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strawberry-nugget · 3 years

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Stargazing [through the five stages of grief] | K. Bakugo

★Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki/ reader

☆Synopsis: after Izukus sudden death you and Bakugo find comfort in each other

★Warnings:18+, minors do not interact, sexual themes(SMUT), aged up characters, grieving and coping mechanisms, depression as part of a stage of grief, language

☆A/N: I wrote this for @starstruckkittensweets 's Summer Romance Collab collab I also cried multiple times while writing this for so many reasons. Dedicated to my friend @aichiin in hopes this is any comforting to her <3

★Word Count: 10.6K

i. denial | 3.28 am Just when you think silence is going to engulf you in lethal restraints, he's got you. Held and embraced, away from all the evil in the world, pouring a fountain of tears in the burgundy of his tank top. The beauty of the seashore is unmatched at this time of the year -end of July- honey colored sand spreading to as far as your eye can see, lining the white foams of the water perfectly. It shines under the moonlight beautifully golden, as if Midas' touch has grazed each and every speck of sand; it's almost a pity to watch some weather away in the soft evening breeze. Not many stars are visible with how bright the moon is and you simply can't stop thinking about it, the numbness in your heart as you're trying to spot the only few constellations that you know, but even them seem unable to shine brighter than the light of the moon. But he- he shoots a hand to the sky with one eye closed as he mutters something under his breath. It makes your heart pause. You don't catch it though -whatever it is he said- ears deaf to the feeling of being pressed too tightly into his broad chest -to an asphyxiating point, even- but you catch your heart fluttering again for the first time in weeks. A good sign, you guess, the little excitement that you feel can overthrow the buzzing void in your heart, or your head. "That's the Hercules one right? You've been trying to find it for years huh?" You feel the humming in his own hollow chest more than you hear the soft muttering that leaves his lips. This heat he usually emits is probably gone by now, from how tight he's holding you and you're not entirely sure why he's putting on that show for you. The soft pretending of searching for the stars when he won't let your face turn to the direction of the sky, or why he just so effortlessly knows all the constellations you've been trying to find. Under any other case you'd call him a show off, a self contrasting asshole and his sloppy hold around your chin and neck proves that you've never been this close, as expected. He doesn't know what you like or how you'd rather be held, or even, how anyone would like to be held and you don't know anything about how to handle someone like him but social expectations don't matter when comfort is needed, or whatever Mina and Ochako said. The air smells like salt and seaweed, musty and a bit heavy, but refreshing at the same time. As refreshing as hot July air could ever be yet you still find the breeze chilly, so you coo into chest even more, throwing a leg over his thighs, and flexing your palm on his ribs. In response he soothes his hand down your shoulder, trying to create some much needed friction for you. "You can drop the act now" You mutter, rubbing your cheek comfortably onto the soft cotton of his tank top

"What act?" "Trying to comfort me, trying to use me to comfort yourself" There's hurt in the way you talk, and it jabs his heart peculiarly, making him push you off his chest just one but so he can meet your gaze. When he does, you realise you've never been met with such a serious look, and your mind vibrates in what your own confrontation towards him should be. "I mean, why be comforted? We're strong. We're heroes, we-" He shushes you, with a gaze and a snake-like lisp sound that rattles out of his teeth. "What's insufferable for me, I'm guessing, is even worse for you" He clears his throat just when his voice gets a bit raspy from laying on his back "and I'm a hero, it's what I should do. He would have wanted this as well you kno-" "He would have wanted you to be yourself not try to become him" You nuzzle your nose deeper into his chest, avoiding his eyes and the prying stars that decorate the sky above, feeling watched, betrayed by how they're able to shine so brightly despite the loss you're feeling. But then again, why wouldn't they shine? Isn't life just supposed to move on even after a loved one isn't with you anymore? Stars aren't supposed to go out, to become more or less as time goes by, they've seen distraction and glory and fall -it's only you who finds

it cruel that they can still shine in times like this. "He would have wanted me to be better. It pains me more than you to admit" Katsuki has never shown such an appreciating side of himself when it comes to your late friend. Or he has and you've just not been there to witness. Or, perhaps, you've chosen to turn a blind eye to anything that's ever brought them close because you weren't the most fond of him since childhood. Yet, a feeling inside your chest commands you to oppose him and his word. Even by the comfort of his own chest. There's no denying that you've wanted to hate the one who's nothing but comforting you, but you find yourself stuck between grief and a burning heart. It leaves you numb, maybe, to think that he so graciously holds you as if nothing else in the world matters. When this shouldn't be the case. "Why, why does this have to happen to us? We're supposed to save people, losing people is-" "The biggest part of the job" He finished your words for you, strobing that little rattle of reluctance he senses in your voice "We didn't-" "Sign up for this?" You nod at his inquiry "in a way I think we did. He always pushed himself and if you say you never saw it coming, you're lying" "I didn't" "There you go" "No, no" You shake your head "he was strong. This shouldn't have happened, it's unfair and it's-" "It fucking damn is unfair but there's no rematch for him. I wholeheartedly agree, it shouldn't have been like this. We shouldn't be here, days after his damn birthday, hollow and mourning. He should have been here, we should be celebrating" He's not going to call him an idiot. Not anymore. Not even because he's hurt you or anyone as a matter of fact, but because he's come to respect his dead, he's come to lose the attitude when it comes to seeking help, or giving it. It's something Izuku has taught him, a strong moral that no longer rests in the back of his head as a possible value to characterise a hero. It's rather a reality, such a strong wave of consciousness and coinsense that washes through his body all the time. You think, qualities of Izuku, wash through your soul in waves too. "But suggestion is oceans away from reality" Katsuki whispers and just then, the tender touch of his fingers lingers in between your locks. Only for a split second, and for the sole reason of flicking some hair on top of your ear, to shield it from the chill of the air. You're not certain if you act on your grief's accord or not when you grab onto his wrist to prolong the soft petting of his hand on your head. But he complies with you wordlessly, sighing out a heavy bubble of air off his lungs. "That's not the hercules one" You whisper "Huh?" "The constellation" It's oddly satisfying how you coo deeper into his chest, even if you can't see him pop one eye open to peak at the sky "that's Ursa Major" "Like fuck it is Ursa Major" "Katsuki, is this your first time stargazing?" You ask quietly and he wraps a hand around your waist to drag you a little closer towards his chin. When he does, he rests his chin onto your hairline. "I can't believe I opened a goddamn map for this and couldn't even distinguish the hercules one from the Big Dipper" You hammer out a little giggle. It sounds mechanical but still, he mimics you, and you can not only feel the vibrations in his chest, but the movements of his chin too, as he mellowy rubs his soft skin on your hair, soothing his lips on your head from time to time. The breaths he lets out of his nose are silent, yet you feel them calming you down, so warm and so calming against you. "The Hercules is a big constellation but it's not bright at all, you have to catch it on a moonless night and it's usually gone too early" Katsuki sighs. The process of taking in your words in analogy with late Izuku is too strong and it's too early for him to touch a subject that even so reminds him of the situation. It's more than enough that you two got to talk about it tonight, or rather, about your feelings, but at one point the line is drawn on what's harmful to his soul. A sole mention of the condition of a constellation should be making his stomach churn, and it definitely shouldn't make him hug you tighter into him. For one, the phenomenon of the constellation's nature has been around for longer than he has been who he is, and will still be when he's not. This small coincidence, even if it rubs salt to the wound, is not the fault of a small mass of stars gathered together to form something human eyes can recognize as a kneeling figure. Izuku's life is probably just a parallel to the greek myth of hercules, or so, he likes to glorify, but when it comes to him, there's noass of stars for anyone to remember him by.

Izuku falls and dies so long as the memories of his friends live, finding shelter behind a myth, a legend, a course change in the history of humankind that lead to this specific moment. Him, mourning with you, on the beach that Izuku cleaned years ago, feeling his heart ache in sync with yours. And maybe, maybe if- "If I close my eyes and fall asleep, will I wake up and realise that this is all a bad dream?" You ask as if you don't know what the answer is going to be and he tries to not indulge in feeding you a void of hopes just to make you feel a bit more sure of your future, or try to convince himself he'll have a good one too. He wants to reply positively, just as much as he wants to wake up too in a reality where Izuku is still alive, and he's got to say everything he's ever wanted. He knows, some nights he'll find himself thinking he would like to go back and change the course of his own history, whatsoever, to never hurt Izuku for naturally having qualities he had to work for, or change the fact that he's been harsh and cruel. The 'why us' inquiry that arises in his chest as he's stroking the slightly greasy hair on your scalp is what's left to bounce in his head for now, eating away every curly corner of his brain, turning any other thought into a wasteland, yet, still his answer to you is what he would rather not hear, bathed in a cruel nature he's tried so hard to lose from his persona. "I wish it were just one bad dream" There's so many questions in his head; are you asleep? Or will he hurt you by trying to force himself into accepting Izuku's death? Are you prone to being hurt and pricked by how raspy and serious his voice sounds? Because you don't make a noise, nor a sniffle, and your hand isn't tightening around the collar of his shirt anymore. He wishes too, it's all a bad dream. For the lover that you lost, and for the person he's known better than anyone, the person that knew him better than anyone. But it's not. And the mellow sound of waves crashing on the shore bears a tune to convince him to forget, but the water won't reflect the stars he can see with his bare eyes. Thus he's asleep before the lurking darkness in sound and sight gets him too. Just for a while, just until it's his own turn to face oblivion. A small part of his brain, though, convinces him he'd face any oblivion so long as he gets to fall asleep in your arms like that, over the soft, warm sand, on a chilly July night.

ii. anger | 9.47 pm If you could only know the reason you're yelling, tears wouldn't be spilling from the corners of your eyes, down your cheeks just to drown on your overly stretched mouth, wetting the lips that are stinging in splits and bruises of dehydration. He's not one to back down while facing the disdain of his own feelings. When that disdain should be directed on how petty the cause for your irritation is, you're both focused on the snap of nerves inside each of your heads, chests heaving as you're staring at each other dead in the eye; you, from the cold seat of your couch, Katsuki, from the numbing howling that seeps through the cracks of your front door. The bags in his hands are heavy with groceries and the weight of this peculiar, unspoken agreement to settle together. It's hidden in the affection behind every piece of vegetable and fruit in the tote bags. Even if the night is young, he's got a look in his eyes that mutters how

willing he actually is to grab a pot and a spoon and cook for the two of you. But you know- he shouldn't put pressure on himself after a late patrol for a chore you were supposed to fulfill. If only he wasn't on your ass about ordering take out. "You can't fucking order again." He speaks, grunting more so than accentuating the words as he probably should. But he's irritated you, so much that you've spent the last ten minutes yelling at each other while standing frozen in your places. Probably, a neighbor has heard and your mere response to the alarming social anxiety that arises from that fact is apathy. You're already directing a big amount of angry spouting at the blond, there's no such room to experience other feelings right now. "Fucking hell, Katsuki just stop! I don't fucking care if you think ordering isn't fucking good. I can't cook right now. I won't cook" You say in a higher pitch "and you won't cook either" When he opens his mouth to speak, you roll your eyes, away from him -you just know what he's going to say- though you instantly regret it. The sight of him frozen, with bags in his hands before your door is upsetting, and begs to stir up your mind in horrid imaginations of him throwing a tantrum at you and leaving you, of him never opening up his door to you ever again. Maybe, just maybe you should have thought this through better before yelling at him. "Fuck you" He says through greeted teeth and scrunched up nose huffs "fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck" He's not a punching bag, he's the only person who's here for you and your heart won't forgive you if you lose him. Your head turns or snaps to his direction, eyes too gooey to meet his gaze properly, but you still do look at him so desperately, you're sure your heart makes a ripping sound at its very seams. And that firm dedication of his to closing himself off is evident again; in that wet anger in the corner of his eyes, seeping like magma just at the tips but never falling down on his cheeks. In his pursed lower lip -and oh, will it be so infuriating to think, you don't wanna fight, you just want him to press those lips against your forehead and forget those arguments that always arise? As he's headed for the kitchen, step after step and upper lip overlapping the bottom one to hide his irritation, his eyes are averted from you and you chase after him with counted movements; a little limp to your left leg by sitting on it for a long time bubbling up inside your bones. Unwillingly, non-eagerly. Regret and remorse for yourself are feelings that rush through you, making your tongue run faster than your mouth, making your head dizzy with guilt and drowning you of a trillion of things you want to say to him. "Katsuki" You plead with half a breath, eyebrows forming an impossible frown above your eyes "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled, i-" "Fucking save it. Order if you want, I don't care" "Katsuki-" He huffs air too harshly out of his scrunched up nostrils again and shuts his eyes closed, hands resting over the groceries as he's leaning over the kitchen table. Not once in the minute he's taking from himself does he spare you a glance, but you can rather listen to him mutter a soft 'be patient' under his own breath. To himself, you realise, but your heart's too heavy as you anxiously suck your upper lip inside your mouth, wondering -will an apology fix this? It may irritate him even more, and taking the risk is probably not worthy of him getting riled up, but you go for it nonetheless, hidden away behind the stall that separates the kitchen from the living room. Your little hiding spot for the moment, a place where you can safely hide behind as you choke on your own spit, trembling at the thought of any possible outcome of your next choice of words. "I'm sorry, I'm just, I'm snappy lately" He won't respond and you notice how he's counting his breathing with eyes still shut, though, ever so slightly; that's your sign to step back, give him space and time as you make your first step to the living room. Though small glimmers of regret

springle inside your heart, landing in small needle-like jabs on every stretchy wall of the overly sensitive organ, your brain begs to be the voice of common sense, just to push you to just give him space. But what if he doesn't want space. What if he wants to be held? Like you do. What if he doesn't want to fight? "I'm sorry" You mutter under your breath, again Your step is almost crippled as you try to approach him, lost and scared at the sight of him still struggling to compose himself still. The guilt in your gut is immense and spreading like a wildfire on rotten land, but you feel like, perhaps, you -and him consequently- soothe down when your hand touches his shoulder, or, when your forehead rests easy on the crook of his neck, just after you out your weight on your toes, You can't help but repeat your previous statement. "I'm sorry, talk to me, tell me if you're good or not" He grunts, letting out a short breath in the form of a sigh. 'I'm not', you translate and your chest tightens Your right hand comes to curl around his chest over his shoulder, your left, mechanically even, cripples around his waist enough so you can press his back into your chest. "Fuck i-" You don't make a move to shush him "I feel so bad, I just. What would he have to say about me if I left his girlfriend on her own, to eat crap everyday. That's not healthy for you. I shouldn't be fucking yelling. I shouldn't-" He's so out of breath, that you consider punching some air into his lungs, with the softest CPR to have ever been performed, but the thought leaves your head immediately, your heart drowning your stomach in guilt at the imagery of your lips on his. The snap to reality after that little moment is so intense, you don't know how you handle yourself and your heart. "I shouldn't be yelling" In all your years, you've never heard him be so sincere while being so furious. When it's true that he's nothing of getting into drama or anything of sort, Katsuki is always too prideful to admit when he's made a mistake. You figure, it's unfair to still judge him as if he's his UA self, or his middle school self even. He's a different person now, having lived through so many events that could crush even the most strong willed person -and that's what he gets from admiring All Might, you think- and all he's ever done is try to be here for you. Understanding each other in such difficult times is mandatory and compromise is a foundation that you both need to work on. You find yourself opening your mouth and shutting it again for several seconds as you're trying to voice it. The dry, chapped feeling of your lips colliding makes you want to shut your eyes and wordlessly communicate your thoughts to him, but it's impossible. For your quirk isn't transmitting your thoughts to others, nor is it keeping track of one's thoughts. Everything you do to comfort him, has to be done by yourself, strictly. "Katsuki, I don't want you to-" You nuzzle your face into his back in hopes that perhaps, it muffles the intensity of your speech "I don't want you to overwork yourself for me. Izuku-" His name is whispered like words of sin or ruthless statements of atrocities, when it shouldn't "-wouldn't let me do that to you." He doesn't talk, or sigh, or even place his hand on yours and a whole minute passes like that. Or two, or three, or an eternity. The clock is ticking so loud that it's unbearable, his heartbeat muffling your ears while his scent is musking your nose. It's a funny thing, that perhaps, everything feels so warm, so comforting like this, you'd like to keep hugging him, if he allows you too. For as long as this minute's eternity can last. "Don't leave me cause I'm angry and snappy" It's so barely audible that you think he's only trying to calm himself down again, but it strikes you like a swift slash of a sword to your chest to realize the weight of his words. You thought you were the only one feeling this way. 'Don't leave me'. As if- as if it's an option that's hunting the depths of his chest, or perhaps as if your situation isn't a granted part in your lives for a little over a month. You're not one to inquire of a person in panic why they said what they said or if there's a cryptic meaning behind his very words. Because, frankly, there isn't. He's pretty clear, even while being tenderly desperate about it. And oh, you feel your heart pull and pinch at the thought of it.

"I'm not leaving" "Good" When he turns to face you, he's gripping onto your palms like it's painted out to be for dear life, a plea to not let him go as he turns his body around; you feel as if he needs you, as if, you're necessary to comfort him as well. You're too far gone in the joy that gathers in your stomach to hear him utter the words "I'm not leaving either" but you find some meaning of this statement in his embrace, when he shoves you into his chest. There's a little awkward cripple to your gaze that causes you to steal a stare outside the window or, perhaps, it's something bigger, or even the drive in your heart to hope for something more as an outcome for this. In the worst case scenario, you're pleading for forgiveness, if, by any chance, Izuku is still out there and can witness this little happening. That's when you find it, and truly, you have to catch a second glance at it to feel certain about what you just saw. Subtle little shimmers of stars, painting a large part of the sky, patiently awaiting to be noticed, in agony and tiredness that only a hero could recognize. And if you're a hero, you can feel it too, the kneeling of the legs, the flexing of the arms -it's all there- drawn by little stars of other galaxies in front of your very eyes, after searching for them for years. That's perhaps what people mean when they say, happiness is found in small things. Katsuki's arms around you, his faint breathing grazing the skin of your nape tenderly as he's calming himself down is more than enough, but the sky tonight has managed to make a compromise for the two of you, shining the diamond colors of the hercules constellation to the two of you. It's a blink and you'll miss it, no reason to break away from his arms, so you coo into his mellowy neck, speaking against his skin. "I found it, the hercules constellation" "What? Where" He's not shook at all as he speaks, and it doesn't surprise you either; there's this dazzling tranquility in the air, so much for getting you to calm down after such rage, but you'll take it over anything else, anytime. When Katsuki seems to detach his resting lips from the crook of your neck, he lays the side of his face on the very spot, inquiring again about the location of the constellation. You're more than happy to provide him with an answer. He drags you to the balcony with slow steps, a million steps away from the lights of your apartment as it seems before snapping his head towards the sky, squinting his eyes to comb through any star he could probably set his gaze on. You help him find it, not because it's before his very eyes, but because something inside you is flickering to rush you. Hurry it up. Look at the pretty stars and embrace him again, because it feels good, and you don't mind that you get mad at yourself for thinking this way. You don't even want to question your morals as thoughts of holding his hand pass through your head. Maybe a finger or two tangled in his like messy strands of hair, too hard to detangle- maybe that'd be comforting. Perfect even. Despite your best efforts to tickle his pointer finger with yours shyly, you come to realise he won't respond -you better behave, or, you should have know, but the insecurities that make you question everything are as evident as they'll ever be- you wonder if you've made him uncomfortable. But he's wrapping an arm around your shoulders, by grabbing that hand you're using to guide his gaze across the constellation and this time you can't help, but tangle all of your fingers through his, like a hair clam, fitting so perfectly, your heart cracks even more than last time. "I can pop some rice in the rice cooker and you can buy some Teriyaki" He sighs, though not once does he pry his eyes away from the stars

And that's where you feel a weight lifting off your shoulders, only to drop to your stomach; it's not a half hearted compromise, rather, it's sincere, something so eerie and far away from the usual 'take it or leave it' Katsuki Bakugo, but… you'll take it. With a broken smile and a coo into his shoulder. You turn to look at the stars as well, and Katsuki cracks a small smile now that you can't see it, because compromising actually feels good, relieving or whatever. He doesn't want to think about whether, in any sense, he's on your mind or not, he'd rather show you a piece of his own mind, a crack opening to see inside his heart -it's almost too painful that he has to be the one to calm things down. He's never been one to do so, but standing on his feet right now is mandatory. For you, him, whatever the two of you have got going on, because if not, coping won't be effective. He likes to think, you have each other in this, and that's enough for him. To keep things peaceful he has to take an occasional step back, and if that's the price to pay, he guesses he will. Izuku may be gone, he may have turned the two of you into what seems an unfixable broken mess, but at least he's left you with each other. Perhaps, he'll once appear again, in the form of new love, or a smile on your face at the sight of an old childhood photo, and things will be fine again. If only he could have been kinder, or better, or not as competitive, he wouldn't be sorry or trying to fix his own self. For now though rice and teriyaki ought to be the only problems he wants to face.

