#wish I could’ve been able to carry him in my pocket like this in game
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an age of miracles
synopsis: why do the most beautiful people always seem to get the short end of the stick?
tagged: atsumu miya x reader, mentions of illness, mentions of god.
commitment level: 3,617 words.
hospitals are liminal spaces. transitional, gateways between birth and death and the whole mess in between. (life.) they’re sites of both tragedy and miraculous recovery, and you’re not yet too old to stop praying for the latter.
+
his name is atsumu. you skim the documents pinned to his door — atsumu miya. age 21. cirrhosis.
cirrhosis is late stage liver scarring. nasty stuff. evidently, atsumu miya is in his third stage — portal hypertension. abdominal swelling. jaundice.
for a bedridden guy with a serious illness, he’s not as justifiably depressed as one might assume.
“hey, doc,” he says when you come in. he’s facing the window, letting the sunlight cast a saintly halo across his cheeks. blonde hair, an angular sort of face that’s been hollowed by illness. in another life, he might’ve been handsome.
you clear your throat, and he glances back, surprised. “ah. you’re not my doctor.”
“nope. nursing student.” you sit at the foot of his bed. “i’ll be monitoring you the next month or so as part of my studies.”
“monitoring,” he repeats drily. “you make it sound like i’m a lab specimen in a test tube.”
“means you’re special.”
“sure. ‘specially fucked up.” he’s younger than you are, but there’s an aged weariness in his gaze.
“aren’t we all, mr. miya?”
he cracks a grin. “touche. call me atsumu, though. mr. miya’s my dad.”
“as you wish, mr. miya,” you say, biting back a smile. (there are those who say sarcasm has no place in hospitals. you do not fall into this category.)
+
atsumu likes to play chess. the second day of your clinical, he’s got a travel sized chess board set up on his bedside table. “been dying from boredom the past few hours. think you could take a break from ‘monitoring’ me to play a game?”
you set your clipboard down. “i could. i’d advise against it, though. i’m a pretty good player.”
atsumu grins. “not better than me.”
he’s right. he beats you three games in a row before you finally snag a checkmate. (and you suspect this is only due to pity.)
“what’d i tell you, baby?” he crows, and you shake your head, raising your arms in surrender.
“it was an off day. if i’d been on my game i could’ve swept the floor with you.”
“prove it,” atsumu says, leaning forward. he’s pale from a lack of sunshine, but you notice a faint pink glow in his cheeks now. “come back tomorrow.”
tomorrow’s a saturday, and you don’t have clinical. “of course i will.”
you’re not one to back down from a challenge, no matter how trivial. plus, atsumu is fun. (and kind of cute.)
+
“hi. brought you something.” you set a tupperware of cubed fruit on atsumu’s lap before pulling up a chair next to the bed.
“did you make this?” he says, eyes wide.
“i just chopped up a few apples and stuff,” you say, plucking a blueberry from the container and popping it into your mouth.
atsumu shakes his head before biting into a chunk of pineapple. “you’d think it’d be hard to mess up fruit salad, but somehow this damn hospital can make a strawberry taste like cough medicine. everything they serve here tastes like cough medicine, actually.”
“delicious.”
“disgusting.” atsumu sets up the chess board. “so, like, thanks. for the fruit. can i keep the tupperware?”
you laugh. “why do you wanna keep the tupperware?”
“it’s a reminder of normality.” atsumu shrugs. “i only ever eat off chipped hospital dishes here.”
your chest throbs. “oh, atsumu.”
“don’t you ‘oh, atsumu’ me,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“sorry. yeah, you can keep it.”
(he wins at chess again.)
+
you’re only required to come in to the hospital three times a week, but you get into the habit of visiting atsumu every day. the first time you visit after class, you’re wearing a sweater and jeans. atsumu wolf whistles.
“damn. you look good when you’re not in scrubs.”
“are you saying i don’t rock scrubs?” you press a hand to your chest in mock offense.
“nobody looks good in scrubs,” atsumu says. “except for me, probably. i look good in anything.”
you laugh. “i believe it.”
“you’d better.” atsumu has a nice smile, you notice, wide and shiny.
you plop yourself down beside him on the bed. “hey, you wanna see a picture i took on the way here? i found a stray cat near the convenience store.”
“i’m a dog person,” atsumu says, but he nonetheless leans forward to get a look at your phone. “oh, cute.”
“isn’t he?” you say, zooming in on the little orange cat. “i think i’m gonna name him after you.”
“what?” atsumu huffs. “why?”
“because he’s good at chess,” you say.
atsumu furrows his brow. “you played chess with a cat?”
“no, i just have a feeling,” you hum, and atsumu rolls his eyes with a small smile.
“you’re stupid.”
you slip your phone back into your pocket. “in a cute way, though.”
“if you say so,” atsumu says, and you flick his shoulder. “ouch. way to bully a sick man.”
“you deserved it,” you laugh, and he joins in.
“yeah, i did.”
+
the next time you visit, atsumu’s family is there. his parents have kind, tired faces.
“nice to meet you,” his mom says, grasping your hand warmly. “i’m glad atsumu has a friend here.”
“mom,” complains atsumu. “i have friends.”
“none as cool as me, though,” you tease, and he smiles.
“you’re right,” he says, and his dad rumples his hair before turning to shake your hand.
“it’s great to meet you, mr. miya,” you say, returning the shake.
“the pleasure’s mine,” he says. he looks nearly identical to atsumu, just a little grayer. right next to him, there’s a boy who really does look exactly identical to atsumu, though his hair’s dyed dark and he’s a little more filled out. he has an air of begrudging maturity about him, the telltale sign of a young man who’s been forced to carry burdens that aren’t his.
“i’m osamu,” he says. he’s sitting on the chair near atsumu’s bed. “this little asshole’s brother.”
“i don’t know why you keep calling me little,” atsumu says, lightly punching osamu’s forearm. “i’m the older twin.”
“yeah, but you act like a baby.” osamu grins and leans out of reach when atsumu tries to swat at him. you chuckle behind a hand, leaning back against the wall as mr. and mrs. miya question you about your studies and hobbies.
on your way out of the hospital a half hour later, you run into osamu at the lobby coffee shop.
“so,” he says, sipping from a steaming cup. “you’re a nursing student?”
“mm,” you say, handing a fiver to the cashier to pay for your sandwich. “i’m in my fourth year at hyogo university. are you in college, too?”
“nah,” says osamu. “i play volleyball. professionally, i mean.”
“oh!” you notice the lettering on his sports jacket for the first time. msby black jackals. “that’s really cool.”
osamu shrugs. “sometimes it is. tsumu’s wanted to be a pro player since we were kids — but he won’t ever be able to do that now, of course. so that’s why i play. better to have one miya in the pro circuit than none at all.”
your heart sinks. “you’re a great brother, osamu.”
osamu shakes his head. “i’m really not. it should’ve been me in that hospital bed.”
“osamu…” you trail off as osamu just shakes his head, giving you a sad smile.
“it was nice meeting you,” he says before tossing his cup and heading back towards the elevators.
+
“no,” atsumu says staunchly, crossing his arms. “definitely not. i don’t read.”
“come on,” you wheedle, dangling the book in front of his face. “it’s one of my favorites, and i thought it might stave off some of that stifling boredom you always complain about.”
“i’m bored, but not that bored,” atsumu says, squinting at the book. “what is that about, anyways? the little prince? sounds lame.”
“it’s not lame,” you promise, bouncing slightly on the bed. atsumu sniffs. “okay, what if i read it to you? you don’t have to do anything but listen.”
“i’m not a child.”
“you’re acting like one.”
atsumu throws his hands up in defeat. “alright, fine. you win. we can read the little prince.”
“excellent.” you beam. “scoot over?”
“what?” atsumu says, but he scoots to the side of his bed as you kick your shoes off and curl up next to him. you feel his breath hitch as he lightly lets his arm curve around your waist.
you sigh, content, and flip to read the first page. “once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book…”
+
it takes three visits to finish the entire story. atsumu sniffles when you read the last line, rubbing his eyes furiously.
“did he die?”
you trace a light circle on atsumu’s palm, smiling slightly. “i don’t know. i think it’s up to the reader to decide. he left his body, but is that really death? or is it just… moving on?”
“i think he just moved on,” insists atsumu. “he moved on and returned to the stars. he was just a kid. he was too young to have died.”
“look at you,” you tease, and atsumu flushes. “waxing on poetic.”
“it was good,” atsumu says gruffly. “thank you.”
“you’re welcome,” you breathe, and when atsumu buries his face in your neck, you realize he’s crying.
+
he kisses you for the first time a week later. it’s late in the afternoon, and both your faces are tinged with gold. he slips a hand beneath your jaw, and you let him slowly guide your lips to meet his. they’re soft, hesitant, and sweet, pressing against yours with an uncharacteristic shyness.
you sigh happily when he pulls you forward to straddle his lap, slipping your hands into his thick blonde hair, letting him press light kisses down the length of your neck.
“hey, beautiful,” he breathes into your collarbone, and you laugh.
“hey, pretty boy. nice to see you today.”
+
atsumu’s discovered a newfound love for reading ever since you read the little prince outloud to him. you’ve been bringing him secondhand books from the thrift store near your house, and now there’s a sizeable stack of novels out on the table.
“i think i’ve read more in the past couple months than i ever read in high school,” he admits, running a finger down the spine of treasure island. “you’ve turned me into a nerd.”
“you’re welcome,” you say, straightening his collar.
“it’s kind of nice, though,” he says thoughtfully, tossing the book back on the table. “to read about all these different people, all the things they do. all the stories i’m never gonna get to experience.”
“you’re getting to experience them through reading,” you correct. “that’s the beauty of fiction.”
atsumu laughs. “you’re such a sap.”
“it’s true,” you insist. “god knows life is too short to live through everything we’d like to. that’s why he gave us imagination.”
“do you believe in god?” atsumu asks softly. his stare grows distant.
you think for a moment. “sometimes i do. do you?”
“same. sometimes.” he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “sometimes i wonder, though… like, if there’s a god, why does he hate me?”
you chew on your cheek. “why do you feel hated?”
atsumu laughs a laugh tinged with slight bitterness. “sweetheart… i’m not going to live past twenty-five, if even that.”
you swallow the knot in your throat, letting it sink deep into your stomach where it sits like a lump of copper. “well… the little prince is less than a hundred pages. sometimes the shortest books are the best reads.”
atsumu nods silently. he’s not convinced. you’re not sure if you are, either.
+
atsumu sleeps a lot these days. you spend as much time with him as you can, but more often than not, he’s in a half conscious daze, curled up beneath the white hospital comforter. during these times, you just set your backpack by the door the slip into bed next to him, wrapping yourself around his back and pressing your palms to his chest just to feel his heartbeat. it’s faint, but it’s steady and rhythmic. ba-dump. ba-dump. ba-dump.
sometimes, atsumu’s his usual, lively self, cracking bad jokes and poking fun at you. his smiling face has come to be your favorite picture. on these days, you bring him a hot chocolate from the coffee shop and split it with him, kissing off the whipped cream that finds its way onto his lips. he still likes to play chess, and, though he won’t admit it, you’ve been getting better. one day, you beat him, two games to one.
there are solemn, quiet times, and there are bright, cheerful times, but you savor all of them. every moment spent with atsumu is valuable in your book. occasionally, you’ll go with him out into the hospital garden, into the warmth of the sun. every so often he’ll stop, lean on you to catch his breath, but he never complains.
“look,” he’ll say instead, pointing at a vine of jasmine, or a single daisy swaying in the breeze. “almost as pretty as you.”
+
one day, as you’re leaving atsumu’s room, you run into his doctor in the hall.
“keep your chin up,” she says, straightening her glasses. “it’s possible he could still recover. strong young men often do.”
you nod slowly. “is he going to need a transplant?”
“well,” says the doctor, clicking on her pen absentmindedly. “if it gets any worse, yes. but i’m going to be honest with you — it’s unlikely we’ll find a donation with both a matching blood type and in good condition.”
“ah.”
“so just hope for the best.” she slips into his room before you can say another word, leaving you to lean heavily against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. miracles happen every day, you remind yourself. there’s no reason atsumu shouldn’t be the recipient of one.
+
“hey,” atsumu says. he whispers your name with an unusual tenderness. “i have to talk to you.”
it’s been five months since you first met atsumu on a clinical, and it’s been three months since he began to call you his girlfriend. you lace your fingers between his, giving his hand a light squeeze. “yeah, ‘tsumu?”
he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “i don’t think i’m going to… be here much longer.”
“no,” you say, chest tightening. “don’t say that. you’re gonna be fine.”
“sweetheart,” he says, voice low. he takes your chin and firmly turns your head to look at him. “i’m sorry. you know i am. i just… i’m sick. it’s hard to think straight sometimes, so i just wanted to tell you before i can’t anymore.”
“tell me what?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
“tell you that i love you.”
“atsumu,” you breathe. a frustrated tear finds its way down your cheek. “i… i love you, too. but please… just hang on. they’ll find a donor. they have to.”
“they might not,” he says, and he smiles, pulling you close. you knot your hands in the front of his t-shirt, pressing your face to his chest. “don’t cry. i’m just going to go live in the stars, right? like the little prince.”
there’s so many things you want to say, like, you nerd, can’t believe you’re making literary allusions or shut up, asshole, or i’ll miss you if you do, but you say nothing, because if you open your mouth you’re sure you’ll just sob.
“don’t cry,” he says again, but he’s crying, and you lift your face to see the tears streaming. “i love you.”
your throat is too thick to say it back, but he sees it in your eyes. i love you, too.
+
you spend the rest of the night with him before leaving at a little past 2am, and the next morning, you get a text from osamu.
he’s gone.
you don’t cry at the funeral. it’s small, just his family, a group of close friends, and you. you don’t look in the casket, either, because you want to remember his smile, and empty bodies don’t. you sip on a paper cup of water and lean against a wall, where osamu finds you.
“hey,” he says, and you nod in return. “he left this for you.”
you take the letter from him, and after he gives your shoulder a squeeze and heads back to his parents, you tear it open.
hey, you. i’m writing this two months after you first came into my room in that god-awful set of scrubs. right now, you’re napping in the chair near my bed. you look cute. we had our first kiss last week, and i’m still walking on air. fuck, that sounds dorky. oh, well. guess i’m a dork. only for you, though.
anyways, if you’re reading this, it’s because i’ve died. whoop-dee-doo. i’ve moved on to the great beyond. i’ve fallen past the veil. whatever it is you nerds like to say. there are probably things i’m going to say to you in the next few months that are a little more… intimate, i guess? but i wanted to tell you this while it’s still fresh in my mind: you’ve honest-to-goodness saved my life. i mean, it might not go on for much longer, sure, but you really have, in a way. being sick is weird. it makes you a lot more sensitive to miracles.
you start. you don’t remember ever talking to atsumu about miracles.
someone from the outside might look at me and call me unlucky, but i feel pretty damn lucky right now. meeting you was without a doubt a miracle, and if i never got sick, it never would’ve happened. take that as you will, i guess. all i know is i’m not angry at god, even though maybe i should be. i mean, i’m still not sure he’s even out there. but there’s gotta be something, or someone, because how the fuck else could i have possibly recieved something so… great? i sure as hell never did something to deserve it. (god, i sound stupid. but it’s just hard to chalk up to coincidence.)
anyways, i love you. not sure i’ll ever get the guts to say that out loud, so i’m saying it here. i love you, and i hope you love me, too.
- atsumu
“i do,” you whisper. “i do.”
+
on your way home, you stop at the convenience store for a bottled water, and the little orange cat comes out and winds itself around your leg, purring.
“hey, ‘tsumu,” you say, squatting down to scratch its head. “fancy a game of chess?”
it meows back.
“yeah?” your eyes grow wet, and you wipe them on the sleeve of your sweater. “wanna come home with me?”
it meows again, and this time, you break out into full scale crying. you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can see a tear in the cat’s eye, too.
he follows you home, and the next day, you purchase a water dish, a big bag of cat food, and a blue collar. (blue was atsumu’s favorite color.)
+
three years later.
“honey?”
“yeah?”
your husband comes out from the hall, buttoning up his shirt. “you almost ready to go?”
“almost, ‘samu,” you say, slipping on a bracelet. your hands are shaking, and he notices it, too. today’s the third anniversary of atsumu’s death, and it’s also the date of osamu’s first big press conference. “he’d be so proud of you, you know.”
osamu smiles. “he would. he’d be proud of you, too.”
you laugh. “what for? for marrying his little brother?”
“no, he’d probably be kind of pissed at me,” osamu jokes, before coming to stand behind you. he wraps his hands around your waist. “he’d be proud of you for finding happiness, i think.”
“i am happy,” you say, tilting your head as osamu presses a kiss to your temples. there’s a beat of silence. “but i miss him.”
“i do, too.” osamu rests his chin on your head. “he probably misses us.”
“mm,” you say. “i think he might be having too much fun for that, actually.”
“maybe,” says osamu, and he leans forward to grab the keys from the counter. “i’m gonna go heat up the car, okay?”
“sounds good,” you say, as the cat dashes into the room with a meow. a nameplate that reads ‘tsumu’ dangles from his collar. “oh, hey kitty. i forgot to feed you. i’ll be out in a minute!”
after you fill the cat’s dish and pull on a cardigan over your dress, you slip outside, shivering in the night air. the sky is clear and full of stars, and as you walk to the car, you crane your neck up to see.
“hope you’re doing well, ‘tsumu,” you whisper to the gleaming constellations.
you still have things you want to say to him, even after all these years. you want to ask him how the weather in the cosmos is, and if the fruit salad is better up there. you want to ask if he’s read any good books lately, or if he’s seen how great osamu’s serve has gotten recently. you want to laugh with him.
most of all, though, you want to let him know that he was your miracle, too.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu fanfiction#atsumu#atsumu miya#miya atsumu#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu miya x reader
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“It’s Not Safe”
OneShot
Warnings: angst, mild language, violence, references to non-con acts, unresolved ending
Pairing: Azumane Asahi x fem!reader
Word Count: 2.2k+
Fandom: Haikyuu!
Head Canon: none
Summary: The only thing worse than arguing with a s/o is being ignored by one. After a big argument about the future of Y/N and Asahi’s relationship, Asahi chooses to ignore the problem instead of talking it out. As a result Y/N takes the situation into her own hands, but it comes at a cost. -in which Azumane Asahi has to make a tough decision to secure a future together-
A/N: This one made me soft. Kind of out of my comfort zone, but I hope you like it. If you like my writing send me a request or a prompt and check out my other work. Thanks guys ;)
Y/N couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t think about anything that wasn’t Asahi.
The argument they had earlier played over and over inside Y/N’s brain. Why couldn’t Asahi just be reasonable. Of course she wanted to continue their relationship after high school, but it wouldn’t be that simple.
Y/N’s choice to study abroad was not an easy one to make, but she had to follow her dreams no matter what. She just wished that Asahi wasn’t so upset when he found out.
-
“What do you mean you’re leaving? W-we just took entrance exams last week. I thought you were going to a college in Japan.”
“That was the plan originally, but I got a scholarship to study in the US. I’d be crazy if I didn’t take this opportunity.” Y/N tried to explain to a clearly hurt Asahi. He sucked at hiding his emotions even when he tried to his hardest to mask his feelings. She reached for his hand, and took it hesitantly.
“You’d be crazy for staying here with me?” He mumbled. Y/N’s head dropped to look at the ground. She couldn’t face those sad eyes. It was enough to make her want to stay.
“We can make long distance work, can’t we?” It was less of a question and more of a desperate plead. She didn’t want to lose Asahi, but Y/N had to think about her future first. Asahi dropped his hand from her grip and put some distance between them.
“I guess you’ve already made up your mind then. Don’t let me stand in your way.” Asahi brushed by her almost fast enough that Y/N couldn’t attempt to stop him.
“Asahi please. Can we talk about this more.” Tears clouded the girl’s line of vision and she clung dearly to Asahi’s strong arm. She feared letting go meant the end and she wasn’t ready for that. There was still time to work through it.
Asahi sighed. He hated himself for not being strong enough to keep Y/N. He hated himself for giving up so easily, for being such a coward. But, there was nothing more he could say.
“You don’t have to say anything else.” Asahi maneuvered his arm out of her grasp and faced her one last time. “I know you’ll do great, Y/N. I’ll always believe in you.” He gave her a gentle head pat. It was a sign of affection they used often when in public. Usually it was loving and reassuring, but to Y/N it felt solemn.
There was nothing more to do other than to watch Asahi walk away from her. Tears brimming over her eyelids and staining her cheeks. Would this really be the last time she ever saw him?
Y/N replayed earlier’s events in her mind more times than she could possibly count and each time her ducts gave in and the tears started flowing. All she wanted was to talk to Asahi so they could still be on good terms. Even if he wanted to break up she still wanted to keep in touch with him. They were best friends after all and ending a two year relationship like this... Y/N couldn’t let that happen.
She tried calling, texting nothing worked. Asahi wouldn’t pick up his phone no matter how much Y/N blew him up. She felt defeated. He didn’t want to talk to her, she thought. Even though she was discouraged, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer this time. She would no longer be complacent. She was going to get what she wanted without a second thought about it. She was going to the Azumane residence.
-
The street was quiet and dark. It was a bit ominous as well. Dark corners and lone street lights cast unsettling shadows onto the houses along the road. Y/N reassured herself that she was being ridiculous and was perfectly fine to walk down the street she’d been on countless times before.
The route was clear in her head, but everything always looked different at night. It seemed the surrounding area was completely different. Did she get lost somewhere along the way? Did she take a left at the street sign, when she really meant to take a right? Y/N didn’t know everything felt so foreign to her now.
As she neared a somewhat familiar street corner a shiver shot through her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at full attention. Her eyes darted all around her checking for anyone who might’ve been following her. The street was empty, but she could’ve sworn she heard someone.
“Hello?” Y/N called out into the dark street, only hearing the echo of her voice in response. She flipped her hood on and began to take off in a direction that was familiar. As she rounded the corner onto Asahi’s street a tight grip on her forearm pulled her into the darkness of an abandoned alleyway.
“Wha-!” She screamed but was quickly silenced by a hand slapping over her lips.
“Calm down girlie. We’re not gonna hurt ya.” A gruff voice rasped next to her ear. “We just need you to empty your pockets without disturbing the residents, okay?” Another man had Y/N’s hands held firmly above her head while the other kept her quiet and flashed a pocket knife in her face.
In a panic, Y/N began kicking wiggling and screaming with all of her might. She was able to get her hands free, but unfortunately wasn’t fast enough to get into the safety of someone’s house.
The muggers had recaptured Y/N just as fast as she escaped with her now pinned on the floor a knee perched on her sternum and the knife pressed against her cheek.
“Please, stop! I- I can’t breathe.” Y/N choked out.
“Do you think this is a game little girl? We could have done this the easy way, but now we’re gonna take what we want by force and have a little fun while we’re at it.” The partner agreed and took the knife to keep her in place as the man searched Y/N’s pockets.
“No! Stop!” She cried out as they began searching inside of her shirt and her leggings. Y/N prayed to any God that was listening to get her out of this situation. If only she had stayed home, she wouldn’t have come across these creeps.
“Shut up, before I cut up your pretty face.” The man holding the knife pressed it up against her cheek, breaking the skin.
“No please. I’m sorry, I have no money. Please don’t hurt me.” A hand muffled Y/N’s cries once again. She struggled as much as she could, but it was no use. All she could will herself to do was cry and wait for the suffering to be over.
As Y/N felt a calloused finger slip down her torso and closer to her legs, suddenly a great weight had fallen upon her.
“Fuck!” The man on top of her cried out. Y/N’s eyes widened and she saw the other man get knocked out beside her. She couldn’t help, but let out a scream. She stopped herself when the weight was lifted from her torso and she was raised from the ground. When her vision finally cleared she saw it. No she saw him. Asahi with a baseball bat, dragging her towards his house.
“Y/N, just keep running okay?” An exasperated voice blessed the girl’s ears. Her feet were moving on their own, she was in pure shock.
“A-Asahi?” Her voice broke out into a whimper. He looked back at Y/N only for a moment, but in that moment she could see all the anger and fear that was displayed on Asahi’s face.
