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#does anyone agree or are my ears broken lmao

dienamights · 3 years

Text

A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you.

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work.

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,”

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement.

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible.

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-”

“How is your hero boyfriend?”

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention.

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change.

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?”

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior.

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention.

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful.

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it.

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time.

He told me so.

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.”

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt.

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.”

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek.

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it.

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

627 notes · View notes

leetotters · 3 years

Note

could you do a peter parker x reader where she can control her hair? and it can be any length she wants but prefers the length mid thigh and its and its unbreakable? so like fury asks if anyone in the team knows anyone they could recruit and he suggests her and all the avengers go meet her at a tailors shop she owns while she's cleaning and she shows her powers? please and if you do it, thank you

note: i hope you meant the powers to be reader's hair bc that's what i used it as lmao. also i used the gif because this is kinda how rocket got smacked with your hair. thank you for requesting<3

warnings: kissing, curse words

peter parker x reader

summary: something like request^

The swooshing of the broom and the melody of a random song played through the speakers of your tailor shop while you swept the floor. The small lengths of wool and silk thread tangling on the broom bristles as you scooped it up. The racks and unwanted pieces of cloth laid on the marble floor making you let out a sigh of exhaustion.

A knock on your glass showcase window made you jump. The movement making your hair disentangle from the neat twist plait. You lowly cursed as your hair touched the floor, the belly laugh behind the window noted you that your bestfriend was the person responsible for your little mishap.

"Couldn't you ring the bell like a normal person!" You annoyingly exclaimed, closing your eyes and controlling your hair to stop at mid-thigh length. Your preferred length. You picked your broom up and teasingly shook your head when Peter told you open the door. "I think I'm gonna leave you outside tonight, just for scarring the life out of me and my hair."

You resumed your previous activity, counting the numbers in your head until you heard the lock on your ceiling window open. The sound of Peter's displeased voice and childish complains filling your storage room.

"Can't keep me outside Y/L/N, I'll always find a way." He proudly dusted his shirt, taking the scoop from your hand while you grabbed the racks and placed them in your extra closet.

"Thanks to your super spidey powers." You teased, thanking him when he returned the dustpan. "Anyway, why are you here?" You inquired, curious why your best friend decided to stop by your little, tailor shop.

"Well I- wait," Peter scrunched his brows. "Can I not drop by to visit my bestfriend?" He sassed, hand on his hip giving you a quizzing look.

"Oh please Peter, you only stop by when you need something." You remarked, returning a pointed stare before you began to reorganize the formal wear you were currently adapting. "And that something is usually to stitch those huge ass holes in your spidey suit."

Peter didn't respond immediately, because you were right. He did stop by your shop for you to mend his suit. Because one, he loved your company. And two, you were the only person who knew his secret other than the avengers, Ned and MJ.

"Fine! fine!," He huffed. Not so discreetly looking over his shoulder as if he was giving someone a signal. "You're right-"

"I always am Parker." You boasted, using the ends of your hair to move the sewing machine and pins to there rightful place.

"Yeah- okay, but I really came to tell you life changing news!" Peter amazed, a gasp leaving his lips when he saw the movement of your hair. It never ceased to amaze him how your hair was basically magical. Being able to move stuff with your command, grow at whatever length you wanted, heal others and even be unbreakable. Epic, really.

"And what is this so great news-"

The words didn't leave your lips properly as your tailor shop entry door was suddenly yanked open. Your door handle and lock was surely broken, at the loud eerie sound of a metal crunching noise.

"Get out of my way Tony!" Stephen scowled.

"Shut it wizard dude, I'm the leader here not you." Tony rolled his eyes, removing the pair of expensive shades from his face.

"Since when? Fury sent all of us Tony." Rhodey said, dusting his shoulder.

"I wonder how much she makes in this shop, not much I bet." Steve scrunched his face, eyeing your little shop.

"Did we really have to bring Groot?" Clint groaned, flicking baby Groot off of his shoulder when he tried to grab one of his arrows.

"He's a baby, Clint. We can't leave him at the compound alone." Gamora remarked, tickling Groot's tree stomach as she picked him up.

"Okay if she does joins us, we will have to ask her to design new clothing! Look at this!." Wanda marveled, showing off the mid thigh silk dress.

"I should get this for the recruiting party Tony is planning for her." Natasha thought out loud.

"What the fuck!" You yelled, glaring at the talkative avengers standing before you. Looking mighty and high as always. "I just fixed that lock dude!" You whined, sighing gallingly when you saw the chunk of metal by Thor's feet. "You're repairing my lock, hammer man."

"Ah yes, I will have the Man of Iron restore your brittle lock Lady.."

"Y/N."

"Lady Y/N." Thor smiled.

Peter let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his ear and looking at you sheepishly. "Surprise?"

"Surprise my ass Parker! Why are the avengers in my tailor shop and why is this raccoon trying to cut my hair?!" You moved your hair with your mind, smacking the animal avenger with your y/h/c locks.

"Woah, did she just-" Bucky froze, mouth agape.

"Control her hair to hit Rocket, yeah." Peter Quill laughed at his co guardian misfortune.

"Okay her hair is very much un- unbreakable," Rocket coughed out, holding his stomach. "And strong."

"I am Groot." ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈᵃˢˢ

"You can not say that word Groot, but I do agree with you." Gamora smirked, finger bumping the cute tree.

You were mad, really fuming. You spent two hours cleaning and by the looks of it you'll have to do it a second time. So yeah, you wanted an explanation.

"Okay don't get upset." Peter spoke calmly. Holding his hand out and gesturing towards the superheroes infront of you, who had the same impressed expression on their fanciable faces.

"This is the life changing thing I was talking about," He paused with a smile. "You're joining the Avengers!"

"What?" You were officially bamboozled, with everything. One minute you were simply tidying your shop and next, half of the avengers are occupying your shop. Quarreling and interfering with your stuff.

