer than I should be.

A voice interrupted Shinji’s thoughts. “So, what’s your drug of choice?”

Shinji head snapped to the side, his concentration broken. “What?,” He asked, a little surprised.

The source of the interruption was standing a little further down the aisle, casually leaning on one of the freezer windows, his head cocked to the side, watching Shinji with a friendly smile on his face. Shinji thought the interrupter looked to be about the same age as him, though that fact was complicated slightly by the fact that though his face was youthful, his hair was an ashen grey. He must dye it. Is grey hair a style though? The interrupting individual sported a pair of black jeans and a band shirt for a group whose name looked vaguely familiar to Shinji. Porcupine Tree . . . I feel like Rei might listen to them. Maybe. Not to mention the fact that the newcomer had red eyes. Red eyes. Okay, so maybe this is a look he’s going for. I mean, those are definitely contacts, right? Unless there’s a genetic mutation I’ve never heard of, I don’t think humans can be born with red eyes. Which means that they’re contacts. Which means that the hair is almost definitely dyed too. I’m pretty sure that’s not what ‘scene’ looks like . . . there’d be brighter colors . . . and I don’t think it’s emo either . . . I’m pretty sure his hair would be black then . . . huh . . . maybe that’s goth. Yeah. Let’s go with that. In addition to making him second guess what scene fashion looked like, Shinji’s visual analysis of the interrupter also led him to a more definite conclusion. That regardless of what category his fashion fell under, he was pretty cute. Seriously Shinji, focus here, and stop thinking about how some random boy in Safeway who asked you what type of drugs you like is cute. Don’t be an idiot. Sure, you haven’t been on a date in months, ever since Martin broke up with you, but he was a manipulative jerk anyway— Shinji realized the interrupter had started talking again, which snapped him back into reality and out of his wandering mind.

“Yeah. What flavor is your favorite. I mean, out of the forty-two, there has to be one you’d pick, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Probably cookies ’n’ cream,” Shinji answered, feeling more than a bit confused. On an afterthought, he added, “You’ve counted all the flavors too?”

“Not a bad choice,” the boy said with a firm nod. “Although, I’m more into mint chocolate chip myself. And yes, I’ve counted them all. It’s an important part to being an ice cream expert. Keeping track of the available flavors at the nearest store.”

“Okaayyy.” Shinji’s tone betrayed his uncertainty concerning just how he should deal with this stranger. “Ice cream expert?”

“Yep, that would be me,” the boy replied matter-of-factly, as though the question was a pointless one. He strolled over to Shinji and extended his hand. “Kaworu Akagi, ice cream expert, at your service.”

Shinji shook the offered hand, deciding he should be polite, despite the fact that his perplexity had not been substantially diminished in any way. This guy is . . . interesting, to say the least. As their hands met, Shinji was struck by the strange, but intense, sense that this wasn’t his first time meeting Kaworu.

“Shinji Ikari.” Against his better judgement, he decided to follow his introduction with, “Have we met before?”

Retracting his hand, Kaworu pursed his lips, ostensibly mulling over the question in his mind. After a few moments, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least, not that I can recall. I just got into town a few days ago. Why do you ask?”

Shinji shrugged, trying to play off his earlier question. “Oh, I think you just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Kaworu nodded, seeming to accept this answer. “Ah, that makes sense. So, have you come to a conclusion, or would you like a second opinion?”

Shinji raised an eyebrow. “About the ice cream, you mean?”

“Indeed. That is the topic on the floor, as they say,” Kaworu responded nonchalantly.

Shinji blinked. “Who says?”

“Why, they do of course.”

“Oh. Umm, alright.” Shinji looked back through the window, surveying his options once more. A obvious choice didn’t present itself. “Well . . . I suppose a second opinion probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great,” Kaworu stated, his tone even and pleasant. “Any occasion in particular you’re buying for?”

Shinji shook his head. “Nope, not really. Just . . .” he hesitated, uncertain how much he wanted to tell someone who was still basically a stranger to him. “Just a bad day,” was what he ended up deciding on.

Kaworu pretended to stroke nonexistent hairs on his chin, nodding slowly as did so, in an amusing imitation of the stereotypical philosopher. “Hmm . . . ice cream for a bad day, you say?”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess so.”

“I’d have to recommend Cherry Chip for that. It’s a guaranteed mood improver from my experience. It is nearly impossible to feel down while you’re eating Cherry Chip ice cream.”

“Really?” Shinji’s ice wandered down the display, finally locating the flavor in question. Fortunately, they had it in pint size, which meant that the option was on the table. He couldn’t think of any reason not to go for it. As far as he knew, Rei liked Cherry Chip. At least, he thought she did. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever seen her eat it. For that matter, he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever eaten it himself. Which means it might be pretty good, and I just don’t know it yet. You never know. “Really. Trust me, I’ve tested its potency. It won’t let you down.”

“Alright. Why not?” Shinji opened the door and grabbed a pint of Cherry Chip. He examined the container in his hands for a few seconds, before looking back up at Kaworu, who now seemed to be smiling in encouragement, which had the effect of making him look even cuter than before. Come on Shinji, don’t get distracted! Sure, he might be attractive, but he’s also a self-proclaimed ice cream expert. . . not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing yet, to be honest.

“That’ll do the job,” Kaworu remarked, in a straightforward tone that made it sound as though he was utterly confident in the truth of his words.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Shinji furrowed his brow as another question popped into his mind. “Hey .. . you said you just got into town a few days ago. How is it that you already know all the different flavors they have here?”