“We’re almost there.” Asahi continued to drag her along until they were safely inside the walls of his home. Y/N fell to the ground as he pushed her inside and she struggled to catch her breath. What just happened?
Asahi checked the windows, closed the blinds, and locked the door before turning to her. He was panting, sweaty, and shirtless. His face was unreadable. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.
“Asahi I...” she tried to find the words to say anything, but to break the tension, but her brain was empty. No words or sentence to be found.
Asahi shuddered. Without thinking twice he threw her over his shoulder and carried her up to his bedroom. Y/N was placed softly on the plush comforter of Asahi’s bed. She watched him as he let out the deepest of sighs before stepping out of the bedroom and down the hall.
He returned in about a minute with a damp wash cloth that he pressed to her cheek. His face was so close to hers. In just the few hours that they’d been apart, Y/N had already grown to miss his face. Without thinking she reached out and grazed her fingers lightly along his jaw. Asahi shuddered and pulled away quickly.
Y/N’s eyes grew wide and her lips parted slightly. “Asahi... I-I’m sorry-”
“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Asahi’s gaze fell to her shoes that were stained with mud.
“I wanted to see you.”
“In the middle of the night?” His voice rose slightly, but no malice was laced in his tone.
“I don’t like how we ended things Asahi. We need to talk.” For what felt like the millionth time today, Y/N’s eyes began to water.
Asahi sighed. This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to be having at least not right now. “Y/N... right now I’m just worried about you being safe.” He pressed the cold rag back to her face. “Are you... okay?” Obviously she wasn’t okay. She had just gone through something traumatic, but it was the only thing he could think to say.
All Y/N did was shake her head. With that Asahi wrapped his arms around her and it was his turn to let some tears spill. “Did they touch you?” He choked out.
“N-no.” Y/N whispered. “Not like, that.” Asahi held her close to him. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, but he had to talk eventually and if he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t know when he’d get the courage to do so. He let go of Y/N’s torso and looked into her eyes.
Y/N could see a plethora of emotion in his hazel irises. He was sad, scared, angry, serious, loving all mixed in one. The intensity of his gaze terrified and comforted her at once.
“You can’t... you can’t do that. Why would you scare me like that Y/N?”
“I just wanted to talk to you. I was so sad about earlier and-”
“It’s not safe! It’s not safe for you to be walking around late at night in this neighborhood. You’re too frail and you’re lucky I was out on a run. What if I wasn’t there? They could have seriously hurt you, or killed you, or-”
“I know. I know, but you were ignoring me.” She whimpered. Being lectured by him was worse than she could have ever imagined, but even so at least she knew he cared. At least he was being honest and not shutting her out like before.
“I wasn’t trying to ignore you, but talking to you... seeing you and knowing that I can’t have you hurt me. And I can’t stand to hear you say you don’t want to be with me anymore.” Asahi averted his eyes from her gaze. His new found courage quickly dissipated after his confession. “Never mind. It’s dumb. I’m dumb.”
“No. Baby you’re not dumb. Of course I want to be with you. I love you and I just wanted you to talk to me. This is all I’ve wanted the whole time.” Y/N grabbed Asahi’s face in her hands. Their eyes were fixated on each other’s gaze, not breaking the contact for even a second. The couple had never felt closer than they are now.
Still Asahi had that twinge of fear in the bottom of his gut. “I’m not ready.”
“What do you mean?” Y/N’s head cocked to the side and her gaze softened.
“I’m not ready to talk about you leaving it still hurts too much. Can we just wait til the morning?” Asahi knew that wasn’t what she wanted, but he was going to allow himself to be selfish for once. He always put her needs above his own, but this time, she’d wait for him.
Asahi’s eyes were pleading and she could do nothing but nod her head. “Sure. We’ll talk in the morning.” Asahi’s forehead rested against hers as the two embraced. Asahi picked Y/N up by her waist and laid her down on the bed. He pulled the oversized sweatshirt he gave her over her head and pulled off her shoes and her tattered leggings leaving her in just a tank top and panties.
“Thanks.” She whispered. She crawled underneath the sheets taking a deep breath. It was the first time since before their argument that she had felt any sort of relaxation or comfort.
“I’m going to go shower really quick.”
“No stay with me.” Y/N grabbed his hand as quickly as she could pulling him back down to the bed.
“But, I’m sweaty.”
“I don’t care. I’ll change your sheets in the morning, just please don’t leave me Asahi.” He nodded and kicked off his sweatpants. He slipped in next to Y/N and wrapped his arms around her. The two were comfortable in their embrace and she relaxed in the warmth of his body.
“Tomorrow.” Y/N whispered soundly.
“Tomorrow.” Asahi agreed.
#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader#haikyu asahi#azumane asahi#angst prompts#fluff#black reader#babylowrites#azumane asahi x reader#x female reader
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Nothing Like Us
Part 1 Part 2
A/N: So this is actually part 3 of a series I decided to do, because a certain person loved these little one shots I made after songs Jungkook sang renditions of. This is the third part of that and the ending. I’ll go ahead and tag the original two on here if anyone is interested. I tried editing this as much as I could while at work and no matter what I did, it couldn’t make me happy. As always, I hope you all enjoy this little piece of fiction. Love, Jenn
Jungkook x Reader
Word count: 4115
Genre: Angst x Fluff(ish)
It was cruel the way the universe placed him perfectly under the halo of the streetlight. The luminescence cascading over a face you’d dreamed of for months; you’d grieved. No matter how much your heart hurt you knew underneath was a monster of rage brewing below it’s depths. The ache in your chest a colossal power that swelled, the waves of grief crashing against you, until it threatened to consume you. When it finally did, it choked your sobs free from your throat with an angry fist.
You counted out hours. Days. Weeks. Stopped counting when weeks turned into full fledge months. Things that you’d spoken in the confines of your mind were now being spoken out loud on brave days to the silent audience of your room. There were days your sadness turned to anger. White hot and blinding: so pure you swore it could’ve torn buildings down to the mortar.
How could Jungkook completely stop talking to you? Seeing you? How could it be possible to not wake up looking for texts from each other or sharing meals together, ending with him still being hungry, because Jungkook was an endless pit. One you happily shared food with just to see him move his shoulders in giddy shakes with every bite.
No one should be able to move on from birthdays where the two of you eagerly watched the other open their gift. Just to let out an unknown sigh of relief at the happiness the present brought. Why was it even possible to let years of knowing become nothing more than fading memories?
You’d spent months wondering these things and in all of them you imagined what it would be like if you ever saw him again. Not on TV. Not your phone from YouTube or Instagram. Saw him the way only the two of you’d shared together. A part of you willing to bet you’d scream at him or yell. Maybe you would cry.
No.
Now with Jungkook a mere few feet away all you could feel was an all consuming need to run to him. A feverish fear heated up your skin at the idea he could turn around and be gone in an instant; nothing more than a phantom of longing you’d created just to see his face. But you knew it was him without ever needing to take another step off the small landing of your porch.
The sounds of the night continued to swell between the sea of pavement between you. Neither of you made a move towards the other. No one moving a finger, as if you shared in the fear if either of you even took a breath it would scare the other away.
Your mind continued to be lost in its endless debate on whether to go to him or to remain motionless. The shoebox and its contents falling flat onto the floor and the only letters scribbled on a photo of you running in tall grass that you’d read flashed over and over: “ I wish I would’ve kissed you first.”
Your mind played them on repeat until your head spun. Your thoughts stuck on his opening words and one of the dozens of photos that accompanied many more. The second one you’d pulled being the first time you’d gone ice skating together. The memory joyous and painful all at once. Your mind was still trying to recover on what to do; your eyes watching him bury his hands deeper inside the pockets of his coat. His gaze hoovering on your figure before he turned and began to move back down the street; leaving you again.
“Jungkook!”
You weren’t aware you were off your porch until you felt your feet moving rapidly down the steps. Your legs burning trying to keep up with the sudden furious pace of your panic. Even then, your lungs were still able to carry enough air for you to continue to scream his name. It didn’t matter if he, your neighbors, or anyone else could hear your pain; the frenzied way you called his name religiously to get him to stop.
Your heart skipped for a split second when he finally did. Jungkook’s body rigid as you came closer to his back while he continued to face away from you. You didn’t know if he was dreading the knowledge that you were coming closer. You had no way to tell if he was just as frantic to see you or wanted nothing to do with you.
It could all be a painful accident that you’d seen him outside your door. He could’ve just been passing through and somehow forgot he just so happened to be in your neighborhood. You knew, it was none of those. Jungkook, some part of him, must miss you or why else would he even be here?
“Jungkook?”
God. How small your voice sounded. How hopeful.
Still, Jungkook would not answer you; wouldn’t bother to glance in your direction. Suddenly, your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. Sour and weighed down by a fear tinged regret at showing your hand at how much you’d missed him. When he had shown you nothing.
You’d grown accustomed to disappoint, however, and braced yourself for what you did next. If Jungkook wouldn’t turn to face you, then you would simply half to walk around to face him. When you were a quarter of the way around, a timid hand reached out to lightly grab at the fabric of his jacket.
You had that sudden sensation again of being lost at sea, in need of something to keep you from drowning, with Jungkook being your only shore for miles.
Jungkook hadn’t expected you to touch him and his body gave a noticeable jolt at your touch. It didn’t deter you. You were now in front of him and could see the pain etched into every line of his features. It was evident he was close to tears as your eyes drank him in. Jungkook was the one person you’d known who’d always been so certain. The man standing before you now looked as lost as you felt, and it all felt more than you could take. Your hand was still holding onto him, but now it felt like maybe Jungkook needed to feel your touch just as much as you’d needed to touch him.
“Jungkook,” you whispered. “It really is you.”
He didn’t answer you. His eyes diverted to look everywhere but where you stood before him. It was driving you crazy. Did you not deserve to have his full attention after all this time? Didn’t you deserve that, at least?
Jungkook wasn’t pulling away from you yet, and it seemed like he didn’t want to take the steps to remove you from him. So how could he continue to act like you weren’t there?
In a blur of sparked rage your gentle hand on his arm released and shoved into his chest. All that anger and weak attempts to hate him spewed back up to make you lash out in all the ways you’d dreamed about doing.
“Why come here if you can’t speak to me, huh? Did you come just to hurt me more!? Is this some kind of game to you?”
You hurled your words at him and watched as they struck home. All the frustration and tears you’d thought you’d shed came flooding back like a monsoon. You weren’t able to control the tears from streaming hot and raw against your cheeks. Jungkook eyes now hopelessly transfixed on you as you moved forward to shove against him. His hands easily reached out to take hold of your shoulders and kept you firmly in place. The movement caused you both to be only a few inches apart, and oh how you hated the small amount of distance between you.
“I never wanted to hurt you in the first place, Y/N!”
His admission made you go rigid mimicking like he had earlier. The pain in his gaze quieted the last remaining fire of your anger. Instead, what rose up felt even worse. You’d missed him so much. He was still jungkook: your Jungkook, but different now. His features carved out from that baby softness to now show a more mature him. Your hands registering easily that his lean frame had grown thicker with muscles. The muscle bunny he’d always wanted to be. Looking up at him now your lips came alive with the memory of him and you hated yourself for that.
“Then why did you leave me alone in the park, Kook? You never answered a phone call or a text. You didn’t even try. You let me go.”
The despair your parting words held hit home like a hammer. All this time you felt like you were missing a part of yourself. A phantom limb. Jungkook was that limb. Being so close to him you knew there wasn’t ever any doubt. He was much a part of you as your own self and standing there with him felt like it’d finally come home.
You were so lost in your sadness that when he released your shoulders and embraced you, a small shriek of surprise left you. It was an embarrassing noise. One Jungkook knew would ultimately leave you blushing into his chest; the same chest that vibrated with laughter.
A part of you wanted to stay upset with him. To demand what was so funny, but even you could feel a smile curl your lips and the tension in your shoulders ease as you found comfort against him.
You couldn’t stop your hands from pinching at his ticklish sides and playfully demand, “What was so funny?”
“You always did sound like the tiniest mouse when you were scared.”
Jungkook pressed his lips against your hair as he spoke. The intimacy of it sending a breath of goosebumps along your skin.
“This is about you abandoning me not my odd noises.”
Your words came out in mumbles with your mouth still pressed into his chest. If you wanted to be more serious about the issue you would’ve pulled away from him, but your arms were helplessly glued around him. The heavy sigh that escaped Jungkook’s lips sent your hair fluttering, and you knew he wasn’t letting go either.
“I know. It’s just easier to talk about how cute your noises are than about what happened.”
“Fair enough.”
You risked moving just enough to look around. It was close to eleven-thirty when you’d heard his knock on the door. The time now closer to midnight or after; the night is perfect to hide you both. But you couldn’t risk people walking by and gawking if one of you had an outburst. Besides, something so private deserved no audience. Even from the night herself.
Reluctantly, you stepped back from him. Your hand beginning to reach out to take his own. You nodded in the direction of your apartment in hopes he would understand where you were wanting to go.
“Come on. I think it’s safer if we just talk inside.”
Jungkook gave a simple nod that he agreed. His gaze wandered down to your hands as you began to take the few steps back to your home. Neither of you spoke as you walked to your front door. The only time you stopped was to pick up the box you’d discarded on your stoop.
The silence continued to follow you both to your front door. Your fingers moved quickly to type in the code to enter with the sound of the deadbolt sliding home seconds later to allow you entrance. The two of you headed inside; your body resting on the door to hold it open for Jungkook to enter.
You watched the careful way his feet carried him over the threshold. His eyes roaming around the small studio apartment, taking in everything he could as he came to a stop inside the hallway. Your apartment was a messy thing to behold.Books in towers, clothes hung up on makeshift closet racks, and the wall of art.
A part of you wondered how long it would take him to realize what exactly it was that decorated that particular wall. This small shrine to a time when everything seemed so simple. Jungkook moved to remove his shoes, his head still looking up to take in an apartment he’d never seen, when his eyes lit up with the realization of what it was he was looking at. His gaze fixated on the wall of drawings and paintings. Every single one signed in the form of bunny ears and exaggerated initials.
His eyes were so engrossed on them that he fumbled in taking off his shoes. So distracted he was by it that he fumbled, in a goofy dance, while trying to remove his shoes. His eyes on something he deemed more important.
“You - you put up all the art I’d given you.”
His voice was little more than a whisper of wonder. Jungkook finally taking his eyes off the wall to look back at you. Appreciation brightening up all the features of his face until he practically glowed.
Your nerves were beginning to fade as his attention was now falling back on you. Your free hand digging down into the pockets of your dress, the other tightening around the box in a weak attempt to stop them from fidgeting. You knew if you began to talk, they would fly around everywhere. A tell-tale sign that Jungkook knew meant you were two syllables away from stuttering.
“Of course I did, Jungkook. You gave me one during every single holiday. Why would I throw them away?”
“We haven’t seen each other in years, Y/N, and yet, you kept these.”
You allowed yourself a brief moment to prepare yourself for what came next. Sure, you needed to take off your shoes but could’ve done so easily while still talking to him, but you needed to look away from him. To gather your wits and fight off the ache that swelled viciously back in your chest. Your fingers gingerly moving to touch along the lid of the box and reminding yourself what was inside.
“Just because we ended...whatever it was that we were, Kook, doesn’t mean I would throw them all away. One bad moment couldn’t possibly diminish all the good ones.”
It was Jungkook’s turn to stand there with a face that told you plainly he didn’t believe you. A sad smile was the last thing you saw before his eyes turned to the floor. His own hands now deeply planted inside the pockets of his sweater.
“I guess you’re right.”
“I am right,” you replied with certainty. It earned you a snort as he brought his face back up to look at you.
The length of his hair hide his face from perfect view. Only allowing a small curtain to part just enough to allow one eye to peek through.
“Let’s sit and talk about this. Ok?”
You put the small box in front of you and gave it a good shake for good measure. Just in case there was anything else he randomly thought you wanted to speak about, but Jungkook knew.
The two of you moved in silence towards the couch. When you sat down you somehow ended up both together, barely inches apart. The way you always used too when you had to share. A hidden air that nothing had changed between you when, of course, everything had.
The box sat in your lap while your fingers drummed out a beat against the worn cardboard. Your body painfully aware of how close he was; closer than he ever used to sit before the kiss. This was ridiculous. It was just Jungkook - a much more grown, somehow even more handsome, version of the boy you kissed out there on the grass.
You willed yourself to turn and look at him. Your breath hitching in your throat in surprise a second after. Jungkook was already staring at you. His gaze mapping out the contours of your face like he would save them to memory. As if he wasn’t sitting right beside you. His hand moved out to rest on the top of the box. His fingers grazing over yours making their way to its edge, and gently began to open it.
“At first,” he began, voice breathless beside you, “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me. I wasn’t even sure if you’d take this.” His hand moved to open up the box, exposing the contents inside little by little. “The time we spent apart left me to think a lot about our time together. The memories we made. The ones I treasure.”
As Jungkook spoke his hand moved the dozen of photos around inside the box. You thought maybe he was just stirring them up; a way for him to fidget while he talked. He proved you wrong when his fingers snagged a photo he’d been searching for: a photo Yoongi had taken. You’d gone out with them to grab a bite to eat after they’d finish learning a new choreography. Taeyhung came along and Yoongi played the adult chaperon.
Tae teased Jungkook relentlessly with a chant that he had a crush on you. When Tae had first started his teasing, every time his words went without a denial from Jungkook your heart felt like it was ready to burst. You could still feel the heat on your cheeks that you desperately tried to hide so he wouldn’t see. The time came eventually though, when Jungkook would answer him, and when he finally did your swelling heart began to break.
“She’s my best friend, Tae.You can’t crush on your friends, anyways.”
You were so caught up in the memory you didn’t see when Jungkook had turned the photo around. Exposing the stark white of the back that was now covered in a letter of writing.
“This day was the first day that I lied about us.” Jungkook said, his voice barely above a whisper now. So light you felt like you needed to lean in even closer just to hear him. “Taehyung was just embarrassing me so much and I thought if I denied it, he would leave it alone. But the truth is, I did have a crush on you.”
Jungkook’s words fell away into a backdrop of noise. You tried your best not to let your emotions carry you away from reason. You promised yourself all you wanted was an explanation to what happened between you, but you felt yourself breaking that promise as your eyes scanned over the back of the photo.
“I told you I didn’t have a crush. I spoke it so loudly; I almost made myself believe it. But the rest of the time at dinner all I could recall was the way your face lit up with laughter. How you offered up extra food for us to take home for everyone else…
But Mostly I remember how you looked
At me
And I knew then: you were my happy place”
The tears you told yourself you wouldn’t shed pricked mercilessly to be released. Your head turning just enough to really take him in, and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Jungkook already looking back. His hand now discarding the photo back inside the box and reached up to rest the palm of his hand on your cheek. And just like that, the first tear fell as yours eyes closed and you nuzzled into the feel of his hand.
“Jungkook-“
“I needed to write down these moments for you to keep. The things I was too scared to say in fear of ruining what we had. You deserve to know, Y/N that I love you. The way you loved me, cared for me, has stayed with me for so many years.”
You were now only inches apart. So close if Jungkook really wanted he could have breathed you to him. You were both looking at one another, but there were moments you both stopped; your eyes falling to the others lips. The two of you so damn close, and yet your body was close to freezing up. The hidden panic of being rejected again keeping you from going those extra few inches.
Jungkook’s thumb lightly moved across your cheek. The same painstakingly slow movement like when his eyes traced your face earlier. Committing this moment to his memory with the chance that you would pull away; deny him. How could you ever deny him? Didn’t this idiot know how much you loved him?
“Y/N.”
“Yes.”
Your voice was raspy from disuse. Your tongue licking across what felt like the desert now resided on your lips. And of course, Jungkook’s eyes hungrily ate up every flick of your tongue.
“Would you allow me a redo of our first kiss?”
You wanted to scream at him, “Of course you idiot! Just do it and stop teasing!”
In reality, you stayed quiet. The only answer you were able to give a soft nod of your head. Jungkook’s face lit up like a firework, literally the bloom of your yes made his features light up in phases until the glow it created was absolutely breathtaking. The smile you’d witnessed a thousand times now felt brand new all over again; especially in the way it made your body feel like you were floating.
You felt your lungs hold in the last breathe you took, a kidnapper of air, as you helplessly began to wait for him to make his move. The ugly sadness of the last few years began to try and rear its ugly head once more. Whispers about his lack of movement causing the fear of doubt to spring into your chest. You wanted so badly to put it out until it spread, but you were so accustomed to that voice you weren’t sure how you could ever defeat it.
And in the span of a millisecond, Jungkook filled that last bit of space between you. His lips brushed against yours in a soft caress; waiting for you to move in those last few inches. He didn’t need to wait long before your body turned to fully face him. Your hands losing their previous grip on that shoebox, full of memories as love notes, and instead curled into the soft cotton of his sweatshirt.
It was all the answer Jungkook needed to deepen the kiss. The soft caress of earlier turning more frantic; his other hand moving to mimic the other. Both holding each side of your face to tilt it up just right to meet his hungry lips. The kiss was now fueled by a desire that had long been suppressed between you. A feeling like he would consume you from the mouth down, and you were more than willing to let him.
A soft moan escaped your lips that somehow broke this spell that had overtaken you both. He pulled away just enough, enough to show a satisfied smirk curl his lips, as he placed his forehead against yours.
“Well, I would say that went better than expected.”
“And what were you expecting?”
You were still trying desperately to slow your racing heart. To not be consumed in the moment but ultimately found yourself reminiscing about the girl that day in the park. Who was so afraid to take that leap, and looking at Jungkook now you just wanted to tell her that the choice she made to take it was the best thing she’d ever done.
“To be honest,” he said between another peek to your lips, “I had this terrible fear you would just throw me out.”
“I mean I still could,” you teased.
Jungkook’s hands finally moved down from your face allowing you enough time to notice his body wasn’t the only thing that had changed.
“You have tattoos now!” You gawked.
A breath of laughter escaped him as he looked down into his lap, at his right hand, and back at you.
“Quite a few, actually.”
“Wow. It seems there’s a lot we’re going to have to catch up on.”
“I totally agree.”
Silence enveloped around you as you both began to work into a nervous dance. Neither of you exactly knew where it was supposed to go from here or the steps to get from point A to B. I mean, where did you begin? Did you go right into talking about the last year or so? New hobbies?
Luckily, Jungkook saved you again as he leaned in and planted a lingering kiss on your lips. When he pulled away that sly smirk was back as he asked, “Would it be okay if we kissed a little while longer?”
A smile of your own spread wide across your face. Your reply a sweet kiss against his lips.
#jeon jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook fanfiction#jeon jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook fluff#jungkook#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts#bts fluff#kpop fanfiction#kpop fanfic#series
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@febuwhump day 9: buried alive
BURIED ALIVE
“So, while we’re just hanging out in the bathroom,” says Tony. Peter’s head hangs over the toilet, and he shuts his eyes tight, willing Tony to stop talking. “I thought we could chat.”
“Maybe that can wait,” says Peter, dryly, and miserably. “Until, I dunno, I’m done puking my guts out.”
“It’s waited long enough. Besides, you never call me back, and you won’t talk to your aunt.”
OR
Peter's guilt over a recent run in with Mysterio literally makes him sick.
BURIED ALIVE flashes in neon letters across the screen, the techno theme music plays, and Peter’s eyes glaze over. He’s officially entered The Zone, and there’s no pulling him out of it until his character dies or he achieves the highest honor, a score enormous enough to knock MQB off the hall of fame.
His hand clutches the joystick, and his fingers glide across the buttons, and he can feel Ned staring at him, but it doesn’t distract him from the current mission.
It doesn’t help him, either.
This game ends exactly the same way every game before it had, on level five, when he’s only points away from taking first place away from MQB.
He sighs, and reaches a hand in his pocket, searching for more tokens but finding it empty.
“Shit,” says Peter. “I’m out of tokens.”
“Again?” asks Ned. “How many times have you played this? Exactly?”
“I dunno, not that much.”
Ned doesn’t look like he believes him. He looks worried, and Peter tries to shove the annoyance he feels deep, deep down.