And not to ignore the fact that your best friend just blurted out four questionable words to you.

"You're going to be an Avenger, Rapunzel." Tony repeated, strutting to you with short steps. "If you want to of course, sidey here told us your hair power thingy and though I was a little iffy about it at the beginning, it looks like your power is truly powerful." Tony patted your shoulder. Looking over at Rocket, who was being assisted by Drax.

"As much as I would like to say it's an honor to be in your presence," You said. Controlling your hair to grow back at mid-thigh. "Why?" You faced Peter, inquiring him with the plain word.

Peter shrugged, giving you a bashful look. "Fury asked if we knew anyone who could be recruited, and without thought I suggested you." He sighed, feeling completely awful for the situation he put you in.

"And I know, I should've asked you first but I know how much you adore helping others and the money here isn't enough for your college tuition Y/N." Peter ignored the awkward silence in the room that was loud seconds ago before continuing. "I thought this would be a way to assist you."

You physically softened at his words. He was too kind and caring for his own good. You could never be upset with this idiot boy.

"I'm sorry-"

Peter didn't finish. His apology was muffled by your lips pressed deeply to his frowny pink ones. He was slighty awestruck, the feeling of your lips were breathtaking. He swore he could kiss you forever. His hands found your waist pulling you in closer, even including a little tongue movement inside your mouth.

As if reality kicked in, a teasing 'ohhh' sound came from a few avengers. Causing you to shyly pull away from Peter, who loudly groaned at the lost contact of your plump lips.

"Looks like Spidey is getting a little too handsy." Sam quipped, chuckling when Peter told him to shut it and hid his face in the crook of your neck.

"So is this a yes?" Peter hopefully asked.

You feigned ponder. "Yes."

Peter pecked your lips, mumbling a short 'yay' attempting to deepen the kiss.

"That's enough smooching spiderling." Steve uttered, obviously not enjoying the PDA.

A beeping sound came from Tony's watch altering the team about an upcoming mission.

"Looks like we gotta go," Tony spoke with a serious voice before turning to you. "Glad to have you on the team Rapunzel."

"It's Y/N." You corrected.

"Okay, I'll send some people by tomorrow to pick up your stuff. See ya soon, Rapunzel." Tony winked, exiting your tailor shop.

"He's not gonna give that up." Peter laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I oddly don't mind." You responded, waving bye to the others. "Thank you Pete."

Peter grinned. "I didn't quite hear that, say it a little louder baby."

"Thank you mister Parker." You kissed his lips, playfully rolling your eyes. But you weren't that distracted to miss Thor stealthily trying to leave your shop.

"Hey hammer God! Don't forget to fix my lock."

"I will have Stark right on it Lady Rapunzel!"

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter fanfic #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #avengers x reader #peter parker x you #peter x reader #avengers x you #lee writes short fics

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fukurodianthus · 3 years

Text

Cotton Candy Kisses

Synopsis: Let’s get one thing straight, confessions aren’t Ushijima Wakatoshi’s cup of tea, and the same goes for you when it comes to dealing with rejections. But then, your crackhead friends (who are done with watching two emotionally constipated fools pine for each other for two years) decide to take matters into their own hands.

Its a recipe for disaster, topped off with cherry coke and cotton candy.

Genre: Fluff, (a light sprinkle of angst thrown in), friends to lovers AU, mutual pining

Trigger warnings: Just a smol makeout scene lmao (not explicit), swearing(meanwhile, my mom: *disappointed brown parent noises*)

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x fem! reader

Word count: 3k+

Author’s note: I planned to release this on valentine’s day, but my exam schedule said “no❤️”. N E ways, didnt get time to proofread it, so excuse the painful amount of errors it may have. (More unnecessary rambles notes at the end!)

𝐈

“Toshi, Terushima asked me out on a date.”

“Terushima as in Terushima Yuuiji from Johzenji? The one with piercings?” Ushijima sat on the gym floor, busy tying his shoelaces.

“Yeah.”

He sat facing away from you, so you had no way of telling how well he was taking this news.

Not like it mattered anyway.

For the last two-years, you had kept dropping subtle hints that you liked him. Hell, if baking heart-shaped red-velvet cookies for him every valentine’s day hadn’t given him the slightest hint that your feelings for him weren’t exactly platonic, probably nothing could make the stoic ace aware of your feelings.

Unless you directly said it to his face.

Wakatoshi, I like you.

Four words. There were just these four words standing between Wakatoshi and your undeclared feelings. Four words could free you from the shackles of this unrequited love that had been weighing you down for the past two years.

But what was the point anyway? He’d reject you, just like he rejected Ririka. The Ririka Hirai, captain of the girls’ volleyball team, the ace who wielded magic in her hands. Let alone the guys from Shiratorizawa, even boys from other prefectures were totally whipped for her. He didn’t even bat an eyelid before a firm ‘No’ rolled off his lips. She hated crying in front of others, but the redness in her eyes and her swollen eyelids made it obvious that her spirit had been crushed by the rejection. Her previous outgoing, warm and friendly nature had vanished within a few seconds as she withdrew herself into her shell.

If this is what rejections did to people, then you were fine with being crushed under the weight of unrequited love. And you didn’t have a Semi Eita in your life like she had, so there wouldn’t be anybody to help you out of your wallowing self-pity.

Your mind wandered back to your interaction with her yesterday, how she had pulled you into the locker room, firm hands wrapped around your wrists with no intention of letting go. You were reminded of her disastrous plan, and how you’d stupidly agreed to go along with it.

𝐈𝐈

(𝟐 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨)

“You love him, don’t you Y/N?” she asked you, cocking her head to her side as she twirled the green roots of het bubblegum colored hair. Why was she so oddly insistent on dying her hair like a meth-addicted oompa loompa? And the bigger question was, how the fuck did she look so good?