“It was one of the first things I scoped out after we got into town. Always important to know what kind of ice cream game you’re going to be dealing with. Plus, I had plenty of free time once we finished unpacking, considering I won’t be in school up here until the fall.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” Almost on a whim, Shinji was tempted to ask Kaworu where he had moved from, but decided that could come across as prying a little too much, since Kaworu hadn’t offered that information. As it was, Kaworu gave a partial answer to the question without Shinji even verbalizing it.

“School down south ends earlier. Though, to be fair, it also starts earlier there as well. We left a couple days after my semester ended. Which means I currently have relatively few obligations, other than locating and obtaining a job for the summer.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Shinji still wasn’t exactly sure how to respond, but he decided to field a question of his own. He figured it could come across as a polite inquiry, rather than being nosy, taking into account what Kaworu had just revealed. “So, what brought you up north?”

“My mother got transferred out to the base,” Kaworu returned offhandedly.

Shinji tilted his head in response to this answer, the gears in his brain turning. Well, that’s interesting. He almost wanted to make some sort of follow-up remark expressing their similarity in that regard, but he decided that might be a bit too much to say for the moment. Instead, he merely offered a casually, “I gotcha.” He continued with an amiable, “Well, welcome to Asherdale,” along with a more ironic, “It’s halfway decent, once you get used to it.”

Kaworu’s face broken into a grin at the humor, an expression that Shinji couldn’t help but feel made him look all the more attractive. Oops, getting distracted again. . . don’t do that . . . too much.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Kaworu said warmly.

“No problem.” The thought suddenly entering his mind, Shinji shot a momentary glance down at his phone. Hmm, what time is it? The answer was 7:37. 7:37?! I’ve been talking for eight minutes?! That felt like four or five at the most. I have to bail, now, if I’m going to make it home in time to get cooking.

He looked back up at Kaworu, who was still watching him, his gaze soft, the smile still on his face, his head tilted to the side. Shinji had the strange feeling that if it had been anyone else, the observational pose the boy had struck would have looked unusual, to say the least, but somehow, on Kaworu, it didn’t look half bad. It gives him a kind of elegant aesthetic . . . okay, where did I come up with that? I definitely need to head out.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry to leave so quick, but I need to get going.” Shinji cringed a little internally, hearing the awkward tone in his voice. You could have said that in a way that didn’t basically announced the fact that it made you flustered. Great going.

“Understandable. You wouldn’t want that ice cream to melt before you get the chance to test out its powers.”

“Haha, yeah, you know it.”

Kaworu nodded, imply that yes, he did indeed know it. “Why don’t I give you my number?” He remarked. “That way, you’ll have someone on hand for any future ice cream dilemmas.”

“Ahhh . . .” Okay, that was actually kind of smooth, in an odd way. And . . . it’s not like it could really hurt anything. I mean, he didn’t even ask for my number. Which means he’s not even necessarily flirting with me. It’d probably be a bit of stretch to say he is. After all, if I have his number, and he doesn’t have mine, that means I can choose whether I want to text him or not, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Which isn’t really a good way to flirt with somebody. I think I’m stalling again here . . .”

Shinji noticed Kaworu was watching him again, waiting for a response. “Sure. Sounds like a good plan.” He pulled out his phone and hastily created a new contact, before offering it to Kaworu. “Here, you can put it in.”

Kaworu nodded, his smile remaining intact, and typed in the digits, before handing it back to Shinji. “It was nice to meet you, Shinji Ikari,” he commented affably.

“You can just call me Shinji,” Shinji quickly responded.

“Alright then. It was nice to meet you Shinji.”

“You too . . .” Should I use first and last name like he did the first time? Or just go with first name. I don’t want to offend him, if that’s the sort of thing that’s important to him. After all, he does seem a bit, umm, particular.

“You can just call me Kaworu,” the boy suggested, his smile widening.

“It was nice to meet you Kaworu,” he finished lamely. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yes, maybe so.”

Shinji nodded again, spun on his heels, and promptly made for the registers. Well, that went excellently. You meet a boy who’s kind of cute, even if he is a little eccentric, and straight off the bat, you’re second guessing yourself and fumbling for words. Fantastic.

Shinji shot a brief glance back as he reached the end of the aisle, to see that Kaworu was now retrieving an ice cream carton of his own from the merchandise freezer. Shinji turned away again before the boy could look back in his direction. Don’t want him to think I’m staring at him or something.

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

Shinji collapsed back onto his bed with a satisfied sigh. He was glad to have finally reach it, after the nigh-interminable day. Well, maybe not quite interminable. But definitely overlong. Without much thought, he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and spun in about in his hands a couple times, feeling the sensation of the textured case against his skin.

Dinner had been a success, such as it could be, anyway. He had impressed himself with just how fast he managed to throw things together when he went into slight (well, maybe more than slight) panic mode.

The ice cream had been a success as well. He had to admit, Cherry Chip was a pretty good flavor. He still wasn’t sure whether he had tried it before or not, but he was glad he had definitively tried it now. Rei had also enjoyed it, which was an added plus. In fact, their mother had even had a bowl, something altogether unexpected. Apparently, Cherry Chip ice cream was one of the sweets she would indulge in. Didn’t see that coming. All in all, the majority of the pint was no more.

Powering on his phone, Shinji was faced with another choice for the evening. Unlike his earlier ice cream deliberation, however, this cerebration was of a cursory duration. After a few seconds, he had composed the text, and was hovering over the send button. Alright. Let’s do this. He tapped the icon.

Shinji I.: Thanks for the recommendation. It was a good choice! Lol. This is Shinji, btw.

The response to his message came swiftly. Wow, he must type fast.

Kaworu A.: Happy to be of service. I’m glad it worked out.

Shinji found a smile edging its way across his lips. Maybe, in spite of everything, today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

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