He wishes people would stop looking at him that way. Like he’s just one fall away from breaking and shattering in a way that’d leave his pieces uneven and unfit to be put back together the correct way, the uniquely Peter-way.
“Maybe we should do something else,” says Ned. “Go to a movie, or pick up that limited edition Star Wars set?”
It’s tempting, and Peter wants to go, wants to be anyplace but this arcade, going to war with himself over a some stupid high score on some arcade machine. An environment without all the flashing lights, screaming children, and annoying game music would be a nice change in pace, but he can’t.
He has to stay. Until he’s won. Until he wipes that name off the charts and replaces it with his own.
“I need more tokens,” says Peter, as a way of answer. He hopes the way his voice sounds like a zombie will go ignored.
He walks past Ned, and heads towards the token machine, dodging running, shouting kids on his way. He fumbles around with his wallet, until he finds the credit card Tony had given him for emergencies. Not for the first time, he swipes it at the token machine and receives a hundred new chances to defeat his enemy.
If that isn’t an emergency, Peter doesn’t know what’s supposed to make that list.
When he turns, he comes face to face with Ned.
“Dude,” he says. “Maybe you should take a break. Have you even eaten dinner yet?”
His stomach growls at the mention of food, and his eyes automatically drift towards the restaurant installed into the arcade. He supposes Ned has a point. He can afford to stop his gaming long enough to scarf down some pizza.
“Yeah, okay, good idea.”
Relief washes through Ned’s features, and Peter’s stabbed with guilt. It attacks him from all angles.
He’s guilty for worrying his friends, and his family, and guilty because he doesn’t know how to stop. He’s guilty of the wave of crime overtaking Queens now that Spider-Man has abandoned it, in favor of standing still at an arcade game.
Guilty for that thing he doesn’t allow himself to think about.
Most of all, he’s guilty, because instead of working towards wiping away the current charts on BURIED ALIVE, he’s sitting at a table eating pizza, wasting time.
*
Drops of sweat trickle down his forehead, and a shiver runs through his body.
And he tries ignoring it, the way his stomach is heavy, and cramping, and the way his body is just begging him to take a seat, close his eyes, or more pressing, run to the bathroom and shove his head in a toilet.
But he doesn’t, because he can’t. Because he’s just so damn close.
When game over flashes across the screen, he slams his fist down. He considers what might happen if he didn’t hold back his strength, if he just destroyed the machine right then and there.
“Peter?”
He stared at the screen., refusing to look away.
“You’re not looking so great, kid.” Tony’s hand comes up from behind him, and presses down on his sweaty forehead. “Yep, that’s a fever.”
“Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “What are you doing here?”
“Ned called me,” he tells him. “He was really worried, and so am I.”
Tony wipes the sweat off his hand and into the insides of his suit jacket.
It’s the first time in awhile Peter takes his eyes away from the screen, and the room blurs. All the flashing, neon lights merge together. All the kids, teens, parents combine into one collective shout that threatens to make his ears bleed. The arcade tilts, and the knot in his stomach is pulled tighter.
“I need to get outta here,” says Peter, a shake in his voice.
“Then come on,” says Tony.
He grabs him by the arm, and leads him through the jungle of prize hungry children, beeping game machines, and parents trying to ignore it all.
Fresh, cold air hits Peter’s face when they step outside the door, and he breaths it in, then he bends over and pukes in the on the sidewalk while strangers watch in disgust, while Tony rubs his back, and while the paparazzi snaps photos of Iron Man comforting some poor, sick kid.
*
“So, while we’re just hanging out in the bathroom,” says Tony. Peter’s head hangs over the toilet, and he shuts his eyes tight, willing Tony to stop talking. “I thought we could chat.”
“Maybe that can wait,” says Peter, dryly, and miserably. “Until, I dunno, I’m done puking my guts out.”
“It’s waited long enough. Besides, you never call me back, and you won’t talk to your aunt.”
It just figures. That there’s so avoiding it now. That there’s not even a proper distraction to keep him from the things he’s not trying to think about.
That day comes back to him and hits him with full force, as if were angry Peter had been suppressing it.
His memories are pulled backwards to Mysterio’s twisted game. That dull, grey day the fishbowl guy taunted him with a devastating choice, save May fall from a skyscraper, or save a stranger from suffocating six feet under the earth.
His failure flashes across his mind.
He’d thought he could save both, but he’d still made the decision to go after May first. Once she was safe on the ground, he had bolted to the burial site, only to dig up a man who was already dead.
He’s selfish, and he’s sad. All this bad will stirs his stomach enough to force his head back in the toilet to throw up some more.
Tony rubs his back until he’s finished with his gagging. He puts the toilet lid down, and flushes, and he leans against the toilet, weak and wanting the pain in his stomach to ease so he can sleep and not exist for awhile.
So he can continue avoiding the conversation Tony keeps trying to force him to have.
“It’s not your fault, you know,” says Tony. “That fucking psychopath created that situation to fuck with your head.”
“But I’m Spider-Man,” says Peter. “I should’ve been able to deal with it, without - someone dying.”
“Can’t save them all, kid. No matter how hard you try.”
It’s as if Tony’s words bounce off him. He hears them, but he doesn’t. They don’t sink in. He won’t allow them to, and it’s as if Tony hadn’t spoken at all.
“Suppose I deserve this,” says Peter. “Feeling this way.”
He isn’t sure if he means the stomach cramps, or the guilt, or both, but the alarm that flashes across Tony’s face only makes the stabbing pains worse.
“You only deserve good things, Pete,” he says. “I don’t know how to convince you to believe it.”
*
When he opens his eyes the next morning, his stomach is peaceful, but his memories are hazy. They exist, just vaguely.
And it’s better that way, really. Puking and crying on the bathroom floor while Tony held him and told him it would be okay weren’t exactly his finest hours. Peak teenage embarrassment that he hopes will go forgotten, or at least unmentioned, in future conversation.
He’s ready to crawl and hide under the covers when the guest room door creaks open, but he stays visible when he sees it’s just his Aunt May walking through the doorway, carrying crackers and a mini bottle of Sprite.
“I hear you had a rough night,” she tells him. She puts the sick people snacks on the nightstand. “How’re you feeling?”
“Better.”
May’s face folds into disbelief, and Peter releases a breath, realizing there’s no avoiding it anymore. Not after last night.
“I’m sorry, May.”
“About what?”
“About Mysterio.”
She sits on his bed, and takes his hand. “From what Tony’s told me, you’re tired of hearing it, but I’m going to stress again that that wasn’t your fault and you will not accept responsibility for what some demented man cooked up in his free time, okay?”
“But May -”
“If someone asked me to choose between my own life and somebody else’s,” she starts. “You know I would choose theirs. We’re Parkers, and that’s what we do, for better or for worse, but if someone forced me to choose between a stranger’s life and yours? Peter, that’s not even a choice, it’s an instinct.”
“But May I should’ve -”
She squeezes his hand, and cuts him off, a second time. “You have to let this go. You weren’t being selfish, and you did everything you could’ve done. It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill anybody.”
Her tone leaves no room for argument, so he doesn’t try. He lets her hug him, and even hugs her back. He even feels a little lighter now that he’s been ordered to move on.
*
Tony’s idea of helping is to throw money at it. He goes to the arcade and pays them a ridiculously large sum of money for the BURIED ALIVE game machine.
It’s sitting in the workshop when Peter arrives for their lab hours, along with giant hammers and other tools of destruction.
“I think they do this in therapy,” says Tony. “Something about getting it all out. Healthy destruction. All that.”
“They let you break things in therapy?” asks Peter, apprehensively taking the hammer from Tony.
He’s gotta admit, he’s warming up to the idea of letting Tony pay for a therapist, even if he knows he only said it for that very reason.
“Sure,” says Tony. “Why not?”
Peter stares at the game. The thing he’d been using to distract himself from his misery. The thing he’d become obsessed with as a way to relive the past, take some control. Of course, getting the highest score would’ve never brought back the man Mysterio killed, but obsessions weren’t exactly rational.
“I have a better idea,” says Peter.
They spent the next few hours taking the game apart, piece by piece, and then, and until late in the night, they use the parts to build a new, better game. Something that Ned has to come over and help them program. Something with a less morbid topic.
And Peter starts to think better, feel better.
There’s something cathartic about taking apart the horrible things and turning them into something new. It’s a breath of fresh air. It’s a sense of hope, for himself, that eventually he’ll be able to take May and Tony’s reassuring words and believe them.
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Hugsaku 2021
Day 4 - Family | “I can’t remember my parents’ faces.” | “I’m used to being alone, so it’s fine.”
This is part of a continuous story I’ve been writing for hugsaku. You can find previous parts either in my previous hugsaku posts or on ao3. The general story is: Yusaku ends up in Heartland with no idea how he got there, and Yuma decides to help Yusaku figure out how to get home. I’ll post a link to the ao3 in the notes.
Yuma and Yusaku are very interesting for this case, since their family situations are sort of the opposite of each other.
⁂
Yusaku kicked a rock lightly as he walked down the path behind Yuma, his hands in his pockets. Over the past few days, Yuma had been giving Yusaku a casual tour of the city while they kept an eye out for Numbers.
“Oh, there’s some litterbots.” Yuma pointed over to their left at a group of robots picking garbage up from the ground. “They’re these robots that go around the city and pick up garbage people have dropped. I’m not really a big fan of them, though. They keep thinking I’m garbage and they’ll pick me up and… It’s gross.”
Yusaku shrugged. “The robots would know better than me.”
“Hey, come on, you're supposed to be on my side!” Yuma protested.
Yusaku looked away, now staring at the litterbots. He could just barely hear them talking as they did their duty. They didn’t look like anything he’d seen in Den City, but something about them reminded him of…
“Are you listening to me? Hey, uh, are you okay?” Yuma looked up at Yusaku’s face with a frown. Then he followed Yusaku’s gaze to the litterbots. “Do you have those where you’re from, too?”
“No.” Yusaku paused for a moment “I’m probably just homesick or something. For some reason, those litterbots remind me of Roboppy.”
“Who’s Roboppy?”
“They’re a little cleaning robot I have. They’re very common around the city I live in. I built my Roboppy myself and edited their programming to give them a bit of a personality.”
“Whoa, that’s really cool! You gotta be really smart to do something like that.” Yuma frowned. “Do you miss Roboppy?”
“...I don’t know.” That was difficult to figure out. “It’s not like I wish they were here, but… Every day, after I came home, Roboppy would greet me. They’d be happy to see me. I’ve been so used to it that I never gave it a second thought until I ended up here and haven’t been able to see them. I think I just...miss that part of my routine.”
“Hmm. I could say hi to you whenever you come home.”
“I only leave the house when I’m with you, so that wouldn’t make any sense.” Yusaku rolled his eyes. “Besides, you’re not Roboppy.”
Yuma opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted. That’s when they spotted the first person with a Number Yusaku had seen since he met Yuma.
Their eyes glowed red, and there was a strange glow around the rest of their body.
“Numbers amplify the darkest desires of their host,” Astral explained quietly to Yusaku while Yuma loudly confronted the other person. “When they possess you, they block out everything else. When you resisted the Number you held, that’s what you overcame. It seems most humans cannot.”
Yusaku looked at Astral with a frown.
He could tell that Number he’d had was powerful when he held it. He’d wanted to keep it, even without knowing if it would work well with his deck or any of his cards at all. But the card seemed like it could’ve been a useful tool for his goals. Why did he want to keep it? How much of it was because he didn’t like to duel, and how much was because he’d already committed to walking into a path of darkness long ago? After all, he’d never set out specifically to be a ‘good guy’. That’s just how it worked out.
Astral looked away from Yusaku. “Well, the only way forward is to win this Number in a duel. You should stay out of this; it’s dangerous to duel a Number without one of your own. They can only be defeated by other Numbers. Yuma and I can take care of this.”
Yusaku had no objections to that. He certainly wasn’t eager to jump into a duel.
“Yeah, we got this, no problem! You can cheer for us!” Yuma ran over to Astral and Yusaku. “Hey, Yusaku, where’s your Duel Gazer?”
“My what?”
Yusaku already knew that this place didn’t have a virtual duel world like he was familiar with. But apparently, duels here made use of augmented reality technology. In order to see what was happening in the duel, you needed to look through some accessory. That set off several red flags in Yusaku’s head.
“I’ll pass,” he told Yuma once the whole thing had been explained to him.
“But you won't be able to see me crush this guy.”
“My ears work perfectly fine,” Yusaku said. Right now, he had no interest in seeing anything using augmented reality. Listening would be good enough.
The duel was difficult to watch. Yusaku envied the way Yuma could have fun dueling no matter what. Really, he did. Yusaku hadn’t been able to experience that since he was much younger than Yuma, and he suspected he wouldn’t be able to for many years to come if he ever would be able to at all. But Yusaku did used to enjoy the game, and he wished he could have fun again now. Watching Yuma have fun wasn’t the difficult part. What made this hard for Yusaku was how unprepared Yuma had come to this duel, knowing he would have to duel again soon and knowing how important it would be to win.
At least Astral knew what he was doing, but ultimately Yuma made all the final decisions between the two of them and Yuma had a tendency to get annoyed by Astral’s suggestions and ignore them.
Yusaku could barely breathe through the close calls that Yuma barely made it through. Yuma didn’t know a lot of his own cards’ effects. At one point, Yuma tried to play a trap card face-up in his monster zone. Trap monsters still had to follow the rules of traps. (“But it says when you play it to summon it like it’s a monster!” “Yuma, that only takes place after you activate the trap like you would any other trap.”)
In the end, however, Yuma and Astral were able to win the duel and take the Number back. Astral didn’t remember any significant memories from the Number; nothing helpful for Astral nor Yusaku.
Yuma ran to Yusaku after the duel. He didn’t seem fazed by any of the mistakes or close calls from his duel.
“That duel was so much fun!” Yuma yelled. “It was a tough one, but I was feeling the flow, and my dad’s cards came through like they always do!”
“Your dad’s cards?” Yusaku asked.
“Yeah.” Yuma closed his right hand around the key hanging from his neck. “This used to be my dad’s, too.” He stared off into the distance, his voice growing softer and quieter than Yusaku had heard it since they met. “Carrying around this key and using my dad’s deck, it’s like he’s here with me. They remind me of everything he taught me.” He frowned. “My… Both my parents disappeared. I know they’re still out there somewhere, they gotta be, but it’s still hard not having them here, sometimes. Using his cards helps.”
Yuma had been upbeat, stubborn, and cheerful the entire time Yusaku had been in Heartland City. But on this topic, all of that seemed to strip away from Yuma, leaving him melancholy and vulnerable. Deep down, it seemed Yuma stubbornly refused to call anything impossible because hope was the only thing he could do.
Asking about Yuma’s deck had led them into a topic that seemed difficult for Yuma. Yusaku felt bad; he hadn’t meant to hurt him.
It struck Yusaku how similar their situations were...and yet, completely the opposite. Yusaku was the one who went missing, while for Yuma, it was his parents. Yuma never gave up hope his parents were out there. Yusaku wondered if that was how his parents felt back them. Of course, after he was rescued…
Yuma sniffed. “I shouldn’t mope about my own problems to you when you’ve got plenty of your own. Yours are probably so worried about you.”
For a moment, Yusaku forgot how to breathe.It seemed like parents still happened to be a sore spot for him as well. At least when the topic was his own parents. He cleared his throat. He needed to say something. (He didn’t see how his problems could be considered any more important than Yuma’s right now.) “I wouldn’t know.”
“Are your parents missing, too?” Yuma asked.
Yusaku shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t seen them in years.” 10, to be exact. Not that it mattered or anything. “After I was rescued, they just weren’t there. They never came back.” His words got stuck in his throat. Yuma clearly looked up to his father, had found memories and a lot of love for his parents. As for Yusaku… “I can’t even remember my parents’ faces.”
“That’s awful.” Yuma looked devastated by the information. He lightly touched Yusaku’s arm, trying to offer comfort without overdoing it.
Yusaku didn’t push him away. “I’m used to being alone, so it’s fine.”
“That’s not true!” Yuma insisted. “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t make it okay. I’m used to my parents not being here, but that doesn’t make it okay. I miss them constantly. Kari misses them. My grandma misses them. It’s not good to be alone.” He paused. “If you’re used to being alone, you probably don’t have siblings, do you?”
“Not last I knew, which was a decade ago.” Yusaku hummed in thought. “I think the closest I’ve got is… Kolter’s brother was a victim of that incident, too.” No need to specify any further on Jin’s current state when that was private, and not Yusaku’s story to tell. “Kolter and I have been working together. We met because we both needed to figure out the truth behind what happened. Kolter also sells hot dogs for a living; he won’t let me pay him for hot dogs anymore, and he keeps a close eye on me. He tries to prevent me from overworking myself and tries to make me take care of myself.”
“He’s like an older brother to you, too,” Yuma commented.
Yusaku didn’t like to think about it. As a rule, he didn’t get close to anyone. Anyone who came close to him could be put in danger, and no one deserved that. He’d tried to push Kolter away several times when they first met, but Kolter was too persistent. He still felt guilty letting Kolter get involved, and the more he thought about his relationship with Kolter, the heavier that guilt felt. He only ever referred to Kolter as his acquaintance to keep anyone to think they were close, to keep him from worrying so much. Kolter was fully aware of any danger and signed up to work with Yusaku anyway, so worrying was pointless.
“I guess family doesn’t have to always be the people related to you by blood.” Yusaku shrugged. He didn’t confirm nor deny Yuma’s comment. “Sometimes you find people that are a better fit.” It wasn’t hard to be a better fit than someone who never found him again, honestly.
Yuma beamed. “Anyone can be family! As long as you have someone, you’re not alone.” He pulled Yusaku into a hug. “I’m glad you have someone. If nobody missed you, if you didn’t have anyone where you came from, I don’t know if I’d want you to go back, but… I’m happy to get you home since you do. You belong in the world you came from, and…and I get the feeling you and that hot dog guy need each other.”
Yusaku lightly wrapped an arm around Yuma. He didn’t know what to say since he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts.
Here, the incident never happened, and Yusaku wasn’t Playmaker. He still wasn’t exactly sure where that left him. But he had less of a reason to keep up a distance from everyone here since relationships wouldn’t put anyone in danger. He found himself relieved that Yuma still had a family even without his parents, and… He found himself relieved that Yuma was here to help him now. That he wasn’t doing this alone.
In a way, Yuma was starting to almost feel like a younger brother to him.
#hugsaku#hugsaku2021#yugioh vrains#yugioh zexal#tater writes#yo there's actual a duel in this one!! and by a duel i mean a duel occurs and it's described as briefly as possible#if you're hungry for an actual duel.......just wait ;)
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The Ghost Of You || Theo And Rebecca
We were meant to live for so much more.
Theodora had to fight herself not to spend all her energy racing to Rebecca’s home at once. It had to be her. She was strong. She had fought him off before. She would fight him and surface again. It had to be her. But as she neared it, reached to pass through the windows and reach for her, call to her, a fear coiled around her and she hesitated. There was no telling why the dybbuk would trick Blanche again, what he would gain from playing a long game when he enjoyed his own existence so very much. And--dear God in Heaven--she was there. She was using Theodora’s old kettle, nursing her ribs. And she looked so tired. It must be her, mustn’t it? Theodora hesitated, then pressed her hand to the windows, rattling them as if they were caught in a gale. If it were the creature, he would see her. He would be cruel. And she had to be careful, certain. Didn’t she? “I know you’re in there,” she said, uncertain of to whom she was speaking anymore.
Rebecca had been icing her wound when she’d decided that a nice cup of tea would help calm her down. She’d waddled into the kitchen, still limping from the pain, though it seemed to be getting better. She’d have to schedule a doctor’s appointment, she wasn’t sure the demon had done so. It would be alright, in the meantime, with tea and ice and ibuprofen. She sighed, grabbing the kettle and filling it with water, sighing as she set it on the stove and clicked it on. She remembered her visions of the home, of the flashing clock on the stove. It wasn’t flashing now. It wasn’t beeping. Suddenly, the windows shook, a chill up her spin. Rebecca jumped, pulling out her ward. “Who’s there?” Limped over towards the window, when the voice filtered through. No. She-- she must’ve been hearing things. Backing away, she turned away. “Whoever you are, go away. I don’t-- I’m not who you’re looking for.”
Theodora passed through the glass as Rebecca backed away. The dybbuk would have no need to be afraid. He was too confident, surely. And he would see her. Mock her. Rebecca, on the other hand— “Darling?” She called softly. She knew Rebecca’s tired looks intimately. The way the creases around her eyes seemed to deepen, the droop around her mouth, the way her hair dropped with neglect. Hunting a dybbuk, even over the span of years, was hardly conducive to good rest. And it was all the same, now as ever before. “It is you, isn't it, darling? Rebecca?”
Rebecca turned, clutching the counter until her knuckles turned white. She’d finally lost it, was what this was. That voice, so familiar. She was back in that place again, wasn’t she? That must be it. This couldn’t be real. But the chill in her bones, the way her flesh tingled-- she knew it wasn’t just her imagination. Her lip quivered. Maybe if she ignored it, she’d go away. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be back, couldn’t be here. Rebecca had only been able to pull through because she knew Theo was in a better place, knew that she was no longer suffering-- but now? Accepting this? “No,” she said, moving away from the energy radiating by the window. “No, you’re not-- you’re not here. Just go away, please,” turning her back to her again. Because if it was her, she didn’t want her to see the anguish in her face, the defeat.
“Rebecca--” Theodora called, drifting slowly towards her. She couldn’t mean it like this, surely. After all the time it had been, and the weight of these weeks knowing she was drifting alone in the black while the dybbuk mocked her existence, that the alternative was a cursed existence, pulling against a tide she could not fully control. If Rebecca knew it was her, surely-- Theodora brushed her hand through her hair, wilting as she realized that Rebecca might do just that, if she were alone enough, and hurt enough. The worst fights they had were the ones where Rebecca pushed her away when Theodora most wanted to be with her. “Don’t let’s do that cruel dance again, my love,” she said. “It really is me. And I’ve come all this way just to see you again, for true.”
“That-- it--” Rebecca stammered, shivering as something brushed across her skin. She screwed her eyes shut, pulling away again. How cruel could the world be? To give her her lover back like this? As the things she hunted? The things she had come to only feel, to hear, but not see. Never see. She cast her head down, arms wrapped around herself. Tears welling behind tightly shut lids. “It’s not fair! You can’t-- you shouldn’t be here. I’m so sorry. Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here. Go, please, go. Move on. Be happy. Please,” she begged, breath wheezing. The hurt in her ribs was now nothing compared to the hurt in her heart. The ache that clenched at her. She wished for so long during that year alone to see her lover one more time. To speak to her, one more time. And never had she thought to come back to White Crest. Never had she thought Theo would have been here, been around. And it hurt all the more, knowing that she could’ve known her this whole time. That she could have had her like this, the whole time. But her stubbornness, her pain had kept her away. And she only had herself to blame. “You can’t be here.”
“As if I could ever rest, knowing you were in pain?” Theodora asked. “Knowing I hadn’t done enough to protect you? After all my other failures, and all my other wanderings?” She lifted the hair that fell over her face, twisting it round in her grasp, such as it was. “Would you really deny us this, my love, after two long years? Haven’t we suffered enough apart? Must you punish us again?” If she could have only but summoned solid hands through will alone, the ability to pull her up, shake her, make Rebecca look at her and see her-- Oh, but that would have been too easy. Whatever sins Theodora was atoning for, she had obscured herself from such a blessing. “It’s one thing never to visit your wife, but another to cast her out of your home. And this is not the time for running, Rebecca,” she said, voice firm.
“This isn’t-- this isn’t your fault, you know that, I told you that,” Rebecca pleaded quietly, shivering again when Theo’s ghostly hands passed across her. She looked up, bewildered, wishing now more than ever that she could see her-- cursing now more than ever, that she couldn’t see ghosts. “You should be able to move on, my love,” she said quietly, her voice strained as she fought back her tears. “You shouldn’t be here suffering with me.” The pain swelling again in a frantic sob, aching ever more thanks to the fracture in her side. She moved through the spirit in front of her, through the kitchen, and to the living room. There was a photo of Theodora on the mantel and she picked it up, knowing she’d followed her in, hands caressing her face in the photo. “I couldn’t bare to visit the place where I’d lost you. Where’d I’d failed everything in my life,” she confessed quietly, “my ultimate failure. Losing you.”