“I don’t know, Riri.” What did she expect to hear? How could you say that you weren’t half as brave as she’d been? You’d rather tend to the wounds that unrequited love caused than deal with the empty-black void of self-loathing, insecurities and embarrassment that rejection left behind.

“Y/N, I’m not a fool. I can see the way your eyes light up when he’s around.”

“So what? What the fuck should I do? Confess my feelings and get rejected? I’d rather wither under the weight of my undeclared feelings than have my soul crushed by a rejection from my best friend, thanks.” You knew you were wrong; you knew you should let go of these useless, painful feelings by confessing. Hearing him reject you would put the nail in the coffin of your one-sided love and you’d finally be free.

But you didn’t want to be free. Cowardice had this odd feeling of comfort attached to it, and you’d gotten used to it.

“Y/N, I’m not here to fight with you over a stupid himbo of a guy. It just hurts me to see you go through the same pain I had gone through. I’m just here to look out for you. I’ll give you my advice whether you want it or not, and its up to you if you’ll take it.”

You looked away. You knew that whatever she was going to say would probably make sense, she was such a smartass after all. She was never wrong, as much as you hated admitting it. Why was she such a good friend, why did she have to be so nice? It pissed you off.

“Ushijima is bad at this entire thing of love and friendships, its probably not big news to you, is it? His parents’ divorce ruined his faith in love.” She cleared her throat, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. “He doesn’t know how this entire thing of love and feelings work. Loving him is difficult, it’s like expecting an iceberg to provide you with warmth. But…” her voice trailed off.

“But what?”

“I think he likes you. He’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. He never saved a seat for me at lunch the way he does for you. He acts...weird around you.”

“That’s bullshit Riri, he does that stuff for me because I’m his team's manager, you know?”

“You’re just as dense as him. Perfect! You’d make a great couple” she giggled, fluttering her long, black lashes.

“Why did you confess to him if you thought he liked me?”

“Oh, I was coming to that. You see, I was a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t like me back, so I thought I might as well get these stupid feelings of my chest and move on, you know? It still hurt a lot for a few days, though. Rejections sucks, that’s nothing new. And I kind of liked Semi, so it felt like I was emotionally cheating on him if I still liked Ushijima. So, I finally confessed to him after getting rid of my feelings for Ushiwaka.” She pressed her lips together and looked away, a faint blush blossoming on her cheeks.

“You and Semi are…”

“We’re a thing now, yeah.”

“I’m so happy for you Ririka!” you practically squealed, squishing her reddened cheeks.

“We had a talk yesterday and we decided that we can no longer bear to see you two emotionally constipated dummies pining for each other anymore, so we’re taking matters into our own hands.”

“What?” Your stared at her with widened eyes, praying she didn’t come up with any stupid plans to make the situation worse.

“Do you know Terushima from Johzenji?”

“Yeah, kinda, that tongue-piercing dude with an undercut, right?”

“He’s my friend and he has agreed to helping us.”

“Oh hell no.”

“I don’t take no for an answer, I’m sorry. Babe, you can come out now.”

You choked on your own spit as you saw Semi climbing out of Ririka’s locker.

“How the fuck did you even fit him in there? Was he there the whole time? What made you think sneaking your boyfriend into the girl’s locker room was a good idea?”

“Honey, that’s too many unnecessary questions, I ain’t answering them. And there’s nobody around. So, I don’t think we’ll get in any trouble as long as you don’t snitch.”

“I’m not going to snitch.”

“That’s what I thought. Now babe, tell her about our plan.”

Semi went over with the details of their plan.

Needless to say, it was a recipe for disaster, you were sure of it.

Having an affinity for all things disastrous, you agreed to their plan.

*flashback ends*

𝐈𝐈𝐈

(𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭)

“Y/N, you there?” Ushijima was done with tying his shoelaces a while ago and now stood in front of you, his tall frame cowering over you.

You snapped out of your trance.

“Yeah, I was j-just busy thinking about some stuff.” You smoothed out your skirt and gripped your bag tightly, and looking down at your feet. You could feel his gaze on your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Stuff as in…Terushima? Were you thinking about him?”

You were taken aback by his uncharacteristically direct question and looked into his eyes. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips; his brows furrowed together in…concern?

Your imagination must be getting better of you.

“Yeah, I was thinking about our date, tomorrow.”

His eyes seemed duller than usual, lacking its usual lustre.

“He doesn’t have a reputation for being loyal, you know.” His words seemed long-drawn, forced, painful. As if it physically hurt him to get these words to roll of his tongue.

He ran his fingers through his greasy olive-brown hair, his gaze still fixed on you. You became painfully aware of the silence in the empty gym room. Why was your heart beating so loudly? Was his heart beating just as loud?

His breath hitched as you stepped closer to him. You noticed the way his sweat-drenched shirt clung to his body, highlighting his well-built frame, the way his lips glistened when he licked his lips, the way his tousled hair stuck to his forehead. You almost brushed those stray strands off his face. Almost.

You spoke in a low tone, almost in a whisper. This moment seemed fragile, like treading on thin ice. It felt as if you both were in a trance and any loud noise would snap you back to reality. You wouldn’t mind being stuck in this trance for a few eternities. “Terushima is a player, a heartbreaker. You think I don’t know that? Maybe I just want to have my heart broken, Toshi. Isn't it better than loving someone who will never love me back?”

He stared at you with a blank, unreadable expression. You noticed how his adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he gulped, his neck and collarbones glistening with sweat.

He had no business being this hot, godamnit.

“I just remembered, Coach Washijo wanted to have a talk with me-“ he took a step back, breaking eye contact with you.

“Coach Washijo is on a sick-leave for a week, Toshi.”

“Ah okay, right.” He turned on his heels and stormed out of the gym, the tips of his ears covered in a faint red glow.

How long will you keep running away Wakatoshi?

𝐈𝐕

(𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲)

“Yeah, chocolate will be fine.”

