#and got a massive group hug from his batch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captain-kinda-trash · 3 years

Note

Hi! I wanted to request some headcannons for rottmnt boys with a reader who gives great hugs and gets a plush hoodie this winter, so hugging them feels like hugging a teddy bear now

Of course!! Thank you so much for the request!!

Teddy Bear (ROTTMNT Headcanons)

This was what I had in mind while writing 🤔🤔⬇

Leo

Let's just be clear about one thing

Leo LOVES your hugs

CANNOT get enough of them

Long night of fighting for justice? Huggies

Gets into an argument with Donnie? More huggies

Hell, even walking past you in the lair, he'll do little grabby hands and act like a whiny baby until he gets his daily hugs 🙄 😩

But then you get a super soft, super fluffy, super warm sweatshirt?

Dead

He's dead

You're basically like a human heater for this cold-blooded blue boy

Since you've gotten it, you can hardly stop wearing it, because it's the most comfortable thing ever-

And Leo has gotten even more excuses to hug you

"Leo, im cooking!"

"bUT YOUR SOO COMFFYYY 🥴"

Will, without a doubt ask you to carry his lazy ass, just because he wants to snuggle into your sweatshirt

And don't even get me STARTED on movie nights with him

Because what begins as a cold-blooded turtle hanging onto your arm like a baby koala

Ends up being Leo curled up in your lap or somehow wrapped around you with this hot sweater

So while he's practically purring with comfort, you are sweating like a dog

Not to mention, this bitch is just heavy

like 200+ pounds of straight muscle, so I hope you don't have to use the restroom any time soon because it's going to take a while to pry this big baby off of you

I'd also like to mention, that you don't need to tell him not to steal your hoodie

because he’s gonna do it anyways 😎💙

You discovered this one day, when you slipped the article off to bake with Mikey

After a nice batch of cookies was made, your jacket was gone and you began parading around the lair to find it

Only to see Leo, snuggled in his bed and playing on his phone, with your hoodie practically swallowing him whole

If he hadn’t looked so comfortable, you would have been angrier, and just settled for scolding him playfully for stealing it

it was hell trying to pry it off of him, though...

This turtle knows how to wrestle and he will not hesitate to kick your ass over this fluffy sweatshirt 😤

These two things (hugs and your hoodie) combined just make Leo melt into a puddle, and he couldn’t be happier to have all of your teddy bear hugs :>

Mikey

um, have you met this turtle?

KING of hugs

It’s so great how both of you share the same energy

Though he’s more cold-blooded, like Donnie, he needs all of the hugs

It’s just your thing

With Raph, you have fist bumps, Leo, you’ve got a cool handshake, Donnie is more for high-fives

And for Mikey, it’s hugs

He practically tackles you to the ground in tight hugs whenever you get home from school/work and come to the lair, like a happy little puppy

Speaking of puppies…

That’s what he says your hoodie feels like whenever it first arrives in the mail.

Immediately, you throw it on, and Mikey is all over it, petting the soft fabric and squealing in excitement

Can he please wear it?? 🥺

Little Mikey didn’t even have to ask before you shed the hoodie and let him try it on

And OH

FLUFFY...

The amount of cuteness that this turtle radiates when he’s smiling like an idiot and flapping the oversized arms around is just-

He vows to get his own since it’s so warm and comfortable

But he’s very respectful and gives it back to you

Only to attack you in another hug and lift you off of the ground because you look so adorable

“You’re like a little teddy bear!” *excited squeal!*

Mikey 100% respects your space so if you’re ever snuggling, he’s instantly aware of your getting sweaty or uncomfortable and will let up or loosen his arms

Winter days?

Snuggles all day and night

when Mikey (politely) asks to wear your jacket, he’ll throw it on and give you piggyback rides around the lair, because we love fun

And for Christmas, you get him his own, and he’s IN LOVE

Sweater buddies

He gets one in his favorite color and little ears on the hood and once a week, when they need to be thrown in the washer, you’ll keep him warm while he waits.

(Leo gets jealous of all the attention you’re giving Mikey >:o)

Donnie

we all know that Don isn’t the biggest on physical affection

If he wants a hug, usually he’d be the one to initiate, which is totally cool, since usually he’s forced into a hug by his brothers (secretly loves it tho)

He does enjoy your hugs, though he can be a bit awkward and stiff with them at first

If he’s feeling down, needs to be warmed up a bit, he’ll immediately seek your comfort

Even out of his brothers, you’re secretly his favorite

Sure he loves Dr. Delicate Touch, but sometimes Donnie would rather go to someone who isn’t very pushy with solutions, and is willing to listen

And we can also all agree that he has an immaculate fashion taste ✨💜

When he sees the fluffy sweater draped over your arm, he’s immediately running over, analyzing the fabrics, and rushing to get you to try it on

Why? Fashion show

Loves the warmth of your hoodie

And I because “it’s so soofff”

Donnie’s blood runs the coldest out of all of his brothers and he has the most sensitive shell, so he just adores your sweater

Is definitely contemplating on getting one for himself, though he wouldn’t tell you at first, because you might think he’s trying to copy your awesome style, and that would just destroy his massive ego 😩💅

He enjoys it when you sit in his lab with him, maybe rested against his side with your hoodie on, as you play on your phone/read/draw

Also up for snuggles when it’s extra chilly in the Lair, or when his brothers aren’t around, because once again, damaged ego

Movie marathons?

Hell yeah

Donnie will always make sure your comfortable before he gets comfortable on the couch, so you won’t shift around while watching the movie

He’s also very vulnerable when he takes his battle shell off, and in more ways than one

You know he’s got real, strong trust when he does so and will let you carefully hug him from behind with your hoodie on, since it’s so soft

Donnie will also snatch your massive jacket if he gets the chance, and disappear into his lab for days with it on

And he’ll never tell a soul this…

But he loves it the most, because it smells like you, 💜

so it’s like having you right beside him while you’re gone, or when he’s busy building something

Also, tries to use his classic and sarcastic charm when it comes to asking for your hoodie back

“Come on Don, it’s cold outside! I need it!”

“But would you take it from such a luxurious face as this?” 😏

“😒”

“Right, giving it back-“

He totally gets his own hoodie, by the way

Purple (obviously)

But it just isn’t the same as your own, so Donnie might just have yours on and then wrap his own around his waist

Yep

He sure does love his teddy bear 💜

Raph

Okay but Raph is an actual teddy bear-

A big, mom-friend, weapon-wielding teddy bear

He LOVES giving hugs, and most would recognize this, seeing the various pictures and instances where he pulls all three of his brothers in for a great big group hug ❤

He's constantly reminding himself that you are much much more prone to injuries than his brothers, so he holds you like a little baby when he hugs you

(Unless he gets super excited or has a really rough night, so just be aware that you might be restricted of breathing privileges in that case-)

Usually so gentle 🥺

Just picks you up and wraps those huge freaking arms around you like giant pillows

And he LOSES HIS SHIT when you come back with this fluffy ass hoodie

Has this infatuation with petting the fur and running his fingers over it

He has never felt something so soft in his entire life 😩❤

And then when he hugs you with it on-

aUGGGH ❤❤

"Why are you a like big teddy bear?!"

"Buddy, you're just getting a taste of my own world-"

Poor Raph, being the size he is and having such a spiky shell, can't just wear your hoodie like his brothers :(

I mean, sure he could take it so easily

But he doesn't want to disrespect your things, or make you upset, because this man is The Gentleman™

So, rather than asking to wear it, he'll ask to spend more time with you

Not just for the hoodie ofc, but because of your sweet gentleness and warmth

Better quit your job babe, because your new occupation?

Raph's cuddle buddy

He refuses to let you become uncomfortable, makes sure there are the right amount of pillows, blankets, and room for you to move around while you snuggle together etc.

Raph is also a heavy sleeper, so once he gets comfy and warm enough, he'll probably doze off and trap you in his big "arm cage"

Really, his nature is pure and gentle and everything you could ever imagine when it comes to hugging his little teddy bear ❤🐢

@getacactus @turtle-babe83

Hope you enjoyed this little ditty! I LOVED writing these!! 💜💜

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whosscruffylooking · 3 years

Text

Bad Bounty Chapter One: Reunion

Sergeant Hunter x Fem! Bounty Hunter

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Maybe mutual pining? Nothing too gross.

A/N: hunter was already attractive in season 7, but i managed to suppress my feelings for an ANIMATED character. alas, the bad batch has cursed me and i have finally accepted that he is my latest comfort character.

“You hold onto friends by keeping your heart a little softer than your head.”

“Clone Force 99. Welcome back, ” Commander Cody extends a hand to Hunter who firmly shakes it.

“Apologies for showing up late, we-”

“Got stuck handling some unexpected complications during a mission. I understand Sergeant Hunter,” Cody winks.

“What have you got for us this time Commander?” Crosshair mumbles, twisting his toothpick around between his teeth.

“This one is going to be a bit different boys. It’s not exactly…sanctioned by the GAR. Let’s call it a favor for an old friend of mine.”

Crosshair straightens up, suspicious of Cody’s statement, “We may bend the rules from time to time, but we don’t do favors.”

“This is an efficient mission that ultimately will aid us in the war, provide you some easy target practice…and helps me relieve an old debt I have to pay.”

“Is there a reason you can’t do this yourself?” Hunter questions.

“We’ve been called into battle. Besides, this separatist encampment is one we have failed to infiltrate time and time again,” Cody responds.

Hunter shifts, struggling to comprehend where this is going, “What does attacking a separatist encampment have to do with repaying a debt?”

“There is a Senator stationed on Drahgor III…a corrupt senator at that. One who has a significant bounty on his head. My dear old friend is a bounty hunter I met on Ord Mantell. Your job will be to take out the clankers and retrieve any data you can from the main database. Meanwhile, my bounty hunter friend will secure the bounty and you’ll go your separate ways.”

“Who is this Bounty Hunter?” Crosshair inquires.

“Glad you asked,” Cody exclaims, “Y/N!”

The clone troopers twirl around to see you approaching them. Your manner is conservative yet confident. One thing you have become an expert at is never striving for attention. Instead, your presence demands it.

You nod at the troopers, “Clone Force 99, it is a pleasure to be working with you.”

Surveying the team, your eyes first fall on Crosshair. His distrusting look reaffirms the defense you raised long before wandering onto the landing platform.

Gotta keep an eye on that one.

Next, you glance over to Wrecker. A massive lug of a man, but he has the noticeable demeanor of a gentle giant. Something about him reminds you of a plush toy you once owned as a child.

Tech catches your attention next. He is clearly the intuitive one. He will either be a pain to deal with, or a beneficial asset.

At last, your eyes meet Hunter’s. Such a tiny gesture of nothingness feels like you’ve just been thrust into a timeless world of something far more significant. You quickly dismiss your gaze, but soon find your eyes wandering back to him. His eyes are already on you.

Tech quickly picks up on your silent interaction and nudges Hunter to break him of his trance. Hunter quickly snaps out of it and clears his throat. He is dumbstruck by his response. His heart beats recklessly.

Taking note of his counterpart’s vitals, Tech is left unsettled by the quickening of Hunter’s heart rate. “Hunter, I need you to focus on your breathing. Your heart rate is abnormally high.”

Setting your sight once more on the rugged clone trooper, you catch the ever-changing hue of his cheek…the one that isn’t covered in dark ink. A hint of red paints his untouched skin.

He clears his throat, “Erm-thank you for alerting me Tech. I’ll be aboard the ship.”

Cody shrugs his shoulders at you, “I guess you’ll brief them on the ship. Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you Cody, ” you clap him on the shoulder and follow the rogue crews lead onto their ship.

++++

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚊𝚢

“Where are we going to go? We need somewhere we can set up camp that isn’t easily tracked, ” Echo declares.

“There is one place I can think of, but I’m not sure that Hunter will be a fan of the location, ” Tech announces apprehensively.

Hunter lets out a groan and tightens his fist.

Wrecker laughs, “Hunter doesn’t like this idea! Which means I like it even more!”

Glaring at Wrecker, Hunter abruptly stands and stomps off into the cockpit.

“Where is it?” Echo inquires. He leans in, intrigued by the atmosphere that has suddenly befallen the Marauder.

“Let’s just say…we’d have to get help from an old friend.”

“Ha! An old friend!?” Wrecker blurts out, “Try an old fla-”

“That’s enough, ” Hunter commands, having regained his composure, “We will attempt to make contact this evening and if we have no response by the morning, we will seek out other options.”

++++

All night Hunter stayed up, much to the dismay of his crewmates, awaiting an incoming communication. His mind told him that it would never come through; his heart made him believe…or at least hope otherwise.

He stretches his arms into the air, releasing a hardy yawn. Tech enters the cockpit, “Anything?”

“Nothing, ” Hunter responds with a hint of despair clouding his words.

Just then, a muffled echo transmits through the comms unit. Hunter nearly falls out of the captain’s chair as he scrambles to the commlink.

“This is Phoenix 178095 trying to contact Clone Force 99. I repeat, this is Phoenix 1780-“

“Copy Phoenix 178095, this is Clone Force 99,” Hunter announces almost frantically.

The only response is silence…until, “Hunter? Hunter, is that you?”