Theodora followed, peering over Rebecca’s shouler and passing her arms through her body, as if she would press her close, Rebecca’s back cradled by her chest. Some evenings, when Rebecca’s fear pulled and stiffened at her, it was the only way she could bridge the awful silence between them and hold her at all. If she could just take shape for even a moment, she thought. Even with hands of death, to feel anything-- “Oh, my darling,” she sighed, her voice shuddering. “It wasn’t your fault at all. I dove for him. I just wasn’t fast enough. That was my blasted foolishness, not yours.” She skated her ghostly hands over Rebecca’s. It was just a chill, Rebecca had told her. Like a pocket of icy wind. She did not know how it could comfort, but she hoped that from her, with her voice in her ear, it might for even a breath of a moment. “Is marriage not a sharing of suffering, anyway? I think I’m rather entitled, don’t you?” Her voice lilted softly upwards, hoping to soothe with a touch of levity.
Rebecca shuddered again, but it wasn’t an adverse reaction. Somehow, the chill of Theodora’s touch was a comfort. Perhaps it was her voice, or perhaps it was just knowing that that was what she was trying to do, but Rebecca didn’t turn away this time. She could feel Theo’s presence behind her and felt the longing inside of her to hold her and touch and her and felt the unfairness of the fact that she couldn’t. It felt like a physical ache in her arms that could only be quelled by Theodora’s touch, but she would never again feel it. Even now, with her here. “We never made it official, you know,” she said quietly after a moment. She turned around, looked up-- she couldn’t see Theo, didn’t know exactly where she was, but she could see her clearly in her mind. Standing there with her sweater on, that look in her eyes-- so soft, so caring. Like they could look into Rebecca’s own soul and pull out all the bad and make everything okay. With just a look. “I want to see you,” she whispered, “let me see you.”
“Not officially, no,” Theodora chuckled. “But we did a lot of married things in the eyes of our gods alone. It’s close enough. I told Blanche I was your wife. So at this point, who’s the wiser, really?” Rebecca turned to her, her soft face open and bright. There was a sparkle of hope in her watery blue eyes, that resilient seed that carried her through so many dark nights. Theodora passed her fingers through her cheeks. She dug deep into the core of her soul, just in case there was any strength within her that could summon to make herself solid again. Even a moment, a flash of contact, however soft. But she could not wipe Rebecca’s tears from her cheeks. She could not draw her close and fold her up in her arms away from the world. “Oh, if I only could, my love,” she said. “It is so good to see you after so long. I have missed you so very much. So very much. If I knew how, I would--” She could not bring herself to continue. It seemed too cruel, to speak hopes that had no promise of coming true. “But I would stay with you tonight, and every other, for as long as this lasts. I will help you, however I can.”
Rebecca lifted her left hand. There was a pale band around her ring finger. “I haven’t put it back on in a long time,” she murmured, curling her fingers in slightly before stretching them back out again. “It didn’t seem right. I was worried he might--” Take it. Break it. Destroy it. Destroy their symbol of love. She knew it sounded stupid, but she couldn’t bare the thought. She knew that their love was always going to be in their hearts, undead or not, no matter what. Even if Rebecca wilted away and her soul was torn from this world. She shuddered at the thought and clutched the picture to her chest, sinking into the couch. “Staying seems almost cruel,” she muttered, “how cruel is the world to give you back to me in the one form I can’t see you.” She looked up again, eyes worn, tired. “I want you to stay, but I can’t ask that of you. What if he comes back while I sleep? He’ll kill you, he’ll take you from me and I already lost you once, I can’t-- I won’t,” she set the photo down on the table in front of her. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Theodora. I’m lost.”
Theodora turned her attention to the photograph. Despite being only a year before her death, the woman in there seemed so much surer, stronger, than how she felt. Perhaps she was simply more corporeal. But lacking a reflection, Theodora found a strange sense of heart in the person she was. However damned she was, she had been a woman who could bear anything. The cruelty of loss. The rejection of the world. The breaking of her own body, over and over from one night to next. She could bear this too. And perhaps at the end of it, if she succeeded, she might uncover the misdeeds of her soul, might even find her way to absolution and peace. But what was heaven without Rebecca? The thought was meaningless, too selfish and small as to dissipate faster than smoke. Theodora knelt before her, hands cooling on her knees so she would know where to look. “Whatever you will of me, I will do it,” she said solemnly. “You wouldn’t be asking me to stay. You need only tell me you want it again and I shall. I would like to stay with you too. Comfort you, if I can at all, and to damn the risk. I can dissipate faster than he can reach for me like this. But If it will only cause you more grief and worry, I will go. I have places to stay. I’ll be alright. I won’t even be alone. Perhaps don’t think about this one overmuch, if you can help it. You needn’t ask at all, only say what you feel.”
Cool hands on her knees that she could almost feel, Rebecca looked down at where she knew Theodora was. She could picture her so clearly, kneeling in front of her, green eyes sparkling. Tears welled behind her eyes again and she let them fall freely this time, too tired to fight them off anymore. She wished she could see Theo, she wished so badly for the thing she’d worked her entire life to be proud of not having. Becoming an exorcist despite her inability to see ghosts had been one of her proudest accomplishments, and now, all she could do was curse the world for denying her this gift. “I can’t say it,” she finally admitted, her voice a hoarse whisper, “I need to know I’m me first. I need to know it’s safe, first.” She wrapped her arms around herself against and pretended they were Theo’s arms, sinking into her grasp like the safety blanket it had always been for her, from their first embrace to their last. “I need to feel safe again.”
Theodora was glad Rebecca could not see her then, for in two years of being invisible she had lost all habit of schooling her face to hide any emotion she didn’t want to surface. She hung her head and would have dug her fingers in with longing, with a silent plea, if she had anything to touch. She wanted to stay. After two years alone, torturing herself with memories, she wanted to stay more than anything. But the wishes of the dead and damned were of no consequence. Theodora was quiet for several moments, however, before finally saying, “Alright. Then I will go. I’ll return soon, though, to see how you are.” She withdrew from her, gliding away towards the door. “I hope at least that much is alright with you.”
Rebecca’s heart tugged because she could feel exactly what Theo was-- she knew exactly the look on her face. And though Theodora was here, she was so tired of having to just imagine things. To imagine what her lost love was doing, feeling, looking. “Wait!” she said, a bit desperately, “stay for a little longer. Please,” she asked, hoping her eyes were glancing in her direction. “I-- just a little longer.” She stood up, struggling, her side prickling with pain. “I can finish making us tea,” she said quietly, hobbling towards the kitchen again, “and...maybe you can tell me your favorite poem again. And just...maybe for just a little bit, you can stay…” she paused in the doorway again, looking around the room, wondering if she could simply reach out and feel her. “Please?”
Theodora wanted nothing more than to do all of those things with Rebecca. Just another evening near her, even if they couldn’t touch or meet eyes. But if such and evening was what she had really wanted, she would have said so. This gesture, however earnest, could only have been given out of love for her. And oh, how Theodora had missed being loved at all. To be offered something so simple, so kind, for no other reason than because Rebecca saw her and cared. If she could truly claim to love her in return, however, she would honor her first wish. The one she had made before she knew how thin Theodora’s skin had become. “No,” she said. “It’s alright. You should feel safe, first and foremost. No need to take on any shame about it.” And Theodora believed this, with all her heart, but she could not avoid the bitter sadness she felt. She had always failed at compartmentalizing cleanly when it came to Rebecca. Why should it be any different in death? “It is good to have you back, my love. Even like this,” she said. And before Rebecca could call to her again and change her mind, she was gone.
#chatzy#chatzy: theo#theo#dr jekyll#the ghost of you#//i wanted srs titles but i guess this chatzy#is just an homage to emo 00's songs#blame olivia and kat
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Happenstance Encouragement - Bragi x Reader
Hi...I did some people dirty...Namely Mr. Fluffcoat and the sweet Anon who made a request for him. So please accept this fic as a token of apology. I know it’s not entirely Smarmy-central, but it’s actually the first in a random series I’m having fun with. Hope these fulfill some of the fluff you were looking for.
Also tagging my Xeha-non since they asked for some Bragi-fluff too.
~~~~~
Becoming a Master Mage is kind of a grueling process; that’s why there are plenty of people who dabble in magic but not a ton of masters. It doesn’t help that most people tend to lean towards a specific kind of magic but the masters have a good grasp in most areas of magic before they become experts in specific fields.
I always had an affinity towards magic, which is what got me into this harrowing occupation. My first taste of real, structured magic had me hooked and I instantly became dead-set on becoming a Master Mage; this goal is what brought me and my classmate to follow our master to Scala Ad Caelum when they offered him a teaching position—not that the location made the task any easier.
Feet drag as I trudge up the steps to the citadel—it’s just one of those days. I don’t want to be here and question why I am. These last few weeks have been particularly taxing in preparing for the Master’s Exam with extra lessons from the Master, including tests for each section of magic. Up all night studying brings with it a fatigue and no guarantee I’ll pass the test today. Inside the castle, I pause to lean against the wall in an attempt to give myself a second to pull myself together.
Something plops on my head and flutters to the ground looking like a folded paper. Unsure of whether I should, I scoop it up, unwinding the note to see a scrawled message.
‘Don’t look so glum. You’re gonna do great today.’
Perplexed, I look up. Leaning over a railing several stories up is a young man. With a smirk across his face, he gives me a thumbs-up. My gaze drops back to the paper, honestly feeling somewhat lighter. I look back up but the smile slips from my face—he’s gone. One last look at the note puts my gloom in its place and prepared me to take on the day.
Admittedly, the day gets significantly better: I’m confident in my test answers and I’m not nearly as tired as I thought I was. It only takes one thought of the note in my pocket to fend off the depression. The day turned out so pleasant thanks to some stranger’s note that it gets posted in my room in hopes of it getting me through the next couple months until the exam.
I wander into the castle the following day, a little bit preoccupied until I see the airplane floating through the air. My gaze immediately shoots up to see the boy from yesterday wearing another simper. Some internal compulsion drives me to retrieve the note and pull it open.
‘You got this.’
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I pull a pencil from my bag and hastily scribble back: ‘Thank you.’ I’m glad he’s still standing there when I’m done and an aero spell carries my gratitude back up to him. There’s surprise on his face at first but only for a moment.
Unfortunately, the warning bell tolls and we part ways to class.
~~~~~
It’s a strange occurrence to go through two whole months trading notes and glances without ever actually meeting each other. We pass in the halls, giving friendly waves and smiles, always moving in opposite directions. I find notes falling from the sky frequently or waiting for me on my usual places; I’ve even found new ones in my pockets—he’s a sneaky one. Don’t get me wrong though, I’ve had my own fun finding inventive ways to use magic to return my replies. Words of encouragement and tales of keyblade-training adventures keep me afloat in my chaos and I owe him more than I could write out. I haven’t gotten a name from him yet—that seems less important than the messages we’ve been passing. I have, however, heard the term Smarmy Fluffcoat thrown around from people talking about him; it makes me giggle every time I think about it.
Somehow, I’ve managed to end up completely enamored with my pen pal. Thoughts stray to him if I don’t keep them in check and I’ll die before I let slip he’s been in my dreams. It’s kind of embarrassing to think I’ve become infatuated with someone I’ve never met but every day with a new note or a smile becomes a day that can’t drag me down thanks to him. Still, the little things of daily life keep us from meeting; it’s annoying but—I must be hanging out with my classmate too much—rationality keeps telling me it’s better this way. Anxious thoughts worry that he’s not the same person he is on paper or in my head. On the other hand, maybe I’m not who he thinks I am; maybe we’re just long-distance friends to him and then my little crush becomes really creepy. I’ve only cared about magic before and there’s not a spell in my arsenal that could’ve prepared me for a situation like this. So things between us stay separated.
~~~~~
My heart is pounding in my chest, spurring the tremble in my fingers. Most of the residents of the school, if not all of them, are here to watch. Students are here to learn from my success or mistakes, professionals are here to judge whether or not a mage can really match a standard key bearer, and others are here to awe—it’s unnerving. Not only that, but mages don’t become masters very often and, being the youngest in history to take the exam, we’ve become a spectacle for magic users across all the worlds.
“Are you ready?” asks my classmate. His ridiculously-intense eyes watch patiently. I have no idea how he can be so calm; this is our Master’s Exam—everything we’ve been training for. I can’t help wishing I’d gotten a note of ‘good luck’ today.
It doesn’t matter that I feel like I’m drowning in my anxiety; I have to go out there. Ignoring the fact that I might faint, I nod and join him in entering the stadium.
Bright sunlight floods through the doorway and I’m immediately hit by the chatter of the crowd. My body initially protests walking into the spotlight but I force myself to move on. Against my instincts, I let my gaze wander the audience.
Then I spot him: Smarmy Fluffcoat. He’s perfectly comfortable slouched in his seat, not adding to the blaring—I wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway. Nevertheless, once he realizes I’m watching him, he gives a smile and waves.
Immediately, courage swells in me, remembering the wall of notes pinned in my room. Of course I can do this; I’ve been practicing for ages for this very moment. A smile works its way across my mouth.
The exam begins with displays of our ability. With each successful cast, I grow more and more confident, even able to cast the more complex Holy magic with relative ease. Test two is fending off several volunteer keyblade wielders without their magic. I could’ve made a few improvements in some places but I complete the task.
The third test—a magic duel with my classmate—is where I find my nerves creeping back in. We’ve been training together for years so of course he’s going to know all my quirks and go-tos. His biggest advantage is that stoicism of his—he’ll be able to keep his head straight if I stumble and panic.
There are too many close calls and nearly half my spells are deflected or dodged. I catch the luckiest break using reflect against his thunder. That brief opening gives me a chance to encase him in ice. It holds long enough that, when he finally breaks free, it’s just in time for me to complete a silence curse. Without magic in a magic duel, the game is over. Still, overall, he played better than me; I could’ve chosen better spells or casted faster and those facts worry me—there are still improvements to be made.
Eyes inadvertently flicker to the audience. He’s still watching with that smirk. I can’t bring myself to smile back this time.
Chest still heaving, I join my ally to stand before the Master and the judging council members. I pray they can’t see my nervousness but I’m probably kidding myself. Nevertheless, I’m standing here before them, exam complete and awaiting my verdict.
My master stands. “You both have performed admirably—both in your skill and judgment. It is with great pleasure-”
Don’t get your hopes up! Don’t get your hopes up!
“That I announce Yen Sid a Master Mage.” My heart twinges but I can’t help smiling at the young man who, for the first time since we met, looks beside himself. “Yen Sid, while you still have a lot to learn in being flexible, you have shown the true power of knowledge and a keen ability to focus under pressure; for that, you have been deemed a master. ______.” I straighten up, refocusing on the Master. “You sometimes let your nerves play into your magic, but once your confidence hits, your ability to react and adapt is hard to compete with.”
Did I…?
“It is an honor to announce that you too have become a Master Mage.” He smiles and I could explode if I didn’t remember that this is a formal ceremony. “You’ve both worked hard for this. Congratulations.” I follow Yen Sid’s lead, bowing to the man we learned everything from. “Remember, even as Masters, there are always things to learn and improve—never forget that.”
“Yes Master,” we answer.
“You did splendidly.”
I straighten up, finally able to wear the smile I had when this started. Many other mages come to greet and congratulate us. Of course, I get in a little ribbing at Yen Sid’s expense for his bafflement before the Master and he chastises me for using the reflect spell at the last second instead of a safer alternative. That’s when I spot Fluffcoat, chatting among his friends at the bottom of the steps.
My jubilation manages to douse my nerves, carrying me down the steps in haste. I just attained my dream of becoming a Master Mage so confessing to this boy should be no trouble—let’s just keep common sense out of this. It’s because of him that I had the courage to press forward. I’m not sure I would’ve handled the pressure at all if not for his words; I could’ve cracked beneath it and mucked up my exam. I won’t go on a moment longer without knowing who he really is and he needs to know how grateful I am.
His amber eyes catch sight of me just before I crash into him. He’s sturdy enough not to let us fall over but he definitely wasn’t expecting me to kiss him so forcefully. Cinnamon and spice roll off him and even in shock, his smooth lips comply with mine.
His laugh is music I’ve been dying to hear, even if it breaks the kiss. “Well nice to meet you too.”
I can’t stop smiling even if I wanted to. “Thank you.”
#bragi#khdr bragi#kh bragi#bragi x reader#smarmy fluffcoat#xeha-non#smarmy nonsense#gender neutral reader
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perfect harmony | jjk
pairing: jungkook x reader (again oml)
genre: fluff, implied smut ahadhjndkd
warnings: implication of sex
word count: 2.4k
summary: one-night-stand. which according to the trusty urban dictionary means, “hooking up with someone for one night of sex with no strings attached and hoping to never see them again.” you and partner of choice for the night, Jeon Jungkook, have had a handful of one-night-stands. why did this one stand out much more than the rest? college!au
A/N: i didn’t intend on writing another jungkook fic but i had gotten this request and shoot this was for sure a challenge to write hahaha. this is definitely the closest i will get to a ‘smut’. tbh i’m not really satisfied with this but like i’m never satisfied lmao. anyways, enjoy! thank you so much for this request anon!
47) “I thought it was a one-night-stand... and now we’re married.”
♫ ♫ ♫
It’s a rather cliche story. Jungkook was the handsome, seemingly perfect music major that girls of all ages would coo and awe over. You, on the other hand, majored in music as well, and happen to run into the young fellow every day. The two of you were both known to be very well-rounded and talented students, being at the top of the class and both exceeding in the same field. The odds always seemed to be in your favor as you two had never been paired up for any assignments or projects.
While the two of you were at the top of the class, you both had usually gotten paired up with students on the other side of the spectrum that happened to be struggling and failing. You, in particular, had grown accustomed to that, and you had hoped it never changed.
College parties and college boys had led you to have your own fair share of sexual experiences. Most of them being absolutely platonic and lasting for a single night, also known as, a one-night-stand. It happens, and along with Jungkook having the reputation of a seemingly perfect music major with the good grades and teachers following his beck and call, there was another side of him that everyone was aware of as well. That Jungkook with the chiseled body and the washboard abs, known to be good in bed, and also known to be a player. In regards to that information, you avoided him as much as you possibly could outside of school premises. You didn’t want to be the next person on his smash list.
“Miss Y/L/N and Mister Jeon, may I please speak to the two of you at the end of class?” your teacher Mrs. Lam questions the two of you one day as the hem of her skirt brushes along the side of your desk.
You turn around as Jungkook exchange confused stares before looking back at your teacher as you suddenly respond to clear the silence, “Yeah, of course.” She nods in agreement as she travels back to her desk. Your brows furrow in confusion, trying to think of what she was possibly going to talk to you two about. Jungkook taps you on the shoulder as you lean back in your seat to hear what he has to say, “Do you think we did something wrong?” he asks you. You pause for a moment, but not being able to think of any sort of time in this class where you two could’ve possibly caused any trouble. You two have always done the complete opposite in retrospect. You whisper back to him, “Not that I know of. Can you think of anything?” He scrunches his face, trying to possibly recall anything, “Nope, nothing.” You try to think of something, anything,
“I mean, we’re all doing our final projects, but it’s all individual, so it can’t be that,” you suggest.
“Yeah, it can’t be,” he replied. The final project was to compose your own song and it would count for 15% of our grade. Ms. Lam had made it an individual final to the dismay of many students who wished to get the guidance and help from the two of you.
“I guess we’ll just have to find out.”
“Yeah, well, it’s most likely not something bad, if it wasn’t for us, half the class would be failing.”
“You’re right.” you chuckle, turning back to face the front of the classroom.
Twenty-minutes quickly went by as the bell rang and signaled the end of class. Music happened to be your last period which is why she had the time to talk to the two of you. You packed up your belongings as you and Jungkook stood up from your seats. You looked back at him as you nodded at one another and walked up to the front of the classroom.
Ms. Lam looked up from her desk, “Oh, hello. You two aren’t in trouble of any sort, I was just wondering if you were willing to do something extra for the class. You see, the rest of the music department teachers and I are picking the top two students for each class to compose a song together,” she began to clarify.
Together? Oh god.
“It won’t count for your grade at all though. It’s just for us music teachers to see the true potential our top students hold.”
I mean, that’s sort of a relief.
“It also is optional of course too, but almost all the classes are deciding to participate.”
Well, that doesn’t mean we have to.
“After all, the winning duo does win $500,”
WHAT? $500?!
“I know for a fact that if I had an opportunity like this in college, I would snatch it.” she finishes off with a smug smile.
“I’ll do it.” Jungkook quickly replies, looking back at you, waiting for a response. You couldn’t just say no, and you weren’t going to. This is $500 we’re talking about, and you were going to win it.
“Me too,” you hesitantly answer back, a smile spreading onto your teacher’s face.
“The deadline is in exactly 3 weeks! I wish the best of luck to both of you. I believe that you two have a very good chance of winning.” your teacher finishes, as you two exchange ‘thanks’ and head out.
“So, when do you wanna start?” Jungkook asks, looking back at you as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’m basically free whenever. Just text me, and we can figure out times.”
“Will do. We can work at my place if you want, my roommate is usually out until really late, but I’ll let you know,” he suggests.
“Alright, that’s cool, I’ll see you around then.”
“Okay, see you around Y/N.” he responded with his signature smile, heading the opposite direction. This was going to be interesting.
-
The next 3 weeks had gone by extremely quickly. Almost like a blur. Most of your nights were spent in Jungkook’s dorm; exchanging ideas, making beats, writing lyrics, and recording. You two would frequently sneak out just to get some food, and to be honest, you had both gotten comfortable with another fairly quickly. So quickly, it scared you.
There were several nights that you had accidentally fallen asleep in his dorm, and instead of waking you up and having him feel your wrath, he would carry you to his own bed and tuck you in while he slept on the floor. You felt really bad every time it happened, but you seriously couldn’t help it sometimes. You’d wake up to a set of his clothes to wear and walk out to see him stumbling around in the kitchen, hair ruffled and sticking out everywhere, attempting to make you breakfast. It had soon started to become one of the best things you could possibly wake up to in the morning.
You undeniably began to see him in a different light and wanting to be much more than just project partners, but you tried to put those feelings aside. You thought of him differently, and he wasn’t just what everyone thought he was. He was so much more. He was a sucker for love songs. He liked spending most of his free time playing video games and composing songs on his own. He even let you into his private folder of songs that he’s never let anyone listen to and all you can say is, wow. They were all so amazing, it left you speechless every time you listened to some of his works. His compositions were just so timeless and reminded you of all the R&B songs you know and love. His voice. It’s almost as if you’re put in a trance every time you hear him sing. His voice held so much emotion and control, it’s almost as if he truly meant those lyrics and was singing it to someone, and you wished that someone could be you.
You truly did hate the fact that you were falling for the boy. Almost every girl in school has fallen for him, and you didn’t want to be next up on his list. You didn’t really know what to think at this point, he didn’t really seem like that type of person the more you got to know him, and when you truly thought about it, you’re not that innocent either, and sometimes resorting to sex is what you did to take your mind off of things. It is college anyway.
-
You two had met up for your final day before the due date, making minor tweaks and going over everything. Not to be biased, but you really did think that the song you two made was pretty good. You loved the beat and its harmony and you and Jungkook did a pretty good job of displaying the emotions of the song. Bonus points for your voices blending very well together.
It was 1:30 in the morning and you two had finally agreed that you were done,
“Let’s listen to our Grammy Award-Winning single shall we?” Jungkook teased in a voice mimicking a host of an award show.
“Yes, you dumbass.” you chuckled, shaking your head as he gave you one side of his headphones.
You both sat in silence for 4 minutes, assessing the song and basking in the creation that you two made together. Everything worked out just the way you two wanted, and both artistic flavors were shown in the song itself. The song was amazing, and so was his voice, as always.