iii. bargaining | 7.30pm "What if I could have prevented this?" His voice is anything but loud, his chest too hollow, bouncing the voice of his concern around the broadness of his muscles, just to graze into your ears in soft vibrations. The statement alone makes you perk up and swoon your face away from him, hands laid flat and firm against his petrocals as you're finally fixing him with a gaze. Saturdays always bite his ass and Sundays are ever so depressing. This weekend is no less easy for the two of you. Katsuki's barely able to slur words without hissing or cursing, seeing as his jaw is bandaged up by being sliced by a villain at work today, and you've both decided that it's best if he gets to have an early night. "You'll be fine by next week, I'll help you change your bandages" He shakes his head before he buries his face behind his palms, as if trying to hide his emotions from you; you give him the right, with a worried face to match the situation "Not that, shit- no 'm taking 'bout Izuku" Oh You can't really place yourself into why but you've been having the same thoughts as of late. It's only natural, you dare say, to convince yourself not to be persistent on guilt tripping that little mellow voice in your head that tried to tell you that everything's going to be fine in the end, but it's in vain- for every time this happens you have to find a new way to occupy yourself to shove the destructive thoughts away. It's probably not right in any sense, to prompt Katsuki to ignore the problem as well, but the thudding of your heart -always matched perfectly by the raindrops that hit on the roof of the house hard enough to make you feel oh so concerned- commands you to find a new coping mechanism to add to your little pile. "I- I just-" A look in his eyes and you're lost in a trance of whether you're going to break his heart by momentarily avoiding talking. It is more than enough to convince you to voice something, anything, but every word that sparks at the back of your brain is washed by astounding waves of anxiety that have your tongue swim in the sea of your mouth. You don't come up with anything to say for as long as a moment lasts. "It's like- I should have been there! I turned down that fucking call because I was sure he could do this on his own" "Katsu" "He fucking- I fucking- I-" "Hey, stop it-" You plea "It doesn't make it any different, I know that but-" He snaps

quicker than you can imagine, prospering away from another call of his name that slips from your lips. Irises turn away from you in wrinkly eyes, furrowed brows and pursed lips. His heart is palpitating so fast, his eyes flicker in what you can read is pain, maybe, you could take some blame to yourself. Not that you have any right trace if thought to come up with comfort, or rather, not like you have it in you to let Katsuki assign this all on himself. "I could-" You start, yet your mouth is dry "I could have been there as well-" It's such an awkward miniscule moment that you share but it's enough to make your heart feel like it's breaking in regret. You're only left to wonder if your friends are feeling that way too, about Izuku's call for reinforcements that Katsuki turned down, that none of them tended to on time. "Don't put this on you" Your stomach, unable to cooperate with any plea of yours to not drown in anxiety, stirs its contents to it's desire, making you sit up; Katsuki's embrace is too void for you right now, your chest is way too hollow for you to not feel alienated. It's in moments like these that you know trying to handle yourself or your life with each other is probably a mistake, a false emotional dependency that should not exist otherwise, and you always hope he gets to prove those intrusive thoughts of yours otherwise. You're taken aback when warm hands find their way around you; it's unexpected and you flinch, but you're soothed the moment your brain processes who it is that's hugging you, bringing you back to reality and breaking your short lived dissociation. He presses his ear onto the crook of your neck, this time, not hissing at the way his wounds ache as his skin tubs on yours. He notices that certain way your breathing's working and he sighs in relief, or sorrow, for he's too scared to ever speak of what's hiding in his chest, or what's adding to him feeling so twisted and evil. "Wanna go for a ride?" He says, unexpectedly, surprising even himself by how absurd it sounds "Where to?" "Niko" He purrs and you let out a giggle "That's too far silly" "I 'on know, heard it's pretty this time of the year" You finally turn around to him, only slightly so as to not disturb his embrace and ruffle a hand through his hair, and pause just before your lips find his forehead. Somewhere deep inside of you it hurts for this to feel so casual, a loving interaction with Katsuki of all people. It feels like some sick trick of betrayal but your eyes are burning onto his skin while your world moves in slow motion. A hand on his cheek isn't as harmful as the addition of another one, yet you still go for that choice, dry lips inevitably set onto pale pink skin, pressing a soft kiss of comfort. "We could go at that spot, near UA, we used to go there a lot when we were high schoolers" Katsuki's words are calm and collected, hidden between gritted teeth so he can appear like his chest is fuller than yours, but what you don't know is that his heart is trying to beat out of his chest, like it's the most secretive, harsh prison. He briefly wonders if by knowing so, you'll hurt as much as him. But your kiss on his forehead, the warm place in which he rests face against your chest it all points to you feeling the same- it's there and he can read every single sign, whether he wants to deny them or not. "Should I get dressed?" A grunt this prolonged means yes. And truth be told the set and scenery of this small driving outlet is almost idyllic; a silent car ride, tainted faces and the gloomy watery corners of one's eyes to match the pouring rain, the slow, mellow music matching in beats with the squeaky wipers. What a perfect, diligent harmony you've got. It feels like a cut to another scene in a slow paced movie. The time is still stuck at 8.15, signifying how it wasn't long ago that you were starting to drown in a pool of bargaining -and voicing it out loud- and a part of you is still sad for thinking that maybe, for Katsuki, you're a coping mechanism. A full rembrandt of what's left of

Izuku's that he doesn't want to give up. You keep wondering if that would be the case had he still been alive. Would he ever have such an attitude stored inside of him for you had you not been dating Izuku on what now counts as ancient history? He parks his car on a narrow little road that splits the woods in half and turns the engine off. Seeing that it's November already, you think about how this is a bad idea, you know how cold he gets, and he's not wearing any jacket but you keep it to yourself. Perhaps, had Izuku been here, he would have brought an extra jacket too. For now, it's foggy windows and died down warm breaths. Thus, with a quivering lip you settle lower into your seat and sigh. "I- I know you like stargazing" He coughs, vermillion eyes pacing back and forth between you and the rain that's clashing on the car's glass "and I got an app and a window on the roof of my car" "But it's raining" "Who caaaares!" He grunts when you pout and turns away from you, something that makes your stomach coil abrasively. You want him to look at you, you want him to- As ridiculous and bitter as it sounds, you're tired of asking yourself if any of this would be happening were Izuku still here. Because he's got a stupid little fucking app on his phone for you. Because you're dying to press your lips onto his skin again. Half an hour ago feels like an eternity has passed already. He cares about you enough to open the app -and switch the location of his phone on- and that's more than enough actually. You glue your eyes to the bright screen and follow it as it pops us with a dark window, asking for confirmation that it's authorized to use the camera of Katsuki's phone. A part of you sinks in the silent death of love at the thought that, yes, he downloaded this just for you. Joy in little things, you figure, is what keeps you grounded, it's what ultimately pushes you to rest your head on his shoulder as he lifts his phone up, facing it on the small opening on the roof of his car. "Can't see past all this water, dammit" "So?" You coo, and the previous small irritation in his voice dies down with a grunt that comes from the depths of his chest. "The app's fine. Feels just like stargazing." You've never done anything similar with Izuku. And there's not even a spec of comparison clouding over your head, despite the guilt that settles in your stomach once again. Looking up to Katsuki, you can see his jaw tensing in the slightest, most probably in pain -you wonder, does his wound still ooze- and you can't help but feel like your eyes are stinging. You sniffle nonetheless. And Katsuki retreats his shoulder, letting your head hang without support as he turns to you. "Maybe, even if we can't see them, they're still there and-" You purse your lips to the side of your cheek, thinking of a reply, anything to say to make his words seem like they've come out of his mouth. "You've turned into quite the poet lately, haven't you?" Your answer should be that no, he hasn't, he's just hurt and confused, numb and afraid, but in turn you're all those things as well, or so he speculates by looking in your eyes. Because he can read people, he can read you, and as much as this has been established, he can't find it in him to speak a word on it. Then again, what's the point in holding anything in if you're going to die one day? The life of a hero is expendable, he's got his rise and fall as number one set in stone, so why should he hold back? He can't bring Izuku back even if he wants to, and he can't possibly stop himself from feeling for you. He remembers finding salvation in holding Izuku down and apologizing. He now finds humility in words that are spoken from his mouth that slip past his consciousness. "I love you- Don't care if it's fucking raining or not- Fuck" There's no time for you to think of a response before he throws a fit; his phone is slammed on the backseat, rocketing to the floor, and the click of his door is heard before he steps out of the car and slams it shut. He's lucky- the rain covers most

of the scream that he let's out and fills the buzzing void in your chest, your head. He said the words first, and your head is pulling you instinctively to your right, just where he was a few moments ago, you want to see if he's facing you, you long to feel your eyes meet his. You manage to collect the only ever courage you have left and push the thought of Izuku away from your mind, click your door open and shoot out of the car. Just like him. Like you're his echo. "Don't say a fucking word" He dismisses your open mouth, as if he can hear your breath clearer than this deafening rain, but you're not having it. "But i- i" "Shut up, as if you know-" "But I feel the same way" You whisper "What" He yells, and you scream at him to get back in the car, so you can talk, clearer. Though when he does, he's burning his eyes on your lips, then your eyes, then he never makes any move towards you, as if everyone and anything is on you. But none of you takes the bigger leap towards each -justified, because there's trembling in your movements and hesitation in your heads. And then your lips meet his. Tenderly, painfully, religiously Your first kiss is cursed by numbing ache, but it feels so right, like the warmest summer evening, or the most hazing bonfire during a cold winter night. Regret can't eat you alive for that one. And Katsuki, even with his lips still pressed against yours knows he will think about this kiss as a sin and a betrayal for far too long, he knows it'll torment him through the darkness of whatever tonight could mean. If only he gets through this night, he'll be fine Tomorrow you'll wake him up with a soft "how'd you sleep'' again and he'll be fine. The void and guilt inside his chest will get filled up with the warmness of being embraced first thing in the morning. Perhaps in time he'll convince himself that Izuku would never mind what's going on between the two of you, if you're meant to be endgame.

iv. depression | 12.07 am

Soft bubbles that smell like carnation and the auburn flicker of the fire that shines on top of a plethora of candles set the atmosphere for this evening. The lack of bright light -being that the whole city has been in a black out for several hours- is gentle to yours and Katsuki's eyes. What should have been matched with some of the artificial warmth the heater next to the bathtub, that should be providing for the two of you. Instead, it's him that keeps the temperature high.

Your muscles hurt and his wounds ache, as always, after a tiring day of hero work. You guess that's your daily nature; after hours and hours of overworking your body and soul, two people like you only get to spend the little time they have together like this. Late at night, curled up against each other, borderline sleeping in a bathtub. You're sure the water has a pinkish red tint to it -somewhere, a wound of his or yours is bleeding more that you'd like to believe is natural.

Katsuki is unbothered to check who's wounds are worse.

For the first time in a while, his mouth isn't dry, or chapped, a killer to his heart, for he can't find the right choice of words to spell to you. He should be fine with having you curled up against his chest, but somewhere along the way he finds it hard to experience the warmth he's trying to emit. And he thinks he finds your response to this unspoken mind trick when he cups your hands with his, checking at your fingers. Not a single prune or puckered line to clasp a non indifferent reaction from the back of his brain.

He's content with the way time seems to have stopped, trapping you in a moment filled with cold granite tiles and blood spoiled water that smells like lavender. In a movement he abandons your hands, watching them float over his. You hum -it's warm and welcoming, as if you're saying you're content too- and rest the back of your head to the crook of his neck.

His only reply is to nuzzle his nose into your neck as well. Placing a tiny kiss to the skin against his lips, tangling his fingers through your wet hair.

Small reassuring acts of

love with nothing special into them help you relax completely into him. "Kinda nice that you can see the stars so bright tonight" If you're looking for a cynical answer, then Katsuki's ever your man. "Of course they'd show when it's pitch black outside. What'd ya expect?" With your eyes glued to the glass ceiling for a long while you wonder, what did you expect really? Words that spiral in your brain are always spoken, leaving you numb and inquiring, searching for an answer in the deepest curves of your brain. When burning your eyes into his will never work, he decides to let his gaze melt holes in the vast of his bathroom windows. The beauty of minimalism leaves him cold and lonely, as if there's facelessness in the black veil of the sky that mimics the inside of his home. He curls into you by pressing you against his chest tighter. You never ask him why his bathroom is built the way it is -with that little corner window in the ceiling, neither does he know what he'd answer to you were you ever in a position to. He doesn't know how to apologize for being who he is, or his that window makes him feel like he used to be assured and secured on what was assigned to him by birth. (His parents’ money, a strong quirk.) He doesn't know how to apologize for still living in traits of his life that could make you feel like he's been everything but fair to Izuku. And all you probably think about, he convinces himself is that It'd be ironic to say that you mind having a view of the stars while having a midnight bath. It's a full moon tonight too -the glowing sky orb floating just above the furthest line of the horizon, illuminating the sky. And you, with your eyes shut by now and facing the glass ceiling, seem like you feel the weight of the moon pulling you in. What Katsuki knows for sure is that you have a terrible migraine that has you frowning horrendously. It's because of the fool moon, you'll say when the blond asks you why you're suffering, it always gives you migraines and he'll sit by you as you're making him his bath, holding your hand while he asks you to join him. He's nothing but a lover of roughness and void, he doesn't know how you're still with him, or how you ever fell for him. He feels slow, like a worn out tire, washed to a shore by the sea. But his hands, calloused and sculpted harshly even only by the -not so many- years of being a pro, aid to your comfort, not in his need to be a hero -more like, in his need to be human, or not feel inadequate, to not feel like his life is a pit of guilt because Izukus is over. And it has been for a long time. And his, is taking turns so abruptly that his gut churns and pleads. Two bulky thumbs run over your eyebrows, smoothing the short coarse hair and soothing the bone, swooning the sore pain away; it feels like custom made heaven, sweet and fluffy, and the water in the bathtub won't get cold, nor will his hands. You're so relaxed into him, bones turned into jelly and skin tingling at his touch. Every circle he's rubbing on your forehead is releasing tension you didn't know you had piled up. The soft splashes of water are merely inaudible when compared to his heartbeat, but you can't feel it. Not yet. It's not tense enough for him to feel like his heart is beating out of his chest. "You any better?" Cold. Brutal. Almost as if his hands belong to someone else, but that's Katsuki for you, or anyone else as a matter. You turn your head to him, wearing a tiny, worn out smile as you lean you mean into him, clashing your lips over his, bumping your nose to his cupid's bow when you're done. Katsuki, you're sure, closes his eyes in a feeling that doesn't seem pleasant and you do the most expected thing -retreat. It hurts; watching you slip away, turn your head to face the stars outside of his window, wiggle your body away from his, to collect your knees and press them against your chest. It's devastating how a small denial to a kiss can harm you in such a way. It's either his fault, or yours. Because somewhere deep inside his head he's convinced

himself he's a rebound. Someone you'll get over when you start getting better. And he's probably convinced himselfhes viewing you in this way, somehow. "You could have at least kissed me back" You whisper, shivering. The water is cold, finally, it was so nice while the warmth washed over your skin. Almost like a lie. "I-" He huffs, buries his head into his wet palms. He can't speak, for if he does, the crack in his voice, the high pitch of it, will snitch on his torment. He tries to shove it away, when he shoots his hands to your direction, trying to pull you into him again. When it doesn't work, you swear you see the corners of his eyes sparkle just a tad. It's alienating, when you've seen him cry and have numerous break downs, more times than you've seen him smile or laugh, you feel like you're foreign to the slight emotion that gathers in his eyes, now forming a pit, never spilling down the harsh lines of his cheeks. The moment a salty streak appears on his skin, you can help but wonder, what would happen if only you could stop your own tears from falling. You can't ask him to talk to you, it's more than obvious. You're deprived of any logical sentence forming mechanism in your brain, knees like jelly, arms heavy as two whole buildings in the verge of collapsing. One word of his and your heart will unleash all the ache that gathers slowly in your throat. "'M not just here cause Izuku died" There you go, not once, but seven times, feeling your heart pierce holes in your body, hanging from his every word, cursing yourself when you grasp his meaning. Wild and unleashed and raw, a plea, an inquiry. A way of masking his insecurity and it's your fault he's feeling this way. "You're not," You start, lost and perplexed "I love y-" But it does down faster than you would have wanted it. You turn your head away from him for a second. With the moon so high, and the city lights non existent, you can distinguish the Taurus constellation, just below the moon, and so very faint. Your throat is tight, your neck is sore, your voice won't come out -you wonder why astrology is right about Taurus controlling the throat- and you don't know how to make him feel good about himself. If only you can show him the constellation he'll be fine, right? Do zodiac constellations make him as excited as they make you? Or is that just a role he's taken upon himself to stick with you? His lips clash with yours, water splashing around you as he shifts, and he hugs you close to him. It's your cue, to close your eyes and move your lips in sync. Its a sullen form of desire, that dangerous one, where you get his lips to bleed from how hard you bite down onto his lip and twist and pull and clash him into you again because you can't get enough. You tell yourselves you have to live for this present, even if the past makes it unbearable. Just when your hearts feel like they'll jump out of your chests and dissolve into the lavender smelling bubbles, this time painting the water in a deep carmine, you clash your chest to his and he feels as if, he's wanted, here and now, even if the feeling won't last for long. And then it's hands that roam bruised skin, fingers than dig into softness or thick muscle, fingernails that dig into scalps painfully, until they draw blood as your teeth clash. It's passion, and only in the way your hips ghost over his, swaying in the water, as he's grunting "see, am kissing you back" and "We'll never be clean at this rate" "I'll massage your head when we're done" You breathe, pulling back for a second, as he sucks a spot on your neck, handling your back just to press your chest to his face. "Fuck, I love yo-" You shush him with your mouth on his, forehead sticking to his when a slit on your nose gets smashed when it scrunches against his cheek. He doesn't have to say it, you don't have to hurt him like this. It almost doesn't matter -the cold- when he pulls you to the edge of the bathtub and buries himself into you, you simply shiver by the way his thumb rubs your clit, thrusting your hips in rhythm to

meet his. And he bites on to your collar bones, eyes teary and heart heavy after he lets you set the pace, occasionally thrashing into your touch, his gut churning more and more as you go. It's only when he takes matters into his own hands -lifting you and pressing your back again the wall, putting out some candles I'm the process- hand on your face to shove some hair away, and legs wrapped securely around him that you both find release. Screaming in agony, crying in what could be mistaken for pain, sticking your foreheads together as your breaths tingle into one hot huff of air that travels up and way from you. You lock eyes with him, just before he lets his body collapse into the water, limbs numb and sore. "Please don't leave too." You whisper, sinking down just behind him, fetching for the shampoo bottle from behind you. He doesn't respond. Instead, he mimics you and rests his head on the crook of your neck, eyeing you backwards, pressing his lips into an upwards line. You're not sure you'll be able to get over this void soon, and you can't help but plead. Later, as you're washing through his hair, you show him the Taurus constellation and his eyes beam like a child's when he says "hey I'm a Taurus" all while tending trying to tend for the bite that he left on your shoulder. He doesn't ask to find the cancer constellation. You don't remember where to find it. The moon is too bright for you to even try.

v. acceptance | 6.59 am

The last rembrand of a star shines in a portrait of purples and oranges. The beautiful afterglow of the previous night, the first ray of sun washes its shine away, almost entirely, before a second can come. To paint the sky in blues, sprinkle the marine shade as to spoil the darkness' leftovers.

The night star, or morning star, tolerates a third, then forth ray of sunlight, and your watery eyes flicker at the scene, your head curling deeper into Katsuki's chest, humming as his hand wraps tighter around you, rubbing frantically over your skin to create some friction. It's only then that you're reminded how beautiful warmth is.

Your ear is cold -after Katsuki's doing while playing with the roots of your hair- and you tuck it under a few strands, instantly noticing the difference in temperature. Katsuki is cold as well, shivering slightly even with the blanket that's wrapped around the two of you. You can't help but wish that you were in bed, curled in a blanket cocoon, sleeping in the most sappy, eerie way.

But spending the night at the beach in early September night's has been a favorite activity of yours for the past few years. Long gone are the July nights spent in agony at the beach in Musutafu, nights that have allowed you to know Katsuki like the back of your hand. You can't take them back, replace them with memories of a happier process of getting to know him. You're not sure he wants to do that too.

He yawns slightly, squishing your head under his elbow to rub his tired eyes, breaking the loudsy inhale to chuckle at your pretend squirming. Avoiding your hair as to not hurt you while scratching the stubble hair on his cheeks -flinching slightly at it- before he moves your hair away from your ear, laughing trumphically at his doing.

"Nooo, I'm cold"

He chuckles again, running the tips of his fingers through your hair and tapping his palm over your ear. "Better now?"

"Katsu!"

You smile into his chest, trying to muffle your giggles, deciding to cook into him further.

His heart might as well burst. He thinks to himself that this is more than something he could have asked for, years of putting the effort in being with you awarding him in moments like this. Moments where he can see Venus shine faintly in the sky, feeling blessed by the planet of love as he places kisses to the top of your head.

I'm times like these, it's hard to look back and remember he used to beat himself over trying to convince himself he was drawn to you only because Izuku died. It feels like there's more behind it. Some karmic pull, some aligned stars, fates arranged in such a way that

you were meant to end up in this moment. Even if none of this is true and he's lost in superstitial bullshit, trying to explain things with something that bears no resemblance to simple logic, he figures there aren't any fresh wounds in his body. Time has flown since the last time he caught himself bathing in his own blood, but he's not reckless any more -neither are you- he doesn't go tormenting himself with wounds that will take long to heal. He can't remember times that have been tougher than this. But he's attached to the warm sand, moist still from the night's angry chill, so much that he slips one hand out of the blanket and sinks it low into the ground. It's so pleasant that he doesn't feel the ground pulling him in, or down. He's got a heart that will withstand his will to get up any time he wants to, and a pair of legs that will at his command, a chest that heaves with breaths while you're showering him with kisses. He won't get to spend an eternity like this, not even as many years as he thinks will be enough for him to enjoy this, but he's figured that there's eternity hinged in every moment, of taking care of yourself before you take care of someone else, so you don't hurt others around you. He's surprised with how much he's changed; he is aware that change is inevitable, through all the compromises that he's had to not condemn, all the soft words he's forced himself to say to you, to himself, to the point he's become softer, mellowed. Knowing he'd never forgive himself if he came to lose you to his grief. "We should get up, I'm sure Mina and Ochaco will be freaking at this point." He chuckles, hiding his tongue in the back of his mouth, as if to fish for a reply. "Kirishima and Denki will-" "Let the fuckers do as they wish, it's my wedding day, I decide when I show up. I can't with this enthusiasm" "Oh my god" You fake gasp, clapping your mouth "this is it? You're not going to marry me? You've lost your spark? Oh me. Oh my, whatever do I do?" You laugh, feeling the vibrations of his chest as he's laughing too, ruffling your hair in the messiest way he can imagine "There, now your hair is unfixable and I get to say it's you who left me at the altar" You burst out in giggles as you're trying to get up -efforts wasted in vain, because he's pulling you back onto him, for a kiss, one that makes your lips feel like cotton candy that slowly melts away, fuzzily yet so watery and with such delicacy. He gets up soon after you, folding the blanket neatly -too neatly- only pausing to take in the moment. Blue blotch after blue blotch is flooding the sky, almost every hint of purple gone, giving in to that warm tangerine light of the early sun. Katsuki sighs and you link your arms around his elbow. Content, happy. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't much of those himself. There's nothing holding him back. And so, he guesses, this is goodbye. The official one. Not melded with an apology, not fueled by regret. It's a silky woven letting go. There are no tears left for him to shed, there's no more trembling to violently shake your body awake at night. There's nothing but good in the memory of Izuku. Not even the subtle wish for him to be here, and happy with you. As the bright, starry light of Venus is outshone by the sun, he places another kid to the top of your head. "I'll see you at 5" "I'm going to be fashionably late" You argue, turning around to wield your hands around his neck and almost linking your lips to his. "Don't you fucking dare" He kisses you "Or what? You'll blow everyone to pieces?" He kisses you again, then again, then once more. "Might as well" And that's Katsuki for you, even in the calmer, softer version of himself. The personification of the twilight hours, even if he's going to bed at 10pm, wiggling his feet under the covers until you join him. He's the only reason you're still sane and you won't ever lose him. He won't lose you, in return.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha #bakugou #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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mysterystarz · 3 years

Text

the romance checklist:

summary: a chance meeting with kageyama has you striking up a bet to see if one of you could fall in love with the other before the year was up. cue the romance checklist, a piece of paper that molded your fate and his.

pairing: kageyama tobio x g!n reader

word count: 3.2k

genres + themes: literally pure fluff, reader is a first-year karasuno student, reader is also kind of a romantic

warnings: none

a/n: so this is my first time writing for kageyama and i know he's probably pretty out of character, so my apologies!! this was inspired off some headcannons i wrote for one of my irl friends, and this wiki-how article which i used to structure the actual checklist! to all my lovely kags simps, this is for you <3 (also to all the people who hate angst, you lucked out bc i was about to add an angst part but got lazy)

You had never thought a trip to the vending machine could be so eventful.

It had been lunch break, and you found yourself wandering towards the machine, money in hand as your eyes trailed the snacks. It had become routine to sneak away during lunch hours for this, enjoying the fresh autumn breeze as you bought your snacks. It had always given you time to think and the time to recompose yourself when you didn’t have a clue what to do.

Usually it also provided you with time alone.

That wasn’t the case today though. Standing in front of the vending machines was Kageyama Tobio, frantically pushing the button for milk with a grumpy sort of scowl on his face. From the distance you stood, you could make out his height and the way he tapped his foot continuously, as if he didn’t have the time to wait for the milk to be dispensed from the spot.