Terushima handed you the ice-cream cone, flashing his iconic toothy grin at you.

This park of the amusement park was quieter and calmer than the other parts. You were seated on a bench beside a mermaid shaped fountain. Behind you, far off in the distance was a Ferris wheel, lit up in pink and red neon lights, a classic decoration that was put up in this park every valentine’s day.

“Want anything else, babe?” He sat down beside you on the bench, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Dude, you don’t have to put on such a show, you know? You don’t have to make it so realistic.”

He threw his head back and let out another one of his irritating laughs. It was pretty cute, even though you’d never admit it aloud.

“Y/N who said I’m pretending? When Riri asked me to take you out on a fake date to make lover boy Toshi jealous, I thought this would be a pretty good opportunity to score a date with a cute girl, it doesn’t matter if the date is fake or not.”

“You even bought a couple’s ticket, huh?”

“This amusement park has a special valentine’s day offer for couples, fifty percent off for each ride, aint that crazy? I was just saving my coins princess.”

“I swear to god, call me that one more time and you’ll find my foot up your ass-“

“Ooh, kinky!”

It physically hurt you to not punch him and wipe that cheesy grin off his face. “I can’t handle you Terushima-” You hungrily bit down on the ice-cream, gobbling it up in a matter of a few seconds.

Terushima's nose scrunched up in disgust. “The fuck Y/N, who bites ice-cream like that! Are you a caveman or something?"

“Aw babe, didn’t you know? I’m not like other girls.” You dramatically flicked a stand of your hair, as your pretentious, catty tone drew a chuckle from him.

“C’mon now, fake date or not lets a have a good time! I’m done sitting around on this bench, we’re in an amusement park for fuck’s sake Y/N!” He took his black leather jacket off, flinging it around his shoulders, his white shirt clung to his skin. He looked like a stereotypical bad boy out of a wattpad book written by a 16-year-old. You bit down the urge to make a sarcastic comment about his appearance.

“Get up now, you lazy butt.” He offered you a hand.

You slapped his hand away and stood up, brushing the small remnants of the ice-cream cone off your plaid yellow dress.

“Damn, you feisty.”

“Serves you right, pisshead.”

He was about to make a snarky retort when his eyes suddenly landed on someone standing in the crowd beside the ferris wheel. “Looks like lover boy is here.”

“You sure its him?”

“A hundred and twenty percent ma’am! Now go get your man!” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before winking at you. “That’ll get him riled up enough.”

“You’re such a little shit-”

“Shut up, he’s coming here, go talk to him.”

You turned around on your heels to see Ushijima making his way towards you.

“Hey! What you doing here Toshi?” You tried putting on a surprised expression, but after seeing how Terushima snickered at you, you understood that you probably overdid it.

“Uhm, did I interrupt your d-date?” Ushijima looked painfully flustered. His eyes searched your face, looking for signs of annoyance or anger.

He was surprised at how happy you looked. Didn’t girls get annoyed when someone interrupted their dates? Ah, women, such complex creatures, all mysteries of the world seem irrelevant when compared to the mystery of a woman’s psyche.

“No, not at all! Do you want to tell me something?” You cocked you head and batted your eyelashes at him playfully.

But he remained silent, lips tightly pressed together as his eyes kept flickering between Terushima and you.

“Hey Yuuji, I’d like to talk to Toshi in private, maybe you could…you know-“

“Ah that was stupid of me! I’ll leave you two to yourselves. I’ll be at the Haunted Mansion if you need me, a friend of mine works there as a part time zombie.” He pointed finger guns at you and winked. "See ya later sweet cheeks!" You saw his silhouette fade into the distance.

It was only you and Ushijima now.

The golden glow from the setting sun and the faint pink lights from the faraway Ferris wheel illuminated his face in a rose-gold glow. He sported a red flannel shirt, more specifically the one you had bought for him while shopping with Tendou last summer.

He looked ethereal.

You cleared you throat. “Toshi? You wanted to tell me something, right?”

He looked started, unsure of himself. You looked at him with anticipation, your heart almost leaping out of your ribcage.

“Y/N, for the next match Yamagata will replace Akakura as the libero because he twisted his ankle in in the hallway today.”

Unbeknowst to you, Ririka and Semi hid behind an ice-cream truck in the distance, keeping an eye on you both. They could hear small excerpts of your conversation. So, when they heard Ushijima saying something about ‘match’ and ‘libero’, they let out frustrated groans. “That dense fucker messed up yet again.” they whispered under their breaths in unison.

Disappointment flashed across your face. Was he serious? How dense could a guy possibly be?

“You came this far, interrupted my date to tell me this, Toshi? You could just have messaged me, you know?” Your voice trembled, vision blurring with tears.

So much for love.

You felt stupid, you wanted to slap yourself across your face for being naïve enough to believe that Ushijima Wakatoshi could ever reciprocate your feelings.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You started to walk away, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your dress, when you felt a strong arm coil across you waist.

Wakatoshi pulled you close, and in an instant his lips were on yours. You didn’t spare a second thought before kissing him back, your lips hungrily melting into his. You grazed your tongue across his lower lip as he pushed you against the fountain, one hand placed on the small of your back pulling your body closer and the other under your dress, grazing your thigh. Your fingers aimlessly hovered over his chest before gently tugging him by the collar of his shirt.

When he finally pulled away, you both stared at each other, panting breathlessly, hair drenched from the light spray of water cascading down the fountain. The warmth of his lips still lingered on your mouth.

The sound of his voice snapped you out of your dreamlike trance. “Tendou and Semi told me that I wasn’t worthy enough of being Shiratorizawa’s ace if I chickened out of professing my feelings to the girl I’ve liked for two years. How could I sit back and watch that guy from Johzenji steal you away? I like you Y/N, and I'm tired of pretending that I don't."

You were about to respond when Semi’s voice rang out from behind the ice-cream truck.