The song ended as Jungkook slowly put the headphones down before slowly looking back at you. You looked back at him and into his eyes, you hated the fact that you were falling for him and falling for him fast, but how could you not. Everything about him was just so ethereal and beautiful, to the way his eyes glimmered to the way he smiled.
You two sat side by side, staring into each other’s eyes not knowing what to say. You couldn’t take it anymore so you broke the stare, a deep flush of pink rushing to your cheeks. He gently takes your chin and turns your face to meet his once again. Your breath hitches and your eyes go wide at his actions as he starts to lean in. You could see all his features at this point. You had gotten so close that you could probably even count his eyelashes too. You close your eyes lean in as well as your lips meet. The lavender scent of his cologne was dizzying as well as his cherry-flavored lip balm. His lips were soft and pillow-like as they gently massaged your own. The kiss had started off slow but had soon escalated as you both crashed against his sheets and the rhythm of your kisses had started to become faster and faster. Parted lips had allowed access for tongue as he soon started to travel and explore the rest of your body that would later on leave visible marks the next day. Your bodies were pressed against another as you both fumbled with each other’s clothes, quickly throwing them off to the side. You both relished in the indescribable sensation that was each other. The rest of the night was filled with roaming hands and dancing fingers, gentle touches and rough ones too, lustful eyes and moans of pleasure. It was everything you both wanted and needed and more. Fuck, what did you just get yourself into?
You wake up to the sight of his muscular chest in front of your face, reminding you of the chain of events that had occurred the previous night. A twinge of guilt as well as regret rose within you for what you were about to do. Never speak a word to Jungkook again. If you win, you split the money and part ways, and if you don’t, even better. His arms were wrapped tightly around you in a warm embrace, his hair messily hanging in front of his eyes while his lips were slightly parted open. You blindly grab your phone on his nightstand and check the time, it was 4:45 in the morning. More than enough time to slip away and go back to your dorm unnoticed, he was a heavy sleeper anyway. You figured it was better to try to dismiss your feelings for the boy and make an attempt to go on with your life. College was coming to an end and you figured you didn’t want to spend your last weeks drowning in the seas of unrequited love. You’ve had enough of it.
You slowly and carefully try to slip out of his tight hold, resulting in a tiny whimper on his part. Your eyes widen until you see him begin to fall back into his deep slumber. You quietly put your sweats back on, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to actually see. You shove your phone back into your pocket and look back at the sleeping boy. He really was so beautiful and you know a part of yourself would hate the fact that you’re doing this. You step closer to the bed as you lean down towards him, holding your hair back, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. You took a big, deep sigh, beginning to take in what you were about to do. Goodbye, Jungkook.
-
“Damn, I thought it was a one-night-stand… and now we’re married” you mused, lying down on top of your bed, your husband Jungkook right by your side.
“Yeah, but hey, that song we made together was pretty good, wasn’t it?” he questions you, propping his body up on the bed with his elbow, looking down at you.
“It did win after all,” you nod in agreement, a small grin spreading across your face, reminiscing in the project that brought the two of you together in the first place.
“Soooo,” he chimed, brushing his hair back, “you up for round 2?”
You gasp while your brows furrow in utter shock as you throw a pillow at him and push him off the bed.
I guess some things just end up working together in perfect harmony.
-
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MASTERLIST
#bts#bts imagines#bangtan#bts fanfiction#bts fluff#bts au#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts angst#bts smut#bts jin#bts rm#bts hoseok#bts taehyung#bts jimin#bts jungkook#jungkook ff#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#bts texts#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#min yoongi#jung hoseok#park jimin#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook
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Summary: Kuro gets a job. (KuroMahi)
“Mahiru, how would you feel if I start looking for a job?” Kuro asked as he helped him bring the food to the table. He was surprised by his words and he couldn’t answer him for a moment. Mahiru loved his boyfriend but he had to admit that he wasn’t the careerman type. “I’m not a vampire anymore and you started university last month.”
Understanding dawned on Mahiru and he realized that Kuro wanted to find a job for his sake. He smiled softly and moved behind Kuro. Mahiru wrapped his arm over his shoulders and rose onto his toes to kiss his neck. “Extra money will help but you don’t need to do that. You already help me a lot by doing with the chores while I’m at school.”
“It gets pretty boring while you’re in class so I might as well clean up the place. I like the rewards you give me when you get home.” Kuro turned in his arms so they were facing. He tenderly ran his finger over Mahiru’s lips. His smile was the greatest reward he could ask for. “Doing the dishes is still troublesome though. I miss the days where you could carry me on your shoulder or in your backpack.”
Since Kuro became human again, it was more difficult to sneak him into class with him. On the other hand, Mahiru was glad that they could finally hold hands in the sunlight. He reached up and brushed away his hair from his red eyes. “I loved having a sexy, vampire boyfriend but we can grow old together now. No matter what you are, Kuro, I love you.”
He pressed a kiss onto his brown hair and held him a little tighter. When he was a vampire, his greatest fear was losing Mahiru. It was inevitable that he would die first. He never imagined he would be able to share his life with him the way other couples could. Yet, they were able to find a way to stay together. Kuro was thankful for every moment they shared.
Mahiru gently pushed on his shoulder and urged him into a chair. He sat across from him and they started to eat. “What kind of job were you thinking of getting? An online gamer would be the perfect job for you.”
“We don’t have the money to buy the equipment for that. You already lecture me on the amount of games I play too.” He said and they both chuckled.
Kuro leaned back in his chair and said, “I talked to my siblings since they all managed to find jobs without a valid diploma. JeJe begged me to take his job so Mikuni would have someone else to torture. Lily offered to help me find a job at the Alicein manor. I don’t want to take money from our friends though. Tsurugi said there are a few openings in C3.”
“Is that a good idea? You still have your powers but it’s dangerous.” Worry crossed Mahiru’s eyes. Kuro reached across the table and squeezed his hand. After all the battles they fought together, they only wanted to have a simple life.
“Hyde worked a lot of part time jobs and he can refer me to one of those places. Hopefully, one of those jobs won’t make me interacting with a lot of people. Tiresome.” He said but he saw how Mahiru smiled knowingly. “With the extra money, we can go to that fancy ramen stand. Even better, we can buy a new dishwasher to replace that broken one. We won’t have to do as many dishes.”
“Sweetie, I have to confess something.” Mahiru had a slightly guilty expression as he glanced at the kitchen. Kuro didn’t know what Mahiru wanted to tell him since he rarely kept secrets from him. “We already have a dishwasher but I never use it. Dishwashers uses a lot of water and it’s better to wash dishes by hand. Right now, I’m just using it to hold our Tupperware.”
“I thought that thing didn’t work anymore.” Kuro’s eyes widened. “I’m going to start using it.”
“You can.” Mahiru shrugged and an impish grin spread across his face. Under the table, he stroked his foot over his leg as he added: “But I won’t give you any more rewards if you do. Using the dishwasher is cheating, afterall. Do you want to give those up?”
“Now that’s not fair, Mahiru.”
“You have a visitor, Kuro.” He turned when his co-worker said his name. In the doorway, Mahiru smiled at him. Kuro immediately stood and walked to his side. He worked for the museum so he was able to give Mahiru a free, yearly pass. His co-worker chuckled and said, “We need limit the number of times your boyfriend can come. You two are a cute couple but it’s distracting.”
“We can have lunch outside if that will help.” Mahiru offered. His class ended early so he decided to visit Kuro. Since he started his job as a museum security guard, they couldn’t eat lunch together often like they used to. He missed him but he knew that Kuro was working hard. He only visited him when he knew he was on his break.
“The weather is nice so we can eat outside.” Kuro nodded. As they walked out of the staff’s break room, he wrapped his arm around Mahiru’s waist. In return, he leaned his head against his shoulder. He knew that it wasn’t professional to be so affectionate at his workplace. Yet, Mahiru couldn’t help himself though. He loved Kuro. They stepped outside and Mahiru took a deep breath.
“This is the perfect weather for a small picnic.” Kuro placed his jacket on the steps before they sat down to eat. They opened the lunches Mahiru made and started to eat. “The weather network said the weekend will be nice too. We should go to the park and ride ours bikes. If you don’t want to exercise, we can have a date in the museum. you can teach me about the exhibits.”
“The only things I know about the artifacts is that they’re old and it’s my job to stand in front of them. I have Friday off so we can go to the park. Is there a way for me to convince you to have a relaxing picnic instead of a bike ride?” His eyes begged him not to torture him with exercise. Mahiru chuckled and nodded. How could he not give in when Kuro pleaded at him with his beautiful eyes?
Kuro took a bite of the riceball and said, “Everyone gets jealous whenever they see the lunch you pack me. You don’t need to make a fancy box like this every day. I know you’re busy with school.”
His kindness made Mahiru smile softly and he picked up a sausage. He held it against Kuro’s lips and he ate from his chopsticks. Mahiru took a napkin and wiped away the rice on the corner of his lips. “I love cooking for you, Kuro. It’s no bother at all. Anyways, I want you to have a lot of energy when you’re at work. You can’t say you’re too tired to work after you had a full meal.”
They finished eating and Mahiru gathered their lunchboxes. He placed them in his backpack and stared at the keychain he had. “After our date, we can stop by the mall. My cat keychain broke and I want to see if they can repair it. It’s pretty old so I might have to buy a new one. We should both get back to work before we get in trouble. Bye, Kuro.”
Mahiru kissed him softly before he left.
Kuro returned to their small apartment later than he intended. A small bag hanged from his fingers as he shifted through his pocket for his keys. He picked up the gift for Mahiru on his way home and it took the staff awhile to wrap it. As quietly as he could, Kuro walked inside and he slipped off his shoes. He noticed soft music flow into the living room and he wondered if Mahiru was studying late.
He entered the room and found Mahiru asleep on the couch. From the candles around him and the plate of fruits, he knew that he had a romantic night planned. He wished he came home earlier to enjoy the night with him. Kuro stroked his hair and tucked the loose strands behind his ear. He pressed a light kiss on his temple and then whispered: “I’m home, Mahiru.”
“Kuro?” He mumbled his name and his eyes fluttered open. Mahiru smiled when he saw Kuro and circled his arms around him. He pulled him close so he could give him a small kiss. “Welcome home.”
“I thought we agreed that you don’t need to stay up and wait for me to come home. I texted you that I might be a little late. You could’ve gone to sleep first.” He sat on the edge of the couch and leaned over him. The candlelight casted a warm glow over Mahiru’s skin and he caressed his cheek.
“It’s okay, I want to greet you when you come home. I loved how you would say ‘welcome home’ whenever I got back from school. It felt like we’re an old married couple. How was work at the museum? Did someone try to rob the exhibit?” Mahiru massaged his shoulders and he relaxed.
“Thankfully, it was an uneventful day and nothing happened. But I’m still tired from standing around so much. Can you keep stroking my hair like that?” He asked and Mahiru was more than happy to continue. He leaned into his fingers and said: “I’m sorry I was out late. I had to pick something up for you.”
“A present? It’s not my birthday or a special occasion so you didn’t need to buy me anything.” Mahiru sat up and settled himself next to him. He placed the small bag on his lap and Kuro felt a little nervous as he dug through the tissue paper. He pulled a golden sun out of the bag and gasped, “This is beautiful, Kuro.”
“I got my first paycheque tonight and I wanted to buy a present for you. I wouldn’t have gotten this job without your encouragement. Thank you, Mahiru.” There were a million more reasons Kuro was grateful to have met him. He took the necklace and slipped it around Mahiru’s neck. “You gave me a bell when we made a contract. It’s time I gave you something too. There’s a clip in that bag so you can make the sun a charm for your backpack like a keychain.”
“I love it.” He crawled onto his lap and kissed him. Kuro placed his hand on his hips and pulled him closer so their bodies were pressed together. He whispered Mahiru’s name and ran his tongue over the seam of his lips. He parted his lips for him and the kiss deepened. Mahiru broke the kiss and said, “I actually have a present for you.”
Without moving off his lap, he took out his present from where he hid it between the cushions. Mahiru grinned and twirled a pair of fluffy handcuffs around his finger. “Officer, I would like to report a crime. My boyfriend has been very busy lately and it makes me lonely sometimes. I’m not used to sharing him with other people. Can I borrow your handcuffs?”
“It is a terrible crime to make you lonely.” He chuckled and played along. Mahiru started to unbutton his uniform and circled his finger over his skin. His breath quickened as his finger moved lower. “I don’t think I’ll arrest him though. You also committed a crime that I need to arrest you for.”
“And what would that be?” He raised a brow at him.
“You stole my heart.” Kuro answered and they both laughed at his cheesy joke.
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We’re not done here yet, okay?
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9
2.3k | Mentions of alcohol, sex and cheating | FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED
For the first time, I wasn’t able to know what was going through his mind, it both terrified and relieved me. I didn’t move, my jaw slightly trembled when his body got even closer to mine. His hand reached for my chin, and his lips crashed into mine.
Deep down I knew it was wrong, but I’ve always craved what I can’t have. His hands found shelter in the crook of my neck, I kissed him fast and furious. It felt epic, blood-rushing, stars-exploding, synths and strings playing in the back of my head, sinful. I wanted him all.
His lips were sober and my mind was lucid, my forbidden fruit tasted like heaven. For a moment, all these scenes flashed through my closed eyelids; holding hands in the queue of a coffee shop, cuddling on a winter day, playing with new sounds in the studio after rehearsal hours, fucking him deep in a hotel room in Germany. Then, his tongue traced my lower lip and my mind went blank.
“Luke?”
We pulled apart as soon as we heard the knock on the door. My heart started beating fast against the back of my jawline, recognizing Erin’s voice.
“Yeah!” Luke almost choked at the sudden intake of air. “In here!” He smoothed the wrinkles off his shirt where I had grabbed him, pulling his body closer to mine, wanting to melt him into my skin. His face visibly paled, I collected the heat in my own cheeks, burning red.
As soon as Erin stepped into the dressing room, I pulled out my phone and stared at the lock screen, pretending to be busy. Even if she hadn’t witnessed her boyfriend and his sound tech making out, I was sure she could perceive the tension in the space between us. If Luke was a good actor, I was not. Luke could keep his face straight for a long time just to keep a prank going, like that one time he and Ashton started a water balloon fight before the show in Glasgow. I almost ruined their plan because I couldn’t stop laughing or stuttering when someone asked me why the guys were taking so long in the bathroom.
Erin asked us if everything was alright, I saw the shadow of her moving body reach out to Luke and wrap an arm around his waist.
No words were necessary, our tongues had done enough.
I shook my head as if I’d just gotten an upsetting text and headed towards the door in silence, it was only when I heard my name on Luke’s lips that I stopped on my tracks.
“We’re not done here yet, okay?”
His arm was slouched over Erin’s shoulders, his eyes were dark with regret and hope. Her brows were furrowed together with worry.
I didn’t reply.
-
While the band walked the red carpet and gave similar answers to different interviewers, I was backstage with the crew of the venue. Men moved large equipment from one side of the stage to the other, women talked on their phones about strict schedules. Cameras were tested and microphones were checked for the hundredth time that day. I sat on a plastic chair, next to the mixer, going over the post-it notes I’d prepared with Michael and Calum earlier. Luke’s words had been haunting me since the moment they fell from his lips.
We’re not done here yet.
Did he mean that? What was he after? My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He had Erin but he wanted me. Was that it? After all this time, he still wanted me. Why? How? He’d told me himself that it was too hard to be with me, which was true. So, why did he want to go through that again?
Maybe he missed me as much as I missed him. It wasn’t fair to his girlfriend.
I pulled out my phone and looked for Erin’s Instagram. Pictures with her friends, pictures of her on the way to a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert. Fuck, I wanted to be her friend, I liked her. She seemed smart enough to know when to leave and yet, she was still with Luke. I was disappointed in his behaviour. I couldn’t believe he was still pulling childish acts out of his ass. Had he not learned anything?
But I still wanted him. Why?
Why did I suddenly have the need to be around him? Why did my skin itch at the thought of his fingers? Why did I want to hear every stupid joke, every silly anecdote, every clever idea that he had in his mind? Why now?
Because he has Erin.
I felt bad about wanting to go after him.
The night went by in a flash and suddenly it was 5SOS’ turn to perform. They gathered around the backstage area before going in, fist-bumping and wishing good luck to everyone, including me. Calum patted my back and Ashton gave me a weak smile before heading out to a cheering crowd. Michael checked the guitar volume in his in-ear and kissed my temple good luck as he’d grown accustomed to doing before any big gig. I slid the faders up to 0 and pressed play on the recording multitrack session.
Luke’s breathing against my earlobe almost made me collapse on top of the console.
“Meet me afterwards. We need to talk.”
His eyes lingered on me for the time it took him to walk onstage. I felt naked.
I liked it.
Talking was the last thing I wanted to do.
-
As soon as their performance was over and they rushed backstage to put the instruments away and to receive the compliments from the rest of the team, I saved the recorded act and made sure to have the mixer ready for the next sound guy. When I was done, 5SOS were back on their seats, surrounded by the other attendees.
I spent the rest of the ceremony in the dressing room, not doing much at all. I could’ve gone home, I could’ve hung out with the rest of the venue crew, I could’ve sat next to the stage and watched the rest of the performances. Instead, I waited for everyone by myself.
I waited for him.
I remembered our encounter back at Ashton’s place. Luke’s shirt gliding off his shoulders, his hands squeezing my thighs, his sloppy kisses on my lips… All my memory could do was complete the gaps between reality and my fantasies. Was this feeling anything more than lust? Maybe it was, but I wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Close to midnight, the show was still going. I decided to play around with the makeup and the little elastic ties I had in my backpack, along with ten spare plug cables and a Shure SM58 just in case. The lightning was enough to sit on the floor and re-do my look in the full-length mirror. I sat down with a bottle of beer I’d brought from the backstage area, and wondered if Luke thought I was sexy.
“It’s always nice to hear you’re sexy from another sexy person”
I scoffed the memory away. He was drunk and I am insecure.
“You’re a nice view, you know that?”
We’d been so close. So physically, flirtatiously close. Now I wanted every inch of space between us to disintegrate.
Yet again, the image of his girlfriend popped up in my head. I dropped my head down, ashamed, and scrolled through my phone one more time. The last picture she’d posted was of the venue we were currently in, before we’d even done the soundcheck. Luke’s laugh was frozen as he carried her piggyback style. A kiss to his cheek.
My heart sunk.
Erin had always seemed happy around him. She liked that Luke was goofy and that he was interested in her job and hobbies. She’d told me about one time he’d taken her out for her favourite food and they ended up drunk playing carnival games. I couldn’t understand how Luke could sweep her off her feet like that if his heart wasn’t fully into that relationship. But maybe I was imagining things, and Luke didn’t want me either, and he was just this fuckboy that I didn’t know he was...
My mind was spiralling out, going to ten different directions, all equally disturbing.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, the reds and purples in my eyelids. I did want to impress Luke, I wanted him to be aroused by me.
Maybe I can only be with someone as the other woman. I pulled the costume quite well.
When the boys came back into the dressing room to pick up their stuff, Michael was the first one to notice me all dolled-up.
“Whoa,” he half laughed, half whistled. “Hot date after this? Isn't it a little late for a conversation?” Calum laughed behind him and pushed him towards the guitar case on the other end of the room. They were drunk. Michael’s eyes were droopy and Calum couldn’t stop fumbling with the pockets of his jacket.
I rolled my eyes, “who said anything about a conversation?” my tone was playful and teasing, knowing it would amuse them. Deep down, the guilt and confusion kept me glued to the wooden floor, still in front of the mirror.
Ashton was quick to pick on my remark. He seemed like the most put-together, but when he erupted in his signature giggles, I knew he was hammered as well. “Damn, boys! We got our girl here being a wild one tonight,” he smiled at me from behind. “We’re going to an after-party, you coming with us? Or is your lover boy meeting you somewhere else so we cannot intimidate him?”
That’s when I noticed Luke was leaning against the door, blue eyes going through my body like daggers. I could feel the exact point in the small of my waist where he was practically burning his mark on.
“Where’s Erin?”
At the mention of her name, I peeled my eyes away from the scene. Focusing back on the boxer braids I’d made earlier. They’d taken me at least 20 minutes per side and a 10-minute break in between, to rest my arms. As Luke explained that Erin had to be up early tomorrow, I caught him stealing glances at me through the mirror. He didn’t look drunk, which was weird, but also kind of nice. I re-applied the berry colour to my lips and smudged the edges with my fingertips.
“A’ight then,” Ashton shrugged with a sigh, “and hey, wild one,” he tapped my shoulder once I was back on my feet, fixing my backpack on my shoulder. “Great show tonight.”
“We were good,” I smiled at him.
“Yeah, we were.”
They were quick to say their goodbyes and rush out the door to the after-party, except for Luke. He shoved a hand in the pockets of his pants and rubbed his eye with the other. “Nah, Im’ma head back home. I'm tired.”
Calum, Michael and Ashton disappeared, their laughter echoed through the hall. Luke was still leaning against the door when he sighed. “I broke up with her.”
I remained silent.
He looked for the thoughts racing through my head, narrowing his eyes at me. I didn’t know how to react. I was both surprised and relieved. Both scared and excited. Awkwardly, I kept readjusting the straps of my backpack, not wanting to stay but not wanting to leave either.
“I didn’t want them on my case, you know how they are…” Luke turned his head to check the hallway. Empty. He took a few steps closer to me, I looked down at my feet. His boots came into view and I almost gasped when I felt the warmth of his body almost touching mine. “Right after we…” the faint laughter in his tone gave away that he was nervous.
Unknown territory for the both of us.
“She knew something was up, she…” he sighed and searched for my gaze, “please, look at me. This is really fucking hard, okay?” The soundwaves of his chuckle vibrated against my temple. I was twitching in place. “Please.”
Even though I’d only had one beer after their song had ended, I felt my skin buzzing. Chewing on my lower lip, trying to stay sane and adequate through it all, I looked at him. Curly hair tucked behind his ears, gold glitter along his cheekbones, long lashes framing his blue eyes...
“I want you.”
My breath got caught in my throat, almost choking me. “Luke, I-”
I tried to pull away from our closeness but he grabbed my arms and held me in place. He looked for the truth in my eyes as my name rolled off his tongue as if it belonged there.
“You were right. Fuck, all of you were. I know what you all were thinking about, that Erin was a rebound, that I wasn’t being fair to her, that-”
“Luke, you-”
“Let me finish!”
He let go of me and strode back to the door, closing it. I said nothing.
Here we were, alone again.
“I was a dick to Erin, I know that. I led her on when I didn’t mean it… Not because I didn’t enjoy her company, ‘cos I did…” Luke trailed off and shut his eyes hard, cursing himself under his breath. He started stuttering and I couldn’t make out the words coming out of his mouth. “Fuck!” he whispered and nearly threw a punch to the wall. “You’re making me go crazy, you know that? I tried to get over you, but…” Luke took a deep breath and let his back collapse against the door, his body quickly glided down until he was sitting with his head between his knees.
I watched. Luke had never been this vulnerable, not around me at least.
His muffled laugh travelled to my ears, his gaze found me again. “Listen, I don’t know what to do. I’m so in love with you that it hurts...”
He made me weak. I dropped to my knees and tossed my backpack to the side, crawling towards him almost at the speed of light. His cheeks were hot against the palms of my hands, he looked into my eyes like a deer scared to be hit. I could sense the fear in his breathing, the dreadful idea of handing his heart to me and me destroying it. His eyes pleaded for mercy.
“I don’t… I love you, okay? I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”
My fingertips traced circles against his skin, my thumb grazing his lower lip. Luke closed his eyes and gave into my touch, leaning into it.
I wasn’t sure if I loved him, but I definitely cared for him. My heart was beating fast, my stomach was swirling with butterflies. It was clear that I fancied him, I loved spending time with him, I loved it when we were together being the dorks we were.
And I was as scared as he was.
Leaning against his lips, I took a deep breath against them, closing my eyes. “Don’t break my heart, Hemmings.”