Strolling up to the spot, you stood silently next to him, watching the way he retrieved the milk from the slot wordlessly as he walked away, not even a glance in your direction.

You knew full well who he was. In fact, you could barely walk through the halls of school without hearing a murmur about the prodigy setter and his closed off ways. The girls found him intriguing from afar, and while they never dared to approach him, they all wanted to.

You hadn’t really understood what they saw in him. He was average...if not below that in academics, and he seemed to dedicate most of his time to volleyball, not caring much for other people. He didn’t seem to have many friends, and was almost always grumpy.

All of this should’ve been reason enough to avoid him, and yet you couldn’t help but be intrigued. There was something about him that was different. You just needed to find out what that was.

The next day came around, and sure enough, he stood at the machine again, toe-tapping as his milk was dispensed from the slot. This time his eyes scanned the courtyard as if he was seeking something before they finally landed on you.

You weren’t prepared for the full impact of his gaze. It was calculated and pointed, with some sort of intent that was expressed in every inch of those dark blue eyes. You weren’t put off by it.

In fact, it was charming in its own way.

“Are you looking for something Kageyama?” You asked as you walked towards him, pulling a few yen out of your pocket. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.” He deadpanned, his eyes still trained on you as you selected a snack from the machine’s buttons. “I see you everywhere. Who are you?”

You hadn’t expected that. You knew he was observant...when it came to volleyball specifically, but never realized how it translated anywhere else. “I’m Y/L/N Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what else to say to him. Gently grabbing your snack, you politely nodded at him before leaving him behind, the thoughts rapidly accumulating in your brain. Did he notice you the entire time? Why did he ask? Did he know something? Was he planning to use you as some example to the other girls who wanted to know him?

You wish you had an answer.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t think of any.

It had been two weeks since you had met Kageyama by the vending machines. It had now become routine to expect him there during your lunch breaks, milk box in hand as he regarded your very presence with something that felt a whole lot like curiosity. Every now and then he’d offer commentary on the mundane happenings of Karasuno, or ask about you, but you weren’t sure how you could hold a conversation with just these things.

“Kageyama.” You nodded, strolling towards the machine as you always did. He whipped around almost immediately, offering a solemn nod in return, clutching his milk box.

“Y/L/N.” He murmured, taking a sip of his box.

“Have you ever thought about love?” You found yourself asking, internally screaming at the word choice. Great, now he was going to think that you were some crazy person.

“I think so…?.” Was what he offered in response. His features seemed to soften at this question though as he scrunched his brows in thought. “What type of love?”

You raised a brow at him in question. “Kageyama...what type of love are you talking about?”

“Well...I love volleyball and milk.” He shrugged. “That counts.”

“That...wasn’t the type I was referring to.” You said, suppressing the laughter that bubbled into your chest. “I was talking about the other kind.”

“The other kind is stupid.” Kageyama replied instantaneously. “There’s nothing special to it.”

You felt confusion seep into your system before you quieted it, letting your mind wander. With Kageyama’s status, you assumed that he’d at least thought of the concept at least once, although it seemed that he’d never even pondered the idea altogether!

“You’d have to feel it to come to that conclusion,” you countered, “Have you?”

“No,” he scoffed, “It’s still stupid.”

“Why?” You asked, feeling the curiosity surface. “Any specific reason?”

“Why would anyone want to dedicate all their time to another person?” Kageyama asked straight back, his gaze unwavering. “I just don’t see the point.”

You stared back at him, feeling the challenge bubble in your veins. “I bet...I can make you fall in love with someone by the end of the school year.”

At that moment, the boy in front of you looked thoroughly surprised, throwing his empty milk box at the garbage can nearby. He seemed speechless to some extent, as if he wasn’t able to process the words that had just left your mouth.

“And what happens if you can’t?” He asked, hesitantly bringing his gaze to your face. “What then?”

“I’ll buy you milk for a whole month.” You placed your hands on your hip as you kept your glare firm. “I stick to that.”

“Okay then,” he sighed, “Game on.”

With a shake of your hands, you cemented your fate.

You would win that bet. That much was certain.

“What’s this Y/L/N?” Kageyama asked, pointing at the piece of paper you held at him. “How are you going to win a bet with this?”

The two of them stood in the courtyard of Karasuno, the fresh autumn breeze rippling the paper you held in your hand. It had been a good day so far, and Kageyama had surprisingly stuck to his resolve, meeting you at the vending machine when he could’ve easily avoided you.

It was always more fun to challenge a competent opponent.

“This is the romance checklist.” You grinned proudly. “This has all the things we need to get you to fall in love.”

“How is it fair if you don’t do the checklist’s things too?”

“Well, that’s why I’m doing them with you.” You responded, already anticipating these types of questions. “I drafted the checklist off of the things I’ve observed over the years that should totally lead to feelings of love!”

“Whatever.” Kageyama said, his blue eyes scanning the paper’s contents. “How do you plan to do this?”

“We follow the steps.” You nodded. “Since I’m doing this with you, it’ll be foolproof.”

“Y/L/N...what if we competed against each other?” He mumbled. “We follow the checklist and use it against each other. Whoever falls in love first loses.”

“Do you really want to risk that?” You smirked, “That’s a bold move you’re making.”

Kageyama stood up straighter at this, the challenge burning deep in his eyes. “I’m going to win, so it won’t be an issue.”

“Suit yourself,” you grinned. “I’ll be winning this anyways.”

He simply smirked as he looked down at the paper, the promise of a challenge fresh and bright between them.

STEP ONE: MEET SOMEONE

After a long time, you had finally gotten some free time away from schoolwork and the obligations that pinned you down. It was a rare occurrence with the amount of pressure that the college prep class placed on you, and you intended to make the most of it.

You found yourself on the pathway of a cafe you used to frequent in the summer with your friends. It had always been a place to collect your thoughts and let your worries float away with every sip of one of the immaculately crafted beverages that they offered there. You felt your lips twitch in an involuntary smile at the memories.

“Y/L/N?” You heard a voice call out, a shocking contrast to the normal chattering you heard within the shop. Looking up, you were met with Kageyama’s eyes, narrowed and confused as you sat at the table frozen. “What are you here for?”

“It's a break for me,” you shrugged, “I come here all the time. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“They have good drinks,” Kageyama replied bluntly. A few beats of silence passed between them, with neither of them knowing what to add to the conversation.

“You can sit down with me.” You offered, gesturing to the empty seat across from you. “The more the merrier.”

He didn’t question this as he slid into the seat, fingers drumming on the table as he looked at the window. From your point of view, it was almost picturesque the way he managed to appear. His blue eyes were focused on the trees outside, and his posture was ever so casual and relaxed as he sat there, as if he had no other care in the world.

It was unfair how model-like he managed to appear, even despite the fact he wasn’t trying.

Ah. Perhaps this is what the girls at school noticed.

Once the drinks arrived at your table, the two of them drank in comfortable silence, admiring the flavors on their tongues as their surroundings continued on as normal. You didn’t feel the need to contribute anything to the silence, finding it calming in its own right.

“So Kageyama, are you feeling anything yet?” You teased, setting down your half-empty cup.

“No.” He admitted, setting down his drink as well. “I am supposed to?”

“Well technically no, but it’d be good if you did.” You chuckled, finding amusement in the cluelessness of his ways. “Step one of the romance checklist: meet somebody.”

“We already met though.” He countered, “How does this count as anything?”

“Well, we just encountered each other out of nowhere.” You smiled, “That counts as a meeting in my book.”

He wrapped his mind around this information, nodding solemnly. “I guess so then. I still don’t feel anything.”

“Neither do I.” You said, willing the slight butterflies in your stomach to subside. It was really nothing. This was simply a chance meeting, nothing more than luck and fate that had you encounter each other today of all days.

You shouldn’t have been affected this quickly. You felt far too warm, far too...fuzzy, for a meeting of chance. It was simply far too intimate.

Well, it seemed that Kageyama had gotten the one upon you at this stage.

You’d beat him next time. You knew you would.

STEP TWO: FLIRT

“You look good today Kags,” you smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction creep up in your veins at his flushed cheeks,

Over the course of the weeks spent together, you had been able to learn more about the mysterious boy in front of you and had even formed a friendship of sorts. For starters, he was flustered very easily, which is why you decided to make your move so early in the morning.

“I look like how I do every day, dumbass!” He growled, the red deepening in his cheeks when you merely winked in response.

Ah yes. He tended to insult those he befriended. That was yet another endearing thing about the boy in front of you.

“No, something is different today,” you commented, “Did you do something with your hair?”

“No,” he frowned, the flush never subsiding from his cheeks. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m just saying genuine things you know.” You laughed, punching his shoulder casually. “Besides, I think I’m succeeding so far.”

“Succeeding? This is that stupid checklist again, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Step two: flirting. What is the point of this again?”

“It’s to show interest.” You remarked. “Besides, if you want me to fall for you, you’re going to at least have to act like you’re interested in me. I know it’s working on you so far.”

“No it’s not!” He yelled, although the defense was half-hearted. You knew he was merely putting up a front. You could tell it from his body posture alone.

You had the upper hand right now.

You waved him goodbye as you entered the Karasuno grounds, climbing the stairs to reach your class as he walked in the opposite direction. Even if you had the upper hand right now, you knew that you had to be on-guard the rest of the day.

If there was one thing you knew very well in the time you had spent with Kageyama, it was that he was extremely competitive. There was no way he’d ever go down without a fierce fight, especially when a month’s worth of milk was on the line.

You had been absolutely right to doubt him.

When lunchtime rolled around, he stood at the vending machine like he always did, leaning against it casually as he waited for you, his focus placed on the entrance.

The first thing you noticed was how calm he was. There was none of his usual frantic energy or the practiced insults that you threw back at one another. He simply stood there, content, as he watched you make your entrance.

The second thing you noticed was how an unconscious smile crept onto his face when you waved at him and slipped away the minute your eyes darted to his mouth. He sipped his milk casually, although you knew that internally, he was definitely scheming.

He could be a gremlin if left untapped.

You were about to purchase your snack in silence, thinking about all the ways he could win against you when you felt his hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw him holding out a container of your favorite snack, handing it to you wordlessly.

What?

“I thought I would get it today,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his milk. “You’ve bought me milk sometimes. It’s only fair.”

He didn’t consider it much of a big deal, but you felt your heart begin to accelerate in its pace at the thoughts that came flying into your head.

He had paid attention to your favorite snack? He had actually cared about when you bought him milk?

He noticed all of this?

“You...have a nice smile.” He mumbled, a flush rising onto his cheeks once again. You felt yourself fluster a bit at the compliment, not used to hearing it that often.

“Uhhh thanks.” You exhaled, not knowing how to respond to such an out-of-the-blue remark. “Your smile looks a lot like the Cheshire cat you know.”

For a moment his face was contorted into an expression of horror before he laughed a bit, the low chuckles sending heat straight to your cheeks.

Damn it. His laugh was adorable.

It was a low chiming sound, but it still managed to uplift your spirits in the brief time that you heard it. It was absolutely perfect.

You’d like to hear it again if you could.

A small smile was on his face as he looked to the ground, thinking about something while you took the time to really look at him. Behind the stone exterior, was someone talented, clueless, and amusing in every way you could possibly imagine.

You noticed how his posture mirrored yours, and the way how he smiled when your eyes finally met his own.

Damn it! He got the one-up on you. Again.

STEP THREE: GO ON THRILLING DATES

“Tobio! Let’s go on this one!” You yelled as you dragged him towards the large rollercoaster that caught your eye.

It was a beautiful Saturday with the most perfect weather. Sunny skies met a fresh breeze as you dragged Kageyama around the amusement park you had insisted on going to together. He kept with your quick pace as you went from ride to ride, never once letting go of his hand.

If anything, you were more confused why he didn’t comment on the fact that you had been holding hands that long. Rather he silently followed you from ride to ride, occasionally commenting on how small it looked for them.

From where you stood, the rollercoaster looked positively incredible with the multiple loops and drops in its track. This certainly fit the bill for thrilling. Maybe Kageyama could finally agree to ride this one.

“Y/N, do we really have to do this one?” He asked, his gaze not tearing away from the ride. “Doesn’t it look a bit too small for us?”

“Well if it’s too small, then we can still ride it as a joyride, don’t you think?” You grinned as you shoved him into the line of the coaster. Soon enough, it was your turn as you were ushered into the seats while the employees strapped you and Kageyama into the rollercoaster.

The wait was excruciating, with every second that passed sending a wave of anticipation and adrenaline through your system. Looking to your side, you saw Kageyama’s face, which was composed, even though his fingers drummed rapidly on the bar.

Was he nervous?

Hesitantly, you reached to clasp your hands together, relishing in the feeling of your palm on his as the rollercoaster suddenly began moving, bringing you up the tall lift hill.

“Tobio, are you okay?” You questioned as you neared the top, the grip he had on your hand tightening ever so slightly.

“I’m fine!” He yelled, just as the roller coaster fell over the lift hill, sending them into a plummeting drop.

You felt the exhilarating feeling of soaring as the ride propelled you forward, shouts of glee leaving your mouth ever so often. On the other hand, all you heard from Kageyama was the occasional shout of horror when they encountered yet another drop on the track, the grip he had on your hand deathly tight.

“Tobio! You’re afraid of rollercoasters?!” You shouted as you were guided into a loop.

“No I’m not!” He shouted back, shutting his eyes when he was finally upright again. “They just make me feel like I’m about to die!” When he opened his eyes, they first found yours in a look that was both petrified and fond. “I think I lost the bet!”

“You did what?!” You yelled as the wind rippled in your ears again.

“The bet Y/N! I think I’m in love with you!” He yelled. “I thought I should tell you before we die!”

You felt your heart soar at the words that had just been exchanged, a testament to the budding feelings you had felt for months around him.

“We’re not going to die.” You sighed as the ride finally slowed, feeling exhilarated as you smiled at him. “I love you too.”

Stepping off the rollercoaster, Kageyama was more silent than anything, red flush adorning his cheeks as you massaged soothing circles onto his hand. “We both lost it in the end.” You laughed.

“I think it was worth it,” he chuckled, the beautiful chime, showing you that he meant every word.

taglist (bold cannot be tagged): @moi-bunni @kousukii @littlecatfairy @iwasunshine @kawaii-angelanne @haikyuutothetop @dearkousei @catchmewiddershins @perqabeth @sunarinluvr @elektrosonix @milktyama

reblogs are very appreciated <3

#nova scribbles <3 #kageyama x reader #hq kageyama #hihqnetwork #kageyama fluff #tobio headcanons #tobio scenarios #kegayama tobio #tobio x reader #tobio x y/n #kageyama x y/n #reader x haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyu imagines #haikyuu #tobio fluff

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ohmysparkle · 3 years

Text

🌙 Part II

🌙 Pairing: Jung Jaehyun (NCT) x Reader, Johnny (NCT) x Reader

🌙 Genre: Angst, Soulmate au

🌙 Word count: 3.6K

🌙 Warnings: the sadness of it all!!! Drinking, mentions of abandonment and cheating, mental illness and bad coping. SFW for now.

🌙 Series Masterlist

🌙 Tag List: @justineasian @cookydream

“Johnny...” Jaehyun warned for the last time after what felt like hours of arguing with his best friend, “This conversation is going to end now.”

“You’re so fucking unfair, Jae.” Johnny snapped, slamming a wrist on their small breakfast table in their shared apartment. “You don’t have the right to fuck around with girls like that. And she - she’s your soulmate, damn it!”

Johnny was yelling now. Jaehyun was sure he could match him, but he opted for a low blow instead. He did tend to do this, say cold and dark things that couldn't be taken back. Sometimes they couldn't even be forgiven. He doesn't know where it comes from, but come it does.

“You don’t have the right to judge me, John. Besides... you know this soulmate shit is nonsense, firsthand! She’ll get over it - just like you did.”

What Jaehyun didn’t expect was the punch that Johnny landed to his jaw. In over ten years of friendship, Jaehyun had never once seen his friend hit someone. He never knew the day would come, and he didn’t expect it would be him in the receiving end.

But at this moment, Jaehyun understood he deserved it. He stung, and Johnny burned.

“I’m sorry.” He said, with his head hanging low and his hand caressing his burning jaw. “I crossed the line.”

“You crossed a couple of lines, Jaehyun.” Those were Johnny’s last words to him before walking out of the apartment.

She’ll get over it - just like you did.

Jaehyun's words kept ringing in Johnny’s ears. The audacity. How fucking dare he? How could he bring it up?

Johnny often didn’t know if he should blame Jaehyun, personally, for the things he says and does. He witnessed the pain Jaehyun went through all those years ago - it changed him. Jaehyun still had a glimmer of his old self somewhere, he was often that version of himself in fact. But when it came to problems, tough times, and women, Jaehyun was vile. It was his defense mechanism, Johnny understood that well, he even anticipated it. Jaehyun fought day and night with himself to make sure he was never that vulnerable again, so that no one could hurt him. Breaking a woman’s heart along the way was just some sick version of symbolic revenge as a plus.

But after this, Johnny didn’t know if Jaehyun, his Jaehyun, was gone for good. Jae had been a brother that the world gave him, they grew up together, became men together. But Johnny was more certain with each of these tirades that the person Jaehyun had become was not a person that Johnny enjoyed at all.

How many women had Johnny tried to reassure, and comfort, and apologize to on Jaehyun’s behalf? Countless? Nah, maybe 15. The number still startled him though.

He remembered them all. He felt terrible for them all. Maybe it was that he felt guilty for what Jaehyun had become, and as an extension he felt that part of the pain these women bore was his doing. But this girl - this one broke his heart. She was going through a pain that hit Johnny in his sorest spot.

..Ah yes, to love a soulmate that doesn’t love you in return...

Johnny’s soulmate was a couple of years older that he was. And she was perfect. And at the time he was... twenty, naive, unsure of himself. He knew she was his soulmate before she knew him. He watched her from a distance as she walked by the record store he part timed in. He knew right away and slowly built up the courage to go up to her, make the perfect first impression.

He remembered her bitterly, with anger, while he sipped on his drink at some stale and vacant bar. But then he let out a calming breath, one that he had been holding too long, and remembered how he had already made peace with everything that happened some time ago.

Someone sits beside him but he doesn’t bother to look as he takes another sip of whatever filled his cup.

“Drinking on a Tuesday? I thought that was my thing.” He hears a feminine voice say beside him. He turns and finds himself a bit of a surprise.

You aren’t crying, your hair is brushed and your dressed decently - he almost didn’t recognize you.

“Y/n?” He says with some surprise. “I didn’t know you came here.”

“Well I usually don’t, but that staff at the 7/11 tried to pull an intervention on me so I had to find a new drinking well.” You say with surprising lightheartedness. He doesn't answer and looks at you worriedly. “I’m kidding Johnny - I saw you outside and wanted to say hello.”

He doesn’t know why he feels a bit shameful for drinking at this time of day, after being caught by you, and it stuns him so the words don’t leave his mouth.

“I also wanted to say thank you.” You say, placing a hand on his arm. Your fingers felt very small, and warm, and comforting. He wanted to come here and let his anger out, but he finds that his thoughts and your presence have only mellowed him to a point of stupor.

“Thank yo - me?” He asks incredulously, you giggle at his confusion.

“I - yes, thank you. You were very kind to me when you didn’t have to be, and I think it might have saved me a bit.”

“You don’t have to thank me, it’s the least I could do.”

“But you didn't have to, it’s not your problem to deal with.” This time the laughter you let out is a bit of a resigned chuckle. “Yet you were there, Johnny. You were kind, and you were there when no one else was. Even though you didn’t know me and I was a mess and you had no obligation to deal with me. So thank you. You’re very kind Johnny, it gives me a bit of optimism.”

You let out a long sigh before saying “I’m sorry, I won’t bother you anymore.”

Before you get up to leave, Johnny wraps his hand around yours, pinning it to the counter.

“Wait.” He insists, “Would you join me?” He asks. Just one look in his eyes makes you think that he needs the same kind of comforting he gave you. You sit beside him, finally gaining some level with him on the tall stool.

“So, girl troubles?” You finally ask.

“Guy troubles.” He replies dejectedly.

“Oh...” you say in a bit of curious surprise.

“I mean Jaehyun.” He clarifies.

“Oh.” You say in disappointment. “I guess I can’t help you there.”

You ordered a plain drink while lingering in silence with the tall man beside you.

“I tried talking to him about you.” The tone in Johnny’s confession lets you know it didn't go well.

“You don’t need to bother with him, it’s not your fault. This is all his fault.” You say with a scoff towards the end.

“It’s not your fault either.” He says, “It’s not your fault the universe paired you with a jackass.” The tone in his voice raises again, but when you rest your hand on his arm it helps cool him down once more.

“I hope you didn’t fight with him because of me.” You murmur quietly. Had the place not been so empty, Johnny wouldn't have made your words out.

“I fought with him because Jae is an asshole - and that’s not your fault either.” Johnny replies after a while. “I don’t know what to do with him anymore.”

“Maybe you should find yourself another friend.” You reply. “Sometimes we need to move on from people we think are supposed to have a meaningful place in our lives, and realizing that hurts. So, we ignore that fact.”

The way you said those words, so smoothly and effortlessly, makes Johnny think that you’ve said them before, maybe to someone else, or maybe to yourself. But he understands that the meanings of those words have been with you for quite some time.

“I guess we both have to move on from Jaehyun then.” Johnny’s words are accompanied with a weak laugh, and you giggle, but this time your laughter is a bit more earnest, and in turn it builds his laughter up too.

“At least you can still look forward to meeting your soulmate.” You finally say, continuing the joke, but Johnny suddenly tenses up and you can tell you’ve said something off. “I mean, if you haven’t already-”

“I met her. We’re not together.” He says plainly, you can see some anger in his eyes, but its pointed far from you.

“Oh, Johnny, I didn’t mean to-” you begin to apologize.

“Don’t.” He sighs, and gulps down his drink before signaling for a second one. “She… well, I knew who she was, and by the time I finally had the guts to introduce myself she was with someone else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He says, swiveling his new drink around over the counter. “She had been in love with him since they were kids… when she met me she was engaged. I tried, I really did, but she said that even if she had met me sooner, it would’ve always been him. I didn’t stand a chance.”

You were sort of stunned into silence.

“Don’t worry, I made my peace with it. I get that it’s not my fault, and I can’t blame her either.”

After a while you build up the courage to ask, “So, do you believe this soulmate thing is endgame? Or…?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea… it’s kind of hard to even think about it after that kind of rejection.”

“Yeah… I get you there.”

“Hey.” He says, resting his hand on your shoulder and turning you to look at him. “Jaehyun is an idiot. You might be his soulmate but he doesn’t deserve a nice girl like you, ok? And you don’t deserve an asshole like him.”

Your head hangs a little bit at the thought of Jaehyun again.

“It just feels unfair, ya’ know?” You finally say.

“Trust me, I know.”

You didn't know how much Johnny had drunk before you ran into him, but by the time he had three more drinks in your presence, he was bad drunk. Bad.

“Johnny, let me walk you home.” You insisted, it was dark and you worried he wouldn’t know how to get back to his place on his own.