“Oh my god Riri! Did you see that? They kissed! I’m so proud of my miracle boy-”

“Keep it down you dimwit, or they’ll hear us-“

You let out a soft chuckle and took Ushijima’s hand in yours. “Wouldn't it be very surprising if Semi and Riri suddenly popped out from behind that ice-cream truck, Toshi? But that's totally impossible right? Not like they'd ever eavesdrop on us-"

Semi and Ririka slowly made their way towards you, eyes downcast with guilt.

“We didn’t mean to intrude-” Semi started to explain.

“Shut your trap, you shitheads, we wouldn’t be together if it weren’t for you.” You chirped, drawing them into a tight embrace.

“What do you mean Y/N?” Ushijima stared at you, confused. You stifled a chuckle.

“Well, we actually made a plan…” Ririka started explaining.

After Semi, Ririka and you explained your entire scheme to him, he stared at you, confused, open mouthed.

“You could just have told me, you know? All this to get me jealous?”

“I was scared of getting rejected, Toshi.”

“I’d never reject you!”

“And how the fuck was I supposed to know that? You never showed any signs of recognition at my hints, how was I supposed to know you liked me? You huffed.

“Well, I suppose I…nevermind.”

“No, finish your sentence!”

“Would you like to ride the Ferris Wheel, Y/N?”

“Thought you’d never ask. But first, buy some cotton candy for your lady love.” He took his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers with his. "Anything for my girl."

𝐕

Ushijima’s lips softly grazed you neck, his hot breath fanning across your collarbones.

The soft pink light from the Ferris Wheel lit his face up.

Wiping a piece of leftover cotton candy from your lips, he suddenly asked, “Why do you love me, Y/N?”

You thought of the times he saved extra bento boxes for you after lunch when you refused to eat properly, how he’d stayed awake, sitting in your bedside chair, taking care of you as your body burned in fever, how he’d laugh at your stupid jokes even though they weren’t anything close to being funny, or how he’d show up at your door with cotton candy and cherry coke whenever you were under the weather.

You pressed your lips against his before whispering,

“What’s there to not love, Toshi?”

Author’s rambles notes pt. 2: Ririka Hirai isn’t a very well-known character, but I decided to add her anyways because the girl’s volleyball team characters deserve some love too! You can find more about her here (if it very isnt obvious already, I find her character absolutely adorable!)

N E ways, I hope you enjoyed reading this fic(which has absolutely 0 grammatical errors and i totally didnt write this while overdosing on an unhealthy amount of coffee at three in the morning)

Reblogs would be highly appreciated!

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supertunanana · 3 years

Note

Saw this in the Jikook tag and thought I'd add what I have seen. What I've seen isn't that people think they're fighting or broken up even though I'm sure there's a lot of that going on but for some they now believe Jikook were never a couple and are just close friends and they feel foolish for buying into blogs that have their own theories that Jimin and Jungkook are an actual romantic couple. Not entirely sure why this NY trip and middle half of 2021 in general have people changing their minds but I guess only they know. It happens every so often but this time I've seen people make permanent changes to their accounts whether it's on here or another sm platform. I just know some are comparing those blogs to the one who shall not be named in the other toxic shipper base. It's not that they see Jikooker blogs as toxic and horrible as that other person but that these Jikook blogs offer their own brand of manipulation only this time using facts instead of lies. No idea if that made any sense lmao How do I put it? Like taking events that have happened and making them out to be a bigger deal than they actually are which in turn gets other people to go "Really? I didn't see it that way but these people are older and wiser and maybe see things clearer than I do" then gifs or clips are usually provided and it all becomes pretty convincing. The thing is no one knows if they're a couple. Could they be? Yeah sure. Could they just be close friends with their own set of personal boundaries? Absolutely. When someone tries to offer up that suggestion to many Jikook blogs, they don't want to discuss that most of the time. Personally I've seen anons suggest a close friendship and are met with comments that that anon must not be experienced enough or anyone who can't see that Jimin and Jungkook are in a relationship must be blind or are choosing to ignore what's right in front of them. That's messed up. That's acting as if the opinion that they're dating is no longer just an opinion. I can see how that can be a mild form of toxicity in itself. Nobody has the right to belittle somebody because they share a different opinion. Even after this NY trip, I've seen many Jikook blogs erupt in anger, calling anons stupid and ridiculous for having doubts or changing their minds and coming to their own conclusions that Jikook aren't a couple but close friends. It's odd to see "Why does no longer car sharing convince you they're not dating?" When actually we've never known if they are to begin with so someone changing their minds over something that's never been confirmed in the first place isn't a problem or "stupid". Maybe the reasons for changing their minds might seem a bit hasty but they're still allowed to change their minds. So yeah I see people are feeling foolish for believing these blogs who hold the opinion they're dating and I think in time the negative feelings will fade away and I have already seen some move on from those types of Jikook blogs and make changes. Perhaps they'll be able to enjoy BTS content without worrying about Jikook's status? As for me, I've never believed they were a romantic couple to begin with but their relationship whatever it is in reality has me aww'ing so that's why I follow Jikook tag. Their interactions are very cute. Sorry for rambling on so much!