The rugged clones grasp on the comlink tightens, and he touches it to his forehead. His eyes are locked shut, his breath unsteady.

“Yes. It’s me.”

You hear his guttural voice and suddenly, your memories which you’ve strived to suppress come flooding back, knocking the wind out of you.

Attempting to swallow the lump that insists on crowding your throat, you press down the transmitter button, but fail to express your thoughts.

“What?” A menacing voice echoes out, “Lothcat got your tongue?”

You chuckle, pressing the comlink to your forehead, “well if it isn’t my favorite piston head.” Piston head, a nickname you have used to refer to Crosshair for as long as you can remember. You find it fitting because term is in reference to a droid, similar to the droid-like manner in which Crosshair carries himself.

“So!” Shouts a third, brooding and somewhat childish voice, “Are we bunking with you or what?”

“Yes Wrecker, you are more than welcome to stay here.”

“Thank you, ” Hunter softly says into the comm’s mic. His voice still brings warmth to your soul, although the communicator slightly alters it.

“Get here safely.”

“Always do.”

“I know, ” you affirm and disconnect the commlink.

Looking around at the empty room, which mere seconds ago was filled with the sound of your closest friends’ voices, you feel once again plagued by loneliness.

It has been nearly three years since you last spoke to them. Choosing to once again shove your feelings down deep inside you, rather than let the pain consume you, you prepare for their arrival.

++++

“Maybe one day we will meet again, when all of this is over. Perhaps then we will have the freedom to say all that we have long held in, ” you exhaust yourself in the effort to fight back the words that are bottled up inside of you.

A void and emotionless, expression spans across his face as he finally acknowledges the weight of the moment. A single tear threatens to spill over, and he clenches his fist to fight back the giant hole that is forming in his heart.

“Y/N, ” he utters, “I-”

“Hunter! It’s time for us to go, ” Tech calls out.

++++

Your entire body jerks to a standstill when you hear the hum of their ship landing.

Hunter feels a sudden sickening sensation throughout his body.

“Deep breaths, brother. You don’t want your little reunion to be overruled by sweaty palms and rosy cheeks, ” Crosshair teases.

Hunter groans, “We are here for a short period of time until we can safely get back to Kamino. Until then, this is strictly business as usual.”

“Whatever you say Hunter,” he flicks his toothpick into the garbage receptacle with perfect aim.

The leader of the clone force, known for being courageous, daring, and valiant has abruptly shifted to a timid and uncertain man. But that’s just it. He felt like a man. A feeling only familiar when around you. Every other day of the rotation, he is merely a defective clone—a misfit who despite his enhanced abilities, is thrown into combat, aware of the fact that he is completely dispensable. Because he is merely one of hundreds of thousands of others just like him, he feels like he is just another carbon copy dispersed off of a factory line. Yet, around you, he never felt that way.

He watches out the cockpit window and sees you emerge from your homestead. His heart somersaults.

“Shall we disembark Hunter?” Tech asks.

He nods.

You are so lost in your thoughts that you hardly notice the troopers exiting their ship. It isn’t until Wrecker has scooped you up into his arms that you are jostled back to reality.

“Wreck!” You cry out in excitement as you wrap your arms around him.

Crosshair lends you a wink that you flirtatiously mirror. It’s always fun seeing him fight back a cheeky grin.

Tech is clearly holding back, so you eagerly close the distance between you two and envelope him in your arms. Initially, he hesitates but rapidly works up the bravery to reciprocate.

Chuckling at his hold on you, you tease, “I don’t know who gives the stronger hugs! You, or Wrecker.” He quickly releases you and straightens his glasses.

“Who’s this?” You motion towards the pale, almost sickly-looking clone. In fact, he looks more like a machine than a clone.

“I’m Echo, ” he extends his hand to you. Accepting it, you introduce yourself in return.

Hunter appears from behind the group. Suddenly, you lose the ability to think straight, let alone speak. His eyes meet yours and you share a somber smile. Each taking a step toward each other, you close the distance between you. Unable to resist any longer, you throw your arms around him, drawing him tightly to you.

For a moment, he stands frozen. Hunter has imagined the feeling of taking you into his arms again more than he would like to admit. At last, he pushes his thoughts aside and encircles your waist with his strong embrace.

You can feel his heartbeat slowly accelerate; at least your heart isn’t the only one threatening to beat out of your chest. You seemingly melt into each other. His hands softly tracing circles on your lower back.

Knowing that this moment cannot last as long as you’d both like, you hesitantly pull away from him. His hands grip at your hips as if he is begging you to not stray from his grasp. Your heart yearns to pull him back into your embrace and to stay there with him forever.

Becoming aware of the world around you once again, you feel your face flush into a crimson red.

“Why are they just standing there like that?” Wrecker leans down to whisper to Tech.

“Sometimes, the most important messages do not need to be said with words,” he responds softly.

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that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

Text

A sweet Reunion| Echo

Something short and sweet because lets be honest I think I fucked you guys up with that last crosshair one-

Reader: female

Warnings: nope

"What I need is clones."

Cid leaned back in her chair, the cloaked figure infront of her.

"Oh?" Cid questioned, "You know after the republic went imperal not to many clones are loosey goosey lookin for work. They're all employed with the empire."

"My intell says you have a group of clones for hire."

Cid crossed her arms, "and if I do whats it to you?"

The figure took off the heavy sling bag, tossing it onto the desk between them, "Will this suffice?" The bag over flowing with imperal currency, and of the highest denomination.

"You have my attention." Cid spoke.

"Good I'll need to see them."

"Now that will-"

Cutting her off the figure reached down picking up another bag and tossing it on the desk, the backpack causing the first bag to spill over, the credits in the second bag spilling out.

"I have more, but I will need see them."

"Alright agreed."

"Good."

"Now whats the mission?"

"Im looking for someone," the figure responded, "a soilder, the republic went empire and I want to find out the truth about what happened to him."

"Fine. They'll return in two cycles."

The figure said nothing and left Cid in silence.

Two cycles came, the batch of clones arriving back at the bar.

"I got a new mission for you boys." Cid spoke from behind the counter.

"Another one?" Omega asked curiously.

"Yeah. Someone came in a day or two ago. Payed me massive credit to see you all." Cid spoke, "Im assuming there lookin for one of your kind. A clone. Seemed pretty heart broken about it all too."

"That would be a first." Echo spoke.

"Indeed it would, not many approved of the cloning facilities, or clone troopers." Tech spoke.

"Did they leave a name?" Hunter asked.

"No. Just two bag fulls of high denomination imperal credits." Cid spoke, "when getting paid you don't ask much, especially if its just for some meet and greet. They'll be here later today. Don't blow this!"

Cid walked off leaving the group alone, "so. What do we do while we wait?" Omega asked.

It was boring, waiting around for this person. What did they want clones for? Maybe they were paying for information? Or maybe needed a bounty Hunter.

They were all in the back room on Cid's orders to not draw attention. The bar empty as finally they heard two voices, Cid being one of them.

"Where are they?" The second asked, "We had a deal. I've done this two many times. If you're lying to me you'll by lying on the floor in a matter of seconds."

"Now hold your tigger happy." Cid spoke sarcastically, "Get out here!"

They filed out, if needed to they were ready to shoot, Omega hidden behind the group.

"There." Cid spoke rolling her eyes as she left the group, they could take care of themselves.

It was silent as the men looked at each other.

"I-" the figure spoke, "your...alive-"

"Very Much-" Tech spoke out, "but who are you to be exact."

The hood was removed as a woman stood there, hair back in a clip as her eyes were two oldly different colors, her face littered with small scars.

"Y/n?" Echo asked shocked as Y/n nodded, "Y/n...Y/n. Y/N!"

She laughed nodding more as Echo ran to hug her, immediately picking her up and twirling her around. She laughed happily as he set her back down.

"Uh who's Y/n?" Omega asked Tech.

"The woman of my dreams!" Echo replied as Y/n smiled, his good hand through her hair, "I- the files said you had died!"

"Death couldn't beat me even if it tried." Y/n smiled.

The two laughed happily, pulling each other into a kiss as Wrecker gaged causing Omega to laugh lightly.

The two pulled away as Y/n smiled, turning herself towards the group.

"Im so glad you are all alive." Y/n spoke, "I've been searching non-stop."

"You. Have?" Hunter asked curiously.

"Well of course." Y/n spoke, "any clone trooper of mine is my family."

"Here it is." Tech spoke pulling up something on his data pad, "She was a general during the clone wars, usually paired with Ashoka Tano, when she wasnt Pair with the infamous trio of Skywalker, Kenobi, and Tano. She won countless battles."

"She doesnt seem much like a jedi." Hunter spoke, looking back at Echo and her, the clone pulling her into another kiss.

"Its said she was killed on Dathomir. A long time ago." Tech responded running through the files, "and was never heard of again. Perhaps the order banished her- these battle records are amazing."

Tech contuined to scroll through them, "She has no Battalion to her name. And gave an infamous speach about clones in support of them during the war and after the war efforts."

"So a clone supporter?" Hunter questioned.

"Well. A clone empathizor really, before becoming a Jedi she denounced the order to be a clone at 17 years of age, and then return to the order on account of plead by the council and the chanellor."

"So. Shes one of us then!?" Wrecker asked.

"In a sense yes." Tech spoke.

"Alright!" Omega cheered rushing through the boys and towards Echo ans Y/n.

"You're a total kick ass!" Omega spoke stars in her eyes as she looked up at Y/n.

"Hey! Who taught you that?!" Hunter argued.

"Cid did!"

"And who are you little One?" Y/n questioned

"I'm Omega!" She cheered.

Y/n smiled, "well Omega. If I do say so myself. I am a kick ass arent I?"

#star wars #star wars: the bad batch #the bad batch #star wars echo #sw: tbb #bad batch echo #tbb echo #echo x reader #echo the bad batch

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blvejeanbaby · 3 years

Text

Play Ground | Jung Yunho

Pairing: Yunho x reader, mention of reader with other idols (but it’s still basically a non!idol au) Word count: 3.8k Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol consumption Summary: Drunken words are sober thoughts... sometimes spoken at clubs and playgrounds

The pre-party was in full swing. Yeosang and San were over by the counter, preparing a second batch of mojitos, which you weren't sure you were going to drink (the previous one had contained far too much rum and you were not one to water down your drinks); Jongho was in charge of the music, arguing with your friend Ginny about the line-up (she wanted a certain sing-along Beyoncé ballad). Your eyes passed over Wooyoung and Mingi, who were a beer pong team against Seonghwa and Hongjoong, who were losing spectacularly. And finally, your eyes found Yunho. He was standing by the sliding doors leading into the back garden, watching the beer pong game over the rim of his red cup with an amused look in his eyes. Just then, your eyes met. You smiled, not wanting to appear suspicious by looking away too quickly. He smirked back at you, pushed off the wall and sauntered over to you.

He was drunk. It was quite clear now that he was walking (damn Yeosang and San's cocktail making abilities!) by the slight stumble in his walk as he passed the column in the middle of the room. He was rather clumsy as he dropped down onto the couch next to you. From up close, you could see his cheeks were slightly rosy and his eyes held a shimmer to them that suggested... something more. You weren't sure what. "You were sitting here all lonesome," he said.

"Lonesome?" You raised your eyebrows. "I was enjoying peace, quiet and voluntary solitude." You patted the throw pillow that lay in between you and Yunho. "I was considering taking a nap, actually. You know how alcohol makes me drowsy."

"Does it, now?" He held his cup out to me. "Sip?"

"Is it mojito?" But as you leaned to smell, it was a lot sweeter than the medicinal smell of the rum. "What is this?"

"Some Spanish liquor," Yunho said. "Mixed with milk."

Indeed, the substance in his cup was quite white. You wrinkled your nose. Even though his description suggested otherwise, the smell promised a sweet taste. "I think I'll pass." You leaned back against the couch, pulling your legs up under yourself. "Shall we play Never Have I Ever with the others? I'm bored."

“Sure. I’ll call them over.” You held your breath; Yunho leaned in as if to give you a kiss, but he only put his cup on the table behind you before getting up and rounding up the others. A pang of disappointment shot through you as you watched him gather your friends. Provided with newly filled cups of San and Yeosang’s mojito mix, everyone settled around you on the couch. You felt as though you were about to tell a grand story and everyone was gathering to listen. You were glad Yunho went to sit down beside you again, even if it was just to feel his body warmth.

“Who starts?” Hongjoong asked before taking a tentative sip from his cup. He made a face; evidently the mojito tasted bad.

“I will,” you said. After all, it was your idea. “Never have I ever... made out with anyone in this room.” You took a sip and winked at Ginny. You weren’t the only one to lift your cup: San and Wooyoung looked, rather suspiciously, away from each other as they drank, as did Jongho and your friend Yeeun.

“My turn,” Mingi said. You felt Yunho stiffen beside you. “Never have I ever had feelings for someone in this room.”

You lifted your eyebrows as you watched Yunho decidedly take a sip. You followed, as did Wooyoung. When no one else drank, you saw how Wooyoung’s face fell. You also saw Ginny throw you a wink this time.