“I don’t want to go home to that asshole!” He whined. You couldn’t help but laugh at how childish the gigantic man in front of you was acting.

“Johnny!” You laughed, trying to hold down his arms that he raised in his defiant tantrum. “Johnny, you have to go home and sleep somewhere!”

“No! I’ll sssslep in the ssstreet if I have to.” Oh goodness.

“Johnny, no. Just tell me where you live!”

“No.” He said with an angry pout that made him look like a child. “Not gonna.”

“Johnny.” You warned.

“There! I’m gonna sleep there, next to that fire hydrate thingy!” He said while pointing to a slab of sidewalk.

“Hydrant. And no, you’re not!” You said pulling him away from that direction. Goodness gratuitous was he large!

“Yes I am, and you can’t stop me.”

“John!” You warn.

“Don’t call me that! That’s what that saaasssshole calls me when he’s angry. I’m not going home.” Little tears bubbled in his eyes.

“Johnny…” You debated the following, but decided that you owed it to him. “Johnny, what if I told you that you can come sleep at my place?”

“I can sleep with you?” He said in a state of drunken confusion.

“You can sleep in my apartment. Like, on the couch.” You said while exasperatedly bringing your palm to your forehead.

“No hydrate thingy?”

“Much more comfortable than the hydrate thingy.” And with these words Johnny smiled happily and became much more maneuverable.

Johnny stumbled beside you towards your apartment building, but somehow he managed to get to your front door in one piece. You brought him inside, asking him to take his shoes off at the door, which he messily kicked off, and then led him to the couch.

“Sit here, don’t move, I’ll be right back.” You said slowly before rushing off to get your extra pillows and blankets. You went back to him and began to settle things down, then, you went to bring him a large glass of water and some pills for his potential headache. As you leaned down to organize the pillows on one end of the couch, you were surprised to suddenly look up and find yourself face to face with Johnny.

“Pretty…” He drunkenly coos. You, being quite tipsy yourself, simply laugh it off, but he calls again. “Pretty!”

“Yeah, and?” you say, grabbing his shoulders and guiding him down, standing up to proceed to unfold the blanket. He’s far too drunk to resist and his body melts into the cushions, almost like putty.

“And… if I’da been that sssonofabitch I wouldn’t have blinked twice before…” His mumbling trailed off gradually, slowing and fading into silence. Did he fall asleep? Did he die? He looked kinda dead.

You lay the blanket over him and make sure he’s comfy, and when you finally bring it up to cover his broad shoulders he suddenly shoots hand out to grip your arm and pulls you down towards him. You yelp in surprise but manage to support your weight with one knee on the edge of the couch, but your face to face with him and his other arm comes up and snatches your neck and suddenly this giant of a man is awake again and -

His lips are on yours. Just a firm, unmoving kiss. Just a few seconds. You’re frozen, but maybe the alcohol doesn’t let you feel the shock of it.

Johnny gradually slips back onto the couch, eyes closed, drifting. Did that really just happen?

“...that ssson of a bitch…” Johhny sleepily mumbles with a yawn. Yes - it happened.

You brush it off… it was just a little kiss, and you didn’t mind, Johnny was drunk and so were you.

You look at the sleeping giant once more before heading to your own room. Once you undressed and settled in your covers you were surprised to recollect that for the first time in a long time, you had spent the evening laughing and went to bed with a peaceful smile.

When Johnny awoke, he thought he was dead. He had no idea where he was and that’s how he rationalized it.

There was a creamy white expanse above him. He felt warm and comfortable, like floating on a sunny cloud, and in the view above him an angel appeared surrounded by the scent of sweetness, and what beauty said angel possessed… he must have been good in his life to be greeted by such a glorious creature -

“Johnny?” You call out.

Oh… it was you. Oh and the white thing was your ceiling. And this was your couch. And the sweet smell… are those pancakes?

“Johnny, are you alive?” you ask again, your voice is soft and sweet in his ears. If any of his friends had woken him after a night of drinking their voices would have drilled into his head, but yours soothed and healed. He groggily raised his head and signaled that he was indeed alive and responsive.

“Earth to JonJon… I made you breakfast.” You sing-song. JonJon… he pleasantly smiles. Am I awake or is this a dream, he thinks to himself.

“John!” You finally call out, looking down at him.

“What!?” He jolts up in surprise.

“Oh thank goodness, I thought you were brain dead from alcohol poisoning or something, you freaked me out!” You sigh with relief afterwards. “You do know where you are, right?” You ask when you notice his confusion.

“Yeah. I remember…” Johnny looked around, he was in your apartment, you had brought him here, laid him down on your couch… yes, he remembered. Then he kissed you. Oh my goodness, he kissed you! It was an accident - no it wasn’t, he remembered wanting to kiss you. He looked at you, your brows angled in worry, they made your face look so sweet, and your pouty lips looked soft, and your skin seemed flawless, almost glowing. Your hair was wet, you must have showered, and the tank top you wore exposed the tops of your breasts that looked so supple and - oh shit, he can’t do this.

“Yeah… I remember getting here, and... I guess that’s it.” he rubbed the back of his head feigning confusion.

“Oh… well I have to get to class in a while so I got up early and made some breakfast. I guessed you had class too so... the earlier the better.” You led Johnny to your neat little dining table, with two plates of pancakes and sausages and eggs and toast, all kinds of marmalades and toppings, and bacon.

“You look large, I guess you eat a lot.” You justified the feast you had made.

“Apparently you eat a lot too.” He said in awe at all the food.

“Yeah well I’m hungry and depressed and hungover… and girl stuff. Works up an appetite.” Johnny blushed at your candidness. He had a girlfriend once in high school that would always get cravings on her period and he got into the habit of having candies and snacks handy every four weeks, ready for any of her cravings. Johnny wondered if you preferred milky and chocolate candies, or fruity and sour ones. Maybe your cravings were more savory…

“Johnny?” You call out with a giggle.

“Sorry, I’m just out of it.” he quickly defends.

“That’s fine. I asked you if you’d like hot or cold coffee?” This feast put out for him, the coziness and neatness of your home, your kindness… and why did you look so pretty in the morning?

“Cold please.” He said while politely sitting down at the small table and waiting for you to come back. You placed a glass in front of him before sitting down with your own.

“You can go ahead and eat Johnny.” you laugh at him. He must have been dulled out from his hangover.

The first bite was glory, and Johnny couldn’t remember the last time that he’d eaten something cooked with so much care - maybe on one of the rare occasions Taeyong had cooked for him. It felt too good to be true, too simple and uncomplicated, natural, domestic - fuck, John, stop! The next bite was better and he hummed out from the tastiness and you smiled as a reaction.

“This is delicious!” He complimented you once he had swallowed some bitefulls down.

“I’m glad you think so, I haven’t made a proper meal in quite some time.”

“If I was this good at cooking I’d cook all the time.” He says before he stuffs his mouth with another piece of bacon, crisped to perfection.

“Cooking is a very emotional thing Johnny… If you’re not in the mood it’ll come out rotten. You have to cook with love.” Did you just say love? Did you cook his food with love? Johnny almost choked on the scrambled eggs but washed it down coffee before he coughed. You didn’t seem to think much of it, it was just an idiom after all.

“So… are you feeling better?” He asks after a while, referring to you insinuating that you were in a better mood.

“I… guess. I mean, we talked about a lot yesterday, but I had fun. I hadn’t laughed that much in a long time. I guess this is my way of saying thanks” You gesture towards the food.

You and Johnny finish eating and before you know it he’s got everything washed and dried and stowed away quite neatly. You manage to find one of his shoes by the door and the other took some time, kicked under some furniture. Johnny gets ready to go, making sure he had all of his belongings, just as you had to start getting ready.

“Thanks for breakfast…”

“Thanks for a fun evening.” You answer back.

You say your goodbyes and he turns to leave but you call back to him.

“Johnny!”

“Yes?”

“If you ever see me around, whether it be drinking at a bar or not, I’d like you to say hello… It’s been a while since I had a friend.” You say honestly.

“Trust me, I will. I promise you.” He says with a handsome smile.

Johnny was dreading going back home, and as he got closer to the front door his feet felt heavier, like he was sloshing around in water. The apartment was quiet once he stepped inside, he felt relief that he had missed Jaehyun.

“Johnny?” Fuck. Jae must have been lurking somewhere in the shadows.

“Jaehyun.” Johnny abruptly replies.

“Johnny, can we talk?” Jaehyun says, and Johnny can notice the regret on his features. Is it sincere this time?

“You can talk all you want.” The reply stung Jaehyun, but they both recognized he deserved it.

“I’d like to ask your forgiveness for yesterday. I know I said some awful things, and I don’t mean them. I’d never want to hurt you John, but I - I can’t control it sometimes Johnny, and I don’t mean it and I don’t know how to stop. And you’re right about all of this - about me, about the things I’ve done.”

“Jae…” Johnny sighs and takes a few deep breaths, processing the barrage of words that Jaehyun just threw on him. “We can talk later. I’m tired, so I’d rather we talk when I feel better.” He says, walking to his room.

Just as he’s about to close the door behind him, Jaehyun calls out his name.

“Johnny, I just want you to know… I’ve been thinking about things.”

They both stand still for a while.

“I’m going to talk to her like you suggested. I’d like to try and make it up to her… and maybe I can earn her trust, or her friendship. I won’t ask for more unless she wants it but I’m going to try, if she lets me.”

I hope she doesn’t let you, Johnny thinks to say, but instead he opts to slam the door shut.

#nct jaehyun #nct johnny #nct angst #nct imagines #nct au

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multi--kpop--fanfics · 3 years

Text

(Not) Such A Good Boy

sub!bf!Juyeon x dom!fem!reader (ft. Eric, Kevin and Hyunjae)

genre: smut, slight crack, a bit of fluff towards the end

contains: dom/sub themes, degradation, oral sex (f receiving), marking, biting, spanking, Juyeon is a brat on a choker and a leash, unprotected sex (be safe y’all)

Author’s note: This man right there has been wrecking my existence lately (I blame Kingdom) and this GIF screams sub!Juyeon so yeah, enjoy this filth

“Lee Juyeon, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you scoff under your breath. You have been waiting for the past twenty minutes in the living room, outfit and makeup on point, since you were about to go clubbing with your group of friends. But apparently, your dear boyfriend had lost all sense of time, trying to get ready.

Visibly irritated, you storm to your shared bedroom, your heels angrily clicking on the wooden floor. “Juyeon, I swear to God-” you mutter and stop mid-sentence, only to see your boyfriend leaning on the door, fully dressed and a lop-sided smirk plastered on his handsome face.

“You called, babe?”, he asks teasingly and before rolling your eyes, you give him an once-over, processing his choice of clothes - a pair of tight black leather pants that were hugging his muscular thighs deliciously, a pair of black combat boots, a cropped black sweater with holes around his clavicles and a black belt-like choker around his neck. He was the epitome of the emo bad boy that all parents hated and all girls craved.

“Um, what is this?”, you question him with a pointing finger. "That, is my outfit for tonight", Juyeon states, the previous smirk still on his face, "What, you don't like it?". "Isn't it a bit unfair for me to wear not so revealing clothes all while you're dressed as an emo himbo?", you complain and he laughs, "An emo himbo? Wow, you're getting more creative with your descriptions, Y/N. You're right though, it's a sort of questionable outfit". You perk up at his response, hoping he'll change into something more colorful and less hole-adorned, only to be utterly disappointed, as Juyeon reached into the closet only to drape a black leather jacket on top of his broad shoulders. "Now we're good to go", he turns to you and winks with audacity. Brat, you scoff mentally and pick up the keys to unlock the door and finally leave your shared apartment.

"Finally! What the fuck took you so long?!", your friend Eric yells at you, trying to overcome the loud bass of the club speakers. "Your complaints to your friend over there, he was the one who took twenty minutes to get ready", you roll your eyes pointing to Juyeon, who was greeting Hyunjae and Kevin, your other friends. "Yooo, Juyeon, what's up with the collar, bro?", Eric amusingly points out. "It's a choker, you tasteless twat. But what would you know of fashion, since you only know how to wear t-shirts and ripped jeans?", Kevin comments and Juyeon mouths a 'thank you' to him. "Simple is the best, my dear friend. Besides, I've been getting all the girls, unlike you and your snake print jacket", Eric retaliates. "Excuse you, this jacket is a fashion statement!", Kevin bites back, feeling insulted. "Not gonna lie though, it does look like a collar. Will you put him on a leash too, Y/N?", Hyunjae comments in a snarky way, making Eric cringe in disgust. "Hyunjae, please go get some drinks, for God's sake", you reply with a dismissive manner. "Yes ma'am", he rolls his eyes and goes to the bartender.

You turn to Juyeon, who was extremely stiff after Hyunjae's comment. "You okay, baby?", you nudge him softly and he's brought back to reality. "Y-yeah, I'm fine, no worries", Juyeon replies, praying that the loud bass could cover his shaky voice. "Don't listen to Eric and Hyunjae, they have zero fashion sense, bro. I would wear that choker too, looks hella good on you", Kevin adds while pointing to the choker and Juyeon's smile is back on his face, "Thanks, bro, I really appreciate it", he replies with a chirpy tone.

The music suddenly changes into a slower jam and Juyeon smirks devilishly, as he winks at you and walks towards the dance floor. You watched as he starts swaying his hips and shoulders in the most smooth way possible, his half-lidded eyes never leaving yours. Eric and Kevin were whistling and cheering on Juyeon, all while Hyunjae was snorting at their antiques. You were simply lost in the image of your boyfriend dancing like there was no tomorrow. He wasn't just following the rhythm, he was riding it - and boy, was he good at doing so.

In fact, he was so good that he gained the attention of many people in the club. And you were lowkey proud, because that man was yours. However, a certain girl wasn't aware of that - hence why she approached Juyeon and started dancing with him. You were a bit jealous, not gonna lie, but the next moment made your blood fucking boil.

He had the fucking audacity to put his hands on her waist and dance with her - all while looking to you over her shoulder with the most smug expression on his face. That fucker, you mentally curse. This was definitely payback for everything you said before you left the house. You just knew it. You weren't even the jealous or possessive type of girlfriend to begin with.

But you'd be damned if you were to let a random bitch run her hands over your boyfriend.

Hyunjae catches up to your motions and he grabs you by your wrist. "Hyunjae, what the f-" "Shut up and listen to me. Going there and creating a scene will not end up well for you and you will give Juyeon exactly what he wants", he states and his words hit home faster that you expected. "Since when did you become so perceptive?", you raise an eyebrow and he chuckles, "I have my moments too, Y/N". "So, since your brain decided to actually function tonight, do you have any idea?" you ask in defeat and Hyunjae starts pulling you to the dance floor by your hand, leaving Eric and Kevin completely baffled. He then pulls you into his chest and leans in your ear to whisper

"Just dance, Y/N".

A Cheshire cat-like grin spreads on your lips, as you catch up to his ulterior motive and you start dancing with Hyunjae, hoping that Juyeon will notice the two of you. "Don't think too much about it, it will happen naturally", he adds, "You're too stiff, Y/N, just relax and enjoy dancing".

His words actually succeed in making you relax and you sway your hips more comfortably, actually enjoying the slow jams echoing through the club speakers. Under the dim lights, you lock eyes momentarily with Juyeon, who was licking his lips and his gaze was a mix of lust and death glares, the last one directed to Hyunjae. "Told you it would work", he comments, "You owe me this one". "Shut the fuck up, Hyunjae", you spit back and he laughs.

However, his laughter is cut short by a very jealous Juyeon, who has grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Next time I see you dance with Y/N, I'll break your fucking kneecaps", he growls and Hyunjae takes a step back, "She's all yours, bro", he raises his hands in defense and returns to the table. Juyeon then turns to you, his blood still boiling with jealousy, as you watch him with a proud smirk.

"You find this funny, huh? Dancing shamelessly with my friend?", he clenches his jaw. You then thread a finger through his choker and pull him close to your face, making Juyeon gasp. "Funny? No honey, I'm fucking fuming right now, because you decided to act like a brat and put your hands on the first bitch that threw herself on you", you retaliate, your chill facade slipping away. A sickly sweet smile adorns Juyeon's face as he watches every single movement of yours. He lowers his head, his lips hanging mere centimeters over yours and he slyly pokes out his tongue to lick your lips, hissing at the wet feeling.

"You're so fucking hot when you're mad, baby".

That was the last straw.

"Get your stuff, we're going home", you announce and he flashes a toothy grin. "Yes ma'am", he replies almost immediately and you return to your friends' table. "Guys, we'll be leaving now, hope you enjoy the rest of the night!" you announce and Eric looks between Juyeon and you. "Do I want to know what's going on?", he questions and Kevin pats him on the back while shaking his head as in 'no'. You both bid farewell to your friends and you walk out of the club, jogging towards your car. Juyeon whips out the cars keys and he opens the door for you, his gentleman-like gesture a complete contrast to his previous bratty behaviour.

The ride back home feels like it lasted for hours, when in reality, it lasted only ten minutes - maybe it's your sheer desire to fuck your handsome boyfriend to oblivion. By the time you entered your shared apartment, your lips were on Juyeon's neck, your hands roaming his toned body and his arms wrapped around your waist.

"You love acting like a bratty slut, don't you?", you sneer at him and he releases a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, and so do you", he whispers and he trails kisses upon your neck and behind your ear, nibbling your earlobe. "Are you going to punish me for being a bratty slut?".

You thought you came right there and then, 'cause fuck, he is so hot like this.

"Is that what you want? Fine then, you'll get the punishment you deserve, slut", you hiss while gripping Juyeon's jaw, your manicured nails raking his porcelain skin, "Don't say I didn't warn you", you whisper into his ear and he releases one of the lewdest sounds you've ever heard in your life. "God, you're a desperate little bitch, aren't you, Lee Juyeon?", you ask while removing the detachable strap of your bag and clasp it on his choker, creating a make-shift leash. "Only for you, baby", he replies with a sultry voice and half-lidded eyes.

You pull him by the make-shift leash, and you push him onto the couch, where you settle yourself on his lap, his hard cock straining his already tight pants. You remove his shirt, exposing his chiseled body. Wasting no time, you attack his collarbones with your lips, trailing red and purple blotches on his soft skin. You bite the juncture of his neck teasingly and he releases breathy moans, making you chuckle. You grind your clothed core on his bulge, and the sweet friction makes Juyeon mewl again. He tries to reach for your crotch with his hand, but you stop him by pulling the leash, making him gasp.

"No sweetheart, no touching tonight", you chastise him, as you pull back to remove your clothes and his pants, leaving the both of you only in your underwear. Juyeon's bulge is even more evident now, the thin material of his boxers having a wet spot, due to his cock leaking pre-cum. The sight in front of you makes your own wetness pool in your panties - your boyfriend on a leash, his perfectly styled hair now disheveled, his upper torso covered in love bites, his muscular thighs fully spread and his cock straining against his boxers.

"Baby, fuck, please do something", he pleads with bleary eyes. "Lie down for me", you order and he's laid flat on his back with one swift motion, his desperation showing. You remove your underwear and place your naked pussy right in front of his face. He reaches for your thighs with his arms, but you slap them away. "I said, no touching", you say sternly, "But-", "You should have thought twice before touching that bitch with your hands. Now, be a good boy and use your pretty mouth", you demand.

Juyeon pushes his wet tongue into your heat without second thought and he's lapping up your juices like a starved man. You can't help but moan with satisfaction, having him under your control like that gave you a huge adrenaline rush. You raked your nails from his torso to the hem of his boxers, the sensation making him moan and momentarily halt his actions. You slap his left thigh to alert him and his cock twitches, the vibrations of his moans coursing through your body as well. Juyeon now flattens his tongue against your folds with a faster tempo.

"You like it when I spank you, huh? Naughty boy", you smirk and land another slap, this time on his right thigh. Juyeon retaliates by sucking on your clit harshly, making you yelp from pleasure and you feel him smirk against your pussy. You find the leash and tug it, pulling Juyeon's face even closer to your core. "Behave, or you'll sleep without cumming tonight", you warn him and he whines, but resumes his efforts nonetheless. "Good boy, k-keep it u-up", you stutter as you feel your high approach with each passing second. His tongue is alternating between circling your clit and pumping in and out of your hole, the squelching sounds creating a pornographic scene.

You scream as you cum on Juyeon's face, your whole body shaking, as he helps you ride out your orgasm with kitten licks. You pull yourself together and turn around to face him, as he nastily licks his lips to taste your essence. "Sweet like fucking candy", he comments, "Want a taste, baby?". You pull him by the leash and crash your lips on his, tasting yourself, as your tongues dance crazily in a battle of dominance. "You're still acting like a brat, but since you did as I said, maybe you deserve to cum after all", you state and bend down to remove his boxers and free his painfully hard erection.

"Y/N, stop fucking teasing already!", Juyeon whines again and you slap his thigh again, "Where did your manners go, baby?".

"Please, Y/N..."

"Please what?"

"Please use my cock to cum"

"Fuck, such a good boy", you moan and spear yourself onto his hard cock, the sudden stretch tipping between pain and pleasure. You give yourself almost no time to adjust and you start riding Juyeon like a mad woman. He pistons his hips in unison, pounding into you with a speed neither of your brains are able to register. You put your hands on his broad chest for support and he holds your hips with his hands so tight you might get bruises the next day. Neither of you are able to contain your obscene moans nor form coherent sentences, way too lost in pleasure and lust.

"Fuck, Juyeon, you're such a good boy, so good for me", "Only for you Y/N, shit- only yours", he groans and his hips start to falter, signaling his upcoming orgasm. "I-I'm close again, nngh..", you mewl as you feel your insides clench around his cock like a vice. "M-Me too, Y/N please let me cum, let me f-fill you up baby", "Oh God, yes, fill me with your cum, babe", you moan loudly.

Juyeon moans with you as he stills himself, his cock twitching uncontrollably and flooding your cunt with his hot cum, painting your insides white. You collapse on top of him, panting heavily, the both of you sweating and spent, laughing breathlessly. You muster all the strength you have left in you to remove the choker from Juyeon's neck.

"Oof, thank you baby", he nods, rubbing his neck softly. You swipe a few dark strands of his forehead. You notice the marks on his neck the choker left and you can't help but feel a little regretful. "Did I hurt you?", you ask sheepishly and Juyeon smiles softly and presses a kiss on your nose. "No baby, you were perfect. We should do this more often, actually. You look hella sexy when you take control", he teases and you playfully smack his chest.

"So you intend to dance with random girls in clubs?", you ask and Juyeon smirks,

"No, but I intend to be not such a good boy for you".

#juyeon smut #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon #the boyz smut #the boyz fanfics #tbz #would you look at that #another juyeon fanfic

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m-aster-of-spinjitzu · 3 years

Text

the hues of an empty sky

Missing memories, or having two of them for one moment - not quite the same, but if there's one thing Jay's leant over the last few weeks, it's that literally nothing makes sense anymore.

Or, some Skybound aftermath, Zane actually expressing emotions about his memory switch being turned off for all those years, and what was supposed to be a 'they tell everyone about the erased timeline' fic, but it turned into a 'two characters who barely interact on screen talk at like one am in the morning, and don't actually tell the other what exactly they're alluding to the whole time' fic that I wrote at like one am-

Also yeah, I realized too late that they split up to look for Wu after s7, we’re just gonna pretend that they waited a few days or something, idk anymore tbh, lol.