“I wouldn’t dare to”
-
TAGLIST
@brown-eyedshell @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @myloverboyash @hopeless-renassianceluke @dukesnumber1 @rip-lukes-balsamic @angelbabylu @cal-pal-cuddles @ashtons-favorite @1dthewantedlove @problematicprincessa@heartbreak-5sos @bloodmoonashton @lilacsos @irwinkitten @singt0mecalum@sublimehood @sugarcoated-pain @5sosnsfw @cal-puddies @lashtoncurls@cal-pal-cuddles @dweebluke @rosecoloredash @hotmessmichael@calumspeachy@ashtonsunshine @wonderland-irwin @irwinkitten@ashtonandcalslefthand @post-traumatic-mess @damselindistressanu @c-dizzle-swizzlex @mycollectionofnuts @calteahood
#5sos#luke hemmings#luke 5sos#luke hemmings blurb#luke hemmings blurbs#5sos blurbs#5sos blurb#5sos imagine#luke hemmings imagine#luke hemmings imagines#luke hemmings smut#luke hemmings series#luke hemmings oneshot#luke hemmings fiction#luke hemmings fanfic
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Whumptober 2019, #8: "Bleeding Out", #24: "Stab Wound", and #24: "Hidden Injury"
Arthur had meant well.
Hosea and Dutch had been so stressed, and his wound didn't seem so bad. How could he have known that it wouldn't stop bleeding? That it would refuse to clot?
That, in the end, he'd only put more weight on their shoulders--quite literally.
Old link - outdated, unedited, can be found here
Well, that could’ve gone better.
Honestly, by now, that could be their motto. Put it on their damn gravestones.
“What the hell happened?”
Arthur winced—Dutch sounded pissed. It hadn’t been his fault that the law had found them so fast but, even still, he fought the urge to bow his head and apologize. How Dutch always managed to do that, he’d never know.
“The law should’ve been hours away,” Hosea groused, shaking his head as he shoved what they’d managed to steal before being ambushed into his saddlebag.
Arthur, wisely, held his tongue.
He trotted a handful of paces behind the pair, watching their backs. He was the best at firing over his shoulder without having to aim, so it was only natural that he’d ride at the back—Arthur never questioned it, it just made sense.
Besides, he liked the privacy. While Dutch and Hosea bickered (Dutch was angry, Hosea more frustrated, trying to figure out what had gone wrong), he carefully unbuttoned his duster, then his shirt. Peeling it away from his skin hurt, clotting blood clinging to the fabric, but he needed to take a look at his wound.
It was the damn lawmen’s fault. They distracted him long enough for the man he’d been standing near to pull a knife, stab it deep in his chest. Hosea had been too far away, Dutch too preoccupied, to hear him yell, and as far as he could tell they thought he’d fired his gun at the law.
But they were so stressed, the day had already been such a mess, he didn’t want to bother them with anything more. So he sucked his teeth, prodding at the wound, grabbing his handkerchief and giving it a quick wipe-over in case any dirt had gotten in it when he’d had to jump off of the train. Blood pooled down onto his jeans, and he hurried to wipe it before it could show, wishing his jeans were darker, that he had one of their first-aid kits.
He’d just have to stitch it up back at camp, though. Stitching on a horse would be impossible, and he’d never be able to hold his tongue. The wound didn’t seem to be too bad, was already clotting, so he pressed the handkerchief against it, buttoned his shirt and his duster, then pressed his arm there to hold it in place, glad that it was close enough to his hip that he could rest his hand at the ready near his gun and press his forearm against the wound.
They rode, and they rode, and they rode.
They’d boarded the train when it was miles from their camp, not wanting to draw too much attention to themselves. They loved their camp, liked where it was at, liked the opportunities nearby, and liked the people, too. So as long as they kept their faces covered, kept their ‘work’ well away from camp, then they’d be safe.
But it led to a long, long ride back home.
Dutch and Hosea had stopped bickering, were talking, about… about… well, he didn’t know what. His head was beginning to throb, a dull pain that began at his temples then radiated out everywhere, and he ground his teeth, focusing on anything else. He set the reins down on the saddle-horn for a moment, reaching for his handkerchief with a free hand, frowning when he didn’t find one sticking out of his pocket.
‘Where is it?’
He always carried a handkerchief on him. Guiding his mare with his knees, he dug through his pockets, through his satchel, and his horse’s saddlebags. “Lose something, son?”
He raised his head, Hosea staring back at him with his eyebrow raised, shook his head and clenched his eyes as the world swam around him, grit his teeth, stomach churning, “Think… think I lost my handkerchief when we jumped from the train.”
Hosea chuckled, “Gonna lose your head if you’re not careful. I have a spare back at camp you can use.” he turned his attention back to the road when Dutch said his name, Arthur reaching up to wipe away the sweat that was beginning to bead on his forehead.
They rode on, and despite how hard he tried Arthur had no idea where they were. He should have known the name of that lake, he felt, that cabin and that abandoned town, places he’d seen before, that Dutch and Hosea had drilled into his head so he would know where to meet them if they got separated. But the more he looked, the more confused he got, the more they swam and danced in his vision. So he dropped his gaze back down to his mare’s neck, where his free hand weakly held the reins, letting her lead herself as she followed Dutch’s stallion and Hosea’s gelding.
He panted in the heat, reaching up again and again to wipe away his sweat, wondering where his handkerchief had gone—hadn’t he had it after fleeing the train? He’d done… something with it, what had that been? Or… no, he’d lost it jumping, had he done whatever it was before getting on the train? Arthur’s heart thrummed in his ears, and he wondered how Dutch and Hosea were able to ride for so long in this heat.
“Dutch,” he croaked, voice wobbling, the word more a wheeze barely rattling over his tongue.
“Hosea,” he tried again, blinking, spots dancing at the sides of his vision.
Arthur fumbled the reins, feeling them slip from clumsy fingers, draping over the sides of her neck. He knew he needed to pick them up, wrap them around the saddle-horn at least, before they tripped her, before she stepped on them and broke a leg or broke her neck, but found himself just staring, blinking at the reins.
“Arthur?”
Christ, it was hot.
“Arthur, son, you alright?”
Since when could her neck snake like that?
“Arthur?”
Oh, he was falling. That was bad.
“Dutch, catch him!”
#Red Dead Redemption#red dead redemption 2#whumptober2019#whumptober day 8#no. 8#no.8#no.24#no. 24#no.23#no. 23#stab wound#secret injury#bleeding out#whumptober2k19#SplatDragon#splat dragon#splatdragonff#Splat_Dragon#splat-dragon#pre-canon#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fic#fan fiction#one-shot#shock
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30. things i wish you’d said
member: mingyu
genre: fluff
word count: 1784
warnings: none
Her friendship with Mingyu had always been something like you could see on TV. The pair were the best of friends and no one could come between them. Despite having a very demanding job, Mingyu balanced his free time to be able to spend it with his family as well as with his friends from the industry and of course, with her.
She sat at the kitchen isle, watching the group of boys that had gathered in front of the TV. Wonwoo, Seokmin, Mingyu and Jihoon were watching as Joshua and Seungcheol were playing an intense game of Super Mario Smash Bros. Mingyu’s high pitched giggles rang throughout the living room, almost drowning out Seungcheol’s cries of betrayal.
She shook her head at the scene, fighting off a grin and thankful for the fact that this was a pretty chill setting; she knew how much worse it could get. She watched as her best friend leaned against his neighbor for support from laughing too hard.
Unfortunately for the tall boy, the person who sat next to him was Jihoon. And while he wasn’t necessarily a mean person, there were a few things that irked him. Like invading his personal space when he wasn’t prepared for it. And so he pushed his younger bandmate off of him.
His giggles died down as he pouted and he took the opportunity to turn to his best friend. He was never one to hold grudges, especially against his members. With a pout prominent on his lips and an accusing look in his eyes that she somehow knew meant; “and that’s your favorite member?”. She diverted her eyes back to the TV and pretended to ignore her best friend.
Taking it as an invitation to intrude her calm little space in the kitchen, he stood up from his seat and stepped over Seokmin who was lying on his stomach right next to the couch on the ground. He walked up to the kitchen isle and bent down low enough to lean on it with his forearms. “This is a vips only area, sir,” she said.
His eyes sparkled with mischief as he proudly said, “Never took you for a Big Bang fan.” She deadpanned at the joke and reached out to him to push his face away. He whined loudly, clutching at his chest for a few seconds before he lied his upper body on the counter. “This is assault,” he claimed, dramatically wiggling on the kitchen counter.
She rolled her eyes at his antics but fought with all her might a smile that threatened to form on her face. Even if she tried not to show it, she loved his childish side so much. It highlighted his cuteness and she would be lying if she said she hated it. He was a natural pouter and it made her heart melt in more ways than one.
“I’m hurt, why aren’t you comforting me?” his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked down at him and scoffed. “You’re such a child,” she muttered. He said something under his breath, before finally looking up to look at his best friend. “Don’t you have lyrics to work on?” she asked him.
His eyes widened and he strained his neck to look behind him, as if she had said something she wasn’t supposed to. “Coups hyung doesn’t know I haven’t finished,” he answered in a lower voice, looking back at her. “I wanted to spend time with you,” he added, pouting. Warmth tickled at her chest, despite being words she often heard.
A loud cough erupted from behind Mingyu, causing her to tilt her body to the side to that she could see past the tall rapper. All five boys had turned their attention towards the kitchen, observing the two best friends. “You guys could’ve just gone out,” Joshua said, hints of a smirk playing on his lips.
She ignored the veiled reference and pouted at the guys. “So none of you are gonna save me from his dramatic annoying ass?” she asked. His jaw dropped as he looked back and forth between his bandmates and his best friend. “An-annoying?” he exclaimed. She reached out again and pushed his face away.
Snickers echoed behind him, but she didn’t get the chance to see who they had emitted from as Mingyu’s expresion changed from childish pouting to fake angry pouting. “You’re so dead now.” In turn, he reached out to flick her forehead but she got up from the stool she had been sitting on, took a step backwards and gave him a toothy smile. “Don’t run around the dorm,” Seungcheol warned.
Mingyu huffed. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite person,” he grumbled, pointing at her. None of the two noticed, but the five boys in the middle of the living made faces at each other.
“Hey, can you guys go get coffee for all of us?” Wonwoo asked, followed by a chorus of agreements. Mingyu shrugged, not seeing why he’d refuse. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and messaged who she assumed was their manager. He looked up, “We’ll go in 10 minutes.”
The guys went back to their game as if they had been playing this whole time. “Who’s taking us?” she asked to break the silence. “Younghwan hyung responded first.” She nodded at his response, glad that it was Younghwan who would accompany them to the coffee shop.
She understood that the managers needed to know where the boys were at all times, especially if they wanted to go out. Although she did wish she could have spent some time with Mingyu one on one. Mingyu knocked on the kitchen counter to catch her attention. “Earth to dumbass.”
She snapped out of her thoughts of being alone with him for more than thirty seconds and glared at the boy who had just called her a dumbass. “Let’s go,” he grinned. Though the ten minutes hadn’t been up yet, Mingyu said they should get ready to leave before Younghwan got to the dorm.
She walked with him to the vestibule and slipped her shoes back on. Younghwan showed up in the next few minutes, being a little earlier than he had planned and he quietly handed masks to the two best friends.
He took them on a ride to find a coffee shop further away from the boys’ dorms, just in case, in an area where he could park. Mingyu turned around from the passenger seat and looked his best friend in the eyes as Younghwan exited the car first.
“You should stay in the car, in case someone recognizes me,” he said. She nodded and didn’t think much of it. It would be an absolute mess if the two of them were to get caught in a public place like a coffee shop. He got out of the car without asking about her order, and she watched him go into the coffee shop, mind drifting to how he knew what she liked by heart.
Minutes passed and she found herself checking the shop’s entrance every few minutes to catch them leaving. By the sixth time she looked, she caught sight of the doors opening to reveal Mingyu carrying the order.
Days like these gave her time to think about all the things, big and small, that Mingyu did for her, as well as what some of the members had said. She watched him walk back to the car, with Younghwan following close behind. I know you like me so why haven’t you said anything?
The quiet manager drove them back in silence, save for the radio playing in the background, and he dropped them off in the one-way private street of the building the boys lived in. The two thanked him for taking the time out of his day for a coffee run and Mingyu handed him a drink, before they exited the car.
Mingyu handed her part of the order, the one which had her drink amongst the three left, and they headed straight inside. Her eyes were glued to her drink. While most got iced americanos or caffeinated drinks, she liked tea the best or smoothies depending on the season.
He had gotten her what looked like iced tea, and from the fruity smell that wafted from the drink, she could tell it was mango. Her heart melted at the thought of him knowing her so well that he never had to ask her anymore; he just always knew what to get.
She followed Mingyu to the stairs, still engrossed in her deep thoughts. They made their way up the stairs, both hating that the apartment was so far up with no elevator. “I like you,” were words that she wished she could hear from him. By the time she stopped in her tracks, they were on the 5th floor.
“Yah, dumbass,” she called out, as she held the drinks close to her chest. Taken aback, he stopped as well and turned around, a pout on his lips and a questioning look on his face. Suddenly aware of the way his eyes glistened despite the lack of natural light as they were locked on her face, she looked down and picked up the pace to walk past her best friend.
“Mh, what is it?” he whined as she walked past him, wiggling his body. Before he got the chance to get a hold of her arm, she stopped next to him, face and ears heating up like crazy. “I like you,” she muttered, before going on her way.
He almost hadn’t caught the words, and he was caught off guard by the way the side of her face seemed to redden, but his heart skipped a beat and his own ears started heating up. He didn’t have the time to dwell on the fact that she had said it first because it didn’t matter to him.
He caught up with her, fighting off a smile so hard that it hurt his cheeks. “Can I hold your hand?” he asked, seeing as both of her arms were around the drink carrier. Without giving him a glance, her hold loosened around the drinks, grabbing the handle with her hand as she let the other dangle for him to take.
He let the smile spread on his lips, and reached out to envelop her hand in his. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he hadn’t confessed first...
Even though they had stopped holding hands when they entered the apartment, all the boys could sense something had happened. “About damn time,” Jihoon muttered, out of earshot. Damn was it a good idea to send those two on a coffee run...
#40 things you said#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt#svt imagines#mingyu#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#kim mingyu#kim mingyu imagines#kim mingyu scenarios#loml kim mingyu#yall im so whipped for mingyu like you dont even know#hes my boy#my favorite boy#i love him#he deserves the entire world#i could go on and on crying emoji
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Pokemon... We need to talk.
((Hee ho dood! Prinnyfrost reporting for duty! So, remember in my previous post where I mentioned that the only way I would play Sword and Shield is if one of my brothers end up getting the game for me because I refuse to spend a penny of my own pocket on it and not to be surprised if that was the case?
Yeah that happened. Earlier this month, one of my older brothers decided to get the games for both me and him mainly because it’s been many years since we last actually played one together and now would be the chance to do so again since we both have a Switch. Fair enough I suppose. After all the last time we actually played together like this was on the DS.
As in the original DS...
with Digimon!
I was still reluctant to play the game despite that due to a mix of the controversy of this gen’s games as well as loosing interest with the series as a whole, but if you knew my brother as long as I have, you’d know that it’s a tad difficult after he’s set his mind on things like this, especially since I don’t play with him often in general because I’m a salty little shit. Though now that I have played for quite some time, I feel ready to talk about what I think about it and it’s...
just okay overall I suppose. There are things I like about it and things I don’t like. I can’t really say I’m disappointed because I didn’t really have many expectations to begin with, but at the same time I can’t really say it’s a breath of fresh air either after years of playing other main series Pokemon games.
I got more excitement out of Let’s Go Eevee than this game, though to be fair it was mainly out of pure nostalgia because it’s a remake of Pokemon Yellow, the very first Pokemon game I’ve ever played back when I was a kid. Then again, I guess the simple fact that it managed to do so where I was happy for actually spending my own money on getting it makes it more of a success. Not that much though, since it has its own flaws, but you get the idea.
Before I go into everything I’m not fond of (and trust me, there’s quite a bit), let’s start off with everything I actually enjoyed about Sword and Shield.
I am sort of fond of the wild area. Looking at it kinda gives me Breath of the Wild vibes (and despite on how much I’m personally not all that fond of the game, that is a compliment, trust me). It’s a nice little open area to catch Pokemon at your leisure and it just looks damn beautiful to me, though I do wish there weren’t so many specific pokemon that you can only catch in this area in only specific sections and only specific weather conditions,
I’m looking at you Clefairy.
I also like the designs of the new Gigantamax forms. They all look pretty interesting and having some of the moves be changed to be a bit more unique depending on the form is interesting, but that’s all I can say about it since Dynamax as a whole is pretty much just the trainer going
...and that’s it. No type changes and like I said, the more unique skills are barely that unique at all, especially compared to certain Z-Moves that only certain Pokemon can do. It’s an alright addition to the series, but I won’t really consider it a replacement for mega evolution or Z-Moves.
I do like how the title for the championship became more of a contest between trainers. I mean it was already a bit like that before, but not quite as emphasized as it is here. It was actually exciting, hearing the crowed roar in the stadium outside of the actual Pokemon Stadium games. It’s been quite a while since I felt this amped up on my way to facing the champion in a Pokemon game, probably since SoulSilver.
Finally, as for the characters, they’re alright. Some I liked like Nessa, Marnie, Bede, Piers, Sonia, Leon, Allister, Oleana, and even Team Yell to some degree. Yeah, while I don’t find them nearly as entertaining as Team Skull, I do like the fact that Nintendo kinda knows that their baddie teams haven’t been all that threatening lately, so they don’t really bother in this game. Just make them a bunch of people from a town cheering on someone in hopes of getting a better life as a result. That’s pretty neat. Unfortunately, I can’t really say the same for everyone though. I’m not all that fond of Hop, the rival of the game. I don’t outright hate him, unlike my brother. I do like that despite him being the nice rival, he’s still full of himself, so sure that he’ll be the next in line to become champion after his brother Leon and thinks we’re the second banana on this journey. I’ll admit, that did give me an urge to kick his ass, show him who’s the real star of the show, but aside from that he wasn’t that interesting to me. I personally would’ve preferred either Marnie or Bede as a rival over him, but that’s just me.
Chairman Rose started off interesting to me at first, but that heel turn near the end just made me sigh. I had a feeling it was going to happen when I first saw him, but I thought “nah, it couldn’t be.” What really irritates me about it isn’t how he plans on using the “darkest day” to solve a crisis he sees coming in the future. After all, Jin Kazama kinda did the same in Tekken 6, but the fact that he was so impatient to get started on it. Like Leon said, he could’ve just waited another day after the tournament to help reduce the lives that might’ve been loss from this. It’s not like he had to carry out his plan on that specific day or wait a whole bunch more years or something, but no. Let’s risk the lives of many people right now in order to save the city from the potential energy crisis that’s estimated to occur many future generations from now. That and after you defeat him, he’s all like “eh, it’s all good. Go clean up my mess.”
Then there are these two annoying brothers that come bug everyone after you beat the champion. My brother hates them and so do I. A pair of annoying snooty wealthy trainers that says “well well well” too much that think they can get anyway with anything.
Seriously, just looking at these two makes me miss the Paradox Brothers from Yu-Gi-Oh!.
And now here come the things that I’m not particularly fond of. And no,before anyone says it, it’s not them removing half of the Pokedex...initially. If anything, having less pokemon makes it easier to fill up,
though I am still pissed off that the dratini line are among the Pokemon that were removed. No there are other things in this game that I couldn’t quite get over while playing.
One of which is a constant complaint I hear when it comes to not just this, but also other recent Pokemon games, which is the absurd amount of handholding.
Look, I don’t consider myself a hardcore gamer. Far from it actually. I’m not against the ideas of games having options to make things less difficult for newcomers who want to play and enjoy it their first time. At the same time though, my personal pet peeve for games are those that fail to make these changes just that, optional.
In the past, the experience share can be turned on and off if you felt like your party is leveling up too quick and you’re becoming overpowered as you progress. This is something that may help provide more of a challenge for players that seek them. This is a change, in my opinion, is welcomed for the series as it’s an optional easy mode for those wanting to get into Pokemon, but feel they should ease into things first. Also it makes grinding less tedious to deal with in post game. In games like Sword and Sheild; however the feature for pokemon getting shared experience is already implemented and there’s no way to turn it off.
As a result, I pretty much breezed through the game without too much issue except for raid battles later on in the game and the final battle with the champion Leon. I even practically destroyed my brother on our first battle together because of our party’s level differences.
Now I know what someone might bring up, the fact that the system in both Digimon Cyber Sleuth games make things arguably even easier since not only is the experience shared throughout the whole party, but you can you carry more digimon in your party than in pokemon, and the fact that there are items in the game as well as digimon with unique abilities that increase the amount of experience you get, which can all be stacked on each other.
Which is true. I even stated before that I managed to max out all of my digimon in far less time in my grindfest when compared to any pokemon game; however that doesn’t mean that the whole game was easy. After all, that grindfest I did happened in post game. During the game, there were still quite a few battles I ended up struggling with despite the higher earned experience and that’s down to a few reasons.
1. While you can potentially hold up to 11 Digimon in cybersleuth, each digimon takes up a certain amount of space when you include them in your party, and the higher ranking they become, the more space they take up. You can’t start the game right away with 11 mega leveled digimon since the only way to increase your party storage is to get items that specifically does so which can be found in areas you unlock as you progress.
2. Even if you do get your digimon to the required level to digivolve, chances are, it’s not the only requirement to fulfill. Certain stats such as friendliness, HP, strength, ect also need to be at a certain area before digivolving, which the digimon may not be able to once it reaches its max level, thus having to de-digivolve into a previous form in order to get stronger.
3. Even when your digimon have fulfill the requirements, in terms of this game at least, none of the digimon can digivolve straight away. You have to go inside this game’s version of the Velvet Room and select the option for your digimon to evolve. Even then, as stated before, you have to make sure there’s enough room in your party to include your digimon after it evolves, otherwise you’ll have no choice but to either bring it back to the previous form after all that work, or leave it in your farm or digibank until there’s more room made.
These reasons help balance out the easy as hell grinding to make sure the game isn’t far too easy for those seeking a challenge. It may not be a perfect setup, but it is a system I personally prefer over what Pokemon has now.
Speaking of the raid battles, I don’t have much to complain about here, except for one factor that ruins it for me. If you’re playing offline by yourself, good luck with these battles. It starts out alright, not too much trouble, but once you start going against the more powerful Pokemon, you’d better hope you have a friend to play with if you want to win these raids, because the AI here is pretty much pathetic. Their pokemon are so weak that they pretty much die in one hit unless they have a focus sash. Not to mention they sometimes bring pokemon that are completely weak or useless against the raid boss you’re going against. I recall one time when I was going against a Frillish and at least 2 of my party members have water types, one of them only had water type skills as well. I ended up failing it the first time because Frillish heals from every water attack it took, so no matter how much damage I was doing to it, at least one of my allies brought its heath back up. It may not seem like that big a deal at first, but once you die 4 times, and I don’t mean just you. Everyone share 4 lives and once you die, you wait a turn to get revived. Once you die 4 times, you’ve lost the raid battle and have to start over again, which is easy to do since your AI partners will more than likely get one-shotted and certain raid bosses can attack twice as well as use skills that hits everybody. I had to retry catching a gigantamaxed laprys so many times because of this that once my brother finally came home from work, I made him play the game with me so I won’t risk losing in 1 or 2 turns again.
Also, the TRs. Who the fuck though this was a good idea? Bringing back the skill learning items that break after only 1 use and can only be obtained from gathering wattages or grinding in raids. Not only that, but only certain skills can only be obtained depending on what type of Pokemon you fight against during said raids. I got so many Tri-Attacks that I have no idea what to do with them while at the same time, moves like flare blitz, I’ve been holding onto for just the right Pokemon, because I have no idea when I’ll ever get one again. That doesn’t make the game fun, it makes grinding more of a chore.
I was among the people that were against the idea of bringing the damn bike back instead of riding around on our Pokemon like in both Sun and Moon and Let’s Go Pikachu and Eevee. What the hell made bring back one-use only items that certain pokemon can only learn certain skills by using these things was also a good idea?!
Oh yeah that’s right, Nintendo or at least the Pokemon Company decided to turn the Pokemon games into a big mystery box from now on, with certain features being either added or removed with each release.