Now, it was Yeeun’s time to think of a question. “Never have I ever... thrown up in my mom’s vegetable garden.” She looked at Jimin intently. Jimin laughed, taking a sip. She was the only one to.

The game continued for another while, after which the group split into two: those who wanted to smoke outside and those who wanted to play a round of truth or dare. You watched Yunho go with your eyes as he left to smoke, you staying with the group inside. You didn’t feel much for playing the game, but you stayed nonetheless.

It was Mingi who asked you your first question of truth. “I saw you drink just now... Who is it you had feelings for?”

Everyone’s eyes were on you. You were glad that Yunho, San, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and your girl friends weren’t there, but at the same time you missed Ginny. She would understand your inner turmoil at the moment. But you had had a bit to drink now and there was no denying it...

“Come on!” Mingi pressed you. “Tell us. You picked truth!”

“Fine,” you sighed. “It’s-”

“We need to go!” The sliding door to the garden was thrown open and Seonghwa burst inside, looking all sorts of frantic. “We needed to be queueing at the club ten minutes ago!”

Seonghwa had been right in trying to plan the evening. You should’ve arrived earlier to ensure not queueing for too long. But there was nothing to do about it now, as the line to enter the club passed down several other establishments on the road. You stood next to Ginny, who was chatting animatedly to San about something to do with university. You saw Wooyoung throw the boy many glances that were probably very meaningful, but you didn’t quite understand what was going on there.

You were just about to turn to him to ask if anything was wrong, when your eyes moved past him and saw... “Changkyun?”

Changkyun and his friend Jooheon immediately looked up. When Changkyun saw you, his eyes lit up, as if he was happy to see you. “Y/N!” He gestured for you to come closer, so you did, stepping past Ginny to get to the barrier in order to hug Changkyun. You two had had a casual thing for a while, but it had ended a few weeks ago because he got himself a girlfriend. Finally, you had thought when he announced to you via text that he couldn’t see you anymore. Although you knew via Ginny that the girlfriend had up and left already. “It’s been so long.”

“I know,” you said. Being back in Changkyun’s arms felt so familiar, you almost couldn’t breathe. “Come on,” you drew back from his embrace and tapped the top of the barrier. “Come stand with me.”

Changkyun and Jooheon didn’t have to think twice; the line was so long already. Because of your history of hooking up, Ginny had often been left with Jooheon. She spun to talk to him as Changkyun cornered you against the wall. It was clear that this was perhaps one of the first few times he was going out again after breaking up with his short-term girlfriend. He wanted a rebound, apparently... “What have you been up to?”

You started explaining something completely irrelevant about your past week - you had been rather cooped up inside trying to study for an important exam and had seen very little alcohol and very little night life. You didn’t ask for details on Changkyun’s week, fearing it would be awkward to talk about the ex-girlfriend, but he started talking about her himself.

As soon as you entered the club, you felt excited. The buzz you had felt during pre-gaming had worn off a bit, so you instantly dragged Changkyun with you to the bar. He paid for your drink, which told you quite clearly what his intentions with you were for tonight. You weren’t about to say no, not to the drink and not to his plans.

Until you spotted him. Yunho stood with his back against the wall, listening to Yeeun telling what was possibly a great story about her favourite activity in life (flower arranging; oddly enough she always found a way to sneak it into conversation). He ought to be looking at Yeeun, but he wasn't. Instead, his eyes were trained on you.

You quickly looked back at Changkyun, feeling suddenly awkward, as if Yunho had caught you in a very compromising position with Kyun. But it was nothing like that, not yet at least. You tried to smile at Changkyun, to appear normal, but you could feel it wasn't at all convincing. You felt a sudden urge to tell Kyun to fuck off (he didn't deserve that rudeness, he was perfectly gentlemanly in every way), push Yeeun out of the way and confess your undying love for Yunho. But that was madness.

So you excused yourself to the toilet instead. Luckily, there was a long line and, unlucky for you, it caused you to have time to overthink. Would you have hooked up with Changkyun any other night? Definite yes. He was hot, good in bed, had a good personality and always treated you with respect. His friends and roommates were amazing and you liked sleeping over there, even if only to appreciate the view from his apartment and the softness of his bed. But tonight was different.

Perhaps it was because you had admitted it, if not to others than at least to yourself; you liked Yunho. You had a crush on him. You thought of the way he had sipped at the question (he was in love with someone!), the way his eyes were on you and not on Yeeun. He couldn't be in love with Ginny, you told yourself. If it was Jimin, that was just immoral; Mingi had a massive crush on her. No, it was none of them... so it had to be you. Or had he just been playing around? Had he misunderstood the question?

You quickly did your business at the toilet, wanting to return to the club’s main area to dance. You passed by the bar, which was void of Changkyun. You found him a moment later on the edge of the dance floor, his front stuck to an unknown girl’s backside. On the hunt for a rebound, as you had suspected. You smiled at Jooheon as you passed by; he was dancing with Ginny. They were always platonic, but you weren’t sure if they would remain that way.

Instead, you found Yeeun, Yunho, Hongjoong and Jongho a little further into the mass of bodies on the dance floor. Jongho was looking wistfully at Jimin, who was a few metres away, dancing closely with San. Behind him, Seonghwa and Wooyoung were just returning with drinks in their hands, the latter looking at San with a similar expression as Jongho at Jimin. You, however, turned your attention to Yunho. His was already on you.

You decided to test your theory. For Ginny’s birthday last year, you and the girls had all arranged for her to have both a pole dance lesson and a lesson in burlesque dancing. If there was one thing you had learned from that, it was to feel comfortable and confident. It was that feeling you summoned as you adjusted your movements to the rhythm of the music, attempting to make yourself as sexy and appealing as possible. You suspected you needed little effort to get Yunho’s attention, as he was already looking at you and only you, but you could aid the situation this way. If you wanted something to happen... this was the way to accomplish it.

The music was loud, the bodies around you sweaty. You were way too alert of everything that was happening around you, but at the same time you were oddly focused on Yunho only. And that’s when something snapped in him.

He was by you in a second, accidentally shoving Yeeun out the way and into Seonghwa’s arms, in an attempt to get to you faster. He was intoxicated, very clearly so. He would never be as bold as to touch you where he touched you now; his right hand was on your hip, his left cupped your face. He tilted your face upwards and bend over. Your breath hitched. Was he going to kiss you? But no, he bend a little further to speak in your ear: “I thought tonight you would be with Changkyun.” He spit his name, angrily. You had never heard Yunho talk of anyone that way.

“Not if you’ll be with me,” you said, feeling bold. You wanted to reach up and touch Yunho, but it was always you taking the lead. He had never been this way before, always taking a backseat to everyone else. Oh no, don’t mistake him for not having personality or confidence. He wasn’t shy, he wasn’t reserved. But he was careful, sometimes near calculating. Yunho knew what he wanted and how to get it, but he would prefer to wait and see. And there you were, answering his unspoken calls, finally. Finally forgetting about Changkyun.

“Let’s leave,” Yunho said.

“Leave?” And leave our friends behind? you wanted to ask.

“I have something I want to show you,” he said.

You pulled back a little so you could see his eyes. He was drunk, yes, but not so drunk that he could not think clearly. “Okay,” you heard yourself say.

Five minutes later you had said goodbye to your friends (Ginny already congratulated you on your catch, even though nothing had happened yet; Wooyoung had looked sourly on as he promised to tell San you had said goodbye; San was pressed against a girl’s backside; Changkyun and his girl were getting thrown out by a security guy for him fingering her in the club’s bathrooms), you had collected your coats from the wardrobe and you were on your way to whatever Yunho wanted to show you.

The night air sobered you up significantly and with a tentative peak at Yunho, you could see that it had the same effect on him. Your hands swung in between you two, occasionally brushing against each other. You bit your lip, gathering all of the courage inside you to reach out just a little bit and -

His hand was warm in yours.

You couldn’t help but look up at him and smile. He was staring straight ahead, but by the bulging of his cheek, you could see he was smiling too.

After a few minutes of walking, Yunho led you into a park. There were no lights on inside, there was only the glow of the street lights a little ways away. You had frequented the park when you were younger. Every day after school, you would go there to hang out, unaware that you were scaring the younger kids away. You hadn’t been to the park in months now, years even. You didn’t think Yunho would be so sentimental as to take you here.

The park’s center piece was a large playground, complete with every playset you could imagine: slides of different heights, seesaws with an animal theme, an array of different swings. And there was a relatively big, wooden playhouse. It was the playhouse you had had your first kiss, the playhouse where you got drunk for the first time. It was that exact playhouse that Yunho started climbing into - he had to let go of your hand to do so.

You followed him inside. The interior was warmer than outside, despite the many holes in the wood. Even though the floor of the house was covered in sand, you didn’t mind sitting down, because it meant sitting next to Yunho. In honesty, he was all too big for the playhouse. He had to pull up his knees to be able to fit his legs and he had to slump down a little bit to not hit his head, but he seemed comfortable nonetheless. And more importantly, he seemed to be staring at you.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” you asked, getting shifty under his gaze.

“Oh!” Yunho said, as if he’d forgotten. He shot up a little, hitting his head on the roof of the playhouse.

You laughed softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his head.

You sat up a little, taking the hand that was rubbing his head in yours and softly pulling it away to reveal the damage done. There was nothing to show for it, although you imagined there would be a nice little bump the next morning. You bent over and pressed a kiss on the sore spot. “There.” You swore Yunho blushed.

He moved on quickly, saying: “This is what I wanted to show you.” He took out his phone, using it as a flashlight. Yunho pointed it at the wall of the playhouse, revealing a drawing. It was a heart, shot through with an arrow. On the left side stood YH, on the right YN.

You moved closer, taking out your finger and stroking the drawing. “How long has this been here?”

“Remember when we came here the night before graduation? We played truth or dare.” You nodded, remembering how, at the end of the night, everyone was escorted out of the park by police after ignoring noise complaints and being drunk in public. Luckily, because you were underage, the police had settled for contacting your parents and sending you home with a warning. “I hid in the bushes when the police came. I managed to sneak away. I figured they’d only be warning us for the noise, so I came back when I saw their cars drive away. Only, everyone had gone. I didn’t know if others had managed to escape the police, so I climbed in here to wait it out for a moment. When no one returned...” Yunho shrugged. “I thought it was going to be the last time we would all be here together. And I wanted to leave a trace of us behind.”

“A trace of us?” you said, tracing the outlines of the heart. “Of Yunho and Y/N.”

“I was in love with you. All throughout high school.”

You felt your heart contract. “You were?”

Yunho nodded. “I know you didn’t, don’t, feel the same way.” He shrugged. “You had a massive crush on Jeon Jungkook when he was still in school with us, right? And then, the year of our graduation, you suddenly shifted your focus onto Moon Kevin! I was so upset.” He laughed a little, as if it was funny. “And then you got with Changkyun.”

You saw all of the faces of the boys he mentioned in your mind. Jungkook, whom you indeed had had a crush on, but so did the entire school. That was never serious. And then Kevin... It had been a little bit more serious, but you found out he was dating some ulzzang and you had given up. And then Changkyun...

“None of that was ever serious,” you said. You thought of Changkyun. You had only been seeing him for about a year or so - way past graduation. You jerked your head up. “When you said you were in love with me... You are not still, are you?”

Yunho didn’t respond, just looked away to his phone, turning off the flashlight.

You figured he wouldn’t respond at all, unless prompted by you... “Because if you are,” you started, gulping. Were you really about to do this? There was no turning back now. “...then that would be really fortunate. Cause I- Cause I’m in love with you too.”

Now it was Yunho’s turn to jerk his head up quickly. “You’re just saying that.”

“No!” Your eyes, used to the dark, searched his face. “I mean it.”

There was a long pause, and then a smile broke out on his face. “You do?”

You couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I do, Yunho.” You wanted to reach out and take a hold of his hand, but he had something different in mind. He grabbed your face, in a rather rough manner that revealed the alcohol had not made its way out of his system entirely, and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

It felt so different from every single kiss you had had before. Where before, you had not been able to stop comparing every partner to the previous, you were now only focused on Yunho. On the way his grip on your face softened as his other hand found purchase on your waist. On the way he made a little yelping sound as he pulled you closer - so close that he lost his balance and toppled over backwards, you following him without breaking the kiss.

You didn’t want the moment to ever end. You were far too content just lazily dragging your tongue against his, his hands exploring your body. After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away from him, Yunho’s lips following yours needily. But you sat up a little, too far away for him to reach. “We should head home,” you said.

“Nah,” Yunho said, pulling you by your hands so you fell softly on top of him. “I don’t want us to face drunken Mingi.”

Your heart burst at the thought of what he meant - he thought you had wanted to come home with him. There was no way you would suggest taking Yunho home to Ginny and Seonghwa - the latter of which seemed to be permanently crashing at your place after being thrown out by his partner two weeks ago. And so instead, you shuffled down a little bit so you could lay your head on Yunho’s chest and close your eyes.

You could feel Yunho’s heartbeat, as well as his chest rising and falling with every breath. The soothing atmosphere (the birds of the park slowly coming back to life, chittering away) made you so sleepy, you didn’t know where the night ended and sleep began. At least you knew when the morning came.