You're good, Anon. And I agree with most everything you've said! However, I'm not so convinced they aren't a romantic couple, but then again, I'm not convinced they are. As I told a friend, I'm pretty agnostic about this (and as an actual Agnostic in the religious sense, that's on brand, lol). I'm pretty bad about seeing things in black and white. I used to, but then law school happened, and I've mellowed out a lot (which is ironic, because I think most of my fellows only got stronger in their opinions, lol! IDK I think my ENTJ is slowly dying into an ENTP; the world has beaten me down into seeing the gray). But I don't really worry too much about it. I did at one point, simply because I think it's human nature to want absolutes, to want labels and definitions especially when something is "other" or "unusual", but I got over it. Do I think they do some suspicious things that make me raise an eyebrow and question them? Yes. Does this definitively make them a couple? No. Will my world fall apart if they are just friends with weird boundaries? No. I understand those blogs that are CONVINCED seem a bit dismissive of doubts, and I envy their conviction. I think they feel they are seeing a truth and supporting/defending a truth that is screaming to break free. That Jikook ARE IN FACT a couple, desperate to be seen as such, but muted by their careers and the socio-political climate of where they live. And I am sympathetic to that. It's why I cannot simply dismiss Jikook as NOT being a couple or forcing heteronormative expectations on them. If they are, I do indeed see signs, and I support them if it's true. BUT, that often leads to looking at a lot of what they do with confirmation bias. That is, you believe your hypothesis "they are a couple hiding in plain sight", so everything they do or say supports this hypothesis, and I find that equally faulty. I see some Jikookers who get just as silly about Jimin and JK being near each other or looking at each other as Taekookers. Sure, they'll spin a more eloquent web using those odd and unusual things that make me side-eye ("SE") to support this, but it often boils down to the same thing. Not everything Jimin and Jungkook do equates to some magical, romantic relationship! I get that they are often trying to cite patterns of behavior (eg JK gravitates towards Jimin) which could be seen as innocuous and BFF stuff and then couple it with "SE" stuff (eg JK sucks on Jimin's ear) to give more meaning to the former as being more romantic and legit than a Taekooker possibly citing similar, but it's not. Not fully. I know the BEST romantic relationships have partners who are BFFs, but that doesn't mean that BFF behavior equates to a romantic relationship. Or even the "SE" behavior equates to a romantic relationship (as you said, it could be BFF's with weird boundaries - I've made out with a few of my friends and I was in no way attracted to them physically or romantically). It's not the transitive property of relationships here. So, that's where I see more wiggle room, that's where I think a lot of people question or have doubts, but that's where these blogs are so convinced. I don't necessarily think they're trying to be rude (but they can be and that sucks), but I think they're just stuck in their confirmation bias loop. They are convinced and they use the strength of that conviction to put emphasis on a lot of things. I don't think they're trying to manipulate anyone, because they genuinely believe it, and that's where they can be dismissive when questioned. And again, I don't think they're inherently wrong, but I also don't think they're inherently right, either. I will say, that if ANY pairing in BTS were to be legit, Jikook have the strongest argument, but it doesn't mean they are (but it also doesn't mean they aren't). And that's ok, to me at least. I'm fine living in the gray and seeing Jikook as each other's person, regardless of what that fully entails. They have a beautiful relationship, they make each other better people, and as my double biases (Jin is my bias wrecker - my chaos trio!), that makes me happy.

#ask #this is me #jikook

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taelme · 4 years

Text

Enemies-to-lovers!Jisung

request: - anon: Could you maybe write an enemies to lovers like the Chan one but with jisung?? It was so good 😔😔😭🥺💞💞💖💘💘💞💗💞💗💕💞 can it be fluffy and Angsty hehe 😖 maybe where they're both college students - anon: Can you do a Enemies to Lovers AU with chan!!! Where they're going to college and their families happen to be friends so they get an apartment together to save money, but the first time they meet it doesn't go well. Then yk, slowly w time they fall in love ahhaha... I love your writings btw!! 💓💞💓💝💓💞💓💝 (I recently sent the ask about the enemies to lovers au w chan that involved going to college.. since you literally just wrote an enemies to lovers au for chan if you want you can do my request (if u do it ahahha) with jisung!!) - anon: I really love how you write au’s/fanfictions. I just want to know if u can write something about han jisung?? maybe a cafe love story or another tattoo artist just like chan? or maybe a studio date night?

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au, tattoo apprentice!jisung lol (fluff, a bit of angst)

pairing/s: Han Jisung / Reader ( ft skz Bang Chan and nct/wayv/superm (lmao) Lucas )

word count: 18k

tw: I talk about like kind of sad stuff when jisung has like an artist’s block in this I guess

a/n: thank u anons for being so patient with this request!! I rly hope that I managed to do it well and that you guys are satisfied with the outcome n have fun reading it hehe, it was kind of inspired by the song sunshine!! by stray kids so I hope that it gives u the same good vibes I got from the song while writing this :( ok bye

If it were any other person standing in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t have regretted having an outburst in the café for the morning crowd to see.

The fight, or outburst (if you wanted to relieve him of any role in the exchange), had started rather simply. You were just having one of those days where it was raining outside, you were awake even before roosters were (in your opinion) and you had wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and sleep into the evening.

You had gone to grab your morning coffee, combating against the rain with your multi-coloured umbrella, as one does. Shoving the doors of the café open, you were met with shouts of names and storms of people squeezing to collect their orders. The whole ordeal would’ve made you pretty at ease if it weren’t for the coldness of your feet and the way your umbrella would cause someone to slip soon if you didn’t move.

Your shoes squelched against the shiny wood floors of the café, each step making you cringe as you waited anxiously to reach the front of the line, desperate to put an end to this experience. Thankfully enough, your order was pretty straightforward, so you’d collected it quickly, the small smiley face drawn on the cup by the staff serving to put you in a slightly less dreadful mood.

Stationing yourself at one of the empty tables you’d spotted by the exit, you set your still-dripping umbrella on the floor before you tried to get your tissues out to salvage whatever you could of your shoes. Shrugging off your coat, you’d draped it over the back of the seat.

Glancing at the time on your phone before you shoved your notes aside within your bag, you’d pushed your arm forward and opened your bag harshly, taking your box file out of your bag, almost nicking yourself against the broken corner of the file in your rush.

The next sequence of events happened quickly, and too ‘all-at-once’ for you to process. Upon taking out your box file, you’d heard a yelp behind you, followed by harsh footsteps and the splash of coffee on your box file.

Letting out a loud yelp of surprise as the person in question had stopped their fall with a loud thud of their hands against the pillar in front of you, they’d turned to you with wide-eyes, their eyebrows quickly furrowing into an expression that looked utterly ticked-off, their mouth already opening to speak.