It’s kind of like what Jim Sterling said. The Pokemon business model has always been shit, ever since arguably Red and Blue, which even I have pointed out the issues in having multiple versions of one game when I made my “Everything Wrong With Pokemon: Yellow Version” parody sometime back. It’s only just recently that fans have been pushed to their breaking point to such a degree with the DLC being implemented with Pokemon that were previously removed.
Which brings me to...probably the most unforgivable thing about the game...the DLC. For those of you who still want to “catch ‘em all” like in Pokemon’s tagline, you may have to dish out some more cash in order to fill up your pokedex. And even then, if it’s like previous generations, the reward for doing so is probably going to be shit anyway, with either a certificate stating that you actually managed to do it, or an item that increases the odds of finding a shiny. Yeah, it just increases the odds, not guarantee. Anyway, for those who still want to get every single Pokemon available in the game, just be prepared to apologize to your wallet. You see on top of paying $60 just to play one version of the game or $120 to play with your brother like we did, or play through both versions of the game yourself to make sure you get all of the Pokemon, you’re still going to have to get the upcoming expansion pass which include Gigantamaxed forms of the 3 starts for this region as well as at least some of the pokemon that weren’t in the game originally, and chances are since this is Pokemon we’re talking about, some of the pokemon can only be found in one of the expansions while others can be found in the other version. I could be wrong, but I don’t think they deserve the benefit of the doubt at this point, which would cost at least $30 right now. I’m not sure if it’s $30 for both or buy one now and spend another 30 for the next one since it is a 2 parter, but that’s still at least $15 each.
Plus, with the newly announced Pokemon home it’s another $15 dollars to pay for the whole year, unlike the Pokemon Bank which was only $5 a year and the Nintendo Switch Online service in order to play online which is $20 a year.
And of course, let’s not forget the Pokeball Plus that you have to buy in order to get Mew if you don’t already have one when you got Let’s Go Pikachu/Eevee, which was initially about $50-$60 if I recall. Yes, you can use it as a controller once you got it, but I’m not sure if it’s compatible with anything other than Pokemon. Even if I’m wrong, I doubt anyone would pay for it outside of simply getting Mew
and the fact that Pokemon had something like it back during Heartgold and Soulsilver that came free with every copy when it first came out, so this seems really scummy to me by comparison.
My brother has pointed out that not everyone has to get the DLC and people can still get Pokemon featured via trading. Which I guess is true, but it’s still going to be difficult for those who don’t have friends playing the game to help them fill out their pokedex. Not everyone is going to help you trade pokemon in order to simply evolve the ones that can only do so by being traded or get legendaries that are exclusive to one version of the game and you can only get one of. Yeah there are surprise trades, but those are randomized. You still have to get lucky that someone else who traded a pokemon using this feature will end up giving you what you want. I’ll admit, I did managed to somehow get a freakin’ Zekrom using this feature in one of the previous titles, but I assure you that it’s a very rare opportunity.
Even if we did bring back the original GTS system, there’s always going to be quite a few assholes wanting to get low leveled shiny legendary pokemon in exchange for just a normal regular Pokemon that you can’t get in your version of the game like a mawile or something.
Not to mention even after getting the new slowpoke that came out in the new update sometime ago, you can’t even evolve it until you get an item that’s exclusive only to the DLC! That is downright shady as hell and now I feel bad for my brother buying me this just so we can finally play together in a Pokemon game after all these years.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t outright hate this game. Like I said earlier, it’s fine. It has its moments. Overall it is indeed another Pokemon game, but maybe that’s ultimately it’s main issue. The simple fact that overall when you consider everything, it’s JUST another Pokemon game, nothing more and nothing less. But hey, they’re still probably going to make money off of it anyway, so what do I know?))
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this means war - billy r. and frank c. (part 1)
summary: this is a spin-off from a movie (can anyone find the title?, lol), starring Billy Russo and Frank Castle. In this AU, Billy isn’t a psycho, Frank’s family is alive, and they both really like coffee. And, you know, Y/N.
pairings: Billy Russo x Reader, Frank Castle x Reader (actually both of them, I promise)
word count: 1066
warnings: nada
a/n: so I guess I'm writing again (with @pitaparka, because she very heavily co-wrote this)
Moving to New York had always been a dream of yours. An idealistic hope you held for yourself. In a way, it always seemed almost like a pipe dream; an impossibility. But yet, you came here anyway. You lived in New York. You were barely scraping by and… you were working at a coffee shop that you absolutely despised.
Pulling your hair up into a ponytail, you forced the five hundredth smile of the day on your face, and turned to greet your next customer, “Welcome to Lily’s Cafe, where my job is-”
“Yeah—can I get a venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, sugar free syrup, extra shot, light ice, no whip. Oh, and before I forget, a caramel macchiato, venti, skim, extra shot, extra hot, extra whip… but make it sugar-free.”
Sighing lightly to yourself, you nodded, rereading the miniature essay you had just written down on each of the cups. After what felt like ages, you placed the cups on the counter, the girl grabbed them from you.
“Took you long enough.” She said, walking away before you had a chance to reply.
“Great, so not only did I just waste ten minutes of my life making your stupid vent iced sugar-free caramel skim shit, I also now get your receipt as a parting gift. Asshole.” you mumbled, shoving the receipt down into the depths of your pocket, before hearing someone clear their throat behind you.
Turning and making eye contact with the man standing there, your breath caught in your throat. He was absolutely stunning. His dark eyes were mesmerizing, making you never want to look away, his combed back hair left you with an irregular urge to lean forward and run your fingers through it, and his outfit? You were dead certain it cost more than your entire closet. The man practically screamed trouble. You could practically smell the fuckboy on him, but yet… you still found him undeniably attractive.
“Can I help you, sir?” You cleared your throat, watching as he leaned towards the counter.
“Just coffee.”
“Did you like... want anything in it?”
He shook his head, smiling, “Nah, just a black coffee, thanks. I wouldn’t want to take up ten minutes of your time. Or, you know, leave you with my receipt.”
Shutting your eyes for a second, you bit your lip hard enough to hurt and wondered if maybe, just maybe, your parents would accept you back home. Where you wouldn’t have to work at a coffee shop and make minimum wage. Or, be abused by horrifically long coffee orders.
Opening your eyes, you smiled sheepishly at him, “Right. Sorry about that.”
“No problem. I wouldn’t want to be considered selfish or anything.”
“Right. Great. I’m, uh, gonna go make your coffee now.”
Nodding at you, he watched you with a grin, eyes following you as you made his wonderfully easy coffee in an uncharastically clumsy way. As the machine whirred and brewed, you decided to make small talk, just as an excuse to look him in the eyes.
“So, I have a question.” You say, staring at his gorgeous hair.
“That was a statement, but go ahead. I might not be able to answer you though,” he grins, his eyes glinting with boyish charm.
“Uh, so, if you’re just getting a black coffee, and not just to not annoy me, why not make it at home before you leave? Like, you look like a business-y dude. A guy who works in an office or something. Maybe you should carry a briefcase and a thermos. For your black coffee.”
As you ramble, his smile gets wider and he hums in response, before taking a second to think about it.
“Good question. I know the answer to it, I think—”
“Well, you could probably—it just, looks like you could just own a coffee shop. In your suit. Everyone in New York probably makes more than I do—”
“I don’t a have a coffee maker.”
“Oh?”
“I just… I enjoy the commute. It’s a part of my routine.”
“I have never seen you here before. I work—”
“No, no, like, getting coffee. I… I just… y’know… I don’t like making coffee. I like going to places. For coffee, and stuff.”
“Well,” you turn around and grab his finished cup of black—just black—coffee.
“I hope you come back soon. For, y’know, coffee and stuff.”
Everyday for the next week, the man, whose name you learned was Billy, would show up around the same time, ordering the same very boring, very bland, very easy to make, order. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t wish he would get something a little more complicated. You know, something a little harder, more time consuming to make. Your short, five minute conversations had become your favorite part of the day.
Today, he had decided to come in twice.
Flashing him a grin, you leaned against the counter, “Woah. Well, hello there stranger.
Didn’t expect to see you again.”
Nodding, he shrugged, “Yeah, I coulda sworn I left something.”
“What, your briefcase that you set down for about two seconds? The coat, you never take off for fear of someone stealing it?”
“No, actually, I forgot your number.”
Scanning over his features and noting his smirk, your own smile couldn’t help but fall in shock, “I’m sorry, what?”
“Your number. I forgot it. I need it.”
“Why? So you can have me make your black coffee in advance? You tryna… order in? You don’t want to see me anymore, I get it. It only takes five minutes to make a new pot, but you’re a busy business man, it’s okay. Could’ve just told me, Billy.”
Not picking up on the joking undertones of your statement, Billy frowned, “What? No, I’m asking because I wanted to spend more time with you—you know what, on second thought, can I get a triple mocha, venti, fat-free, extra whip cream, chocolate syrup coffee thing?”
“A what?”
“A.. a mochi—mocha, venti—ventichino, uhh frappa—frap, uh… cappa—crappachino, uhm, coffee, thing. Like, that, that drink… thing.”
You shook your head lightly, “I thought you wanted my number?”
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, “I just to talk to you more, but you ruined my pickup line.”
Grinning, took the phone out of his and tapped in your digits before handing it back to him, “Looking forward to helping you work on your game, Russo.”
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo x you#billy russo x y/n#billy russo imagine#billy russo x reader imagine#billy russo x you imagine#billy russo x y/n imagine#frank castle#frank castle x reader#frank castle x you#frank castle x y/n#frank castle imagine#frank castle x reader imagine#frank castle x you imagine#thismeanswar
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Coffee Crush
When Kirishima refuses to call Bakugo on a dare from Kaminari, he must face the consequences. What ensues is an awkward night and Kirishima's neighbors probably wishing he'd move.
Pairing: KirishimaxBakugo
Rating: Teen & Up
Category: M/M
Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku No Hero Academia
Originally Published: 2018/11/12
“Hey, listen I know it’s late I was just calling to see if you maybe knew how much coffee is like too much coffee? As in a lethal amount?”
The question had been uttered merely half an hour before with complete seriousness and seemed innocent enough on the surface. But he knew the caller, knew that while their voice remained calm and even they probably looked mildly panicked at the situation.
And that's how Bakugo Katsuki found himself walking the fifteen minutes to his so-called best friend’s apartment, in the middle of the night, when he should have been sleeping (”We’ll see if I even talk to him after tonight’s dumb antics” he found himself mumbling over and over). The argument could be made that he wouldn't have answered the phone if he wasn't already awake, but he wasn't in the mood for semantics at the moment. Instead, he was more in the mood to tear into the three idiots who thought it was reasonable to consume mass amounts of caffeine and then drag him into it.
(”Oh Bakugo, you didn't have to come over. He was just being dramatic” they’d say. He could just hear their stupid excuses now.)
The chill to the air certainly wasn't helping his mood any. He’d taken about two steps into the street before he had realized he would need more than sweats and a tank top to get to his destination. So grudgingly, he’d wandered back into his place to get a jacket and scarf before starting the trek AGAIN. He was so owed one for this, maybe even owed two… and damned if he would ever let that shark-toothed asshole forget it.
Fifteen minutes seemed to pass in a blur in his angry state and before he even realized it his feet had carried him straight to Kirishima’s door where he could hear raucous laughter emanating from behind it.
Well, Kirishima obviously wasn't that worried if he was enjoying himself this soon after his call to Bakugo.
The thought caused him to bristle further, teeth grit together as he slammed his fist repeatedly against the door. Fuck it if he woke up Kirishima’s neighbors, that jerk deserved it for making him come all the way over here to check up on him.
To think he’d actually been worried about the red-haired little jackass- No, he hadn't actually been worried. He just had to make sure his partner wasn't going to be a useless sack during their next patrol. Yeah, that was definitely it. He couldn't have a partner who was dead to the world in a hospital bed because he drank too much coffee...at midnight.
What the fuck was going on over here?
Two Hours Earlier
”Come on, Kirishima! Just do it already!”
”No! Now give me back my phone! Please, Kaminari!”
”Oh you're actually more cute when you beg! Do it again!”
Two sets of eyes swivel to the last speaker, alighting on Ashido’s pink body sprawled across Kirishima’s obnoxiously red couch. A wicked grin spreads across her face when she notices their stares. ”I’m serious, it’s cute.” The boys’ eyes narrow at her, Kirishima’s outstretched hands dropping away from Kaminari’s game of keep-away with his phone.
Once Kaminari notices the red head has given up getting the phone back, the game loses its fun and he hands it over with a resigned sigh. “Fine, here. It’s no fun when you just sit there and take it.”
Kirishima snatches the device back and stuffs it in a pocket, glaring at his yellow-haired friend the whole time. He knew Kaminari wasn't trying to be mean but sometimes you just didn't mess with a man’s cell phone. What if he’d had private things on there?!
”Thank you” he mutters out. His cheeks were still tinged a slight pink from his panic in trying to get the device back and the embarrassment at having not been able to best the slighter man in getting it away. Say what you would about Kaminari, but he was quick when he needed to be.
The blonde offers him a tight nod in response and leaves him to sit with Ashido, plopping straight down on her stomach with no care for her. What ensues is several seconds of enraged shrieking and Kirishima’s neighbor banging on a wall.
He nearly trips over himself trying to get to his friends to pull them apart, all while shouting ”I’m so sorry! We’ll keep it down, I promise!”
When Kirishima finally separates his two friends they’re a bundle of giggles and he can't help but join in. They were loud and sometimes obnoxious but they were good friends, he couldn't imagine life without them.
They’d managed to stay close through school and after. Kirishima had chosen to partner with Bakugo (”Our Quirks compliment each other! I’m like, the only person you can’t hurt” had been his argument. Bakugo’s response had been ”tch” followed by a shrug and that was as good of a confirmation as he was going to get) while Ashido and Kaminari had gone different ways. He was grateful that graduation hadn’t severed their friendship. More grateful that they still somehow put up with Bakugo’s persistent attitude and insults when they all hung out, although they all knew by now he was more bark than bite. That wasn't to say he wouldn't blast someone into next week, but he usually yelled and threatened more than acted these days.
Ashido liked to say Kirishima was a good influence on the blast-happy male, Kirishima liked to argue that Bakugo was always a good guy and had just mellowed out some. That argument was always met with knowing glances that he’d grown tired of years ago. Just because he may or may not have a crush on Bakugo, and had for years if he was being honest, didn't mean he was excusing his poor behaviour. He didn't have rose-colored glasses on when it came to his best friend, he knew the guy had issues. Those issues had, for the most part, calmed down into just a need to yell to cover his true feelings. Kirishima was fairly proud of himself for having deciphered ’Bakuspeak’.
”Did Bakugo not want to come hang out tonight?”
Ashido’s question breaks through Kirishima’s thoughts and he shoots her a questioning look. Where had that come from out of the blue?
Truth be told he hadn't bothered to ask the man. He had assumed that he wouldn't want to hang out with everyone since he'd complained about their rambunctious attitudes the last several times they’d gathered.
At her persistent look, Kirishima lifts a shoulder in a shrug and looks away towards the TV, now nearly forgotten in their antics and conversation. ”Didn't ask him.”
With the silence that followed immediately after, a pin could've dropped and been heard throughout the world. It seemed like everything went still at his admission. Was it really that shocking? Maybe he’d wanted a night without a sullen blonde taking up his comfiest chair. (Yeah, right. No one would believe that. They were essentially joined at the hip; where Bakugo went so usually followed Kirishima.)
Suddenly Kaminari shakes his head and flaps his hands about, a recent habit he’d picked up from who-knew-where, probably some show he watched. He snaps his fingers and catches Kirishima’s eye, a disbelieving look plastered on his face. ”Wait, wait. Let me get this right; Kirishima Eijirou didn't ask Bakugo Katsuki to hang out?” As if for confirmation he looks over to Ashido who offers him a head shake and a shrug. What was with all the shrugging tonight? Kaminari finally pins the red head with another look, tone dead serious as he asks, ”Who are you and what have you done with our friend?”
Kirishima huffs out a laugh and rubs the back of his head, idly playing with the hem of his pants with his other hand. ”I just figured maybe you guys would want to hang out without being threatened? I can always call him now though.” He casts his gaze downwards, smile faltering slightly, ”He might not be too happy about being included later though. Hmmm…”
”You’re muttering to yourself. Have you been hanging out with Midoriya?” Ashido interrupts.
Kirishima nods a little. Of course he had been hanging out with Midoriya, they were friends. Maybe not super close but they were friends all the same… And he may have been subtly trying to gather extra intel on Bakugo. The imperative word there was ’try’, because Midoriya had seen right through the ruse and then tactlessly informed him that their entire class had seen how he felt about Bakugo…. Well, everyone but the man in question had seen it. Apparently, Bakugo was as oblivious as they came when it pertained to feelings.
Kaminari flops over sideways suddenly, his head smacking right onto Kirishima’s knee as he looks up at him with big doe-eyes and a Grinch-like smile. ”I have an idea” he proclaims. Kirishima flinches a little at the volume projected into his face.
Ashido rolls onto her stomach, front half now hanging off the edge of the couch and back half elevated way above her. Her back would probably be sore later from that position if she held it too long, but she seemed thoroughly unconcerned with the prospect, instead focused on her friends on the floor. ”Let’s hear it, zappy boy.” At Kaminari’s confused stare she laughs. “New nickname, I’m trying it out. But come on! Let’s hear your idea!”
The blonde’s fists shoot into the air, pumping erratically as he uses the momentum to sit up once more. He leaps to his feet and points at Kirishima sitting wide-eyed on the floor. ”You, our sharp-toothed little buddy, are going to call Mr Explosion King-”
”Lord Explosion Murder” Ashido corrects.
”-whatever. You are going to call him right now and tell him to come hang out. THEN we will leave you two here and you can finally tell him how you feel and stop awkwardly avoiding it.”
Kirishima looks taken aback for several seconds before he’s able to compose himself with his usual grin. ”No no, I can’t do that. That would be really uncool to invite him over just to dump unwanted feelings on him.”
”How do you know they’re unwanted?”
Both boys look over to Ashido, still awkwardly sprawled half on & half off the couch. Kaminari speaks first. ”What?”
She clears her throat and gestures dramatically while she speaks. ”I said; How dost thou knowest if thine feelings are unwanted….est.”
Kirishima breathes in, finger poised in midair, then deflates almost immediately. That was…a damn good question, albeit posed rather awkwardly in an awful Shakespearean way.
Honestly he didn't know how Bakugo felt about him or about feelings being proclaimed to him. He didn't want to chance it though, didn't want to risk running off his best friend. His biggest fear in all this was the other male would find out and abandon him. A silly fear, he’d survive without him of course, but a fear nonetheless.
His phone fills his vision suddenly, giving him only the briefest of seconds to wonder how Kaminari had obtained it yet again before he snatches it. He really would need to watch it closer in the other man’s presence from now on. ”Why are you giving me my own phone?”
Kaminari’s grin could only be described as wolfish; all teeth and wide as can be. ”You’re going to call Bakugo, ” his eyes squint, adding a scarier aspect to the speech, ”and tell him how you feel.”
Kirishima can feel his eye start to twitch and his mouth drop open. His brain momentarily fuzzes out, a buzzing starting in his ears that seems like it's emanating from Kaminari and Ashido if their moving mouths are any indication. He was fairly certain he had just heard Kaminari tell him to tell Bakugo how he felt, but that couldn't be right; his friends knew he couldn't do that. He had a working relationship with Bakugo, he couldn't just risk that.
Kaminari snaps his fingers in Kirishima’s face to jog him from his malfunction. ”Yo, Eijirou. You still in there” he asks, peering down into the redhead’s eyes.
Kirishima suddenly shakes his head and climbs to his feet, phone protectively cradled to his chest. His smile this time is shaky at best and matches his voice. ”I- I can’t do that. Come on, guys. You know I can’t do that.”
Ashido is quick to her own feet and grabs Kirishima’s shoulders. He winces slightly when her blunt nails dig into his shoulders so she releases her grip. ”You can though! Don't you think it's time? Don't you think you owe it to yourself to say something?” Her smile becomes reassuring, her eyes softening from their wild state to friendliness. ”Don’t you think you owe it to him to say something? It’s not fair to either of you to keep this quiet, especially not when it hurts you.”
Kirishima’s face scrunches up as he tries to smile the whole situation off but Kaminari comes behind him and lays his hands over Ashido’s, effectively pinning their friend between them. His voice is cheerey when he speaks, ”Make ya a deal, Kirishima.” He spins the red head to face him and flashes him a quick grin and a wink, ”Call Bakugo and tell him how you feel or-” Kirishima doesn't like the look on the blonde’s face as he trails off dramatically. ”-or drink an assload of coffee and stay up with us playing video games until we’re all manic.”
It takes Kirishima only seconds to decide, and even then it only took so long so he could process what had been said. “Gimme the coffee.”
Present Time
“Oi! Shitty hair! Open the damn door or I’ll blow it off the hinges!”
From behind the obnoxiously red door- Had the building manager really let him install something that garish?- he could still hear the sounds of laughter; three distinct tones he could pick out of a crowd. He had known Kaminari and Ashido were with Kirishima but hearing them all laughing set his anger to a new level.
Why had the redhead even called then if he had company? Couldn’t those two numbskulls have dealt with him?
That thought set off a worse train; why hadn’t he been invited over? And why hadn’t this thought occurred to him until now?
Somewhere between the time he’d yelled and his brain short-circuiting as he dealt with the thought of Kirishima actively leaving him out of things, the door had opened and the laughter had cut off. Crickets could have played their song and the world would have heard it, if it wasn’t for the TV screaming some obnoxious video game line. Ashido stood before him in all her pink glory, hair mussed as usual (How has she not grown out of that yet?) and clad in sleep shorts and a tank that was both too tight and too short but also so very her that he couldn’t fault her for it- but he would definitely give her hell for it.
His teeth flash in the dimness of the hallway as he looks her over. “Borrowing kids clothes now, Pinky?”
He has a brief second of satisfaction as her cheeks darken before she puffs those same cheeks out at him. “How I dress is none of your business.”
“Tch.”
Past the pink-haired excuse for a door bouncer he can see Kirishima and Kaminari tangled in a heap, Kaminari holding a game controller just barely past the reaching fingers of Kirishima but both boys staring at him wide-eyed. Kaminari never breaks eye contact as he mutters barely loud enough for Bakugo to overhear it. “Oh my gosh he actually showed up.” Finally those golden eyes break contact only to swivel at stare at Kirishima, who is now resembling a fish with his mouth agape and flapping uselessly.
He feels vaguely uncomfortable being stared at while staring at his partner tangled with some guy- Kaminari, no less. Almost worse than just some random dude- so he looks away and down the hall. Someone three doors down has their door cracked and through it he spots a glowing iris. He lets the sparks grow in his hand as the spectator watches on, probably trying to either get gossip for the building or just being nosy. The peeping-Tom slams their door quickly once Bakugo raises his hand as if to attack, earning a chorus of “quiet down”’s from neighbors who had heard yet more commotion.
Seeing that the door was now open and he’d been standing there for who knew how long now, he shoulders past Ashido and into the room. Someone answering his knock was as good as an invitation inside and besides, he’d never been denied access to Kirishima’s place before. He cuts a glare to the two idiots still in a heap on the floor. “You two gonna separate or do I need to go home so I’m not intruding? Gonna be real pissed if I walked my ass over here in the cold for nothing, Hair for Brains.”
The desired effect is almost immediate when it happens; both men frantically separate, although Kaminari does make a desperate attempt to attach to Kirishima’s legs for several seconds before the redhead flails about and lands ass-first on the couch. Okay, so maybe not entirely the desired effect but at least they weren’t touching anymore and that little tidbit made Bakugo feel better than he was willing to admit.
Kirishima practically bounces his way over to the blonde puffball known as his friend, ridiculously big eyes seeming even bigger and that sharp-toothed grin on full display. “Bakubro! You came! It’s like I summoned you! I swore you wouldn’t show up and that you’d blow up your phone! It’s like midnight and you still came!” He’s just a notch shy of yelling in Bakugo’s face and his hands are all over his arms, grabbing and shaking and pulling. If Bakugo wasn’t used to this kind of behavior he would blow him to pieces but sadly this had ceased to be strange behavior while they were still in school. Kirishima seemed to have a need to touch people when he was excited and it had not calmed down with age.