You opened your eyes, groaning a little. You were hungover; you felt the headache as soon as you opened your eyes. Your eyes were met by another pair and -

“Argh!” You shot upright, your scream causing Yunho to wake up too. He shot up, hitting his head on the roof of the playhouse once again. In scaring you, the little kid seemed to be scared himself; his eyes disappeared from the entrance of the playhouse, followed by a thump and a yell: “Mom! Mom!”

Yunho rubbed his head, muttering angrily under his breath.

You wiped the sleep out of your eyes, not caring that you were wiping your makeup off as well. “We should go.”

“Before they call the police on us,” Yunho agreed.

But even if the mother would have called the police, it wouldn’t ruin your day. Instead, you figured it would have been a perfect full circle moment.

#yunho x reader #jung yunho #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez suggestive #yunho imagine #yunho fluff #ateez imagine #yunho suggestive #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop suggestive #kpop imagine #ateez #yunho

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jessiebanethedragon · 4 years

Text

Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder. (1/?)

kinda sorta Wolffe x reader and Crosshair x reader. I just love the idea of those two having interactions with each other that are fuelled by rage and because i love both of the characters there’s of course a lil bit of romance

also! if ya’ll want a part two pls pls tell me bc this is the my first time writing something like this so like yeah.

To say that Clone Force 99 and the Wolfpack don’t get along would be an understatement. Like a massive, massive understatement. It wasn't a secret that the commander of the 104th did not like most people, but when it came to the sniper of the famed Bad Batch, it seemed he detested his every cell. But the feeling was mutual, from the very first meeting.

“We haven't worked with Regs before.” Crosshair sneered at the masked commander.

“I wouldn't get too worked up.” Wolffe bit back. “We’ve never worked with rejects before.” Which led General Plo and Sargent Hunter finding Tech and Sinker pulling the two off of each other. A split lip and bloody nose later, both men were sent out of the medbay with the warning of ‘play nice’ from both of their leaders.

No nice playing occurred.

Between vicious pranks, creative insults (puppy boy and stick bug were crowd favorites) and a few brawls it was agreed that Crosshair and Wolffe should be kept as far away from each other as physically possible.

And then, they met you. A crafty field medic who was willing to go on missions no one else was. You met Wolffe when his medic was in a medbay himself after a particularly bad attack on Felucia. Sticking your hand out to the very angry looking clone commander with nothing but a smile on your face. Yeah he was a goner. From every time you softly called him ‘Wolffy’ to every time you flung yourself onto a battlefield with next to no fear.

You met crosshair when the Batch was assigned to drop medics (real quite like) into a republic camp that was teeming with wounded.

“You sure you civics can handle something like this?” Hunter asked as the ship started its quick descent.

“Just worry about cover fire sarge. We can handle the rest.” You told him firmly, making sure your blaster was secured in its spot. Crosshair claimed his fixation was on your work, and not the way your stunning face changed from hatred to loving as you went from battle mode into a healing one.

Of course you were next to oblivious about their liking of you, but it started to become more and more apparent as time went on.

“Hey Meds!” Tech called upon seeing you in the hanger. (A nickname courtesy of Fives)

“Hello Tech,” you greeted. “I thought you boys had already shipped out again.” you’d seen them just this morning prepping the Havoc Marauder for flight.

“Nah, got reassigned, apparently there's trouble on Taris and we’re needed there.” He told you excitedly, of course Tech would be hyped to see Taris, the among of wreckage there could keep him occupied for days.

“Taris eh?” you smiled, “Thats funny I was just told by command that the wolfpack and I are heading out there.” With a nod over to where you were heading, you and Tech set off again.

“That's why I came to find you, just to give you a heads up about them.” He said with a slightly scrunched nose, you laughed slightly.

“Warn me? Tech have you met them? They’re harmless!”

“There, uh, was an incident.” He said. “Commander Wolffe and Crosshair do not get along.” You both round the corner to the gathering of men and ships all painted with the insignias you knew too well.

“Does Crosshair get along well with anyone?” You teased smiling at Tech who looked more and more agitated the closer you got to the ships.

“I’m just letting you know you might have to mitigate the two of them.” He pressed.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” you brushed it off, maybe you were just a little too excited to be seeing a certain someone again to worry about anything at the moment.

“Meds!” Boost called as you joined the group grabbing you into a death grip hug. Making You wince as his armour crushed you.

“Do not. Asphyxiate. Our. Medic.” A gruff voice said from behind, and you smiled even more as Wolffe took his bucket off as Boost placed you back on your feet.

“Hiya Wolffy.” You said pulling him close in a gentle hug, feeling him tense at the PDA before wrapping the arm that wasn't holding his helmet in around you.

“(Y/N)” He said quietly, and most definitely not into your ear. “Good to see you’re still in one piece.” You scoffed pulling away from the hug before it got suspicious.

“As if I'd be anything but.” You pushed his shoulder gently as he chuckled. Tech clears his throat to get your attention and as you turned to look over your eyes caught his team walking towards the group.

“Well look who it is.” Wolffe grit out. Noticing the three other members approach.

“Lets try and avoid a scuffle again commander. If that isn't too much trouble.” Tech said over his shoulder as he strode off, probably to update hunter on something mission related. From where Wolffe was standing you swore you actually heard him growl.

“Commander.” Hunter greeted with a nod.

“Sergeant.” Wolffe nodded back, before locking eyes with Crosshair. Tech counted 21 seconds that went by before Crosshair opened his mouth. A new record of peacetime between the two.

“Looks like the puppy pack needed bailing out again.” He sneered from behind the ever present toothpick.

“Said the walking, talking, gangly rifle.” Wolffe spit back. Standing toe to toe with Crosshair.

“Crosshair, Wolffe what's going on?” You asked, while Tech sent you a ‘I told you so’ look.

“You know this hut'uun?” Both of them shouted at you simultaneously.

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years

Text

A Dangerous Game

part 28

masterlist

Hello my darlings! Here it is next chapter because I am stressed and my mother is threatening to send me to live in Moose Jaw where my cousin is eagerly waiting to marry me off. But enjoy! send me an ask! drop a comment! and check out the teasers for the rest of the hyung line!--- chaotic puff

Boredom had eventually forced her to the kitchen much to the horror of Miss In and the rest of the staff. Even getting someone to show her where the kitchen was had been a struggle, but here she was fluttering around the kitchen in a flour smudged apron with the cook and Miss In both hovering as she went about her business. She was almost positive that both women were going to have an aneurism.

It was fall and the inexplicable urge to make something pumpkin related had overtaken her which had led to the decision to make a massive batch of pumpkin bread considering there were no muffin tins. She knew full well that she wasn’t going to eat this much pumpkin bread, but she figured she could shove it off on the boys. Jungkook had a bottomless stomach, and Jin loved to try new foods. Yoongi didn’t like sweets very much, but she was sure she could force him to take a few slices. She’d even give some to Taehyung and Hoseok. Jimin would get a whole loaf as an apology for hitting him over the head now that he was back.

“The incomparable Mrs. Kim!” A familiar voice crowed. She looked up to see Mark waltzing into the kitchen.

“How do you keep getting in here? Aren’t you banned? I think someone got fired last time you were here.” She mused turning her attention back to the pumpkin bread. “As long as you’re here make yourself useful and hand me the vanilla.”

He grinned taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves as he joined her at the kitchen island brining the vanilla with him. “Baking today?”

“Bored to tears. This seemed like something different to do.”

“Are you feeding an army?” He asked looking at the amount of batter she was mixing. “Or a small country?”

“I’m bored.” She deadpanned flicking a speck of the bright orange mixture at him. “Don’t judge me. You’re not even supposed to be here. If my being in the kitchen isn’t going to give Miss In an aneurysm your being here will.” She whispered conspiratorially trying to suppress her grin. “What are you even doing here?”

“I’m here to check up on my favorite mob wife. Someone needs to make sure Namjoon isn’t keeping you locked in a tower.”

“Not a tower. A mansion though. An entire gated estate.” She laughed mixing the batter together before taking a tester spoon to it. “It needs something. Taste.” She handed him a tester spoon as well.

“More cinnamon?” He asked looking at the mixture contemplatively.

“More cinnamon.” She agreed as he handed her the spice in question.

“Who are you even feeding with all of this?”

“A small army. We’ve been over this.” She teased happy to have someone new to talk to. She was starved for Namjoon related company these days. Something about the late fall had everyone busy, not that anyone would tell her what it was. She was the wife and nothing more. Information about Namjoon’s empire was strictly forbidden to her. Even his study was locked when he wasn’t in it.

“Ah. Planning to use your small army to take over your husband’s empire? I’d support that.”

“We’d both get shot.” She reminded him. “You in the head. Me probably in somewhere nonlethal, and I’d never get to leave my bedroom again.”

“Kinky.” He teased playfully bumping his hip into hers, and she could practically feel Miss In’s glare boring into their backs. Namjoon was going to have a field day with this later.

“How did you get in here?” She asked looking over at him in confusion.

“Very carefully.” He answered giving her a wink.

“You’re going to get yourself shot.” She warned prepping the bread pans. “I’d prefer you not to get shot just because you were checking up on me.”

A slow Cheshire grin took over his face. “You like me.”

“False.”

“You like me. You don’t want me to get shot.” He laughed helping her pour the batter into the pans. “Wait till I tell Jackson. He’ll be so jealous.”

“Careful. He won’t be the only one who’s jealous if they hear you say things like that.” She warned casting a quick glance at the door just to make sure Namjoon hadn’t materialized. Someone was bound to have told him about her visitor by now.

“Faint heart never won fair lady.”

She froze before turning a solemn glare to him. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Like what?” He asks innocently.

“Flirty things. I will not be responsible for the hole between your eyes if Namjoon ever got wind of it.” His grin faded seeing how serious she was.

“You really think he’s going to shoot me.”

“You don’t?” She scoffed putting the bread pans into the oven, two in each. “You really think he’s not capable of shooting you out of some sort of misguided jealousy? You think JB could protect you?” She asked putting one hand on her hip and the other on the counter as she stared him down.

“You’re really worried about this aren’t you?”

“He crashed a car with me in it to get me here. He put a chip in my neck to make sure I can’t run away. I don’t underestimate him.”

“He crashed a car with you in it!” He yelped looking vaguely panicked on her behalf. “What the hell?”

“You should probably go.” She laughed the sound bitter and sad. “He’s bound to know you’re here by now, and that means we’re both in trouble. You should get out of here before either he or Hoseok shows up. Maybe Yoongi. Yoongi would shoot you, no hesitation.”

“I’m going.” He grinned again, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes this time. “If you ever need help, you can call me.” He whispered into her ear pulling her into an unexpected hug, and she felt something heavy drop into her apron pocket much to her confusion. “Don’t let him know you have it.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek leaving her in shock as he waltzed out of the kitchen.

Her eyes immediately shot to Miss In as soon as she recovered her senses. “I’m in so much trouble.” She groaned leaning over the counter.

Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist as she took the bread out of the oven.

“Don’t do that!” She shrieked placing the bread pan on the cooling rack. “Hot pan.” She scolded turning in his arms only for Namjoon to cage her in against the counter his eyes dark and furious.

“You had a visitor today.” He growled his face only inches from hers, and she was thanking her lucky star that she had hidden the phone that Mark has slipped into her apron pocket before Namjoon got home.

“I did.” She gulped her hands trembling as she gripped the counter behind her.

“He kissed you.” He hissed his jaw clenched, eyes blazing.

“Only on the cheek.” It was a pitiful offering that did nothing to calm him.

He closed his eyes taking a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. “Y/N.” Her name was more a warning than anything else as he said it.

“Nothing happened.” She whispered softly.

“And it won’t. He’ll be dead by morning.”

“Namjoon.” She made her eyes as wide and pleading as possible. “Joonie, please.” She wrapped her arms around his waist pressing her cheek against his chest in an effort to calm him down and save herself from his wrath. “I made pumpkin bread?” She offered as she trembled in his arms.

“You are in so much trouble.” He growled though he wrapped his arms around her keeping her pressed tightly to his chest. She knew full well that he was soft for that nickname.

“Nothing happened.” She whispered. “I didn’t even know he was coming.”

Namjoon’s sharp eyes focused in on Miss In who was standing off to the side looking as composed as ever though her eyes refused to meet his. “How did he get inside my house?” He barked.

“I’m not sure, sajangnim.” She bowed her head her lip trembling slightly under his scrutiny.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she took note of the slick feel coming off the back of Namjoon’s jacket. Pulling back she examined her hand only to find it streaked in red. “Is that blood?” She yelped jumping back from him only to be kept firmly in place by Namjoon’s arms around her. “Why is there blood on your jacket?”

“I was taking care of some pesky rats at work when I should have been taking care of the rat that found its way into my house.” He huffed staring down at her meeting her own wide eyed stare. “I never want to hear of him being anywhere near you again, him or anyone else from his wretched group. Am I understood?” He asked dark eyes boring into hers. “Am I understood?” He repeated when she didn’t answer.

“Yes, Namjoon.” She nodded gently pushing on his chest in an effort to get him to back up. “Pumpkin bread?” She offered again in an effort to circumvent his wrath and change the subject.