(I also didn't have time to edit - so please tell me where the typos are? 😂💛)

Word count: 4539

Prompt: crying, from @ninjago-bingo 's warm board.

Trigger warnings: the main character has a panic attack, and squeezes their fingernails into their hands once or twice but I think that's it.

*facepalms* also, guys, i’m so stupid - i literally just realized that this freaking CHANGES TENSE HALFWAY OHMYGOSH I- i don’t think it’s super noticeable, but ugh, apologies to anyone who actually thought my writing was good lol-

---

It's cold.

Bitterly, freezing cold.

The biting chill of the air is a bit strange for this time of year, but, heck, that's nowhere near the craziest thing that's ever happened to him - not by a long shot.

He sighs, squinting at the stars dotted liberally against the black canvas of the sky.

Cole had once joked that one of them might be the remains of their golden weapons, after they'd hurled the burning mass into the sky - in another alternate timeline; one that only existed in the memories of a certain few.

Gosh - that seemed like such a long time ago.

Wouldn't it be nice to go back to that time, when he'd still thought that their powers were the coolest thing ever - instead of despising them for all the responsibility and sacrifice that came with them? When one of his biggest worries was whether the girl he had a crush on liked him back - not wondering if his friends would survive the night?

"I did not expect to find you awake at this hour, Jay."

Reflexivity, he jumps back, his mind twisting his friend's gentle voice into the- the djin's triumphant, accented one.

You're supposed to be a ninja. What good are you if your friends can still sneak up on you?

"Geez, warn a guy before you sneak up on him! I almost fell off the Bounty!"

"My apologies. I was... surprised to find you awake at this hour," Zane answers. "What are you doing?" "Couldn't sleep. It's too cold," he confesses, not entirely a lie. Ninjago wasn't 'that' far from the Sea of Sand, but he'd grown up in a much warmer area - unfortunately resulting in his practically nonexistent tolerance to the cold. That never failed to stop Kai from teasing him about it, though. He doesn't mention the pressing weight on his chest, almost tangible - or how it constantly makes him feel. Like he's being dragged through the darkness of an empty sky, spikes of fear making everything so freaking terrifying- "You?"

"I have been analyzing my memories of Pixal, in the hope that it may lead me to her whereabouts. However, all my efforts have proved... unsuccessful," Zane answers wearily, shifting his gaze to the sky.

Oh- oh. They'd all be so caught up in the chaos of the last few weeks - hey, it's not like any of them had asked the universe to permanently be out to get them! - that they'd forgotten Pixal was still offline.

"Hey, I'm sure that she's still there somewhere," he says, earnestly. "After all - she wouldn't be your girlfriend if she didn't pull a vanishing act every now and again, eh?"

The question is punctuated with a laugh, but he doesn't say that he's a little worried about her too. They hadn't talked much, but-

I can't see one of my best friends find out that his girlfriend is dead, a quiet voice at the back of his mind points out. Well - been there, done that, wouldn't recommend, he thinks bitterly. Emotional breakdowns and frequent nightmares apply. Anxiety attacks are half off, too!

It's quiet for a few minutes, neither of them seeing a need to break the silence. The wind blows softly through the sails above them; gray wisps of cloud revealing a pale sliver of moonlight that paints the sky in its glow.

It should be a peaceful night: beautiful, calm, no one trying to kill them or destroy their city - for a change.

His hands won't stop shaking.

It should be a peaceful night, but, as usual, the world is too freaking unfair for that-

He hasn't even slept for a full night in weeks! Well, not since- since-

Don't think about it! That's only going to make it worse, duh-

"Are you alright, Jay?"

"Yeah- I- I'm good, thanks," he says quickly, ignoring the way his breathing keeps speeding up. FSM, not this-

Not for the first time, the world suddenly becomes too loud - too much. Every little thing, from trying to breathe properly or even walk- feels insurmountable, because, gosh, oh gosh, it's going to come crashing down if he even moves-

The memory starts off the same as it always does.

Rubble strewn over the temple grounds, his friends literally reduced to nothing more than statues. A shot that hit the mark perfectly, but perfectly shattered his world in the process.

A poison-splattered dress, a terrifying realization.

Her well-aimed joke, but one that never fails to sting every time. Gosh, why hadn't they just allowed her to join their team in the first place? Maybe they could've prevented this- this- whole situation, if they hadn't been so freaking egotistical-

And, again, he's overwhelmed by the sheer sense of helplessness, all his power and training and skills completely useless to one of the people he cared most about. FSM, if only I hadn't used my first w-request so carelessly! If only I'd been able to escape- or, or if only I'd been able to assemble the team faster! If only-

Despite being in what must've been unimaginable pain, she offers a strained smile - a sweet gesture that, ironically, feels like she's poisoning him, because- because FSM, this is all so wrong, it wasn't supposed to end like this-

He watches with horror as her eyes dull and she stills in his arms.

She's gone, FSM, she's gone and it's all my fault-

"Jay?" a voice asks, concern evident in their tone. Distantly, he registers that he's having a breakdown in front of one of his best friends - one of the things he'd been trying really hard to avoid.

Dang it.

"I-" he tries to say, but, great, he's breathing too fast to even get the stupid words out.

"Breathe in for four seconds," Zane says, softly.

Four seconds? Time has no meaning right now, narrowed down to, like - falling down a chasm, terrified of what's at the bottom, except the fear's all around, this- this... foreboding thing of his mind that keeps yelling that he needs to run, or fight, but he can't, can't-

Right. Four seconds.

You're okay, you're fine, no one's trying to hurt you or your friends. She's not dead.

But what if- what if they're being dragged out of this ship right now? What if it was all a dream, and she's dead anyway, because all of us were too stupid to come up with another plan, and none of us could even do anything when she-

After a little while, when he could breathe a little easier, and the fear didn't feel like it was slamming into him from every possible direction, he slowly opened his eyes. Shakily, he wiped a tear from his face - as if that would wipe away all the weeks that had, theoretically, never even freaking happened.

The sky comes back into focus - pinpricks of light against pitch black.

How was he going to come up with some sorta explanation without... well, explaining everything?

Great.

My nerves are frayed, and I have to lie to a walking lie detector - what could possibly go wrong?

"Are you alright?" Zane asks, his brows creased in concern.

"Heh heh, yeah. Probably just too many video games," he replies quickly, laughter a bit strained.

"You were muttering to yourself," his friend replies quietly. Ugh, trust the way-too-observant-nindroid to call him out on the remains of his facade. "If you do not mind me asking, what was 'all your fault'? I am sure that it was probably a misunderstanding."

You're the one who misunderstands everything, he thinks wearily, ignoring the part of him that yearns to tell someone else about... well, everything that's happened because of that stupid teapot. He's not one to keep secrets by nature, and it's been taking a bigger toll of him than he'd thought it would. Is this how Nya felt when she was still the Samurai? "It's- it's nothing, probably just nonsense."

"Are you sure? You seem... quite worried about something."

Dang it, were his hands still shaking? He presses his fingernails into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

He's talking to one of his best friends, FSM. Weren't friends able to tell each other anything?

"Do you think it's easier to forget? Better?"

He didn't even realize he'd asked a question until Zane's eyes widened in surprise.

A forest coated in snow, ice crystals dangling from the tree branches above their heads. Plenty of screaming - way too much, he reflects, couldn't they have been a bit nicer? It must've been pretty jarring to learn that you weren't human, or that your father had erased years of your life from your mind - in that weird underground treehouse. Those crazy tree monsters - and the realization that they all had much more power than they'd thought.

"N- nevermind," he stutters, fleetingly thinking of kicking the deck. "That's way too personal, you don't have to answer it-"

"I do not mind," Zane says, a bit sadly.

Oh.

Heck, his friend was way too nice.

They gaze up at the stars for a few minutes, not really seeing them - one drowning under the weight of too many secrets, the other, too many memories.

It's quiet - too quiet.

Ugh, he thinks, sighing, that sounds like something a low-budget horror movie would start with, cringey sound effects to match.

But the silence is a painful reminder of the days he'd spent tossing and turning in a cramped cell - nothing but his worries and the bruises on his leg from that stupid ball and chain keeping him awake.

He's been trying hard - maybe too hard - to avoid being alone, avoid being in a situation where they've gotta be quiet ever since then, because, dang it, his memories always seem to fill the silence, and they're always far more terrifying than they should be-

It's easier, in a way, to be mocked for his stupid jokes than it is to relive a single moment from those nightmarish few weeks.

Almost reflexively, he grasps for something to fill the quiet.

"Heh, this is a bit awkward. It's okay if you wanna leave-"

"I do not mind," Zane echoes, walking a bit closer. "It is not as if I need to sleep. But... I do not quite know what to think of your question."

There comes the answer - or a semblance of one at least, and it's the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You don't know?" he blurts out before he can even think of trying to filter the thought. Way to treat your friend who's been nothing but kind to you, Jay. "But you're- you're a nindroid! You know everything-"

"Pixal," his friend mutters softly, sighing, and the hurt, the fear, laced through the word makes something in his heart practically twist. He knows all too well what it feels like to be in that situation - even if, technically, it had never happened.

Then- "I wish that were true. But I suppose that my emotions make certain situations much more complicated than... than they need to be. Thus I cannot give my perspective on this - or, at least, without sounding quite conflicted."

"You know that you're allowed to be conflicted, right? Even the coolest Nindroids don't know everything."

"...Yes, I suppose so."

Jay frowns at the almost subconscious hesitation, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Seriously," he starts earnestly. They're both leaning on one of the railings just above the deck now. "Just 'cause you're a nindroid doesn't mean that you've gotta chase some kind of perfection that doesn't even exist."

He doesn't miss how Zane's eyes widen in shock, their bright blue hue glowing a little brighter - and heck, if that doesn't hurt even more than the earlier realization.

"Besides - it's not like none of us haven't made mistakes before. Hate to go all Wu on ya, but they help us learn or some stupid thing like that. Even if the mistake is trying not to make 'em, you know?"

"Thank you," Zane replies, a tired smile on his face. "Even the most advanced tech is susceptible to error, I suppose."

They've all made lots of mistakes, heaven forbid if one of them is still agonizing over messing up over the crazy situations the universe constantly put them in. It's not like they were told they'd have to face more ancient evil armies than they could count, were they?

Maybe it's time to stop focusing on events that never even happened, and pay more attention to your friends. What's the point of being part of this team if you're always scared or selfish?

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. What's the point of fighting if your own brain is gonna fight you whenever it gets a chance? A few seconds later, he schools his face back into his default anxious grin. "Great, cause I- I- could use your advice on something." "Alright," comes the quiet reply, his friend seemingly lost in thought.

"What if you wanted to tell someone something, but you couldn't?"

His breathing starts to speed up again, but he grips the deck until his fingers are practically bruised, stark white against his tanned skin. Not this time-

"Is this what you were referring to earlier? An event that you blamed yourself for?" Zane asks, eyes flitting between the floor and the sky.

Dang it, way too observant as usual. He masks his surprise with a laugh, but the conversation definitely isn't going as planned and, oh gosh oh gosh, what if-

No, there's no way that any of them would even believe that. Besides - no one can remember stuff that they've forgotten, especially if magic's at play.

"Yeah, kinda," and he's surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It's not easy to even think about that- event, talking about it is a whole different thing. A much more difficult thing, but also - a bit, a little bit, easier. "I-" "Apologies for interrupting," his friend interjects. "I suppose that I have not been entirely honest with you." What?

"A few days ago, I discovered a number of deleted memory files buried deep within my code."

Just like that, his whole world tilts out from underneath him.

It takes every ounce of his strength to keep himself from falling into the abyss again.

Wait, what?

Has he really known for all this time? It's been weeks! Surely he would've said something? It can't be, it never even-

The rational part of his mind points out that he can remember every day of those few weeks. Well, he was the one to make the wish - magical logic is kinda stupid, but maybe that's why he had to remember it or something?

Well then, a small voice interjects, why was Nya cursed to remember everything too?

Of course, even the stupid magical logic doesn't even make sense to the one who caused this whole mess in the first place.

"They were almost entirely corrupted - scrambled in a way that I am not familiar with. However, I did realize that certain files bore dates that have not even occurred yet. I dismissed it as a problem with my code, however..."

Breathe, calm down, it's not like he was able to process them or anything-

We agreed that no one was supposed to know! What if they end up blaming us for keeping it a secret this long, or, or-

"I mean, they could've been-" he starts, but the way in which he's nervously twisting his fingers is a pretty clear indication that he's lying, dang it.

"So when you mentioned that you were unable to tell someone something - did you mean that it was because they had quite literally forgotten about it?"

Great. Fantastic. Of course the literal robot has pieced it together by now-

He squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, hoping that if he ignores the problem, maybe it'll go away.

Okay, fine, maybe he's trying to figure out a way to fix this whole mess. Doesn't mean that he's any closer to coming up with a solution, though.

"Er, yeah," he whispers, shoulders slumped, eyes still firmly shut. Because gosh, he doesn't want to - can't, can't - see the realization dawn that, yeah, he's lied to people he's known for years and years, even though they've all seen way too many times that secrets bring nothing but trouble-

"Well, then - I would say that you don't have to tell them," Zane replies, surprisingly... earnestly? That, or he's either too freaked out to understand the tone properly. Could be either.

He opens his eyes, hesitantly.

And it comes as a bit of a shock to find nothing but concern reflected in his friend's.

The almost persistent weight on his chest feels a little lighter now, like the sky isn't as quite so empty.

Well, it still kinda is. But that doesn't hold as much weight as he'd thought it did - not if one of his friends is willing to look past that; past the heaviness of holding up all those memories with nothing his single star, flickering in and out of the darkness, to try and light the unforgiving darkness of the sky.

"Why?" Jay asks, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. "Don't I owe it to them? Do you?"

"No. Definitely not," comes the reply, so full of conviction that he almost stumbles back. Why-

"My father..."

Oh- oh.

"thought it was better to spare me the pain of mourning him than for me to know who I was," Zane confesses, hesitantly. "Not that I disagree, necessarily. I just..."

He trails off, clutching the railing so hard that the wood almost snaps beneath his titanium fingers.

It takes Jay a little while to realize why - why exactly his friend, who has access to a wealth of knowledge and information, is grasping for an answer. Because- because, well, even if someone does something in your best interests - sometimes the choice isn't always up to them. Or maybe it is, but it was... difficult, to say the least, to let go of the fact that his parents had never told him the truth sooner. Not that he blames them, necessarily - it's not like they knew that his father would pass on before he'd even get the chance to meet him - but... it's confusing, and difficult, not to know why you were left at a junkyard as soon as you were born. Maybe if he'd known that sooner, he could've asked the one person who might've had answers - although it's not like hoping for the past to change will actually change it.

They don't even know that you know, a small voice at the back of his mind points out, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense-

"You wanted a choice," he breathes, eyes widening. A choice - like one that he'd never been given, one that he stills struggles not to hold against two people who've always had his best interests at heart. Even if they did have the right to withhold that one thing, after all they've done for him - the 'what if's' still echo in his mind far more often than he'd like. "There's nothing wrong with that, even if it feels that way. I kinda get where you're coming from, dude, and it's... super confusing, but I'd be pretty mad if my memories were tampered with like that."

So would anyone, he realizes, heart sinking. Oh, great. Not helping-

"I- I suppose so?" Zane answers, but it sounds more like a question than a reply. "However, in the same vein, it would be unwise for you to give away your choice whilst you still have one." "But don't I owe it to everyone? You just said it, it's horrible to alter people's memories and I- I-" "Did we forget... whatever it was for a good reason? "I- I mean, I guess, but..." "Then you do not owe it to us to relive something that we do not even remember." The words should be a relief - and they kinda are. But some part of him really does want to explain the crazy alternate timeline, and everything that happened in it. It's just... really, really freaking difficult.

"What if- what if I wanted to, though?" Jay asks hysterically, running his hands through his hair in a frenzied sort of way. "And I still couldn't? I just, I-"

He cuts himself off with a bout of forced laughter.

Zane takes a moment to reply, the bright blue light in his eyes flickering - a small tell that he was thinking so deeply, his processors were literally sparking up a bit.

"You queried earlier if it was easier, or better, to forget. And while all situations are different, I suppose it is... well, subjective. What do you think?" Zane asks, softly.

Derailing the conversation a bit, but his friend's obviously smart enough to be leading up to something.

Sure, he'll go along with it.

"I mean, there are some things I'd rather forget, you know? I guess we all know what that feels like," Jay replies, the statement with oddly sad air to it. They're still kids, after all, and it gets a bit exhausting pretending that their superhero lives were all fun and games - when they'd just given him enough grey hair to last then lifetimes, and enough nightmares to keep him from ever getting the normal amount of sleep his mum always prattled on about.

Sleep, heh heh. Practically a foreign concept, now.

"And I know that stuff that happens, like shapes us or something - and Master Wu would probably go off on a whole ramble about why we learn from our mistakes or whatever," he laughs nervously, resisting the urge to just fall headfirst onto the deck of the stupid ship instead of continuing the conversation," and how 'our scars only make us stronger', crap like that, but I just-"

"I'm just really... tired of this," he confesses warily, shoulders slumped. "W- I remember so many horrible things, and I-" he breaks off, laughing bitterly. His voice takes on a sort of brittle quality, way too high pitched, "and I can't even talk about them, dude. If that's not the most pathetic thing ever, I dunno what is."

"It does not-"

"Don't say it," Jay mutters, rubbing his temples. "I know, I know, my feelings aren't pathetic, they're always valid, whatever, spare me the lecture-"

"That is not what I was going to say," Zane replies gently. "It just seems that you have answered your own question."

"Gee, which one?"

"I do not know how much helpful assistance I can provide in this situation, but it is understandable to wish certain events had never occurred. However, seeing as we cannot change the past, it seems unwise to dwell on said events if you can avoid it."

Jay stiffens, clamping a shaky hand over his mouth. Something seems to press down even harder on his chest, a heavy sort of weight that causes his breathing to speed up again. Don't say it don't say it there's no reason to warn them this time-

"If you would like to tell any of us about something, of course you are welcome to. It does not to be the whole story, after all. Just make sure that it is the decision you choose, not one you choose because of what you think how it will affect others," Zane finishes quietly, ducking his head as if he's embarrassed.

The stars are still white-hot, burning away some million miles above them.

"Thanks," he says, and puts his hand softly on Zane's shoulder. "I mean, I know - that all makes sense, I guess. It's just- I-"

"You want to?"

"Yeah," Jay starts, sighing, "I do. It's just- it's not just my choice. And I'm pretty much dying already right now, so, as fantastic as making it all worse sounds, hard pass."

Oops, maybe he shouldn't have said that last bit. They'd agreed not to tell anyone about it - even this conversation was cutting it way too close. It wasn't impossible for them to put everything together - they were a pretty smart group, after all, even without their resident inventor and engineer - and Jay didn't really know what he'd think if they did. Fearful? Relieved? Angry?

"That does... not sound great? Dying certainly does not seem-"

"It's called sarcasm, Zane."

"Oh- yes. My memory now accesses the fact that people often speak in that manner. It does seem a bit counterproductive, though. Why not just say what you mean?"

"Shut it, you have no clue how integral to my life it is," Jay replies with a halfhearted grin.

A few seconds later, he remembers something his friend had mentioned earlier, and the grin disappears.

"You know that you can talk to us if you're not happy, right?" he asks, earnestly. Sure, it's not like he could always do that, considering, well, a stupid djin and even stupider magic, but it's not like he needs to. It's- well- he'll be okay, probably. Maybe. Kinda.

Zane's eyes blink on and off again, blue fading in and out. "I... I suppose that I was not quite aware of that."

Okay, they've screwed up way too many times, but this... this is pretty bad. Dang it, how long does it take for them to throw self-preservation instincts at their friend before he freaking- picks them up or something?

"However, will it not hurt those who have experienced the same unfortunate events?"

Dude, not the best question to ask someone wondering the exact same thing-

"It's been... uh, nice, kind of, talking to you. So- I don't think so, and I'm pretty sure someone would say so if it did. Besides, don't we talk about our adventures all the time? It'd probably be better if we... uh, well- heh heh, nothing."

"If we talked about the less than positive elements of them? Perhaps, but I still-"

Maybe it's the fact Zane has always tried to be there for him, or maybe he's too sleep deprived to care anymore, but this is a way too familiar situation and-

Well, not ignoring the issue would be a start.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we're family, Zane. We care about each other. And, gosh, that means that we care about you too. Memories are stupid and annoying sometimes, but we have to make good ones too, right? To block out the bad ones a bit, I guess? Kinda, at least."

They both look away from the stars now, grappling for something else to say.

In the end, they leave it be with a hug and a fondly exasperated warning about sleeping, if you happen to need it.

After all, they're family. They don't have to be perfect, or tell each other everything - even if it does take them a long time to realize that, and an even longer time remembering it.

---

The next time Jay startles awake from a nightmare, the sky is still empty - painfully so, like an ache that simmers beneath the surface even when it's not able to be seen.

The hue, though, is a little lighter.

Just a little - the all-encompassing darkness of it is now a navy sort of blue, his star shining a little bit brighter.

It's still not sunrise, not even close - but he'll take it. AN: the ‘sky’ mentioned at the start and end is a stupid metaphor that i somehow ended up liking too much to trash, it’s ‘empty’ because he hasn’t told anyone about the timeline, and Nya’s not included because they never had a chance to tell each other everything significant or even talked about it or processed it on screen. so yeah! if you read this,,, not great thing, can i send you a hug or good vibes or smth? tyy🥺

#ninjago #jay walker #zane julien #skybound #ninjago fic #not the best thing i've written #actually it's not great-#but i spent too long on it to not post it so if you actually read to here i simunltaneously wanna send you good vibes & apologize profusely-#the ending is super rushed but im too tired to try and write a better one yay:/#also dang it- sorry this fits the prompt so badly i-#i didn't realize till after oops #ninbingo #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago masters of spinjitzu

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saphirered · 3 years

Text

The Lovers

Spoilers for Campaign 2 Ep141

Man oh man oh man. I've had this one written since the day after the last episode but I've been soooooo hesitant to post it at all 🙈. Anyway... I'm just gonna regardless because it's just sitting there staring at me to either delete or post it 🤭. I hope you enjoy because I'm still so conflicted about his piece of writing 😅. Unless people actually like it I might just end up deleting it after all.

---

Jester had asked you to come along on another journey of the Nein Heroez. She needed your expertise for something but couldn’t get across what for within the twenty-five word limit. Regardless, the opportunity to see and travel with your friends is not one you’re just going to pass on so of course you happily made your way to Nicodranas. Maybe the ocean would do you some good. It’s been a while after all.

In the first few days of your journey Jester had been keeping a close eye on you, watching your responses and reactions. Specifically your reactions to any and all interactions with a certain lavender tiefling. When she was certain your responses to the tiefling in question were not in any way negative and cordial if not friendly you found yourself being paired with him more often than not. Watch, hoisting the sails or dropping them, food shifts and even at the helm a few times.

You caught an argument between Fjord and Jester a few weeks later. Fjord was defending you and telling Jester she couldn’t just play matchmaker after everything that had happened between the previous inhabiter of Kingsley’s body and you and how it might still be a painful subject of not once but twice being faced with someone that’s not the person you loved and lost.