“It’s after midnight, closer to one now.” Bakugo’s eyes narrowed to slits and he can see both Ashido and Kaminari making an exit towards Kirishima’s small kitchen. “Stop right there, you two. I fully blame you for his current state.”
Ashido has the good sense to look embarrassed as she slides behind Kaminari’s slightly larger form. Kirishima, however, slides himself back into Bakugo’s field of vision and grabs him again. “Hey! No, not their fault. I said I would do it to stay up and play games. They weren’t like forcing me to drink the coffee-“
“Did you forget we have a shift tomorrow?”
Kirishima’s head quirks and he blinks at his friend, obviously not comprehending. Bakugo groans and rubs a hand over his face. Of course Kirishima forgot, otherwise they wouldn’t be in this stupid situation.
Fed up, he slings a hand towards the door with an outstretched finger. “Go home. Kirishima needs to sleep this off otherwise he’s useless to me.”
Even with his eyes now closed he can tell the other two aren’t leaving, though their giggling has him internally confused. Whatever, he didn’t care what they thought was funny. Let them laugh at him all they wanted but fuck them for doing this to Kirishima. The guy was too trusting and too easily convinced to do dumb things if it would make people happy. He didn’t even know what had prompted this recent display of idiocy, but he could only imagine it was not as easy as ‘stay awake and play video games’. Kaminari and Ashido were trickier than that, usually daring Kirishima to do stuff.
The soft sound of a door closing down the short hall signals him that he and Kirishima are now alone in the living area. Fuck, finally. Now he could really let him have it- The distressed look on his partner’s face halts his tirade before it can begin, leaving him with his mouth wide open and an angry glare. He relaxes his expression as he watches Kirishima wander to the couch, only to plop down into a ball and start fiddling with his pants hem. Kirishima only did the fiddling shit when he was anxious, what the fuck was going on? Was he seriously scared of Bakugo yelling at him?
“What the fuck, Red?”
The old nickname causes Kirishima to shrug a shoulder, eyes fixed on the spot of couch cushion between his feet. Oh hell no. He was not going to let the spikey toothed little asshole just ignore him like this.
“I asked, what the fuck is going on, Kirishima” he snarls out, voice just below yelling. He’s met still with silence and his friend turning his face away. This guy was going to give him an aneurysm one day- “Stop ignoring me, shitty hair.”
When those familiar red eyes finally do snap up to meet his own he can see pain and resolution in them. The second he was used to seeing, he saw it nearly every day. The first, however, was new and admittedly not something he was comfortable with. It caused something to twist hard in his gut and he disliked it immensely.
“I’m not ignoring you”, Kirishima mutters while twisting the hem so tight around his fingers that the tips are turning white. Bakugo is starting to get worried about the redhead with how he’s acting.
“Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.” The blonde plops down unceremoniously onto the couch beside his friend, face resting in his hands as he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms. Removing one hand he glances over towards Kirishima, “You wanna tell me what happened?”
The quietness with which Bakugo asks visibly startled Kirishima, who is more used to him screaming when he was met with a problem. It causes a faint smile to tug at the corner of his lips and Bakugo can’t help but take notice of the way they curve and feel that tightness in his chest uncoil a little. He’d be a liar if he said he said he hadn’t been noticing little things like that about his friend for years now, but damned if he would say it out loud.
Kirishima finally releases his pants, to Bakugo’s great pleasure, and instead grips on to his ankles and stuffs his head between his knees, to Bakugo’s great displeasure. His words tumble out all at once and muffled. “Theydaredmetocallsomeoneandsaythingsandisaidnosoidrankthecoffeeinsteadandnowyourehereandimjitteryanditsweird.”
Bakugo can feel his eye twitching as he tries to parse through the clusterfuck that just escaped Kirishima’s mouth. Was any of that even actually words? Something about calling someone and coffee and weird…
“You wanna take your head out of your ass and try that again.” Kirishima’s head snaps up to glare at him. “With appropriate sentence structure this time, jackass. We don’t all speak caffeine.”
The small joke has Kirishima smiling just enough for the points of his teeth to show, causing Bakugo to give a small smirk in response. Fucking finally something other than pouting. The redhead unclenches himself and settles a little more comfortably on the couch, but also a little further away from where Bakugo is sitting. Curious.
“They uh- well, Kaminari actually-“ his eyes dart to the side and he swallows thickly, Bakugo tracking the bob of his throat as it happens. Kirishima doesn’t notice this, a fact Bakugo is immensely thankful for. “They dared me to call someone and if I didn’t then I had to drink a bunch of coffee to stay awake so I could play games with them. Cause, ya know, I always tend to pass out early.” His cheeks darken a little and Bakugo’s eyes latch on to those spots of color, making a mental note of how it looked. It wasn’t a half bad picture, in all honesty. But he’d definitely never noticed it before, maybe Kirishima didn’t get flustered like this all that often. The caffeine was probably playing a big role in all this.
Bakugo rolls his eyes at the explanation and kicks his feet up onto the small coffee table before him, leaning back into the couch. “That’s dumb. Seems like it would’ve been less torture to just call the person than deal with all this.” His voice lacks any real bite as he gestures with a hand to Kirishima’s body. Honestly what was worse than being a hyped up anxious mess?
“It really would not have been less torture” Kirishima assures him. His cheeks turn a brighter shade of red, almost on par with his hair. His eyes are sparkling but flitting everywhere. Fuck that boy did not hold caffeine well, something Bakugo would need to remember so there wasn’t a repeat performance of this ever again. His next words are so soft the blonde is almost certain he couldn’t have heard correctly, “Although apparently I’m still having to sit through the torture.”
Bakugo blinks at him for several seconds before reaching across the couch and yanking Kirishima to him by his hoodie strings. “You think this is torture?” Kirishima’s eyes widen to an impossibly huge, almost comical size as Bakugo brings their faces close. “I walked my ass over here in the fucking cold because you called me in a panic about drinking caffeine. Come to find out you did it willingly because you were being a little bitch about something else.” He pushes Kirishima back across the couch, hands showering sparks as he pushes himself up and away. Kirishima’s hoodie strings are singed off, dropping uselessly to the cushions beneath him. “I’m fucking going home. Sleep this shit off somehow and don’t hold me back tomorrow.”
He’s halfway to the door when Kirishima launches himself off the couch and tackles his friend to the floor, limbs tangling as Bakugo does his best not to elbow the other man in the face and also get away. “You can’t leave! You just got here” Kirishima yells out in a panic. His voice is a little high and Bakugo can hear desperation lacing it. What the actual fuck was going on here tonight? Was it a goddamn full moon or something?
“Let go of me, asshole! You’ve pissed me off enough, you and your shithead squad!”
The boys roll back and forth for several minutes in front of the door, struggling to get the upper hand. They knew each other’s moves too well, were able to counter each other without conscious effort. Neither was going to win this without someone using their Quirk and maybe getting hurt.
Both, however, refrain for reasons that neither want to give voice to.
Bakugo finally comes out on top and yanks Kirishima’s hands down, pinning them between his knees and the other man’s body. “What is your fucking problem? What the fuck is going on over here?”
Kirishima gives up the struggle and looks away, whole face turning red and eyes starting to water. The latter part has Bakugo sneering and backing off of him, sitting on the floor and offering a hand to pull Kirishima up as well. The redhead takes the offered hand and pulls his knees to his chest again, rubbing his face against the pants. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Tch.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t understand!” Kirishima’s eyes burn with the force of the sun as he pins Bakugo with his stare. The fierceness in that gaze was usually reserved for battle and Bakugo finds he’s intrigued at what’s got his friend so riled up. Patrol was going to suck tomorrow, he’d be dead on his feet, but he needed to know what was going on so it could be solved. Ah hell, maybe Kirishima had changed him over the years like everyone said.
A single tear slides free of Kirishima’s eye and he wipes at it angrily, still glaring at his partner. “You don’t understand because you don’t have feelings! You don’t understand feelings at all! You’re like a damn robot and I say that knowing Iida’s the most robotic person we’ve ever met! Even he has a heart, unlike you.”
Bakugo is stunned at the outburst. Kirishima’s never yelled at him like this. He’s panicking and yelling and there’s so much sadness and desperation on his face and in his voice. Bakugo can see it written all over the lines of the redhead’s body; where he was usually standing tall he’s slumped in on himself and even his hair seems limp in comparison.
Did Kirishima really think he had no feelings? He had plenty of feelings! He was hurt right now because his supposed friend had insulted him after he’d come over to help… although he might have deserved it after yelling at him first.
Kirishima continuing his tirade breaks Bakugo from his thoughts so he cuts him off with a snarl and a kick to his legs. Not his best move since he was sitting but he’d do anything to shut the other man up. “I do too have feelings, you shark-toothed asshole! Do you think I would’ve walked the fuck over here if I didn’t fucking care about you? You stupid asshole! You think I would’ve let just anyone be my partner? You’re the only person I trust to have my back! And you think I would’ve dealt with your shit for this long if I didn’t-“
He cuts himself off with a snarl and a small explosion aimed at Kirishima’s face, who luckily blocks it by hardening at the last second and throwing his arms up. His hoodie sleeves shred and singe in the onslaught before Bakugo finally calms down.
Kirishima slowly lowers his hands after deactivating his Quirk and leans back on them, watching his friend with cautious eyes. “If you didn’t what?”
Bakugo glares at him through slotted eyes and flicks him off. “Shut up, shitty hair. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Kirishima surprises him by reaching out and snatching his hand in both of his own, folding the finger down gently and cradling the hand as if it were precious. “If you didn’t what, Katsuki?”
The use of his name, in that voice, is his undoing. That soft, pleading, understanding, fucking bedroom-whispers voice. “Ifididntlikeyouyouidiot.”
The ensuing grin is so bright that Bakugo actually turns away from it. Of course Kirishima had fucking understood his mumbling, because- just of course. That was his luck. Had he wanted to tell Kirishima he may have feelings for him? Fuck no, because he didn’t know what to do with them if he actually did. He didn’t know what the stupid tightness in his chest was when he heard Kirishima went on dates, or hung out with Kaminari. He didn’t know what the stupid giddiness was when fucking Deku had ‘accidently’ let slip that Kirishima had been asking about him. And he certainly didn’t know what the dumb nausea was when he thought Kirishima was pushing him away or ignoring him. He had no one to talk to about it, because fuck people, so it had left him to looking it up online and that was just bullshit; it had all been a bunch of kids whining about crushes and it made him consider torching his laptop.
The redhead leans into his space and he growls warningly at him, teeth bared and sparks starting in his palm. “You’re gonna back off if you want to keep your face, shitty-hair.” Kirishima only leans in further. “I’m fucking serious, Red.” Kirishima leans just a centimeter further and promptly loses balance, tumbling face first into Bakugo’s lap with an admittedly adorable squeak. Well, maybe not admittedly since he’d never say it out loud. “Oi! What do you think you’re doing? Get off me!”
Kirishima complies as quickly as possible and rolls off of him, staring up at him from his back with wide eyes. His smile is huge once more, all sharp teeth and cheeks stretched. “So you do have feelings. That’s good to know.”
Bakugo growls again. “Shut up. Of course I do, I’m fucking human.”
“And they’re feelings about me?”
Kirishima has that hopeful tone back in his voice and Bakugo rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You’re lucky you got it once.”
Warm, soft pressure against his cheek has his brain short-circuiting and his body tensing. Had- What the actual fuck? He whips his head to look over at Kirishima, now sitting up and grinning proudly beside him. Had he just kissed him? Lips pursed he shoves his hand in Kirishima’s face and pushes. “Gross.”
Kirishima only starts cackling and dodges out from under his hand before tackling him, arms wrapped around Bakugo’s middle and face pressed into his side. “I said gross! Get off of me you fucking lunatic!” Kirishima laughs more and squeezes, face nuzzling against his stomach. Bakugo wedges his hands under his arms and pushes, cursing loudly when Kirishima only keeps reattaching himself to various appendages; arm, leg, neck. The last one is when Bakugo finally gives up and groans. “Fine, whatever. Stay there for all I care.”
Kirishima places another kiss to his cheek and nuzzles his nose against the same spot. “I have feelings for you too, Katsuki. It’s okay.” He puffs out a warm breath against Bakugo’s cheek, and Bakugo finds it isn’t really that horrible.
“Is that why you were being such a spaz or do we need to have another talk?”
He’s released suddenly as the redhead leaps to his feet. “Nope! All good now!” He extends a hand towards his partner on the floor. “Wanna hang out with us tonight?”
“No, I want to walk back home in the fucking cold.” He rolls his eyes and ignores the outstretched hand in favor of standing on his own. He’d done enough by kind of admitting he liked him, physical contact was just asking too much after that. “Of course I’m staying here, asshole.” He looks around, spotting one of Ashido’s horns and a tuft of pink hair around the corner. “Yo, assholes, I can see you. Get out here.”
They both shuffle out from their awful hiding spot and give grins; Ashido’s encouraging and Kaminari’s outright stupid. Judging by those looks they’d been listening in the whole time.
“I’ll go make some hot chocolate since you’re staying over! We can celebrate” Ashido cheers as she skips towards the kitchen.
“Do you have any apple cider in this place” Bakugo asks loudly, trying to stop her before she gets too into it.
She stops mid stride and spins to look at him, mugs jangling from her fingers. “What?”
Kaminari, ever the idiot, chimes in from the hallway he’d disappeared down once more. “He asked; dost thou haveth the cider of apples?”
Bakugo looks confused for only a second before Kirishima’s lips are pressed to his ear, whispering the relevance of the weirdness.
He pushes him off again with a hand to the face. “Fucking nerds.” It’s said without any heat, although there’s plenty of heat in his cheeks from feeling Kirishima’s breath and lips against his ear, an area that was apparently more sensitive than he knew.
Ashido grins widely and spins back on a sock clad foot. “Yep! Sure do!”
Hours later they’re all sat in the living room on various surfaces, Kirishima laying with his hand on Bakugo’s outstretched legs and Bakugo alternating facial expressions between disgusted and mildly okay. More than once he’d had to stop his fingers as they worked their way through Kirishima’s hair. He hadn’t consciously reached out but he found he kept doing it. This time, though, it had put Kirishima to sleep and he found he didn’t have the heart to stop himself. Finally, finally, that little asshole was asleep.
His lips quirk to the side at seeing the smile on the sleeping man’s face. Kirishima was pretty cute when he slept… but he definitely wasn’t going to tell him that.
Despite the crazy night, he was actually pretty happy… and maybe a little thankful to Kaminari for giving Kirishima the push they both needed.
#kiribaku#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#kirishima x bakugou#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic
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Interleave
At last, this is my full contribution for @saeranzine I had the honor in taking part in this year. The project had equal parts challenges and achievements, and the fun shared with every other writer, artist and mod during this time is an experience I’ll never forget as my first zine being part of. Thank you everyone who supported us!
Please enjoy the piece :) Happy holidays, everyone!
☆☆☆☆☆
You’d gotten the good ending, the normal one, too. All that was left was to break his heart five times for that one-hundred percent completion of his love story. It was a bittersweet feeling upon realizing that your journey was on the home-stretch. The more you thought about it, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to break his heart like that after all the brokenness he’d been subjected to before. Especially since you knew what the bad endings for the RFA members were -- Ray’s could only be tenfold more devastating. You wouldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it.
The familiar ping of the messenger popped your bubble of thought and enticed you to pick up your phone as it sat on the marble-finish coffee table. It was the 10:23am chatroom of Day Six. You knew what it meant for you if you opened it -- the kinds of answers you would have to choose to get a new outcome. You refused to play along, tapping onto Ray’s contact to give him a call instead.
One ring… Two rings… Three rings… No answer.
You rose from the table and carried yourself to the lancet windows. The morning was young and the garden flickered with quartz-like raindrops under the dawning of the day’s first light. You knew he wouldn’t pick up at this time on the sixth day, but your thumb wouldn’t desist in tapping his name again and again as though you were in a stupor.
A shrill of static noise ripped through the air, causing you to block your ears and drop your phone. As you frantically inspected the device for cracks, you noticed the screen displaying that you were in a phone call. You held the phone to your ear and timidly spoke.
“Ray...?”
“MC! Did something happen? I got worried something happened to you.”
“Oh, uh… no, I’m okay. Were you, um, working?”
“Saviour said I can’t speak with you until I finish improvements. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the first time… Are you mad?”
“N-No, of course not! I just… I was wondering if you wanted to maybe… go out?”
“Go out? As in... leave?”
“Yeah! I mean, not like that, but with you!”
“I… I can’t, MC. Saviour would be upset if I did. There’s so much to be done.”
“We’ll come back by the end of the day -- just for a few hours. It’ll be good for you, too!”
He exhaled, the sound of his breath dragging past his lips. “MC, you don’t have to do this for me. I don’t deserve it. I’m weak, and an airhead--”
��You’re not to me. I want to spend time with you.”
“But what if something bad happens to you because of me? I… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“Ray, I swear nothing will happen to you, or me. I just want to… see you smile.”
He sighed a second time. “Meet me in the garden. Hide next to the geraniums where security won’t see you. I’ll be there in a few minutes... Please, don’t go anywhere.”
Once the call ended, you sat on the bed with a hand on your chest, your heart pounding with adrenaline every passing second. He’d answered the call when you could’ve sworn he wasn’t meant to, and that wasn’t an ordinary conversation. It was too ordinary to be ‘normal’ by the route’s standards.
You snuck out from your suite to meet him, going with the flow of the unexpected turn.
…
You gazed silently outside the moving car’s window as distance grew between you and Mint Eye. Maple leaves dusted the asphalt with their fiery hues of red and orange, adding colour to the seemingly grey road. Nothing could beat the beauty of mother nature and her sky-scraping pine trees high up in the mountains.
“We’re almost there…” Ray spoke quietly as he gripped the steering wheel.
“Thank you for lending me a Believer’s uniform.”
“I didn’t want you to get cold.. A-and I had to make sure we wouldn’t be seen leaving. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“I know… I think it’s really brave of you to come out with me like this.”
It wasn’t long before the familiar bustling of people came into view around the last corner. Ray parked the car a good distance away to avoid being spotted by the security cameras. It seemed much more vast than you’d last remembered. For a place that you could only enjoy in the prologue for a scarce moment, you wished you were granted more time for exploration.
Together, you walked along the brick road of the metropolis, the splashes of colours from cafes and clothing boutiques catching your eye wherever you looked. Finally free from your beautified prison after a number of repeated weeks, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.
Before long, you found yourself standing in front of the same cafe you were first picked up from. You felt your stomach grumble.
“I heard they have really good ice-cream here… Should we get some?”
“I-If you’d like,” Ray smiled.
Many people had queued in line to enjoy the mouth-watering delight on the cloudless morning. How long had it been since he’d taken gladness from this secret pleasure of his? It must’ve been an awful number of months.
“My treat,” you insisted as you pulled out a coin purse from the cloak’s pocket.
“Oh no, MC, I really don’t think--”
“You deserve it, Ray. I won’t let you think otherwise.” Without another word, you approached the counter, Ray following you closely behind.
With icy scoops of the sweet dessert in hand, you both ambled down the promenade and admired the sights of the gaily store fronts. Distant echoes of buskers danced to your ears and you found yourself swaying with the melodies in your steps. A few times you looked over to Ray, who looked like a kid in a candy store with his obvious intrigue.
Scattered flower-beds along the stone pavement caught his attention with their vibrant petals and he felt tantalized enough to brush his finger along the the petals of a white daisy. Mint Eye’s garden succeeded in elegance ten-fold when compared to this place, and yet they seemed much prettier here.
His eyes sparkled with wonder and curiosity the further you strolled, but he only really glowed when beyond all of the outlets was a wide open field, devoid of any other soul. It was just you and him -- the perfect scenario.
Florae of many kinds scattered across the green blades of grass like splashes of paint on a canvas. Entranced by their beauty, you took him by the hand and led him through the field, finding a perfect patch to sit in and bathe in sunlight surrounded by colours of grace. You felt content, the back-burner-nagging of your conscience telling you “you can’t do this” finally silenced. It didn’t matter what was to become of this -- what truly mattered to you was that you were able to do this for Ray outside of the game’s limitations.
After all, you’d probably never get to do this again.
“Hey…” you mumbled, “have you ever made a flower crown?”
“A crown? From flowers? I don’t think I have.”
You sprang at the opportunity as you swiftly picked as many flowers around you as you could. “I’ll show you! They’re really easy, just watch what I do.”
He observed from over your shoulder as you intertwined the delicate stems of each flower into one another. There was a moment of peaceful silence as you both created your flower circlets, until he broke the quiet.
“MC… why did you want to do this for me?”
“Do what?”
“Take me out. Eating ice-cream with me, making crowns from flowers, just doing nice things for me. I haven’t done anything that deserves your praise.”
“Not everything has to be a prize, Ray. Most things should be done for someone out of love, not as a reward for good behaviour.” You saw his weaving slow, knowing your words were reaching him. “You know what I’m talking about… right?”
“If it wasn’t for Saviour, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”
You paused. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t be saying this, but… is who you are right now really who you want to be?”
He turned his head and gazed deeply into your eyes. The wind swayed your hair across your face, making you appear even more so as an angel sent for him with your words of wisdom and love. His face showed an expression that couldn’t be put so easily into words. You reciprocated as you felt the same way, but made yourself busy again.
“Here, this is for you,” you smiled as you gently placed your finished work onto his head. It was a treasure shaped from orchids and gypsophila, together meaning ‘beauty, strength and undying love’.
Tenderly, he placed his own crown of ‘lily of the valley’ on your head, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I shouldn’t be in love with you,” he muttered closely to your ear.
Every hair on your limbs were raised with anticipation as you felt his breath on your neck. He was so close, right there in front of you, alas he felt so far away no matter what you could say. The sweet, earthy perfume of the flowers surrounding you both filled your nostrils, bringing a new calmness to ease both your nerves.
His face hadn’t retreated from yours yet, and your heart was beating harder the more he lingered. Was this true affection? Or had the game somehow reprogrammed his character to act this way to compensate for the new turn of events? You eyed the shrinking space between your lips.
“Is this real?” the whispered words escaped your mouth.
At last, the gap was closed with a gentle kiss. His lips were chapped, but you didn’t mind. His cold hand found the side of your neck, soon cupping your cheek as you both grew passionate. All the uncertainty melted away with intimacy -- this was the realest thing you’d experienced with him, with any of them, and you didn’t want the moment to end.
…
Tip-toeing through the lantern-lit hallways, Ray led the way as he guided you back to your room while attempting to remain unseen. Once the door to your room was finally reached, he hurried you inside when he could hear footsteps approaching from a distance.
“You should go before someone sees you,” you urged him.
“I will… I’ll see you again soon, my Princess.” He smiled before swiftly planting one last kiss on your forehead, then closing the door.
You sighed in bliss, letting yourself twirl a few times before flopping onto your soft mattress. You knew that nothing could top what you had managed to do for Ray today, and the reward of euphoria from both parties was more than enough to satiate your desire to be with him. Having lost track of the time of day, you checked your phone for the first time in a number of hours.
Nothing could’ve made you sick to the stomach faster than what your screen displayed — a seemingly endless list of notifications full of missed texts, calls and chatrooms from the RFA. You quickly opened the app and saw the day had already reached the route’s first bridge. You didn’t need a mirror to know that your face had drained its colour. You covered your mouth.
“Crap… the participation target...”
You tried to be hopeful that the previous day’s progress would be enough to get you over, but you doubted it. You wished you could’ve said goodbye to Ray properly if you’d known this was going to happen. The guilt you’d worked to avoid came rushing back. Your throat closed up and your hands became clammy with anxiety. There was nothing more you could do. The damage was done.
You looked away from the screen as you unlocked the story mode, waiting for what was about to happen. Normally, you would leave your room and meet Mint Eye’s leader outside your door; the plot progressing forward.
So when a Believer entered your room unannounced, demanding your audience with the Saviour, you knew it was over.
☆
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