“I’m bringing Jungkook back.”

“Okay, Joonie.” That would honestly be more of a relief than a punishment. She was starved for company these days.

“No more illicit visitors.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t like she had any control over that either.

“Why are you in the kitchen?” He finally asked taking note of the apron and the floor smeared on it.

“I made pumpkin bread.”

“Why did you make pumpkin bread?” He quirked a brow looking down at her with a sort of fond exasperation.

“I was bored.”

“So you bake?”

“And have illicit meetings with strange men.” She joked only to receive a withering glare in return. “Right. Not the time.” She chuckled nervously. “Pumpkin bread?”

“You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“Was that a rule I didn’t know about?”

“We have people for this.” He reminded her shooting another glare in the direction of Miss In and the cook. “I have people specifically to take care of your every need.”

“I wanted to. You can’t blame Miss In for my antics.” She murmured her eyes cast down to look at their feet. “You should clean up and change. There’s blood on your jacket. We can have tea afterwards.” Sucking up to him and offering her company voluntarily couldn’t hurt in the effort to diffuse his anger. She was getting good at that. The man, she had come to realize, was very much in love with her in his own twisted way. If she played into his vision of her life, he was much less likely to be angry with her.

“You’re still in trouble.” He warned her.

“Okay.”

“Jungkook is still coming back to keep an eye on you.”

“That’s fine.”

Namjoon took her chin in hand tilting her head up so that her eyes met his. “If you ever let another man touch you again, I’ll carve out his heart and serve it to you on a silver platter.”

part 29

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #mafia namjoon #yandere namjoon #kim namjoon #yandere #soft yandere #rm x reader #rm #mafia #mafia au #dark romance #a dangerous game #fanfic

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greenbriar-j · 3 years

Text

Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

#musclememory.wip #it turned out differently than planned #but I hope you enjoy it!

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creepysora · 3 years

Text

Grandpa’s hands were warm and big and calloused around his own.

“Juste,” he called to him again, but Juste remained silent, stubbornly blinking away the tears he felt forming bubbling in his eyes.

Despite Lydie and Maxim right next to him, he felt terribly alone under the concerned but piercing eyes of his grandfather. A man who had fought Dracula many times — father had said grandpa was the pride of their family, the one they should all be like.

A man who killed a demon if he saw one.

Juste stared at both of their hands without saying a word, remembering the events of the day.

— — —

It had been a day like any other bright, warm summer day. The sun was already high in the sky , the small village buzzing with life. One of his older sisters said it was small because it was young, and that the village was only here because of grandpa in the first place.

Juste easily believed that, and today was another day he was supposed to visit his grandparents to learn about Belmont history. His sisters said it was because he was born on a Saturday, much like grandpa himself was born on a Saturday, and how great—granduncle Desmond was born on a Saturday. Juste didn’t remember all the names yet, but he thought that a lot of them were born on Saturdays. That seemed to be important, but grandpa always told him to not worry about it yet when his sisters or papa brought it up.

As he moved down the street, two ladies with a group of children clinging to their hems changed to the other side of the street. Juste didn’t understand it. The wind carried bits of their conversation over to him.

“—such a shame, after all that family did for us—”

“—must be disappointed, a witchling child—”

“—his poor daughters, that boy’s a tragedy—”

He thought nothing of it. The adults in the village were often odd around him. Maybe he’d tell Maxim and Lydie about it later, if he saw them, and if grandpa sent him home early enough that he could sneak off to their secret spot before he returned home. He took a shortcut on his way through some of the less populated back alleys.

“Hey, Belmont.”

Juste stopped in his tracks, looking up to where the voice had come from. Upon a low wall sat a boy with brown hair, sneering down at him.

Juste raised his eyebrows, head tilted forward a little, before continuing on his way.

“I’m talking to you, Belmont.”

The boy jumped down in front of him. He was a lot bigger and broader than Juste, who was more on the small side, and a couple years older than him. The baker’s son, Gregor, if Juste remembered right, who told him once that the baker’s wife didn’t want him in the shop. (His father and sisters were still welcome.)

“Make it quick, then. I’m busy,” Juste replied, a soft blue glow emanating from the tips of his foam—white hair. He wasn’t scared of the older boy. He was pretty sure he could take him in a fight.

“Well, I’m not— ” Gregor made a step towards him as he took a step back — “so what are you up to? Running off to your grandpa?”

Juste frowned. “I— ”

“I’m surprised the old guy wants him around,” a second boy chimed in, rounding the corner into the alleyway.

A third one joined them promptly, cutting off Juste’s exit route. “Maybe it’s to make sure he doesn’t bewitch or curse anyone.”

He couldn’t take three in a fight. Not with his fists, anyways, and other means were not for fighting people.

“I’m a Belmont! I wouldn’t curse or bewitch anyone!”

“Oh really?” Gregor sneered. Suddenly, the older boy pushed him roughly. Juste stumbled back, his foot catching on a cobble stone jutting out behind him. When he hit the ground, a singing, stinging burst of pain rang through his arm, and he felt something warm spread from his elbow. The other boy loomed over him, a cruel grimace showing his missing tooth.

“Word in the village is you killed your own mother when you were born. All the adults know it. Everyone knows it. So who says you won’t kill again?”

One of the other two boys kicked Juste hard in the side as he tried to lift himself back up. He let out a sharp cry.

“My mother says the Belmonts kill monsters. I hope they kill you soon, too. It’s what you people do, right?”

Juste didn’t know which one of the three said that, only that it scared him. Was this truly how his family felt about him? Somewhere above him, a massive tree branch snapped off in a burst of blue sparks, hitting the ground next to all of them.

Juste’s voice cracked. “Grandpa wouldn’t—”

Another harsh kick interrupted him, this time against his face.

But before one of his attackers could speak, one of them was taken down in a roar by a flash of black curls and yellow.

“You leave him alone!”, a girl’s voice rang out, loud and clear, as she ran to tackle another teen.

Maxim and Lydie were here.

— — —

With a sniffle, Juste was back in the present.

He looked at his grandpa Simon, who still looked at him — not at all like he sometimes looked at townsfolk. Sometimes, his eyes would be cold and piercing and deadly like the frost that covered their windows in winter. But that wasn’t how grandpa looked at him. Grandpa’s eyes were warm, and worried, and concerned.

Juste shot a quick glance at Lydie and Maxim, who regarded him just as worriedly.

He pulled his hands out of Simon’s, hugging them to himself tightly. Maybe Gregor and the other boys were right. After all, had he not just broken some of their family portraits?

“Nothing happened, Grandpa,” he lied. “Just a branch that fell out of a tree, that’s all.”

“Oh?” Grandpa didn’t sound convinced.

“It’s true, Master Belmont! Maxim and I were caught in it as well!”

“What they said!”

Grandpa let out a big sigh and got up, running a hand through his hair. It used to have a lot more red in it, but now, it was mainly grey. Juste wondered if his own hair would turn red when he got old, since it was already white now.

“Fine—” grandpa sounded tired, and a hand rested on the Vampire Killer on his hip “— fine. I’m getting you three cleaned up either way.”

“And if it is like that outside,” grandpa added, punctuated with another piercing stare, “you kids should stay the night. You all can go home tomorrow morning.”

— — —

Later that night, Juste couldn’t sleep.

Grandma had stuck them all in one room, saying that they were at an age where it was ok for them to share a room like that. His grandparents were always very nice to him.

“Maxim! Lydie!”

He was rewarded with sleepy grunts from both of them.

“Do you think I’ll turn into a demon?”

There. He said it. It had been on his mind ever since Gregor had accused him of only waiting for the right moment to kill people.

“If you do, I’ll beat you up until you are Juste again,” Maxim mumbled back, turning around. The other boy fell back asleep almost immediately.

Lydie huddled closer towards him. “And I’ll just tell you about how we are friends until you remember again, too. Or we become monsters with you.”

Then again, Soleil Belmont had been a demon too, and he was fine afterwards. He came back. And his dad had still loved him. The Belmonts still told stories of him, filled with fondness and love. The story of how great—great—grandpa Christopher had fought Dracula to save his son was one of Juste’s favourites.

“Thank you. For doing that for me.”

He didn’t get replies, and only heard the others breathing softly.

He would be okay.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #pushed #castlevania #fic #blood #graphic violence #simon belmont #juste belmont #lydie erlanger #maxim kischine #belmont clan #acidtober2021 #acid writing #kids are assholes #i love these vampire hunters and i am emotions

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shes-an-oddbird · 3 years

Text

Christmas at River’s End Mall

Summary - A Christmas AU in which everyone navigates their seasonal jobs, relationships and Christmas spirit, or lack there of, through woven together tales inspired by holiday prompts.

So excited about this little challenge for myself. 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Holiday prompts and a dozen or more characters I love and miss. Each chapter should spot light a different character or relationship and the stories become more and more intertwined (think Valentine's Day).

Chapter 1 - Decorating for Christmas

Prompt - Decorating for Christmas Relationship - Philindaisy Family Feels POV - Coulson

There was something magical about the River’s End Mall at Christmas time. The largest mall in the state and ideally suited for events all year round but an absolute must see come the holiday season. A massive tree, an indoor ice rink, sleighrides outside, lights, decorations and of course Santa himself.

All of this was made possible by the efforts of the mall’s event coordinator, Melinda May, who upon meeting, wouldn’t be pegged as the festive type. It would however be assumed that she was the type to be exceptionally good at her job. Whatever that job may be. She was an excellent event coordinator because she got things done. So, when it comes to Christmas, she hires the best.

A man who brings a winter wonderland to life within the walls of the mall.

A man who believes in putting the spirit back in the holidays, even in the most commercial of locations.

A man who loves a good suit, red or otherwise.

A man by the name of Phil Coulson.

And on occasion, Santa Clause.

“If you don’t lay off the cookies, you’re not going to need the pillow to stuff your suit this year.” Phil smiles as Melinda appears next to him. He’s got a mouth full of crumbs and can’t get his own quip out before she’s taken in the hundreds of decorations they’ve brought in. “You’re out doing yourself this year.”

He swallows down the last of the cookie and grabs a few more off the tray that was set out for the workers and volunteers. “We got so much publicity last year, national news remember, can’t disappoint now.”

“I see and when does the tree arrive?”

“It’s here, they’re trying to figure out how to get it through the door.”

Her eyes snap to his, “Coulson, we’ve driven trucks into the mall, exactly how big is this tree?”

“Could be worse, Rockefeller Center already had dibs on my first pick.”

May rolls her eyes at him but he knows it’s all for show. When May first came to him twenty-five years ago, inquiring about setting up a Santa Experience at the mall he knew she’d accept nothing less than the best and every year it got a little bigger and a little better. It had been great publicity for his business, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t trying to impress her just a little bit.

“When do my elves arrive?” His own crew of employees handled most of the setup, installing the ice rink, hanging decorations from the balcony, setting up the tree, but over time the mall had acquired a group of volunteers who came in to help hang ornaments and set up activity tables.

“Daisy and the other volunteers should be here shortly.” Phil nods and watches as May moves around the towers of boxes, inspecting the contents of each of them.

“We’ve got everything, enough ornaments to coat a forest, the undecorated ones for the activity tables arrived yesterday, we’re also on 100% low energy LED lights this year.” May nods along but clearly isn’t paying much attention.

“We’ve got an excellent wrapping paper source this year too, lots of variety, different colors.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Came up with a tag line for the print advertisements, Christmas at River’s End Mall, it’s a Magical Place.”

“Coulson.”

“I think the box you’re looking for is over here.” Finally with her attention back, he leads her over to a foldout table with a small box sitting at the edge. May peers inside to see it full of handmade ornaments and a small spark appears in her eyes. Shortly after they had started the Santa Experience at the mall May had partnered with the local orphanage to bring in the kids in to do crafts and receive gifts. It was that first year that they had met Daisy, an unlucky but optimistic little girl and accidently bonded with May. While most of the kids took their crafts home to decorate as best they could for Christmas, Daisy always gave hers to the grumpy coordinator. May would then hang the decorations on the large tree. He still remembers the look on Daisy’s face when she came back the second year and saw her messy glitter ornament front and center. Phil had watched the pair get closer every year from then on and to be honest he knows he’s gotten attached too.

“I know you’re not Santa you know.” She says, her tiny arms crossed and messy dark hair obscuring her face.

“Oh.” He doesn’t know if that means she doesn’t believe in Santa at all or just knows that he’s not the real thing.

She leans against the arm of his chair. “Yeah, but I won’t tell the other kids.”

“Well I appreciate that; do you still want to tell me what you want for Christmas?” He always played Santa with the kids from the orphanage. He handled it better than his other employees when all these kids ever asked for was a family.

“I don’t really want anything.” She’s admiring the tree they’re situated in front of, he can see the lights sparkling in her wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but can I hang out for a minute anyways?” She asks, still distracted.

He smiles. “Of course.”

Every year it was the same with Daisy. She wouldn’t ask for anything, just go through the line for show and sit with him and stare at the lights when it was her turn. He found himself looking forward to the few minutes they shared together but then one year she wasn’t there. He had gone to May immediately. His friend, he had thought had been in a bad mood since the start of the holiday season, but that day she seemed particularly distant. “No Daisy this year, was she adopted?” He asks. Several little kids look up at him with curious eyes.