Jester seeing reason in Fjord’s arguments put aside the love story she’d been trying to unfold with you and the poor tiefling as her main characters. The shifts you shared with Kingsley came to a close and would be no more often than any shifts shared with anyone else on the crew.

One day the Nein Heroez made port to stock up on some supplies after being hit by a storm and running short on food. The crew was given some downtime to enjoy the many pleasures port has to offer but you decided to stay back at the ship. You asked Jester for the cards.

You’re sitting crosslegged on the docks watching the sunset as the crew leaves in groups bidding you goodbye while they go. Once the majority of them have left you take out the cards and begin laying them in certain patterns starting with simple ‘yes/no’s onto the past present future and more complicated readings. You’re not paying attention to any particular results but instead study the drawings fondly.

“You’d call me a sentimental fool.” You snicker as the fool card is revealed in front of you.

“Sentimental? Yes. A fool? I’ve yet to decide.” You turn around at the familiar voice seeing the tails of the black sleeveless coat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing around. You pick up the cards and put them back in their order stacking them.

“Oh really? You’d think a few weeks of being not so inconspicuously paired together on any task possible would give you enough time to form an opinion on that?” You tease beginning a new read.

“Maybe that makes me the fool then.” You can almost hear the smirk in his words.

“Care to find out?” You put down card by card face down. You know how to push for certain results. A trick you’d picked up from your former lover. It feels right to use it against him in a strange twisted way like this. Not really him but close enough.

Kingsley sits down to the side, not trusting you to not push him off the docks if he were to make an offensive (in jest of course) remark. Gathering the cards back up you start over. Time for a bit of fun. You push for the first card setting it down face up in front of him.

“The owl and the bear. Some might say the most deadly combination when put together. Be watchful of the owl’s words or you might find yourself at the ends of the bear’s claws.”

“So it was a good idea to sit on this side and avoid meeting my waterlogged demise.”

“Are you doubting my capabilities, Kingsley?” You smirk and watch the tiefling gulp. You move on to the next card making a show of pulling it from the deck and displaying it.

“Look at that! What did I say. The fool has appeared. The cards have spoken. my fool.” You take a bow as if addressing the most pretentious royalty around limited only by your crosslegged position on the docks. Kingsley can’t help but let out a chuckle at your theatrics.

“The cards have spoken indeed! A fool I must be.” He plays along. You begin picking up the two cards and restack the deck.

“Hey hey hey, isn’t there supposed to be three cards for this one? Not two?” You stop. He’s not wrong technically. You raise an eyebrow at him, fan out the cards and allow him to pull one from the deck as per the variant of this reading, putting the fate in the hands of the drawer. Not really of course. Usually you’d still be able to push for a card for them to draw but for this one you’d leave it up to the divines. You’ve had your fun.

And fun it was until Kingsley kept the card for himself, studying it closely. You were curious to see which one he pulled but you hadn’t exactly paid attention to that like you’d otherwise done. You wait for him to either give it back or tell you what it is but he takes a long time.

“So what is it?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. It still takes a good few seconds before he lowers the card so you can see it too.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to vocalise upon seeing the card. The Lovers. The familiar drawing of a lavender tiefling looking at another figure arm outstretched and love in their eyes. The image of the tiefling reaches for the outstretched hand of the other figure; your figure. You’re staring back at your own face and the expression Mollymauk had claimed to have plenty of visual references for to know he could properly draw you but would always ask for one more just to remind him.

“I’m so sorry.” Kingsley hands the card back to you and you keep staring at it. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re alright as you’re hit with a whirlwind of emotions. Once he’s sure you’re alright he begins to get up.

“I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening. Someone’s gotta make sure these fools drink just enough and start a brawl or two.” You snap out of it putting the card back into the deck.

“Kingsley. It’s alright. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” The whirlwind subsides and you return back to a peaceful state of mind. You offer the tiefling a kind smile and he halts himself sitting back down still somewhat tense. He opens his mouth to say something but is quick to close it again. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you shuffle the cards absentmindedly. You catch onto the conflict and hesitation in Kingsley’s features.

“If there’s something you wish to say please do say it.”

“When you said you loved him… I think it never registered it was anything other than the love the others held for him. Strongly yes but I always assumed it was akin to Yasha’s. Why didn’t you say anything?” Kingsley states piecing things together watching you closely.

“It’s not a burden for you to bear.” You pull the Lovers card back up to the top and study it closely.

“I might not know much but I don’t think being faced with your dead lover’s body inhabited by someone not him doesn’t bother anyone. That’s just cruel.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore. I’ve grieved Molly when he died. I grieved him again when Lucien returned. I’ve gone through it all and accepted he’s not coming back and that’s okay. Everything comes to an end at some point. I don’t think it’s cruelty. I think everything is as it should be.” You speak honestly stroking your thumb over the card.

“I have so many questions.” Kingsley states. You get it. He woke up one day, recovering from death not knowing who he is or was before that moment beyond emotions and flashes of a past that didn’t feel like his. That’s exactly why you wanted to spare him another previous relation to figure out. Yes it might make things slightly more difficult for you but that’s not his fault. That’s no one’s fault.

“And I believe Beau gave you her notebook so you can read back about your predecessors. But you’re not ready for that yet, are you? That’s okay. Don’t read it until you feel ready.” Kingsley’s head shoots up to look at you. Why do you understand him? Maybe you’re wiser than he gives you credit for but he thinks you’re already pretty wise.

“Expectations. Everyone expected something of me but I didn’t live up to it. I’m not who he used to be and that disappoints people. But from you, you never expected anything from me. Why?” He’s piecing it together bit by bit. You never slipped up. Never asked him to put on a coat that wasn’t his or asked him if he remembered something. You never even asked him if he recalled anything about you or sought to involve yourself in his life without his permission.

“It’s unfair to expect someone to be or become someone they’re not and never will be. You get to be your own person free of the constraints of the past.” The answer is simple. There’s no deceit or doubt. No hidden message or intent behind it.

“How is it you of all people can say that without pain or regret or wishing it were different?” You turn the card back around and put it back in the deck in its place and put the cards away. You take a second before answering trying to formulate a proper answer as Kingsley waits studying every micro expression.

“Bear with me for this one.” You start and he nods. “Lucien was born lonely forced to fend for himself and make friends out of the need to survive. Molly rose from a grave alone and scared. He was taken in by friends but he had to find a home his home with them. He found that home and got kindness and love. You awoke surrounded by friends, no family you didn’t even know but would still love you regardless. No matter what, you’d always have a home with them. You’d be neither alone nor lonely unless you choose to be.” You explain and take breath before you continue.

“You plant random seeds in the ground it’s very unlikely you’re going to receive the same flower twice. The only similarity they have is that they are seeds and will grow as long as they have the right foundations to do so. When I look upon you I see Kingsley Tealeaf, a man that became a sailor after we brought him back from the Astral Sea. There may be similarities, your roots may even be the same but you are not the same. You are separate.”

Kingsley takes in your words very carefully with a sense of understanding and something with in him he couldn't quite pinpoint until now. Acceptance and content. Whatever might have been holding him back before, he’ll have to come to terms with that. That’s the past and if the past comes searching for him one day, so be it. Until then, Kingsley Tealeaf has a life of his own to live and to enjoy. Enjoy all life has to offer, to its fullest and don’t hold back.

Let the sailor become captain of his own ship knowing he has a home and a family that will welcome him with open arms to return to. Let the eight be nine despite the expectations of others. Be free and be happy. Live content.

#critical role spoilers #critical role #critrole x reader #critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #kingsley tealeaf #kingsley x reader

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

I have this multichap WIP in the works for ages and now thanks to @sunshine-marauders' prompt ("Insecure James") I finally got around posting the first day!

Read on AO3 or below:

____________

Not a bad day

Chapter 1 - Not a bad game day

The moment the portrait closed and all sounds of the party vanished, James let the smile slip out of his face and his hands grabbed his hair nervously, fighting back a will to just tear them away.

Ten points.

In his first match as Quidditch captain, Gryffindor won by ten points.

It had never happened before in all twelve matches James had played; James remembered easy winnings, even in that match last year that he had to play as Seeker when Godfrey had broken his arm the night before the match, but back then they had a decent captain. Or two, because the Prewett twins were co-captains and they knew how to be a captain.

He’d thought he had done everything right. He had trained with the other chasers, making sure they worked as a team; he’d instructed the keeper in how to detect and avoid any tricks, sharing with him even James' secret manoeuvres. He’d practised with the two beaters, spent afternoon days with them with himself as their target and James had been to the Hospital Wing with two broken ribs, but he was certain the beaters could hit any target. And James had spent even more hours with the new seeker, developing all skills that were already there and making sure she was confident enough.

And then everything had crumbled in the first ten minutes of the match.

James had called for two time-outs and had talked to his team, bestowed upon them his best confident charm, but nothing seemed to work; and despite his words, he was equally lost. He didn’t know if he should try to redirect his team or make sure they had enough goals to not matter if they lost. If he wasn’t the captain, he would be scoring as many as possible — but everyone was looking at him in search of an answer he didn't have and the narrator was gladly commenting about every mistake Gryffindor was making and…

And a miracle had happened when Vance had caught the snitch, but James knew it had been more an accident than actual talent.

He hadn’t said anything about it though. His team — his carefully chosen and well-trained players — knew the match had been horrible and James didn’t have the spirit to let them down even more. So he had done his captain duty: he had praised everyone for whatever he could (‘That pass was amazing, Jones. You almost hit that bludger perfectly, Merryweather. Spectacular diversion of that bludger, Vance), and he had congratulated them for the victory.

None of the Gryffindors seemed to think anything was amiss. The victory party was raging when the team arrived — loud music and bottles of butterbeer all around. Sirius was drinking something that definitely wasn’t butterbeer and James had been tempted to lose himself too, but he had passed.

He had expected to drink to celebrate, not to drown away his misery.

After a while, he had just risen and left the Common Room quietly. With luck, his friends would just think he had left to celebrate with someone or had fallen drunk behind some couch.

The halls were quiet and empty, which James considered a small blessing. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any joke about his performance as captain or even worse, any compliment about it.

He just wanted to be left alone to brood, really, and to think how everything had gone so wrong.

He found an empty classroom to sit in, watching the sun shining over the surface of the lake. The good thing was that the game lasted only one hour — the bad side of it meant it was still early and the party would last until nightfall. He wondered if he could just hide there all day — probably not, James thought as his stomach rumbled. He just wanted that horrible miserable day to end.

James lasted another thirty minutes until he agreed that he needed something to eat. The only question was if he would rather risk going to the kitchen or back to the Common Room — if people started clapping his back again, James was sure he would just throw up. What he needed, really, was to go to Professor McGonagall and return the captain badge so she could pin it on anyone else — and then he would be free to do what he was good at, that was scoring goals without worries about what everyone else was doing.

The Common Room, James decided. From there he could just slip back to his bed and then pretend he was too drunk and just try to sleep. Anything to end that day, to pretend it had never happened at all.

He left the classroom absently, and he was closing the door when he heard a voice that made him jump.

‘Potter?’

His hand went to his hair, in a gesture that was more reflex than anything. There were a lot of reflexes that James couldn’t help whenever he heard her voice — such as that redness that came to his neck or the way his heart beat faster whenever Lily Evans was around.

Mostly the last one.

And especially when he turned around and his eyes found Lily Evans standing in the middle of the hall, watching him leaving the classroom. She was still dressed in Gryffindor colours: wearing the uniform lazily, the tie hanging undone around her neck over two open buttons of her shirt; her face was painted with two lines of red and gold in each cheek, and her red hair was combed in two braids that were lined with golden flecks. He felt he could stay there watching her forever.

Good Godric, she was beautiful.

James refrained from sighing.

‘Hi, Evans,' he said, and his voice did that melodious thing that always happened when he was near her.

James really wished he could talk to Lily Evans as if he was a normal human being, but his body was always full of reactions when it came to her, no matter how much he tried to control them.

He was trying to forget her after all. Evans had already made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him — which was becoming more evident now as she watched him with a sudden suspicious expression, her eyes narrowing.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Going back to the Common Room?’ he answered, feeling a little unsure. There was something about Evans that always made him feel guilty as if she could find the worst faults in him.

Even when he wasn’t doing anything wrong such as now.

‘You left the party,' mumbled Evans, still sounding accusing as if he had no right to leave in the first place.

‘So did you,' James smirked, which he knew wouldn’t work with Evans but he had to try anyway. ‘What are you doing, Evans?’

‘Patrolling,' she answered easily, pointing to the prefect badge pinned on her robe, in the same place James had his captain badge pinned. ‘Which is why I get to ask what you were doing alone in an empty room — oh.' Evans looked away from him, an annoyed expression crossing her face. ‘You weren’t alone.'

‘What?’

‘No one is supposed to enter classrooms without permission, you know that, Potter,’ reprimanded Evans, ignoring him. ‘I will have to report it to Professor McGonagall.'

‘Ah, come on,' James complained, the unfairness of it making him grimace. ‘I can’t even brood alone without getting detention? Really?’

Evans blinked.

‘Alone? I thought — you left the party, and Vance too and — brooding?’ She paused, watching him with concern now, which James realized was even worse. On top of all his failures, he also didn’t need Evans’ pity. ‘What happened, Potter?’

‘Nothing.'

‘You look like someone stole the last piece of chocolate tart that you always pick up first at dinner — really, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be celebrating your victory?’

‘Just let go, Evans,' he asked, turning away from her and walking down the hall. He could hear her rushed steps after him.

‘Potter —'

‘I am a crappy captain, is that what you wanted to hear?’ he cried, turning around to face Evans. He hadn’t noticed how close she was, but for once James didn’t let this thought distract him. ‘I had one job that was to keep the team working and I screwed it up.'

‘Butt —’ Evans looked really confused. ‘But Gryffindor won.'

‘By ten points. We needed a good margin of points to not depend on the result of other games and now we have to double our work —’

‘You still won,' she insisted, watching him closely and there was no pity or annoyance on her face now. ‘Winning by ten points is better than losing by ten and, be honest, even if you had won by a thousand points, would it have made a difference?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A victory by a giant margin — would you have relaxed your efforts with the team? Would you stop working so hard with Matt and Lucy? Or stop all those night meetings with Emmeline?’

James blinked slowly, not understanding what Evans meant by that. Of course he would keep trying to improve his team.

‘No.'

‘And if Gryffindor could lose by three hundred points and still win the Quidditch Cup — would you want the team to play poorly?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘So, Potter.' Evans crossed her arms like she had done a thousand times before at him but James didn’t think she was exasperated this time. ‘This one match doesn’t change anything. You still have work to do with your team.'

James shifted the weight from one foot to another, thinking. Evans was still watching him, her green eyes giving him the impression that she could see every thought unfolding in his mind; she didn’t look surprised when he nodded.

‘I guess the game wasn’t so bad. I mean, there is room for improvement, but now I saw everyone’s weakest points and I can work with that.'

‘Exactly, captain,' Evans said, and James dared to think there was a teasing note in her voice, one that he’d heard her sharing with others but never with him.

He fought very hard his desire to grin.

‘Ready to go back to the party?' she asked.

'Yeah. And you?'

He tried not to sound too hopeful. Considering Evans didn't look repulsed by his question, James thought he had been successful.

'It was a little boring,' Evans said, shrugging. 'I don't know, I expected it to be more fun.'

'It's because I wasn't there,' James teased, but this seemed the wrong thing to say. Evans took a step back, frowning; panic flooded him and he added hurriedly: 'I mean, who left Sirius in charge of the music? He grew up with classical music.'

Her expression softened.

'Maybe you could tap the radio to Muggle stations? Like you did last year?'

James fought to keep a neutral face. She had noticed he was the one that did it, then? He'd thought Evans was too mad at him back then — during all that party, James had tried to draw her attention, certain that him leading Gryffindor to the victory would make Evans want to go out with him, but she had refused to even glance in his direction.

But she had noticed his charm.

'I could,' he replied slowly. 'It is much better to dance.'

'Yeah,' she agreed and then Evans smiled at him.

She smiled. At him. On purpose. That warm glorious smile that had first attracted him years ago, long before he knew what it meant.

His heart was doing full acrobatics dancing steps inside him now.

'Are you going back too?' he asked, desperately willing himself to look normal, though his hand wanted very much to comb his hair — or touch her braids, he wasn't sure.

Evans bit her lip, looking down the corridor that led to the Astronomy Tower.

'It's Saturday,' James added as charmingly as he could, his voice again melodious and nice. 'Do you really need to be patrolling today?'

'Actually… no, I wasn't scheduled. It's just —'

'The party was lame, I know.' She looked back at him; it was difficult to concentrate under her gaze, but James had to try. 'But still better than patrolling empty halls, I’d say.

He tried that puppy look he always saw Remus using when he wanted something; at least it should be more efficient than his confident gaze that Evans never seemed to find amusing. But she took one look at his face and she averted her eyes quickly, looking suddenly flustered.

'Well, it wasn't my schedule anyway,' she agreed, walking next to him in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. 'And I could use a drink.'

'Sirius' version or the normal butterbeer?'

'What's in his version?' Evans asked, and James could hear the amusement in her voice as if she was already predicting his answer.

'Probably not butter, only beer — and worse.'

She let out a giggle. James pretended the sound did not fill his heart with hope and joy.

'I will stay out of his version then. I would like to remember this day tomorrow.'

James thought of sharing a smile and a decent conversation with Evans — she had noticed he always saved a chocolate tart for himself? Or that he had charmed the radio to play Muggle songs? And she was actually going back to the party because he had asked? — and decided he would like to remember that day too. It had not been that bad.

_________

#jily #jily fanfiction #sixth year jily is my guilty pleasure #not a bad day

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redwingstan · 3 years

Text

Elevator Talks

Loki x Reader Insert

➽Summary: In which you and Loki are in the elevator together while in the process of helping Thor, Bruce Banner, and Valkyrie escape from Sakaar (this takes place during Thor: Ragnarok, obviously).

➽Pairing: Loki x Reader

➽Word Count: 1397

➽Warnings: Conversational fluff and regular fluff

➽Author’s Note: This is my first MCU reader insert so go easy on me. I went based off of two clips from Ragnarok when writing this—I haven’t seen the entire movie in a while so majority of the background details are based off my memory.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“This isn’t going to work.”

You and the god of mischief entered the elevator. You said nothing as you faced the transparent windows that displayed the repulsive looking planet known as Sakaar. It was a mess—a conglomerate pile of desecrated trash—yet you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. But what did you expect? After all, you found yourself attached to the most unwanted things; the most neglected things.

“You can’t honestly believe this is going to work,” Loki said. He paced back and forth, the elevator slightly shaking as it descended at a mild speed. "I mean, seriously."

You gripped onto the metal bar to keep yourself steady, your knuckles taut.

“Loki—”

“I say we abort this...operation—tell the Grandmaster—and pretend this never happened."

You turn your back to the transparent windows and face him. He's still pacing, his boots shuffling against the floor. A couple of floors from now, you both planned on creating a diversion in an effort for Thor, the Grandmasters's champion, and Valkyrie to escape.

"You wouldn't do that," you say. You purse your lips and shake your head subtly as if to convince yourself of that. "Besides, it's about time you left, too. You could go with them, help them.”

Loki scoffed. "And what, if anything, will I gain in helping my brother, Lady Y/N?"

He stops a couple of feet in front of you, a perplexed expression on his face as he impatiently waits for your response.

Although there was plenty of space between you two you found yourself leaning against the rail behind you. You cross your arms and smile and shrug. "A clear conscience," you say. "And my utmost respect."

"Ah, yes. A clear conscience and the priceless respect of a horrible gambler—a bad one at that. It's all anyone could ever ask for," he replied sarcastically with an added eye roll.

Briefly, you narrow your eyes at him before glancing off to the side, avoiding his smug expression.

For two weeks, although it felt like a lifetime, you had resided on Sakaar. It wasn't by choice—considering your former home had fallen victim to persecution. Ironically, it was a miracle you had stumbled onto this trash planet that had grown to become your temporary home. You never had the courage to leave despite your distaste for the Grandmaster and the heap of scrap metal that lay everywhere you went. You weren't quite sure where else to go though. Not now, anyways.

But there was one thing that had kept you from leaving. One person.

"I've offended you," he said matter-of-factly rather than apologetically, though his tone was nothing shy of teasing. “Again.”

You sigh, though no words surpass your lips. It was a personal game you played with him often. One in which you would give him the silent treatment when he struck a nerve with his sarcastic tone—which had taken a while for you to get used to.

The two of you are silent for a moment. Nothing but the sound of the descending elevator could be heard. You were surprised that he hadn’t attempted to prove his false accusation.

“I never cheated,” You said, breaking the silence. You turn to look at him and find him fiddling with one of his knives a few feet away, his back against the elevator’s wall. The elevator was soon to open. Your hand went to the laser attached to your hip.

A small smile appeared on your lips. You shook your head defiantly. “I can’t cheat in a situation I can’t control.”

You shift slightly on your feet and watch as he twirls the knife in his hand effortlessly while looking in your direction.

“That’s a dreadful lie,” he says, gripping the hilt of his knife and letting it hang by his side. “My brother lost—fair and square.”

You rolled your eyes, though can’t help but laugh. “Yes, right after the Grandmaster shocked him. It was unfair after that—you of all people should know that.”

“Need I remind you that I’m a god?” He never ceased to remind you of that.

“So I’ve heard,” You said. “A thousand times over.” You mumbled the last part under your breath.

It was times like these that you had forgotten Loki was a god, capable of mischief and manipulation. If anything, from the time you both spent betting on gladiatorial brawls, you found him to be more of a child than anything—one full of sarcastic one-liners and trauma who longed to be feared...or at least taken more seriously.

For a fraction of second you were convinced that it was his turn to be angry. He gave you a sideways glance, one that had the capabilities of making you cease your laughter.

But eventually that amusing smile returned ever so slowly. It was one of the many things you had to get used to as well.

“Very funny, Lady Y/N,” he eventually said.

He gave you another eye roll before pushing off the rail and resuming his pacing, the knife twirling between his fingers.

Over the past week—an eternity on Sakaar—you two had developed a friendship that you never thought you’d cherish. It was all you could’ve asked for after all you had been through. It took a while for the both of you to share parts of your past with one another, but you both did—even though you were both privy to the fact that the other had left out a significant amount of details for the sake of privacy and buried trauma. But you both had a mutual understanding, a boundary you didn’t cross.

“But in all seriousness,” You said, gripping your laser in hand. “I think it would be best if you helped your brother. From what you told me, he’s the only family you have at the moment.”

“Not by blood,” he reminded you.

He always grew annoyed by the subject of family, which was why you refrained from talking about it as much as you could. You were aware that he had been adopted, but he never spoke of the details thoroughly. You never asked.

“Family is family regardless of—”

You watched as he paused on the opposite wall, this time with both knives in hand.

“Do you want to see a trick?” He asked, cutting you off. He produced an awkward grin—one filled with remorse and apprehension.

You lifted a brow, though gave him a nod as if to accept his attempt at diverting the subject. Whenever he didn’t want to talk about something, he always found a way to make you smile—as if he were making up for not sharing. You never pushed him, though. You just simply accepted it and went along with it.