You’d seemed to beat them to it, hurriedly grabbing your tissues to wipe down your file, checking for any brown-stains on your precious papers.

“What the hell,” you scoffed, casting a glance up at the boy. He had stood slightly taller than you, with rounded eyes and a defined nose, his lips pressed into a firm line.

He looked fairly young, from the way he dressed in brand-name basics to the way he was practically decked out in accessories. Call you biased, but if this was a senior or a child, you’d probably have let them off with it. But the way he was looking at you now was somehow successfully unnerving you, and you supposed admiring his annoyed features was about the last thing you should be doing at the moment.

“‘What the hell’?” He echoed your words, “who’s the one that chose to stand in the middle of nowhere to go through their damned bag?”

Your eyebrows raised in offence, your annoyance from before making itself known as you frowned, your grip on your bag tightening, “oh, and it’s my fault you have poor coordination?”

The boy had narrowed his eyes, mirroring your expression, his bracelets shifting on his wrist as he gestured at your umbrella on the floor.

“Your stupid umbrella was the reason I tripped in the first place,” he told you pointedly, strangely making you even more annoyed that he chose to attack not only you but your innocent umbrella too.

Your volume raised involuntarily with your frustration, “it’s so bright! It was basically screaming at you that it was there,” you defended, attracting a few customers attention with your outburst. You didn’t understand why you had to go through this so early in the morning when you were already irritable beyond belief.

The boy seemed to have noticed this as well, discomfort washing over him at the feeling of the crowd’s stares. Ultimately deciding he would rather give up the fight with the crazy stranger from the café and leave before he was late for his job at the tattoo studio.

“Whatever,” he huffed, leaving the café, the bells at the doors jingling loudly as it swung back.

Something about the apology just wasn’t enough for you, (maybe you just expected more because he irked you) but you were already late enough for class. Rolling your eyes, you’d slung your bag around your shoulder with a thump, gripping your cup in your hands tightly and picking your umbrella (that now had an evident crease in one of its panels) up before running to class.

Your mom had called you halfway through the day while you were on your way to classes, the gesture enough to make you huff good-naturedly at her insistence.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey, is this a good time?” her tone was practically dripping with motherly concern, making you let out a breathy laugh, nodding even though she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, It’s fine,” you told her, “but anyway, I think my umbrella’s broken. Some idiot at the café this morning practically destroyed it with their stupid combat boots.”

Your mom didn’t seem to pay much attention to your rant, cutting straight to the point that she’d called you for.

“Have you met Jisung yet?”

You sighed as you entered the auditorium for your next lecture, lowering your head slightly as you found a seat around the middle of the hall.

“No, not yet. I’m only going over to the house after my classes end, remember? But I heard my stuff already got moved there,” you explained to her, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you took your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table gently.

“Oh, do you want his phone number? To make things easier for the both of you,” she offered, earning a disinterested hum from you.

 Your mom was more than excited about the fact that you would be 1. Not living in a residence within the school and 2. Living with the son of one of her friends from college. You figured your duty as her child now would be to appease her and at least try to live out her desires for you. Which in this case was sharing an apartment alone with some boy you didn’t even know. Maybe your mom was just a little more trusting than most.

You shrugged, “yeah, sure, just send it to me.”

Your mom let out a squeal, “I’m so excited for you to meet him, honey, he’s such a nice boy. You two are sure to get along. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

Letting out a small sigh, you leant back in your seat as you held your phone with one hand, your other hand going to unlock your computer.

“I still feel like I’m imposing on them,” you hummed.

“Honey, it’s fine, Jisung’s parents insisted that you didn’t have to pay any rent.”

You hummed patronisingly, it wasn’t as if it was the first time she was telling you this, “yeah, uh-huh,” your attention was momentarily diverted by the tall boy that was standing next to you, gesturing to the empty seat with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry, is there anyone sitting here?”

Your lips parted, “okay, mom I gotta go I’ll call you once I’ve settled into the apartment.”

You did a once-over of the boy, who shook his head to get his bangs away from his eyes, giving you a wide smile. Gesturing for him to go ahead and sit down, he’d flopped down onto the seat with a sigh.

Letting go of his bag strap as he turned around, he gave you an appreciative nod as he opened his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen.

“First day, huh,” his voice was deeper than you’d remembered it to be from just seconds ago, his hand coming up to cover his growing smile as a little giggle escaped him, “I’m Lucas.”

“How’d you know?” You hummed, “and my name’s Y/N.” You swore you’d never seen a boy with such sparkly eyes before in your life.

Lucas shrugged, leaning his folded arms on the desk and turning his head slightly to observe you in your confusion, one hand shifting to play with his earring, “haven’t seen you around before.”

“You talk like you know everyone in the school,” you scoffed.

Lucas didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm, simply giving you a shrug, “possibly. And also because it’s my second time taking this stupid class so I should know an unfamiliar face when I see one,” he told you, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Your eyebrows raised, hearing the doors at the bottom of the auditorium open, a short stocky man walking through and making his way to the speaker’s desk.

“Second time? Why?” You hummed, keeping your gaze on the man in anticipation for what he was about to say.

Lucas cast a glare towards the professor, “I thought he was boring so I didn’t really go much for his lectures the last time, you know, because I thought they weren’t graded. But he decided to include them as passing criteria way too late.”

Lucas pointed at the professor, his sleeve riding up slightly to expose a tattoo at his wrist. You were starting to wonder if everyone at this place had tattoos, the sight seeming fairly common from just your few hours in the school.

You winced, nodding, already getting the sensing that this man was someone you needed to be on good terms with.

“Alright, class, enough talking. From now on, I’m the only one that should be talking so I expect nothing but your full attention from here onwards.”

This was going to be a long lecture.