After ensuring all the activity tables were covered, May gestures for him to follow her a few steps away. “They’ve placed her with a foster family.”

“Well that’s good, a step in the right direction.” May says nothing. “But you don’t sound convinced.” He jokes.

“Its happened a couple of times before, they always send her back.”

This shocks him. Daisy was such an easy kid. Didn’t ask for anything, helped with the younger children, “she seems like such a good kid.”

“She is, just not a good fit, that’s what Sister Anne said.”

“Maybe this time will be different.”

“Maybe.”

Coulson knows somethings up. He’s gotten pretty good a reading May over the years. “You don’t seem too thrilled about that possibility.”

“That little girl deserves some love and support in her life, if she’s with a family that will give her that then I’m ecstatic.”

Daisy was back the next year. Things hadn’t worked out well with her foster family and she had been sent back to the orphanage shortly after the new year. On the plus side May seemed merrier than she had the past year, even if it was just slightly.

When Daisy comes through the line this time she doesn’t sit on the arm of the chair and stare at the lights and she doesn’t mock him about his crush on May. Daisy was a very perceptive child. Instead she shifts uncomfortably and whispers, “I think I know what I want this year.”

“Really?” Phil perks up. Whatever this kid wants he’s prepared to make it happen for her. He’ll talk to May and they’ll make it happen. A pony, a car, whatever.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll get it.”

“Oh no? Well I know you know I’m not really Santa, but I could still work a little magic.”

Daisy still doesn’t give it up but her eyes that normally stare at the sparkling lights are directed now at the activity table where May is helping some of the younger kids glue cotton balls to Santa hats.

“She’s teaching me to ice skate.”

“Yeah?” This surprises him if only just a little. He had found out not long after they first installed the indoor ice rink that she was an excellent skater but he’d yet to see her set foot on the ice.

“She’d be a good mom, I think.”

So that was it. “That is a pretty big request.”

“I didn’t say – “ She protests.

“I know, but also, I know.” Daisy gives him a small smile before it fell back to a frown. “Look,” he said softly, taking her hands, “I don’t know if I can make that happen but I do know that she cares a lot about you and so do I, it makes me really happy that you shared that with me.”

“Thank you Coul – um, Santa.”

“COULSON!” Phil is jarred from his thoughts in time to see Daisy spiriting up to him. She’s grown now into a young woman, with a passion for computer science and a close batch of misfit friends who she’s built a family out of. Its no longer just her and May and occasionally himself at the Christmas dinner table.

“Long time no see, how come you never visit anymore?” He pulls her in to a tight hug. Its been too long.

“I don’t know, maybe because I’m a busy working adult now.”

“All lies, you’re ten years old in my mind.” He steps back, “you’ve got time to help me decorate though?”

She beams back at him. “Always, but uh, where is the tree?”

Yeah he should probably check on that. He turns to May, who at some point during his reminiscing had answered her phone. “They just got it through the doors, Coulson I swear if this doesn’t fit – “

“I will personally go chop down a smaller one,” he promises. “You try to give her the best and she complains about it.”

“I’m not complaining I’m being rational; someone is going to have to take care of this tree.”

“I have been doing this for twenty-five years and never once had a tree die on me.”

“1999, 2007, 2013, last year – “

“Last years was sick, what did you want me to do put it out of the street, have you never seen a Charlie Brown Christmas.”

“Alright mom and dad," Daisy interrupts, "let’s just call this one a draw, its sounds like we’ve got a lot of work to do.” She looks eagerly at May and he knows she wants something. “And speaking of work, I brought my roommate, Jemma, you remember her, right?”

“She's the expert gift wrapper you mentioned?”

“Can she interview with you?”

“These aren’t really convenient hours, she knows that right?”

Daisy nods enthusiastically. “She does, absolutely does, her labs have her working weird hours, late nights and early mornings, so this should be perfect for her.”

May nods in agreement. “Sounds great, let’s go.” Daisy does a short victory jig and begins to lead the way. May starts to follow but stops suddenly. “Coulson - "

“Yes?”

“The Tree.”

“I’ll ready the ax, Melinda.” She smiles a genuine smile and his heart thuds like he’d a kid again. Maybe this would be the year. Maybe.

#aos fic #aos #philindaisy #melinda may #phil coulson #daisy johnson #25 days of christmas #my fic #christmas at the mall

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samwrights · 4 years

Text

Blackout

I am SO sorry this took me so long! With everything going on with me, writing was kind of a struggle, but I had so much fun writing this one. Reader is wild. We love reader. This fic was inspired by all the songs I used to listen to while getting ready to go out in college which include: Blackout by Breathe Carolina, Wild Boy by MGK, Wild for the Night by A$AP Rocky, and Trashwang by Tyler, The Creator so if you wanna get in the mood, I’d put those on.

Warnings: Alcohol (a lot of it), passing mentions of marijuana and nicotine, semi-mutual pining(?) and of course, Language. Also platonic Oikawa & Reader.

Word Count: 5.3k

There was no better feeling than being reunited with all of your best friends at university after a long summer filled with family vacations and a part time job to try to save money while you were away. It was the strange lull between summer and the start of classes that you looked forward to every year in which you still had time to socialize with everyone without the worry of your ever piling assignments or having to commute hours between cities—everyone was gathered in one place.

It was your favorite time of the year and there was no other feeling that could compare.

Not being so drunk that you had every bit of confidence that you could possibly muster pumping through your veins.

Not being so high that your body felt it was moving on it’s own.

Not even learning that the dude you’d been so in love with since the start of university is just as in love with you as you are with him.

But considering you had no idea what the last feeling felt like, you could only hope for the first two to come in at full force tonight.

Tonight was the party of the school year and it was the one thing you looked forward to in the brutal, lingering August days. At the moment, you were fresh out the shower with all of your inhibitions and leg hair down the drain, your hair wrapped in a towel turban as you slathered lotion over your already drying skin. Your speakers are blaring a myriad of different hip-hop artists in your room, drowning out the fact that your roommates were doing the exact same thing in their own spaces. The thought brought a smile to your face considering the almost clashing yet complementary personalities between you and your roommates.

Kiyoko was so incredibly blunt and straightforward. Yachi was so shy, even as she entered university with all of her own friends from Karasuno. Yukie, being the house mom of your apartment, and Kaori too—everyone knew what was happening tonight and everyone was doing their own ritual to get ready for a night they would most likely never remember. Regardless of how similar or how different you all were, this night warranted one communal ritual: roommate check.

As the five of you got ready, each of you would check each other’s make up, outfits, and shoes to make sure there was zero chance of being a social faux-pas. It was a strange, unspoken rule in the apartment that you all made sure each of you left the house being at optimal hotness, but it was an incredible confidence booster, especially if one of you were able to land a sexy, one night stand. It was the goal. Best friends don’t let each other leave the house looking less than their prime.

“What do we think ladies?” You could hear Kaori let herself into the hallway, prompting you to pause Lizzo and open your bedroom door. The ash brunette had her hair down and straight, framing her done up face nicely. Without too much face products on, the former Fukurodani manager allowed her freckles to show through the tinted moisturized, accenting it with a light dusting of blush. Her onyx eyes were left alone, save for winged liner sharp enough to stab any weak man that dared approach her and a few coats of mascara on her top and bottom lashes.

“Approve,” you and Yukie chimed simultaneously. From what you could tell, the other Tokyo native was still in the middle of doing her own make up.

“Looks good!” Yachi chirped, while Kiyoko gave a nod of approval with a soft smile on her supple lips before retreating to her and the former’s shared room. You did the same, carrying on with your own look, absentmindedly lip singing to whatever song popped up on your hype playlist. While you were excited, the music barreling into your ear drum was the only way to distract your thoughts from wandering while you focus on blending out your eyeshadow. That, and the two chimes that rang in rapid succession signaling a text, worked pretty well too.

Yaku: You’re coming tonight, right?!

A force of breath leaves your nostrils in laughter as you send a progress shot of your look. Yaku Morisuke was a very close friend you’d met through high school, in addition to being the Nekoma volleyball manager, and there was one thing that Yaku knew better than anyone. You didn’t wear false lashes for any reason unless you were trying to get it.

Yaku: I’ll take that as a yes.

You’re the last one to call your check with your roommates—a regular occurrence, really, considering you always took the longest to get ready. For good reason, of course. “Check!” You called out as your heels clacked against the hardwood of your apartment’s hallway. Sporting a heather grey cropped halter top and high-waisted black leather pants, the girls gave their approval with a bit of hesitation.

“Are you sure you want to wear heels?” Kiyoko asked for the third time as everyone packed a spare bag filled with extra clothes that you would put in Yaku’s room later. After the first year, the five of you started to come prepared. The beach bag that was used carried painkillers for impending headaches, two sets comfy clothes in the event some of you couldn’t quite make it home, swimsuits in case someone decided to go drunk swimming, and a spare set of party clothes. This was not your first rodeo, by any means. It was a stroke of luck that the five of you could share clothes as well and as often as you did.

“Don’t worry, they’re not that tall and they’re actually pretty comfy.” And you knew the bag was at capacity, not warranting the ability for you to bring spare shoes anyway.

“Then I think we’re ready to go!” Kaori jeers, elated to see everyone just as much as you were. Kiyoko leads the group, Yachi in tow with her, and Kaori is all but sprinting towards the house, leaving you and Yukie to head up the rear.

“You know,” the former Fukurodani manager sings in her humorous lilt, “Kuroo is going to lose his shit when he sees you.”

“I hope so.”

When it came to one of these mega parties, there was no such thing as being early or fashionably late. There couldn’t be when there was twenty people living in one house and, no, that was not an exaggeration. Supposedly that’s what happened when a bunch of college boys who all used to play volleyball together at some point in time attend the same university—they rent a mansion for the next four years. With dozens of people living under one roof, it was no surprise that the music was already wracking the foundation of the house even from the outside.

Without so much as a knock to the door, the five of you entered the house, immediately being bombarded with a joyous yell from the former Fukurodani captain and ace, Bokuto Koutarou. “Hey guys, the girls are here!” You always found it amusing that, for someone as popular as Bokuto, the five of you were dubbed as the girls. Which made sense considering all of you were club managers at some point or another. Of your old team, Yaku and Lev flock over immediately, the two of them wrapping and squeezing you into a tight hug. The three of you briefly exchanged greetings, questioning how the other’s summer was before silently asking Kiyoko for the beach bag that held your group’s spare belongings.

“Could one of you just stuff this in your room?” Though you hadn’t nominated anyone, you shoved the bag in Lev’s awaiting hands.

“You sleeping over?” He asks, peeking through the open top. Yaku rebukes him immediately, telling him it was rude to go through a woman’s bag.

“Nah, remember how bad I blacked out last year? I just wanted to make sure I brought extra stuff so I don’t have to steal one of your guys’ shirts agains.” The former libero shakes his head before covering his face with one hand.

“[name], please don’t make me look after you again tonight.” The sandy brunette pleads.

“I make no promises, Yaku.” You chirp before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and entering the massive living room that had been cleared to act as a dance floor. By how many people greet you, you aren’t even sure if you know half the people in here at the moment. There are a few familiar faces of Karasuno alumni, you recognize the DJ as some kid in a class you had last year—he went to Aoba Johsai if you remembered correctly—and Yukie and Kaori are already on the dance floor with all eyes on them. They beckoned for you to join them, red solo cups already in their hands in the air.

“You’re going to want this,” you look up to see Bokuto who had temporarily abandoned his duty playing host to hand you your own drink. Cautiously, you take a sip as his gold eyes watched, waiting for the green light.

Sometimes, Bokuto tended to get carried away with the amount of alcohol he put in the punch. Thankfully, this was not one of those batches.

“Thanks, Bo!” Is all you call out before joining your two other Tokyo friends on the dance floor. From behind them, you can see other party goers honing in on them, completely oblivious to the men doing the same to you. For a moment, however brief it may be, none of it matters as you feel the pounding bass takeover your own heartbeat, squealing with your girls as remixes of old songs that piqued your nostalgia played over the sound system. You take another swig of your drink, already killing your first one of the early night, crinkling the plastic in your hand as you gently squeeze the empty cup so you don’t let go of it. You’re squeezing and squeezing subconsciously until it’s taken out of your hand, making you turn around swiftly because who the fuck—

“Need another?”

“Kuroo!” Before your brain can react and stop you, your arms are around the object of your affection’s neck in a tight embrace, you legs coming off the ground and your skintight leather pants sticking to the back of your knees. Still holding your cup, the old Nekoma captain grins down at you when you release him, gently nudging with his chin towards the direction of the kitchen. The two of you weave and wobble your way through the masses with you walking ahead of him, allowing Kuroo to appreciate the view of your backside. The way your top hit flattered your shoulders well, but the leather pants. The goddamn leather pants were just doing it for him. Joining others crowding around the twenty gallon cooler that Bokuto used to mix and house the alcohol for the night, Kuroo makes it a point to keep close to you.

“When did you show up?” The black-haired man asks as he ladles some liquid out into your cup, making sure to avoid ice cubes.