Before you could blink, there were two knives in his hands. In an effortless fashion he tossed them into the air. They flipped—one, two, three, four times before they’re caught. Loki looked at you, raising a brow as he waited for an applause. That “knife trick” had enthralled you since the first time he had done it carelessly. It wasn’t the trick itself that captured your attention, but the confident look he gave after he performed it. As if he were waiting for your approval.

Your eyes flicker to his, anticipating his accomplished grin to surface. Instead, you're met with a look of innocence and intrigue. You two locked eyes for longer than anticipated and momentarily you forgot where you were.

Your cheeks burned and you were certain his did too. It was the first time you had ever seen the god of mischief flustered.

“You’re not going to betray him, are you? Your brother,” You said once you looked away. Your eyes went to the wall next to you. You were determined to look anywhere but at him.

“Betrayal is what I do best,” he said.

You smiled gently and shook your head. “No.”

“No?”

“You’ve got some good in you deep down—albeit, very little—but it’s still there,” You said with a small grin just before the elevator doors opened. You pointed your laser towards a cluster of the Grandmaster’s guards. All you needed to do was make a clear path and secure one of the ships.

You rush past Loki and fire a shot or two. In the corner of your eye you catch his ghost of a smile before you both are making a clear for escape.

#lokistan #loki x reader #loki #thor ragnorak #reader insert #mcu reader insert #grandmaster #marvel reader insert #god of mischief #fluff #loki imagine #loki x you

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hongjoongtrasher · 3 years

Text

the beauty and the beast (chapter 1)

word count: 2k461

angst

series masterlist

Synopsis:

When you move to a new city due to your father's job, you don't expect to stay for a long and so decided not to get attached to the world around you.

But still, you are "the new girl", unwillingly attracting people's attention because of your family's background. Your strict father expects a lot from you, not to say perfection. And when you are sit next to a certain Jung Yunho, you didn't expect your life to take a radical turn

You don’t even remember when you stayed more than a year in the same city. It probably started around the age of 3, when your father got his promotion he wanted for so long. That’s how your family used to move every year, or even shorter than this. You don’t remember having a childhood friend, and worst, have you ever had friends ?

The unfamiliar view of the busy city at your window made you remember that once again, you had to unpack the few items you owned. You quickly discovered it was more a burden to drag along unnecessary things that would later be a pain in the ass to unpack and pack forever. Only school books, clothes and some other accessories were keeping you company in this new room. So impersonal, cold. But it would stay this way, since you knew you’d probably move on again in few months. While tidying your room, you heard a knock on your door, making you look at it to see your father.

« Y/N ? Can we talk for a bit ? » he asked, a poker face on.

« Yes father. »

Father. From the moment you could speak, he always told you to call him father. No dad, or affectionate pet names. It was just showing the gap that have been created so far between you both. Your mom ? You don’t even remember her face. You learnt from your grand-mother a long time ago that your parents got divorced when you were just a newborn. The reasons to this separation are staying difficult to know, but your father never talked about her in your presence. You always thought that somehow she didn’t want you, that was probably the best reason you could thought due to the lack of her tries to contact you for 17 years. So instead of a mom, you grew up with a nanny who was still living with you and your father. She was a sweet and caring person, always making sure you weren’t lacking anything. You owed her a lot, knowing she was the one who was basically raising you up, of course with the directions of your father.

You soon arrived in the large living room, as impersonal as the rest of the luxurious apartment your father got from his work. It was neutral as possible, but still anybody could notice the taste for luxury he acquired with the time. Trophies, some modern canvas you couldn’t even interpret, a large TV with home cinema etc. Your father was sitting in his black leather armchair, in his usual white shirt and black suit. And you just sat down on the white sofa, waiting patiently for him to start.

« I got you a place in a school from a friend of mine. » he began, and you felt your body being rigid.

Studies were his obsession when it comes to you. You always had to be first, having the best grades, the best in every field you could reach. That was probably also the main reason of why you never got close friends. Because you were « Miss Perfect Brain » and the only child from a wealthy family, most of people thought you were just like one of those entitled kids who would think they are the one ruling in this world. But you were not. Actually, you never wanted any of those thing. How many times you wanted to go to clubs after class ? Just hanging out with kids from your age, sharing hobbies etc…But you never could because your father would always send you to study classes after your school schedules.

« The school ranking is pretty good, so I think you are able to reach 1st place right ? » he continued, his cold glare piercing your body, making you tighten your fists on your knees.

It would be a disaster for you to be 2nd. Actually not really for you, but for your father. With him, it was first or nothing, and nothing would results as punishment for you. Even since elementary school, he would force you to copy the mistakes you’d done until 2 in the morning, « to make you remember not to do the same mistakes again ». Sometimes depriving you from eating until you would perfectly recite the lesson. As a child, you had spent nights crying in your pillow, hating your father for being so mean to you, and today, you just gave up. As long as you were doing as told, everything would be fine, right ?

You nodded as an answer, finding the courage to finally look at his strict face.

« Y/N, this year is going to be a decisional one for you. After graduation, you’ll go to Korea University and study international business. Don’t deceive me » he announced, making you gulp at the end of his sentence.

Of course it wasn’t what you wanted. But what did you want in the first place ? You didn’t know. You couldn’t find any perspectives for yourself. And of course, you didn’t have a word to say.

« Yes Father… »

And without adding any words, he stood up and left for his office, leaving you alone in the living room. You wanted to cry, to yell how unfair it was for letting someone decide for yourself. You throat was dry and your fists were trembling from madness until you felt a comforting hand on your shoulder. It was Sookja, your nanny and the housekeeper. She probably heard the whole conversation, and was knowing perfectly how you felt at this moment.

« This is so unfair… » you mumbled into your breath, trying to hold back your tears of pure rage.

« I know sweetie… » the old woman sighed. « Maybe he will let you do what you want later » she tried to soften your mood, but it was already ruined.

You sighed and stood up, just shrugging to join your bedroom again, head dipping first into your pillow. You didn’t feel like unpacking, so you just stayed in your bed, until your nanny came to inform you dinner was ready. As usual, you were eating alone. Your father never ate with you, because of his schedules. How funny it was to see that even on your birthday he would be absent, justifying himself to be busy but that he would « make it up for the next year ». Weariness eventually took over sadness. This was your daily life, and you didn’t expect it to change now…Unless.

It was your first day at your new high school. You were so nervous that you had barely eaten on the morning. You were apprehending people. Of course you were used to see new faces all the time, but this time was different. You were arriving in the middle of the first semester in a school where everyone from your prom was knowing each other’s, and to crowned everything, your father was accompanying you this morning to greet his friend, the principal for this year. The more the black Audi was entering the school yard, the more you wanted to become a mouse. You hated so much those looks of curiosity, or full of judgment. Your father intimated you to get off the car, which you did, looking at the floor while the Principal was waiting at the main entrance. You didn’t hear the following conversation, your heart beating too fast and in your ear. Some students stopped to watch the scene, and some of them at the windows were taking pictures. How embarrassing. Little did you know a group of boys were also watching from the first floor.

« Heh, is this the new girl everyone’s talking about ? » hummed a blonde boy, his chin in the palm of his hand while he was leaning on the window sill.

« Seems like it » answered a tall boy, a lollipop in his mouth. « Dude, she looks hot »

« Mingi, you even haven’t seen her face yet » groaned the little blonde again.

Mingi shrugged and said. « Hongjoong, she’s rich, so she’s hot »

« You’re an idiot » sighed the said Hongjoong, rolling his eyes in exasperation. « What d'you think Yunho ? »

Yunho stayed silent during the whole conversation, hands in his pockets as he was watching the scenery before scoffing. « She’s just a little rich bitch » he mumbled before turning from this, going to his classroom.

You had to stay at the professor’s room, so that the Principal could introduce you to your homeroom teacher. Strangely enough, all the teachers seemed too nice. Of course they were. The shadow of your father must be planning around. « Let’s go introducing you to your new comrade » said your teacher enthusiastically which made you forced a smile. You silently followed him to the door where he made a sign for you to wait. Your heart was about to explode, as you could hear the sounds for chairs and people chatting in the classroom. You didn’t know how much you waited in this hallway, but your teacher appeared again, calling your name. You jumped a little, not expecting this time to come…so quickly. Gulping again, you slowly passed the door to present you in front of everyone, your eyes scanning the room. « Can you please introduce you ? » Asked your teacher, everyone’s waiting to hear the sound of your voice for the first time. You really wanted to run away and never come back, but you couldn’t. Your father would definitely kill you.

« H-hi, my name is Y/N, nice to meet you » you said, quite unsure of yourself.

Some kids applauded, which made you blush from embarrassment.

« Alright, Y/N you can go sit next to Yunho there » said your teacher, pointing at the front row at the very left of the room, not to say the corner.

Your eyes landed for the first time on the boy called Yunho. His black wavy hair were hiding his forehead and also his eyes, but you could definitely feel he was glaring at you. Not staring, but glaring as if you did something wrong. But what could you have done wrong ? Was sitting next to him a crime ? You awkwardly sat down next to him, feeling the cold tension radiating from the silent boy next to you. At some point, you really felt uncomfortable, to the point you didn’t dare looking at him a single time. You tried your best to focus on the class, nervously holding your pen. Surprisingly, the first two hours of class went by fast, but you still haven’t talked with Yunho, and he seemed not trying to neither. When the bell ranged, announcing the first break of the day, you gathered your things before you heard his deep voice for the first time.

« Move. » he ordered in an annoyed tone, his tall figure dominating your frail one.

Your heart stopped beating for a second, suddenly scared. He seemed mad at you for God knew which reason, but you quickly moved to let him pass, looking at your feet while you could hear a « Tsch… » from him.

What the hell was happening ? Why this boy was hating you from the start ? You took your phone and went to the girls toilet, to regain composure, but still, you felt a dark aura from him. While you were thinking about this, you heard girls gossiping outside the cabinet you were occupying.

« Did you see that ? She is next to Yunho ! »

« The poor girl, I bet she won’t stay next to him for a long time » said another girl, in a mocking way.

« She doesn’t know he’s a total douchebag tho. »

« Hey ! He’s still hot. But yeah, a douchebag »

And they laughed before exiting the place. What does this mean ? You began to get really worried about this Yunho. He seemed to be a bad guy, but was he really ? You inhaled deeply again before going back to your classroom, expecting to see Yunho again, but he wasn’t here anymore.

Class started again, and you couldn’t help but wonder where Yunho went and why he left. Your new Korean literature teacher didn’t seem surprised when doing roll call. « Ditching classes again huh ? » he mumbled before going on.

At lunch time, you searched for a place to eat alone. You didn’t feel like going to the cafeteria or stayed in class to eat, so you went to the rooftop, surprisingly empty. You expected to see at least one or two people…But anyway, it was better for you. Leaning against the wall of the staircase, you took out the lunch box Sookja made for you with your favorite food inside as a good luck charm for your first day. It slightly made you smile and brought you some comfort. You didn’t want to think to anything, just having some peace until you heard loud laughs from the stairs, making you panicking and quickly packed your lunch to see a group of boys who seemed as surprised as you to find you here.

« Oh, isn’t the « New girl » ? » smirked the small blonde guy.

You quickly looked away, mumbling a « sorry » before trying to pass over them, but an arm blocked your route.

« Hey, you could at least say hi when someone’s talking to you » groaned the tallest from the pack.

You felt intimidated. You just wanted to leave, without creating any problems. You looked up at the tall guy, scared about what he was about to do next until you noticed wavy black hair. Yunho was here also, and he didn’t seem to pay attention.

« I-I’m sorry, I just want to go p-please » you said weakly, the panic gaining your body each second passing by.

« Tss, is that how rich bitch like you are behaving huh ? »

This was escalating quickly. You were too scared to do anything, when you saw the tall guy’s hand reaching out for you too rapidly, making you flinch.

« Mingi. Stop. »

It was Yunho’s voice. As you shut your eyes tight, you slowly opened them to see an annoyed Mingi, rubbing his nape in frustration while the blonde guy was shocked. Yunho looked at his friends.

« Hongjoong, let’s go somewhere else » he added to the blonde guy.

Hongjoong nodded and slighlty pushed Mingi away to the stairs, only Yunho staying still, his dark orbs fixed on you in silence.

« Hey, I really hate people like you, but I didn’t want Mingi to do something bad, so you better go now. » he warned, giving you a cold shiver in your back.

Why was this always like this ? No matter where you go, people always hate you, or fake to be friendly to you because of your status. You felt tears filling your eyes, but you with the few pride left in you, you left Yunho alone on this rooftop, running away from him until next class. You were certain of a thing, Yunho hated you and you're far to know he'd soon take advantage of you.

chapter 2 coming soon ! please let me know what you think about this first chapter <3

taglist: @palegardenrebel @mirror-juliet @twancingyunhoe @yeosangmystar @dreamer95 @tinyteenieateez @yunsangoveryonder @tenebrisirae

Couldn’t tag : @nz-pichbg (comment to be added in the taglist)

#ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #yunho imagines #yunho fanfic #yunho angst #yunho series #ateez series #yunho fluff

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fallingforunrealisticromance · 3 years

Text

Stay with me - tony stark x fem!reader

A/N: I've re entered my marvel phase once again and I'm not mad about it! I'm so desperate to see Black Widow it looks so good! Anyway enjoy this. The details about panic attacks are based on my personal experiences but they can effect different people in different ways.

Warnings: Panic attacks, swearing

***= Time Skip

Word Count: 2680

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“Guys I’m going to be fine. I always am. It was a one-time thing, I promise” I sighed as Nat, Steve and Bruce followed me into the kitchen of the avengers compound.

“We just want you to be okay, it didn’t exactly look like you enjoyed the experience.” Nat said sitting opposite me.

“You almost passed out. That happening while your out is the last thing any of us want for you.” Bruce added. I sipped my drink, not wanting to continue this conversation. The team had becoming increasingly cautious around me since I had a really bad panic attack last week. The truth is I’ve been dealing with them since I was a kid, before I’d even met any of the avengers, I just learnt how to hide them. But last week, things got too much, and I lost control. I don’t remember much but evidently everyone found out. They thought this was a new thing to me and were now trying to wrap me up like some sort of fragile object.

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to be with Casey, and I’m literally just going to be sat in an office all day. The hardest thing I will have to do is battle her shitty coffee machine” I joked, trying to get them to drop the subject. My best friend Casey had asked me to come into work with her to sort through a bunch of files that her boss had dumped on her after she broke up with him. I have no clue what she actual does but she was apparently ‘up to her tits’ in paperwork so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to join her. Just then my phone rang.

“Hey Case, I’m just about to leave. Yeah I’ll meet you at the station. Okay cool. Bye” I hung up and grabbed my bag. “Well, this has been fun, but I have a train to catch so I’ll see you all later.” As I turned to leave I felt someone grab my arm, pulling me back.

“You’re not getting the train. Get happy to take you.” Steve said causing me to roll my eyes.

“Steve I’m not a child, I’m capable of getting a train. Plus, it’s not Happy’s job to chauffeur me around, he has tony for that.” I replied.

“Who has me for what?” Tony piped up walking in.

“Nothing, I have to go.” I said before once again turning to leave.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y call happy and tell him to get the car ready.” Tony said not looking up from his phone.

“Right away Mr Stark”

I groaned. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey for once I agree with capsicle. We don’t need you dying on a train now do we?”

“I hate you.”

“Ouch my heart.”

It was starting to piss me off at how the were treating me. I get that they just wanted to look out for me, but it was just making me feel even more pathetic than I already did. I slumped down onto the sofa irritated. Suddenly I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Looking up I saw Nat leaning again the back of the sofa, looking down at me.

“I know it might feel like we’re being unfair or irrational, but we just want you to be safe. We need you.” I smiled slightly at her words.

“Thanks Nat.” She nodded at me before walking off.

“Miss Y/L/N. Happy is ready for you.”

“Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y” I grabbed my stuff, yelling a quick goodbye to everyone before making my way downstairs and into the back of the black Mercedes parked outside the compound.

*******************************************************************

“Seriously did you have to dump him 2 weeks before you were due to leave? There’s so much crap here.” I groaned jokingly, sifting through the many papers laid out in front of me.

“It’s not my fault he was boring. I just couldn’t hack it anymore” Casey replied chuckling.

“Why did I agree to this?” I said leaning back in my chair.

“Because you love and care about me.” She said smiling at me

“Hmm that’s debatable.” I joked, causing her to swat my arm with the file she was holding. Thankfully, there was a small knock at the door that saved me from any further attacks.

“Excuse me Casey, boss man needs you in his office. He didn’t sound too happy.”

“Okay thanks, I’ll come now.” She replied. As she left the room she shot me an anxious look to which I responded a very supportive thumbs up. I know, I’m great.

*******************************************************************

I don’t know how long Casey had been gone but I’d suddenly began to feel a trickle of anxiety wash through my bones. I’d felt uneasy as soon as she’d left but I tried to push the feeling away and throw myself back into the paperwork. But every time I looked at the page, my eyes couldn’t focus. All the words were merging together in front of me.

“Please not now.” I mumbled to myself. I could feel my heart hammering a mile a minute against my ribcage as my hands began to shake uncontrollably. My throat felt as if it was collapsing in on itself as I tried my best to get oxygen into my lungs. I wanted to get up, to run outside, but I felt like if I moved I was going to be sick everywhere. So, I stayed there, trapped, with my head in my hands praying for this to be over. After what felt like a lifetime, the feeling began to dissipate – only to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of tiredness. Physically unable to hold myself up any longer, I let my head fall against the desk. I felt so drained, so weak I wasn’t sure how I would get home at this point. Where the hell was Casey?

---AT THE AVENGERS COMPOUND(third person pov)---

“Mr Stark. You told me to alert you when Miss Y/L/N’s heart rate began to climb. It has rapidly increased over the past few minutes and does not appear to be settling” F.R.I.D.A.Y said. Tony rushed over to the screen that was currently displaying Y/N’s heart rate.

“Oh shit.” He said to himself, running his fingers through his hair. A moment later, Steve entered the lab.

“Everything alright stark?” He asked leaning against one of the desks.

“Not at all. Y/N’s having another panic attack right now.” Tony explained, visibly stressed.

“What?” Steve said standing up straight.

“I have to go get her.” Tony said pulling his jacket on. Before Steve could even reply, Tony headed for the door.

---BACK AT THE OFFICE(first person pov)---

I’d been able to prop my head up in my hands once again, but I was barely able to keep my eyes open. All I wanted was to go home. Suddenly I heard the door open.

“Oh my god Y/N. What happened? Are you okay?” Casey said rushing to my side, clearly noticing my dilemma.

“N-no” I stuttered. My voice came out as a sort of broken whisper. I’d never felt more drained. I heard the door open once more.

“Casey?-“

“Not now, I’m busy”

“No seriously-“

“Did you not hear me? Go away john”

“But Tony stark is looking for you.” He spat out. Relief spread throughout me at the mention of his name. Casey jumped up and ran out, soon retuning with Tony.

“Thank god” I breathed. Tony knelt down beside me in an instant.

“Hey you.” He said softly. “Let’s get you home okay?” He smiled at me sympathetically. I nodded and went to reach for my stuff.

“I’ll get that, put your jacket on.”

“Didn’t bring one.” I mumbled.

“Of course, you didn’t” He said sarcastically as he pulled his off and wrapped it around my shoulders. I slipped my arms in and hugged it tight to me, enjoying the heat it was providing.

“Come on then.” I felt Tony slip his arm around my waist as he pulled me to my feet. I wrapped one of my arms around his shoulders as the other fell by my side. “You okay?” He asked.

“Just get me home.” I whispered.

“Why do you think I’m here?” He joked. We made our way down the hall, tony taking the most of my weight.

“Thank you for coming.” I said as we got into the elevator.

“Anytime gorgeous.” He replied with his signature grin.

“How come you are here though? How did you know I needed you?” I asked.

“I have a sixth sense. Like peter, expect I sense panic attacks” he said chuckling.

“Seriously tony. I didn’t even call you.” I pressed. He fidgeted uncomfortably next to me.

“Okay don’t be mad at me. Because if you think about it if I hadn’t done it I wouldn’t have known you were freaking out and you’d probably still be stuck there, and I know that that’s the last thing you would want so technically I-“

“Just spit it out stark”

“I tracked you.”

I starred at him. “You tracked me?” He nodded sheepishly. “Wha- How?” I stuttered.

“You know I gave you that new watch? Well, I may have changed some things” He said avoiding my eyes.

“What things?”

“Well, I just made sure it would be able to give me your location. A-and if your heartrate reached a certain point, F.R.I.D.A.Y would let me know.” He explained. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t even mad, but I like the fact he thought I was. “Look before you have a go at me I just wanted to keep you safe.” I smiled at his words.

“I know. I’m not mad.”

“Oh, thank god.”

********************************************************************

The journey home was harmless. The fresh air had done me the world of good. Even those I was still worn out; I was feeling a lot more human. When we pulled up to the compound, Tony rushed to my side to open the door and help me stand.

“I’m okay tony you can relax now” I chuckled.

“I just don’t need you passing out on my watch, Steve won’t let me hear the end of it” He joked.

“Nice to know you care about me.” I replied. As soon as we walked in, I saw Steve talking anxiously with Nat and Wanda.

“Y/N thank god.” Nat rushed over to me, pulling me in for a hug.

“I’m alive guys false alarm.” I said light-heartedly, letting her go.

“Do you know why this keeps happening to you all of a sudden?” Wanda asked. Before I could answer she gasped slightly. “Oh…” Shit. I forgot she could read minds. She’d figured it out.

“What is it Wanda?” Steve asked. Wanda starred at me for a moment. I really didn’t know if she was going to tell them so I cut her off before she could.

“Casey was having an affair with her boss.” I blurted out, causing them all to look at me. “That’s why I went in with her today, she broke up with him and to get back at her he’s been giving her a shit ton of paperwork for no reason. While I was there he called her into his office, leaving me alone. I guess I was just so stressed about what they were talking about I worked myself up.” I lied. Wanda nodded in agreement with me, but the look she gave me made me think that this conversation definitely wasn’t over.

“Okay well I’m going to get this one into bed, see you guys later” Tony said coming up behind me, placing his hand on my back. We made our way up to my room where I promptly flopped onto my bed, gladly expecting the comfort it provided.

“Nope come on get up.” Tony said tugging my leg.

“What? I thought we came up here so I could sleep? I’ve had a long day tony.” I groaned.

“Yes but you need to change. I’m not having you sleep in jeans. The thought of it alone is enough to give me nightmares.” He replied, pulling me so I was sitting upright. “You stay there, don’t fall asleep.” He said before quickly dashing out of the room. I sighed, leaning back on my elbows. Tony was my best friend, sure, but that didn’t stop him being a massive pain in the arse. He soon returned, holding what looked like pyjamas.

“Why have you brought those? I have my own clothes you know.” “No shit sherlock. But I know that you like to wear these when your ill so I figured you might want some comfort after what happened today.” He said setting them down beside me. His words caused me to stare at him for a second. The genuine care in his voice was enough to make my stomach flip. The fact that he’d even thought of something like that caused a few tears to come to the surface.

“Stop starring at me, it’s creepy” He said with a chuckle. When he looked over at me, his face dropped. “Y/N? Are you okay? Why are you crying?” He knelt down in front of me, taking my hand in his.