“Probably ten minutes ago,” you weren’t sure—time was a foreign concept at a party. The captain eyes you almost worriedly, knowing you had a tendency of pushing yourself well past your limits when it came to alcohol.

“And you’re already on your second,” Kuroo lets out a whistle, “better take it easy, princess. Don’t want a repeat of last year.”

“Jokes on you, I don’t even remember last year!” Unable to come up with a witty retort, the middle blocker rolls his eyes before knocking back the rest of the beer in his bottle and grabbing another one. He remembers. He remembers, and he wishes that he didn’t because he didn’t need another memory that contributed to you being the one that got away, despite how close you were.

It’s a little disorienting for you to see him this way, sometimes, so grown that he can down ale like it’s water when back in high school he would hound the team to ensure they were properly nurturing their bodies. It was disorienting to see someone you were once so close with grow right before your eyes. The thought softened your heart for a moment until you realized you were probably staring and you should probably stop before Kuroo thinks you’re weird. You chug half your drink the second the raven-haired man hands it to you, hoping the alcohol would ease your nerves. “What did Bokuto use?” You ask wearily, not tasting an ounce of a burn.

“Everclear, of course.” Oh. Well, fuck.

“Here’s to me dying tonight.” You hold your cup out towards Kuroo, waiting for him to touch his bottle to it. When he didn’t, and just looked at you thoroughly nonplussed, you shrugged before downing the rest of its contents.

“[name]...” his voice comes as a warning, even more so when you grab another helping for yourself and immediately bringing the rim to your lips.

“Honey, I’m here for a good time, not a long time.” Kuroo watches as you flee back towards the dance floor, rejoining Yukie and Kaori. He doesn’t miss the way your teeth shine in different colors from party lights as you grin. Or the way your firm grip on the cup is similar to that of your mission of getting plastered tonight—unyielding. He doesn’t miss that Seijoh fuck that’s honing in on you from behind. He doesn’t miss the way his hands are firmly planting themselves on your leather-clad hips and he certainly doesn’t miss that you don’t fight him off in the slightest.

Sucking on his teeth, Kuroo knocks back a full bottle of beer without skipping a beat before tossing the glass in the recycling bin and rummaging through his kitchen cupboards. There’s no way Bokuto used all nine—aha! He thinks to himself, finding a fifth of Everclear that was supposed to be used to replenish the jungle juice after it had been killed. Immediately, Kuroo pulls the fresh bottle to his lips, draining a decent amount of its contents into his system each time he sees this guy whispering in your ear. He doesn’t miss the way you’re smiling as he does so.

“It’s so nice to see you, [name]!” Contrary to popular belief and unpopular opinion, Oikawa Tōru isn’t that bad of a person. Sure, he had a big reputation on campus, but that never stopped the two of you from becoming friends. To be perfectly honest, it was a wonder the two of you weren’t friends sooner.

There was no other man in the known universe that matched your party energy because no man ever carried the desire to get as publicly obliterated as you and the former Fukurodani managers did. Unlike the other men that were enrolled at this university, Oikawa didn’t care to find some target of a hook up at parties—he’d rather do that sober, maybe take a girl out for a nice, ritzy dinner. Parties were for blacking out and hearing the crazy shit you did for the next three months and living with your name in infamy; that was your guys’ philosophy and you were sticking to it.

Because of this principle, Oikawa often uses you as a hook up repellent to deter unwanted attention and you do the same because there was only one person you ever wanted at these types of shindigs. One person that, regardless of the two of you knowing each other since the first year of high school, never seemed to want to be this kind of close to you. You tried to pretend that it didn’t hurt; that someone you knew for so long and that you unearthed your feelings for two years ago wouldn’t want to press his body to yours and claim his territory. In your mind, he was partially the reason you carried the mentality that you may as well just blackout and try to have fun. In a twisted way it worked, considering how bad you got last year.

And that person, after greeting you for a few minutes, always seemed to end up in hoards and swarms of women you didn’t know. Kuroo was always caught up doing his own thing at his own pace. It shouldn’t have bothered you, considering he was one of the hosts, but a small part of you that was full of envy just never could let it go. Which seemed to regularly bring you into the hands of Oikawa Tōru. “I missed you too, Oiks!” You tell over the pounding music. The brunette is laughing and smiling as offers cheers to you, taking a swig of whatever cheap beer he had in his cup.

You have no idea how long you’re dancing for—all you know that song after song is keeping you alive and the number of drinks a mystery. But after Oikawa returns with your cup replenished, the heat from the swarm of sweaty bodies in addition to the alcohol erasing your logic, you decide you need a break. Without saying anything, not that the former Seijoh captain would have been able to hear you anyway, you point in the direction of the patio just beyond the connected sliding door. When he shakes his head, you wriggle your way through the sweltering crowd before all but skipping out the sliding door, letting the mild summer night air cool down your skin.

Not surprisingly, Yaku is outside with a few others that preferred not to be swamped by the masses, including your other two roomates. Save for one very familiar face that you’d hadn’t even realized was here tonight. “Yamamoto!” You yell, immediately sprinting over to him to tackle him, accidentally knocking the lit cigarette betwixt his lips down to the concrete of the patio.

“[name]! You crazy son of bitch, I missed you!” Everyone is full laughters and smiles, sharing stories of their summers and reminiscing of the previous parties that occurred in this very same mansion. To some degree, you were thankful you weren’t the only person that got buck wild at these events. Two years ago, Oikawa, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa had shown up with bulk amounts of powdered Kool-aid mix and dumped it into the hot tub in an attempt to “dye the water red”. Or so they claimed. Apparently, Kool-aid and chlorine don’t mix well.

Needless to say, Yaku was pissed about it.

In that same year, Lev knocked over the famed cooler fifty gallon cooler that was once the home for Bokuto’s even more infamous jungle juice. Note to all future party holders, Hawaiian Punch stains all carpets, regardless of color, if there’s enough of it. Especially monsoons of it. Akaashi learned that the hard way when he was the one who had to make the phone call to get the hallway re-carpeted and the floorboards underneath had to be replaced as well due to moisture. Thank you, Hawaiian Punch. Which was why there was now always at least one person—Akaashi himself, due to the trauma from two years ago—who guards the smaller cooler with his life. Nobody is knocking that over ever again and if they do, he’ll send them an invoice in addition to slicing off their head.

Then there was your infamous blackout from last year. While you, obviously, remember nothing about it, Yaku made sure to recount every detail possible. The last thing you remember was chugging a bottle of Jägermeister.

You hate Jägermesiter.

According to Yaku, at some point you started taking cutlery out of the drawer in the kitchen and going into each of the rooms and hiding silverware in different spaces. Nothing was off limits—whether someone was in the middle of getting a blowjob or hiding forks in people’s shoes. You also had decided to try to climb on top of Lev’s shoulders so you could see what it was like to be tall. Try, in the sense that Lev was entirely unwilling and refused to crouch down for you, resulting in you falling off of him and ripping his shirt off to keep balance.

Yaku’s favorite moment, and that is entirely satirical, is when you started a fight with Bokuto. Not only had you thrown your few cigarette butts from social smoking that you had inherently participated into the punch to “claim your territory”, but he, Yaku, and Kuroo were so worried when they saw you reach to drink the contaminated jungle juice that the former Fukurodani captain had tried to take your cup from you and just have you sleep it off in Kuroo’s room. Which, in all fairness, you did. However, if you were going to go, you were going to go down swinging.

Literally.

As soon as the cup was out of your hand, Kuroo had to physically restrain you from punching Bokuto in the face as you screamed that you were one hundred percent sober. Unfortunately, Kuroo’s grip slipped, mostly due to your squirming and thrashing, and you had landed a solid blow on Bokuto’s cheek. Needless to say, the three boys had to all but detain you and leave you with a babysitter—a position that Kuroo ended up volunteering for.

You wished you could have remembered at least that part of it. Only Kuroo knows what and if anything happened between the two of you that night, but he refused to ever speak about that night.

Recalling last year’s events prompted Yaku to remind you one more time this evening, “I am not fucking babysitting you again tonight, [name].”

“Technically, Kuroo babysat me.” You jeer as you stick your tongue out at the former libero before smashing the remaining contents of your cup. After your last seven drinks, you were a solid level of drunk to the point of still being coherent, but the ground was definitely moving in ways it shouldn’t have been. “Speaking of which, where is my favorite rooster?”

“Oh he’s been in the pool for the last like hour.” From the patio, your head snaps over as if to confirm it. But seeing Kuroo, hunched over alone with a half full bottle of Henny in his hand while he sat at the steps leading him into the water was not how you pictured you’d find the former captain. Normally, he would surrounded with potential suitors hanging off his arms and cracking jokes just to see if he could get lucky for the night. Yet, everything in his body language screamed “leave me be!”

And yet, you were you.

“I’m gonna go join him—“

“Wait, [name],” Yaku grabs your wrist before you can flit off to his room to change into the swimsuit you had brought, “I really don’t think he wants company right now.”

“That’s when people most need it!” Managing to wriggle out of the libero’s grasp, you made your way inside, weaving and bobbing between the partygoers with an expertise that you shouldn’t have had in the moment thanks to how much you drank. Or maybe you didn’t actually have at all, considering you tripped up the stairs a couple times. Maybe heels weren’t the best idea, but you managed to make it to Lev and Yaku’s shared room—the third door on the left. Knocking just to be sure, you were greeted with a relatively tidy room and the beach bag Kiyoko had brought sitting on top of the libero’s neatly made bed.

After slipping into the two piece and grabbing the beach towel someone had thought to bring, you retraced your steps, barefoot this time thankfully, before popping out the back door and joining Kuroo on the steps. For a moment, he looks up at you and you can see him fully. His hair is hanging over his face, as per usual, but rather than covering his usual jovial hazel eyes, they’re masking something darker. Even in the dead August night with only soft porch and pool lights for exposure, you can see the murky storms brewing in his eyes from a single, sideways glance. “What, tired of being around everyone?” The captain slurs.

“Not particularly. But you seem to be.”

“The water feels nice,” is all he says before pulling the bottle of Hennessy to his lips and taking a large gulp before offering it to you. It’s a small offer of a white flag, but a genuine one that tells you he is allowing your presence and company. “So, where’s Oikawa?” You shrug at the question while taking no offense to it before taking a pull of your own.

“I dunno, I’m not his keeper.” A natural silence lulls over the two of you. After handing the bottle back to Kuroo, you take a few more tentative steps into the water so that it rests just above your chest, cooling your body from the heat of the alcohol that consumed you. “So, I get that it’s your party and you’ll sulk if you want to, but what’s eating at you?” You ask. As you’re speaking, your hands are moving about the chlorinated water, occasionally cupping the pristine liquid only to have it leave your fingers.

“Who says something’s bothering me?” Kuroo grits out. Not very well, you might add, as his slurs cause him to miss a couple vowels and consonants in his sentence. Judging by the fact that he’s drinking straight out of the bottle, Hennessy no less, you assumed he’s been hitting the sauce pretty hard. After all, Kuroo hated Henny almost as much as you hated Jäger. Turning to look back at him, you see the way he’s hunches over after bringing the half full bottle down to a quarter, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Kuroo, you think I don’t know you?” Your question was intended to come out as snarky, considering the long standing friendship between the two of you, yet swallowing down the infatuation you had been harboring for the last couple of years. However, seeing the way his shoulders were slumped and the defeat that crossed his downcast features—you didn’t have it in you to be mean to him.

“No, you don’t.” Comes the reply, one you weren’t expecting.

“Say sike right now,” you growl, “Kuroo, we have been friends for almost six fucking years—will you fucking put that down?!” You’re snapping now, the stomping of your feet muted by the water as you approach the captain and rip the almost empty bottle from his hands. Just so that he couldn’t keep hiding himself behind alcohol, you pour the remaining contents into your own mouth and toss the bottle into the nearby grass before you bring yourself to sit next to him with your knees touching his. “I have known you for—“

“Six fucking years, [name], I know.” The tone in his voice is suddenly clear. The slurs and disparity were now replaced with bitterness and acidity that rarely ever came from Kuroo. “For six fucking years, you’ve known me and yet you never once fucking looked at me.”

“Kuroo, I look at you all the—“

“No, you don’t,” his hazel eyes are lit with fire and intensity that reflected the anguish he felt inside. As much as he wanted to, the former captain couldn’t stop himself from saying the things that he’d sworn to secrecy for so long. “If you ever actually looked at me, you would see the way I looked at you.”

“Kuroo...”

“Why do you think I volunteered to watch over you last year after you fucking swung at my best friend?” The sheer burn of his words and the lava in his orbs is enough to make your heart stop. You swear that it actually did. “Why do you think I asked you to become the manager all those years ago? Or why I get so fucking pissed off that you show up here just to blackout? That you’re friends with Oikawa of all people?”

“Because you’re a good person?”

“Cause I’m in love with you, you moron!” Kuroo’s outburst is followed by him threading his fingers into his signature bed head, hiding the hot tears that he can’t stop from falling. He can’t help it—not when all of his composure was drained from every bottle he drank today. “[name], I literally held you and rocked you to sleep while you were puking your guts out over the side of my bed last year! Do you have any idea how hard it was not to confess while you were crying after punching Bo? How I finally got to hold you after six years but you don’t remember a single second of it?”