“I just- Thank you. For the clothes. The fact that you noticed that means the world to me.” I said softly, gazing at our hands.

“I always notice” He mumbled. I looked at him fondly, a strange feeling growing inside of me. We settled in a comfortable silence for a moment. For some reason, my view on tony shifted. That one gestured made my entire opinion of him change. I’d always known I cared for him deeply, more so than myself. And I won’t sit here and tell you I’ve been in love with him since I first met him, because that sure as hell isn’t the case. We’d been friends. Nothing more, nothing less. But now, seeing this side of him, maybe there was a possibility for us to be something more. Whatever that was we didn’t need to figure out right now. But I wanted him with me.

“I’ll leave you to get changed.” His voice snapped me from my thoughts as he dropped my hand from his.

“No, wait don’t go.” I said hurriedly going to pull him back.

“I’ll just be on the other side of the door.” He chuckled. I let him go and went about changing. He’d left me one of his old Metallica t shirts. It wasn’t too big for me, but big enough to be comfortable. I paired with a pair of basketball shorts I’d bought him a couple years ago for Christmas. Not that he actually played basketball, I just thought they were cool. I went over to the door and opened it, not expecting tony to fall back onto my feet. I laughed as he scrambled to stand up right.

“You could’ve knocked or something.” He said straightening his shirt.

“I didn’t expect you to be on the floor” I laughed.

“Whatever” He rolled his eyes, sitting at the edge of my bed. Once I’d calmed myself down, I sat down next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. He moved so his arm was round my shoulder, allowing me to move closer.

“I like this.” I said softly.

“Like what?” “

This. Being with you.”

“So do I” He whispered.

I closed my eyes, enjoying the silence.

“No, you’re not falling asleep like this. Lie down” Tony said shrugging me off his shoulder. I didn’t even have the effort to argue as I slid back and pulled the covers over me.

“You’re coming to.” I stated, looking expectantly at him. He rolled his eyes before climbing in beside me. I curled into him, placing my head on his chest as I wrapped my arms around him. I felt him place his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. After the shit show I’d been through earlier, this was the exact peace I’d been craving. No matter where things went from here, Tony would always be my rock. And I couldn’t ask for anyone better.

#tony stank #tony stark #iron man #the avengers #natasha romanoff #tony x y/n #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #tony x reader

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Sour Stench and Sunshine Scent - Part 1/2

pairing: Geraskier (platonic or romantic)

word count: 2k

content warnings: self-depricating thoughts, invasion of privacy, angst

summary: In order to make sense of all the strange things he smells Geralt writes them down in a journal. Jaskier reads said journal and he is not happy about what he finds

also on AO3

next part

It happened again.

Of course it did. At this point Jaskier almost made a game out of springing affection on Geralt and watching his eyes widen and his nostrils flare as if he had no idea how to react.

So it was no wonder that when Jaskier slung his arm over Geralt’s shoulder as they sat at camp, Geralt looked as confused as could be, but at least he didn’t pull away as he had in the earlier years of their friendship. Jaskier was almost certain that Geralt was even leaning in a little as if he wanted to push his nose into the crook of Jaskier’s neck, before abruptly pulling away.

Jaskier sighed when Geralt got up and started rummaging through his bag. Yet another part of their little dance. At least they had reached a point where Geralt was now openly scribbling away instead of making up some excuse as to why he needed to get away only for Jaskier to later find him writing frantically in his little notebook.

“Now that’s just unfair,” Jaskier said lightly and leaned in. His heart skipped a beat when Geralt didn’t try to shield his notes from him, but he didn’t offer to let him read the book either. “You keep writing in that little journal of yours and yet you never give me enough details about your hunts when I want to write.” He nudged Geralt playfully with his shoulder. “Are you trying to sabotage me because you’re secretly a poet as well?”

Geralt grunted and snapped the book shut. “Not a poet.”

Jaskier snorted. “Could have fooled me.”

For a moment Geralt was quiet, then he let out a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“It’s something Vesemir made me do. After the trials.” Geralt put the notebook back into his bags and it looked as if he only did it to avoid Jaskier’s eyes. “I woke up to a world filled with more intense sensations. Seeing bette was weird but fine. Hearing others’ heartbeats was disturbing but I got used to it. But having heightened sense of smell… it’s strange. Disorienting. It doesn’t make sense.”

Jaskier stilled. As much as he was tempted to make a joke about onions, heroics and heartbreak, Geralt’s tone made it clear that now was not the time for such things. He rarely ever talked about the trials and Jaskier wasn’t going to be insensitive, lest Geralt shut him out once more and think he woudln’t be able to find comfort in sharing his worries.

“So you write down what you smell and what it means?”

Geralt gave a brusque jerk with his head that mimicked a nod.

“But you became a witcher decades ago.” Which didn’t mean the trials weren’t still haunting him. Jaskier had seen first hand how Geralt tensed an whimpered in his sleep, though he never admitted to having nightmares.

Jaskier reached out slowly. He knew Geralt’s reflexes were faster than any humans and he could pull his hand away no matter how fast Jaskier moved, but he felt it was impossible to show Geralt that he gave him the option to not be touched.

Geralt didn’t pull away and Jaskier gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d have thought you’d have gotten to smell all there is by now.”

Geralt snorted and raked his free hand through his hair in frustration.

“I thought so too. But then –“ his eyes landed on their joined hands before his intense stare shot back to Jaskier, searching his face and clearly coming up with nothing he could make sense of. “You smell different and I can’t put my finger on what the fuck you smell like.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up. “You have pages dedicated to me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

A smile tugged at Jaskier’s lips. “Good. Because if you did then you could just ask me about it.” When Geralt scowled at him, Jaskier gave him a wink. “But since you don’t… well, I guess you’ll just have to figure it out on your own. Don’t worry, if you ever do wonder what I smell like, you’ll have more than enough time to realise what it means. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jaskier was bored. Maybe he should have just stayed back at the tavern and sung his heart out when Geralt had told him that he’d go on a hunt. At least then, Jaskier would have had things to do.

But no. He just had to insist on accompanying Geralt. And now he wasn’t even able to watch the fight because Geralt had insisted that he should stay back.

Jaskier just knew that when Geralt come back he would be too grouchy to tell him about what happened. And to think Jaskier was apparently inspiration enough for Geralt to start writing in his witchery little notebook again and here Jaskier was mercilessly drained of anything he could make into a song.

Unless…

“Oh, stop looking at me like that, Roach,” Jaskier said when he began searching through her saddlebags. “He is writing about me. I have every right to know what he says about my smell. Maybe I’ll finally find out which of my perfumes he likes the most.”

Roach didn’t stop giving him a judgmental stare and Jaskier determinedly ignored the flash of guilt he felt at going through Geralt’s things. The uncomfortable twist in his stomach was quickly overruled by the excitement of finally finding the notebook.

For a moment he just looked at the old and frayed edges of the book. It was clear that it was well-loved despite or maybe because of how old it was.

Carefully so as not to tear any pages Jaskier stared reading, his heart pounding in his chest.

His excitement quickly dimmed. The first couple of pages were utterly boring. Lists of flowers and food and what they smelled like. Things so easy to identify that even Jaskier knew how to distinguish between them.

He skipped the next few pages until his eyes caught something that piqued his interest. The neat lists had stopped and in their place was a wall of text that looked like Geralt had just written down everything that came to mind without trying to sort through it.

‘The fuck is this? It’s bitter somehow? Sour. Rotten. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Like ash? Needed ale to get rid of it, but the longer I stayed in the tavern the stronger it got.’

Jaskier’s brows drew together. This was still relatively at the beginning of the book. It must have been written during Geralt’s first year on the path. In the light of these frantic and confused notes, it started to dawn on Jaskier what Geralt had meant when he had said the heightened sense of smell had been disorienting.

‘the stench is all around all the people I meet in this town. But it’s also the first town i’ve come across. Sickness? Is that just what people smell like? Everyone smells like that. Smell always accompanied by racing hearts and sweat. People try to leave. They stare at me but when they see me lookign they avoid eye contact. When parents with children walk by it becomes worse. Reason?’

Oh.

Oh no.

With every word Jaskier read the sense of dread rose higher in him until it was almost choking him. He should stop reading. This was too private. He had no right to reading this, to finding out what Geralt - alone and new to the hardships of the Path - had to face.

But Jaskier had to know. He had to find out if Geralt had ever come to a conclusion. He prayed Geralt hadn’t realised what it meant.

His notes on the smell continued on for far too long, each new line, each time Geralt was worried if maybe there was something wrong with the people he met, if maybe they needed his help, Jaskier’s heart broke more and more for Geralt.

And then came what he had dreaded.

‘Same smell as when the girl from my first monster saw me and screamed.

Oh.’

The simple ‘oh’ tore at Jaskier’s heart. Such a small word, not even something that most people would deem important enough to write down, but in this journal it carried the meaning of an earth-shattering understanding. It promised of decades of misery and self-hatred to come.

The rest of the page were attempts at finding the right word for what Geralt had found out. Again and again the words were crossed out, scribbled over, erased, as if Geralt couldn’t bear to read it on the page, as if he still hoped he was wrong about what he already knew to be true.

Jaskier turned the page and there it was, one word, simple and cruel.

‘Fear’

Jaskier stared at the word as if he could will it to disappear, as if he could make Geralt unlearn this ugly and unjust truth which he never should have had to face.

He wanted to close the book. He had already read too much.

And yet.

Images of Geralt tensing when Jaskier reached for him flared up in his mind. There were too many memories of Geralt looking at him bewildered and searching as if he expected… as if he thought –

Before he knew what he was doing, Jaskier thumbed through the pages until he found his name. He had no excuse, but he needed to know.

‘Maybe there is something wrong with Jaskier? He doesn’t smell of fear. Can’t be right. All the other signs are there. Sweat. From walking? He keeps staring at me. He keps glancing away when he realises I noticed. Racing heart when I look at him. More now than when I first met him. It got more the longer I knew him. But why? Why is there no smell of fear? Maybe his perfume is too strong.’

Jaskier snorted as he skimmed over Geralt’s musings on his perfume that almost seemed as if Geralt was trying desperately to distract himself from what he coudln’t understand. There wasn’t much to be said about that, apart from the fact that Geralt had absolutely no sense for what smelled good.

Until a few pages later -

‘New smell. Only on Jaskier. Floral but not like his perfume. Smells like…the sun? Like a warm day in spring?’

Jaskier had to squint to decipher those notes. Most of them were crossed out, but this time it made a pleasant warmth rise in Jaskier’s chest. He was sure he didn’t imagine the hints of ‘smells nice. Comforting’ under the lines trying to hide Geralt’s thoughts.

‘But why? Why does it get stronger when I touch him? He should he afraid. It doesn’t make sense. I brought him a blanket today and put it around his shoulders and the smell spiked up and Jaskier smiled. I want to do it again. See that smile again and smell him feel - What is it? What does he feel? Why doesn’t Jaskier make any sense?’

A fond smile tugged at Jaskier’s lips. As heartbreaking as it was to see Geralt so confused over the lack of fear, there was a softness to Geralt’s words.

The smile froze on his face when he came to the next paragraph.

‘Jaskier smelled of fear today. Of course. Only a matter of time. It’s worse smelling it on him. On other people it’s normal but I didn’t think - I hoped - I shouldn’t have let myself forget that he would smell like that eventually.’

No. No, that couldn’t be right. Jaskier wasn’t afraid of Geralt, never has been. There must be some mistake. Geralt couldn’t think Jaskier was afraid of him!

‘He saw me today. After I had drunk Cat. I shouldn’t have let him see me like this. I shoudl have been more careful. Of course he was afraid. He must have forgotten who what I was. But. He still touched me? He asked me if I was alright. Was this his way of trying to find out if he could run away? If I was still strong enough to hurt him? I wouldn’t. But he was afraid. I don’t want him to be afraid. Tomorrow he is going to leave me.’

Jaskier’s breath got stuck in his throat. Geralt didn’t know. He really had no idea.

Jaskier remembered the day Geralt had written about vividly. He still had nightmares about it sometimes. Seeing Geralt with black eyes and blood coming out of a gash on his chest had been the most terrifying sight Jaskier had ever seen. He remembered his racing thoughts. What if Geralt’s eyes were black becausse he had been cursed? What if he was blinded? What if he was hurting because of his eyes and there was nothing Jaskier could do to help him?

Jaskier had never been more scared in his life, but not a for a moment had he been afraid for his own safety.

How could he even think that Jaskier could be afraid of him? How could he think that Jaskier was worried about Geralt hurting him when there was no one out whom Jaskier felt safer around?

‘Jaskier didn’t leave. He’s still here. The sun smell is back. It shouldn’t be. He should be afraid. I don’t want him to be afraid again.’

An ugly feeling rose in his chest and twisted his insides. As much as he had felt the irresistible urge to read what Geralt thought about Jaskier’s feelings, he couldn’t bring himself to read more of it.

His words from earlier came back to him. He had meant it to be teasing, when he had said Geralt would figure out what emotion Jaskier smelled like, but now, having read how despite spending years at his side, Geralt had still thought Jaskier could ever be afraid of him, he couldn’t help but regret his words.

Knowing what he knew now, it would be no more fun to watch Geralt be confused about his displays of affection, instead it would shatter his heart as it did Geralt’s. Every second of Geralt doubting Jaskier’s feelings for him was one second too many.

Maybe Geralt would be able to figure it out on his own, when Jaskier would take care of him or run his fingers through his hair gently as they lay in bed together tonight.

Or maybe he would still be confused and open the book to write down more of his swirling thoughts that didn’t allow him to realise that he was anything other than feared.

Well, if he ever did open the book again, he would find what Jaskier wrote in it now, the answer to what Jaskier felt and would continue to feel for his witcher who was his dearest friend and so much more than that.

‘Love’

#angst #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #this isn't very good but I've had this idea months ago and it's been taunting me to write it #witcher #fic #my writing #witcher fanfic

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mrsgiovanna · 3 years

Text

Evanesce (Giorno Giovanna x Ghost!Fem! Reader)

This was quite a specific request from a nonnie mouse🥺 . This is a bit angsty, I hope I was able to do your request justice my sweet, 💖💕❤️🐞

TW: mentions of death, part 5 spoilers

Word count: 2.1k

The gentle, crisp spring breeze softly rustled the leaves of the tree overhead, dislodging a few, which fell about the handsome young man occupying the bench you had sat on daily for the past 6 months. You weren’t upset or anything like that, you were just a creature of habit and that spot provided the best vantage point of your surroundings.

“Excuse me, are you saving this seat for anyone?” The blonde boy briefly looked up at you, shook his head sharply and returned to what he was reading as you took a seat on the other side of the bench, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. He furrowed his well-defined brows at the page he was currently perusing and finally resigned, snapping his book shut in one swift motion.

“What are you reading? Well were reading…” he scanned your face pensively before answering.

“Catch 22…”

“Ah, Joseph Heller, I’m familiar,”

“Have you read it?

“No… I haven’t got around to it,” you admit shyly.

“you should, it’s quite brilliant actually,”

“Hmm, damned if you do, damned if you don’t… it’s a metaphor for life really, if you think about it,” you knew that feeling all too well, but that was a story for another day. In the time you had spent there you had learned the young man’s name was Giorno Giovanna, and he when he wasn’t a “freelance cab driver” he went to school a few streets away. You both chatted for what felt like a few moments, but in actuality, was the rest of the afternoon. Alerted by the changing colors of the sky as the day had started turning to dusk he had excused himself to make it back to his dorm before dinner. Watching him walk away, you sat there and wondered how different things might have been had you met him earlier.

Giorno was preoccupied with his thoughts too, wondering where you had come from and why he hadn’t seen you before… he had been to that park enough times, and if you frequented it as much as you claimed to have done so, surely he would have come across you before…

“Giorno, a few of us are going to work on the science project in the rec area after dinner, do you want to join?”

“Oh, Lorenzo, thanks for the offer, but I really need to finish this report tonight, sorry,”

“No sweat, catchya later,” the sprightly boy left Giorno to his own devices pondering silently over the events of the day.

Over the next few weeks, Giorno regularly visited the spot in the hopes of running into you, which he did, and slowly you both had learned so much about each other. Favorite foods, music, books, shows… hopes and aspirations… there was never a dull moment when you were around each other, and he had somehow enabled you to find your smile again, while you were certain you had done the same for him. He grew closer to you, connecting on a different level almost… he found himself wanting to spend more time with you than he could afford to, but your company was just too intoxicating. Savoring each smile, laugh and shy sideward glance, you were altogether too lovely, and too unaware of the effect you had on him. As much as you were unaware of his growing affections, so too was he unaware of yours. Falling in love with his wry smile when he teased you over the silly anecdotes you thought up, and the way in which the wind made his lovely, golden hair dance about in the sunshine, your heart both leapt and stung, lamenting the inopportune timing at which you had encountered your possible savior, but still being thankful that you could experience something as pure as this, nonetheless.

As much as you were happy, you remained unfulfilled, having such a specific set of circumstances during which you could interact with Giorno. In the beginning it was much easier, catching him in his quieter moments, but now, those moments barely ever occurred, each time you made a move to get closer to him, your plans were thwarted by his new groups of friends… allies? Watching him rapidly traversing Italy, cheating death at every turn, despite your yearning, you hoped with everything you had that you would not encounter him in your space between the two realms. You weren’t sure what kind of force kept you bound to earth but you knew the reason was because you had yet to truly experience love before your untimely passing. You found it altogether ridiculous and unfair, so many others with regrets much more intense than your own had encountered and passed you as they were finally able to cross over, so why were you still here?

You had wanted to tell him the truth of your semi-existence on so many occasions, but his sweet smile had forced you keep up the pretense, enjoying for once, the feeling of being a teenager with a crush, whether it was something more than that, you were unable to tell. When you hadn’t seen him for a few afternoons, you decided you needed to look for him, remembering where he had gone to school, you saw him in what looked like the throes of a fight near a white haired man, and something that looked nothing like anything you’ve seen before… was it a wraith? A monster? It seemed like the two men also commanded such apparitions, appearing and disappearing, it seemed, according to their will. Suddenly, you felt like the normal one in this scenario, which was rare for you. You knew that what he was going through was bigger than the both of you, and thus began your journey with them, keeping your distance and trying to provide support from your position in the shadows. One by one, you saw his comrades fall, each time grieving with him. When everything was finally over, you resolved to approach him directly, waiting for an opportune moment in between his duties. For now, though, you frequently visited the spot that held so many happy memories for you, knowing what you needed to do.

During his eight-day mission, in his quieter moments, Giorno had found his thoughts drifting back to you. He knew that you probably were there, at the usual spot, looking for him. he wished he could tell you about what he was doing, but the stakes were too high, there was too much to lose and not enough time to work with, so he made up his mind to find you once everything was over, but for now, he was on a mission that he could not back down from. There were moments during which he could have sworn he saw your silhouette from the corner of eye, smelled the pleasant scent he had come to associate you with, but those moments could not be dwelled on with how much was left to do and the unyielding assault from Passione’s elite.

With the battle being won, and his precious allies laid to rest in the manner they deserved, Giorno’s thoughts returned to you once more. Deciding he had avoided the place enough, he went the rendezvous spot, without any of his guards. He was confident in the ability of his stand to protect him from danger, the requiem arrow safely ensconced in his breast pocket if the need arises for him to use it. Seeing you perched under the tree, you cut a forlorn figure.

“(y/n) …”

“Giorno… oh gosh! I didn’t expect to see you here today…” you were taken aback by the sight of him, looking completely different in his black suit, embodying an entirely unapproachable, otherworldly beauty, but somehow the energy he radiated still felt warm and familiar.

“You’re probably wondering where I’ve been all this time… I’ll explain everything,” he intended to take your hand in his, but you flinched, deepening the grimace on his face.

“Cara, I’m sorry, I know you must be upset with me, as you should be, but if you allow me a chance to explain, you would understand, please…”

“It’s okay Gio… I know everything… please, sit down, there’s something I have to tell you,” with confusion replacing his pained grimace, Giorno sat down and looked at you expectantly.

“I know about everything that happened to you Gio, I was right there. The reason I recoiled from your touch, or never took you up on a coffee date is because I no longer exist in this world… my physical body has already perished Giorno,”

“April fools has already passed (y/n) and Halloween is only in October… either way, it’s still a terrible joke, not funny at all,” Giorno tried in vain to conceal his irritation.

“It’s not a joke Giorno, have you ever wondered why the area becomes deserted when we’re interacting? How I can disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye? I’m already dead… I’ll prove it to you,” in an instant, you had disappeared and the people had magically appeared in the distance. With his eyes locked on those, he suddenly saw them vanish again as you appeared.

“I don’t understand… where are we then?”

“This is the dimension I exist in, half way between the two realms. My soul refuses to pass over, being bound by a regret,”

“What regret? If you’ve been with me this entire time, surely you know my ability, and of the other ghost that inhabits the turtle… there must be something we can do,”

The desperation in his voice hurt you, you knew that he meant well, but you couldn’t allow him to live like this, being bound to someone who didn’t really exist. In the time you had observed him fighting for his life and for those around him you realized that regardless of how much you both would try, nothing would materialize from these interactions, so you made the painful decision to not pursue this any further, regardless of how much it may hurt you both.

“Face it Gio, there’s no way that anything can happen here, and hanging on to this is just going to hurt the both of us…”

“Don’t say it…”

“Giorno, this is going to be the last…”

“Please, (y/n), don’t say it. I already know… it’s just like me though… the first girl I fall in love with turns out to be a ghost… yet another one of my bizarre escapades… (y/n) … you’re glowing,”

You looked down at your hands and body, seeing a warm cerise glow taking over your body, you felt odd, -weightless- as if you would float away… and then you realized what Giorno had said to you. He loved you, actually loved you, and this was your moment of ascension. After all these months, finally, you would get your repose.

“I think it’s time, you’ve given me something precious, something I can’t even begin to return. I’m finally able to rest because of you…”

“Falling in love hey? Usually a declaration like this is supposed to awaken the princess, not send her away…” he said dejectedly, knowing well enough from recent events, that a spirit cannot remain longer than intended regardless of how much you willed it to.

Reaching up to try and cup his cheek as your image grew ever fainter, “Giorno, these past few weeks have allowed me to feel things in death that I couldn’t have even imagined when I was alive. You’re the reason I can finally rest, and I’ll always be thankful to you, I know you’ll be happy and will love again, all your dreams will be realized, I love you Gio,”

With a sorrowful smile, he watched you fading away from his sight, a warm gentle breeze swirling the loosened leaves around him, and just like that you were gone. Being unable to speak after what happened, he just sat for a while to gather his thoughts before returning to his life as the don of Passione.

It has been a few years since your final encounter with Giorno just before your ascension. Over the years you still watched him, this time from your vantage point above him as opposed to lurking beside him. Your spirit was at ease as he grew from strength to strength, realizing his dream, with a resolve that only he possessed. You watched as he matured, confidence growing in leaps and bounds… as he fell in love- again- just like you promised he would. She was perfect for him, the ray of sunshine he needed to compliment his golden soul. You smiled knowingly, the young man whose pure feelings granted respite to your soul, would be just fine, and even though it may have felt as if you had faded away on that fateful day, the memories of you will always live on through him, adding gravity to your existence- ironically, his memories of the beautiful ghost who had captivated him, would serve as evidence that you had lived…

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