“Kuroo, I—“ but you don’t have anything to say. What can you say? You had no idea that any of that had ever taken place. And besides that, you felt that you were never worthy of his attention. You thought there was no possible way he actually returned the tiny embers of the crush you’d had on him for all these years, so there was never a reason to ask if anything had happened between the two of you that night. You didn’t have anything to say and the only thought that crossed your mind at the moment was to run from the situation—to leave him alone because clearly Kuroo wasn’t thinking straight. “I should leave.” You whisper.

“Wait, don’t go! Just...” a mangled sob leaves his chest and, for a moment, it’s sobering to watch him transition from being standoffish to angry to hurt, “why can’t you just look at me the way you look at him?” And suddenly, you’re overly aware of how convoluted your plan to use Oikawa as a hook up repellent was. How it worked out almost too well to the point where the one person you wanted thought you were out of reach.

“Kuroo, Oikawa and I aren’t dating, he’s known that I’ve had a crush on you since we started uni.”

It’s silent between the two of you.

It’s silent as Kuroo slowly turns to you as he relishes in the way your eyes boast sobriety and honesty—the way he knows you’re telling him the truth.

And then he’s laughing. Head tossed back and hands over his stomach in a way that is just so Kuroo as he guffaws with zero regard for his volume. There was just enough alcohol left in his system that he couldn’t bring himself to care, just enough for him to have zero inhibitions left. “So you’re telling me that I drank a bottle of Everclear, a bottle of Henny, and a twelve-pack to my self for no reason?”

“Kuroo, you may or may not have alcohol poisoning.” You deadpan in reply.

“Oh look who’s talking!” Once again, the man beside is you laughing and you’re happy that he’s slowly returning to his normal, joking self. But the uncomfortable silence rears its ugly head once again and the two of you are looking at each other. How long had the two of you been staring at one another? Since you’d drained the rest of the Hennessy or since either of you last had a drink?

How much of this conversation was born because of the alcohol? It seems the question was weighing heavily on each of you.

“Do you mean it, Kuroo?” You ask quietly.

“I love you more than I hate Henny.” A snort leaves your nostrils, but you don’t miss the genuine tone. You don’t miss the way his hazel orbs have softened or the way one of his hands reached over to hold yours. You don’t miss the way his taut skin over his cheekbones relaxes by the slightest millimeter or the way his tongue peeks out to wet his slightly chapped lips. You don’t miss the way he’s looking at you with love. “You know, you were the only person I asked to be the manager back in high school. It was the only excuse I had to talk to you at the time.”

“Oh no, drunk confessions,” you tease, squeezing his hand. “Speaking of drunk, do you think we’re gonna remember this conversation tomorrow?” Another bellow of laughter escapes Kuroo’s chest followed by him wrapping one arm around shoulder to bring you closer. He knew he would. No amount of alcohol could ever make him forget hearing the fact that you’d been just as smitten with him as he was with you. Well, maybe not as much, but it was a start.

“That depends. Are you planning on blacking out tonight?”

“Is that what it takes to sleep in your bed again?”

“Is that a confession I hear, babygirl?” The pet name goes straight from your ears and sends a chill down your spine and he knows it’s getting to you. He knows, and everything feels right. He’s told you he loves you and that he has for years. He knows there’s nothing stopping either of you anymore, and he knows that you’re only getting started.

“I’ll show you a confession.”

Haikyuu!! Tag List

@hihiq @tamcitrus

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Text

Study Buddies (Sternclay)

I got several requests for this prompt as a meet ugly for Sternclay: you caught me doing something a few weeks ago but didn’t report me and now you’re trying to blackmail me into secretly tutoring you even though you and your friends have always been assholes, no I don’t ‘owe’ you.” Fill is SFW

“I saw that.”

Stern freezes, hand still on the now-shut back door, “saw me putting out the garbage?”

“Nope” his coworker Barclay rumbles, “saw you taking the leftover pastries and giving them to the homeless guys who hang out in that plaza.”

“A few of them were from that batch you baked three hours ago, they were barely old, going to waste was ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you know Haye’s rule about that.”

“Yes, and I think it’s ridiculous too.” He crosses his arms, staring up at Barclay and daring him to tell him it isn’t.

“I agree. But you still got caught.”

“By you, not by him, now move so I can start wiping down the tables.”

“What, uh, makes you think I’ll keep my mouth shut?”

Stern turns, startled, “are you trying to fucking blackmail me?”

“No, uh, I mean-” Barclay’s gaze darts to the front of the coffee shop, where his friends make several encouraging motions.

“Of course” he groans, “Christ, Barclay, I didn’t think you’d stoop this low.”

“Look” the larger man takes a step, bringing him into Stern’s space, “I have a massive midterm paper due in a few weeks, and I need help. Big time.”

From this distance Stern can smell laundry detergent and burnt sugar, see a pleading tint in those deep brown eyes. He wants to punch him in his aggravating, handsome face.

“You owe me, Stern.”

“Like hell I do.”

“I’ve covered your ass more times than I can count when you’ve run late because of your internship.”

“And I’ve covered your ass all those times you were late because you were giving your friends rides.” He jabs his finger into Barclay’s chest and his hand is instantly enclosed in one of Barclay’s own

“I don’t want to tell Hayes anything, Stern, but I really, really don’t want to fail this fucking class.”

“Fine. I’ll help with your essay.”

“Not just mine, my friends need help too.”

“Oh no, no chance, deals’ off.” Stern pulls his hand away, “I can tolerate you, but they” he points to the group still sitting at the table, “have been nothing but awful and rude to me”

“They’re not-”

“They are too that bad, at least to me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. It wouldn’t be those guys, it’d be some friends of mine from the LGBT center on campus.”

“Fine. But if one of those ones shows their face, I leave. Shake on it.”

Barclay talks his hand again, shakes it, and tells him to be at the LGBT center at 7 p.m tomorrow.

--------------------------

Stern arrives at five til, finds Barclay sitting on a beanbag chair near a low table with four other people. One, a blonde girl in a green dress, pops up and walks over to him.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m here for him.” He points to Barclay.

“Oh! You’re the essay guy.”

“Yep, that’s me.” He smiles as politely as he can muster and joins her at the table.

“Glad you came.” Barclay smiles at him.

“I didn’t have a choice.” He glares and the smile disappears.

“Everyone, this is Stern-”

“Joseph. Most people call me Joseph.”

“-and he’s gonna help with the midterm essay for our comp class.”

“Sweet!” The other girl at the table, black hair streaked with red, raises her hands triumphantly.

“Do all five of you need help?” Stern looks around.

“Nope, just me, Duck” she points to a stocky guy in a Yosemite’ shirt, “and Barclay. Indrid and this cutie aren’t in that class.” She kisses the blonde’s cheek. That makes Indrid the guy with messily dyed silver hair and sketchbook, who’s currently laying with his head in Duck’s lap.

“Alright, that’s not too bad. Does someone have the assignment?”

Duck pulls it up on his laptop so Stern can read it.

“Okay, so, it’s time to start outlining how you want to approach your topic.”

“Uhhhh.” Barclay looks at this friends, who shake their heads.

“None of you have a topic yet.”

“Nope.”

“When is this due?”

“Three weeks from yesterday.”

“And it’s worth how much?”

“45% of our final grade.”

Stern allows himself a few moments of vicarious stress, then gets to work. By the time the center closes, they all have topics selected, and Stern has instructions to come back on Monday.

He does just that, comes back Wednesday too. By Friday, he’s learned that he and Duck actually share a chem lecture and that Aubrey has many classes in the same building he does, as she always waves to him when they cross paths. On Friday night, he arrives to help them flesh out their outlines.

“Colors?” Aubrey says as she braids pieces of twine while studying her notes for her midterm.

“What?”

“Your pride colors; I’m making bracelets for everyone because it helps me focus.”

“Oh, um, trans pride ones. Please.”

“Good, already got those out.” She slides a pink, blue, and white bracelet across the table to Duck.

Barclay arrives with cookies, and they settle into their usual working rhythm, Stern bouncing between the three to see what they have and offering editorial advice. He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Barclay, enjoying the contact more than he cares to admit.

“This is a little clunky here, I think I see your point but it’s getting lost.”

Barclay taps the table, then deletes and re-writes the section.

“That’s way better.”

“What can I say, got a good teacher.” Barclay smiles at him, subdued yet charming, and Stern’s heart flips several times before he whacks it into submission.

A week later, he turns up at the center to find the room rearranged and a larger group present. There’s a screen hung up on the far wall and Dani is tinkering with a laptop and projector.

“I think I missed a memo.” He says to Duck as the other man is pouring two cups of soda.

“Yeah, we decided to have a movie night and watch Dracula’s Daughter because Aubrey insists it’s a gay classic.”

“It’s quite good. I’ll, um, I’ll just head out then.”

“Y’know you can stay right? You ain’t just essay help, you’re our friend.” Duck gives him a look stuck between reassurance and concern.

“I guess I can, since I have tonight blocked off.” He goes in search of a seat and finds the only free spot is, of course, directly next to Barclay.

Dani dims the lights and the move starts. There’s a rustle near his lap.

“Popcorn?” Barclay whispers.

“Sure, thanks.”

As the movie plays on, their hands keep going for popcorn at the same instant and bumping each other. A few weeks ago this would have annoyed him to no end. Now he just wants to hold his hand. Barclay is different around these friends; gentler, funnier, his generosity given plentiful outlets. He’s been different at work too, less inclined to needle Stern and more interested in talking with him as they clean than in enabling his friends to stay late and make a mess. Stern’s noticed said friends do their fair share of shit-talking Barclay, the larger man seemingly so used to it he doesn’t react. But more and more Stern sees the flashes of exhaustion and hurt on his face.

“You're not their servant, Barclay.”

“I know, I’m just being helpful.”

“That was half your cut of the tips they scammed off you.”

“It’s fine, Stern.”

“But”

“It’s fine.”

The group opts to watch Frankenstein meets the Wolfman next, and Barclay adjusts so his hand is flat on the ground on the other side of Stern. Stern leans to the side, resting against him, and lets himself pretend he could feel this safe and wanted all the time.

----------------------------------

“Stern, wait up!” Barclay catches up to him as he walks home. It’s Wednesday night, meaning everyone’s essays are finally finished. When Aubrey asked if Stern was going to keep hanging out with them, he said he’d have to see about his schedule, and ignored the fact she knew he was lying.

“What was that line about your schedule? You could still make time to hang out with us.”

“I’ll come back when you all need help on your finals.”

“....do you seriously think that’s all we care about? All I care about? Stern, they really like you, and it seemed like you were getting along with everyone.”

“I was, and I do like them. But I can’t keep being around you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Barclay steps in front of him, barring his path.

“It means that I like you too, but am well aware of how you really feel about me. You act kind, you talk to me like I actually matter, like we’re actually friends, but deep down I know you still think I’m uptight and nerdy and deserve to be mocked for it.”

“I don’t, I swear” Barclay puts his hands on Stern’s shoulders, voice earnest, “I like you a lot, I’m so fucking glad we started hanging out more, I, I really care about you.”

“Care about me? How the fuck am I supposed to believe that when you still won’t even call me by my name!” He hisses, not wanting to wake the nearby apartments.

“I...I was just using it like a nickname. I didn’t know it bothered you. I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” He looks genuinely chagrined and the fire in Stern’s chest flickers out. He stares at the ground, not knowing what else to do.

“Joseph?”

He looks up in time to see Barclay bend forward, bringing their lips millimeters apart.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Do you” he exhales so intensely a nearby moth gets blown off course, “do you really want to?”

“Haven’t been able to think about anything else all night, babe. All week too.”

Stern closes the distance, Barclay’s hands gripping his arms when he does. The kiss is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and he lifts his hands up to Barclays cheeks, stroking them in a plea for more.

Barclay obliges, slides his hands onto his back and pushes him forward, sighing soft and shaky when the kiss deepens. When it ends Stern stays put, rests his head on Barclay’s shoulder as he hugs him, shuddering with want.

“I gotcha babe, don’t worry.” Barclay pets his fingers through Sterns hair.

“Not worried your friends will see us?”

“Fuck ‘em. They were guys I knew in high school who knew how to manipulate me and I can do better. Like you, for starters. Plus Dani thinks their dicks too.”

“Knew there was a reason I liked her.”

“Now, if those friends saw us, we’d know because we’d hear Aubrey yelling ‘called it’ from a mile away.”

“Not that I’m opposed to sidewalk hugging, but it’s getting kind of cold.”

“C’mon” Barclay kisses his forehead, “let’s get you home.”

“Feel like joining me for some ‘coffee?’” Stern makes air quotes as Barclay takes his hand.

“Hell yeah I do. Can think of a lot of places I’d like to put cream.”

“Not just yet, big guy, though I appreciate the enthusiasm.” Stern pauses his walking to kiss him, “tonight I think you and I have a make-out date on my couch.”

Another kiss, full of promise and the barest hint of heat, “sounds good to me, Joseph.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #meet ugly #college AU #prompt fill

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