===

Your mom had texted you the Jisung kid’s number, and you’d dropped him a text saying you were on your way to the apartment, getting a reply from him that he was on his way there as well. You figured he seemed pretty polite, from the way he texted you, so you guessed that helped in making you dread the whole arrangement less.

When you’d reached, you’d ended up at an apartment building that looked fairly plain, walking in to the lobby and scanning the sparsely decorated notice board for residents, the last thing put up being a picnic for families that was 3 months ago.

Stepping into the lift, you’d noticed that though it was relatively well-maintained, it seemed rather dull, from the prison-grey lights to how the mirrors were covered for maintenance. Thankfully, your apartment itself was relatively well-maintained (you remembered your mom telling you the apartment was previously being rented out by Jisung’s parents), aside from the space being a little not-so conducive. But well, they were letting you live here for free, so you couldn’t complain.

Setting your things down onto the sofa in the living room, you moved to examine the respective rooms, frowning when you realised that whoever Jisung was, he’d taken the room with the bigger bed, his clothes either already hung up on the clothing rack or stacked up on his bed.

Walking into what you assumed was your room now, you tried to envision how you could make this space more conducive. From moving the bed aside to switching the desk out to the living room for more light, you tried out different permutations in your head, your time as an amateur interior designer cut short when you heard the rustling of keys at the front door.

Smoothing your hair down to make sure it was neat, you’d dodged the boxes of stuff as you leant over the sofa, curious to see what this Jisung kid would look like.

Jisung had done the same outside the door, making sure his hair and clothes were somewhat presentable before pushing the door open. And immediately wanting to close it back.

“You’re Jisung?”

“You’re Y/N?”

The two of you spoke simultaneously, disbelief and shock written over your features as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Like you mentioned before, maybe if the boy at the café this morning wasn’t Jisung, you would’ve regretted your actions a lot less.

Jisung gave you a look of disbelief, stepping into the apartment and folding his arms across his chest, his bag still hanging from his shoulder. He couldn’t wrap his head around how unlucky he must have been to have had such a bad encounter with someone he was about to spend probably his entire college life living with.

He sighed deeply, “now I don’t feel like paying the rent on your behalf anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, “your parents are paying the rent, not you. You have no say in it.”

Jisung made a sound of protest, shaking his head vigorously, his eyes widening in his aggravation.

“No, they aren’t. I told them to let me take care of it because I felt bad for them. But I don’t feel bad for you, so you’re gonna have to split the rent with me.”

Your lips parted, fumbling for a response.

Jisung’s expression was expectant, provoking you almost, “what? Would you rather get an apartment on your own? ‘Cause I’d be more than happy to let my parents know.”

You wanted to cry. It was already the start of the school term so staying in the dorms was out of the question for you already, the deadline having closed long ago. And you knew that finding another apartment in the school district that was within your budget was going to be a pain in the ass. So as much as you hated to admit it, splitting the rent with Jisung was your best option. You needed to get a job asap.

You rolled your eyes, “well…well then why do you get the bigger room?” You huffed, mirroring his stance as you folded your arms across your chest.

Jisung gave you a mocking pout, “simple, ‘cause I got here first,” he brought his hand up, inspecting his nails.

“You should be glad I’m not charging you extra for inconveniencing me,” he added.

Not being able to help but let a small gasp leave you, you were quick to respond, “inconveniencing you? You were the one that got coffee all over my file.”

Jisung shrugged, “potato, potato. Doesn’t change the fact that you made me late for work.”

You clenched your jaw, watching with a glare as he strolled past you, gesturing to the space in the living room which you’d been planning on using as a work area, “I have dibs on this space.”

You frowned, mumbling, “I wanted to shift the desk in my room out here, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Wanna consider moving out now?”

You inhaled deeply, brushing past him to grab your luggage that contained your clothes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you huffed in annoyance as you walked into your room, his laughter echoing behind you.

===

“How can you say that? Jisung is a very nice boy,” your mother cried, making you roll your eyes, glaring at your phone from where you were hanging your clothes up.

“He’s the idiot that I fought with at the café, it’s not like I’m saying this without reason.”

You heard your mom sigh deeply, conversing with your dad about something in the background, “try to put your attitude aside for once, please, I’m begging you.”

You groaned, kicking your luggage aside before you made your way over to your bed, flopping down next to your phone with a loud sigh, wincing at the feeling of the springs in your mattress. You were so sure Jisung’s bed was more comfortable.

“It’s not me that has the attitude, it’s him,” you mumbled, sulkiness evident in your tone.

“Enough, Y/N," she said sternly, "If I hear anymore complaints you’re really gonna be in for it.”

You kicked at your blanket, “fine, goodnight. Love you.”

You hung up, staring at your desk as you contemplated on whether to move it into the living room now or tomorrow, distracted from your thoughts when you could hear the water running, not to mention the awfully loud sound of Jisung singing in the shower.

How thin were the walls? Your glare had shifted to your door now.

“Can you keep it down?” You shouted, hearing a silence on his end momentarily. Heaving a sigh of relief, you turned around in your bed only to hear him resume his singing, except this time, you swore it got louder.

Burying your head under your pillow, you kicked at your blanket, hoping this was the worst it could get. It wasn’t that bad, right? You could deal with simple shower concerts. Maybe living with him wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought.

===

Safely to say, you should’ve thought otherwise.

The very first time you realised you'd underestimated Han Jisung, was when you'd gone to the fridge to fix yourself something for dinner, only to find post-its on every single one of the items that read : 'property of han jisung! not for y/n'

You'd moved to look for something else to eat that was unlabelled, only realising then that he'd even gone to the (very petty) extent of labelling the snacks in the cupboard.

Huffing, you'd shrugged your coat on, grabbed your wallet and made a trip to the grocery store.

Cursing him in your head as you shoved your items into your basket, earning yourself looks of scandal from the elders who were for whatever reason still in the grocery store, though you couldn’t be bothered to look more amiable. You’d wanted nothing more than to throw out Jisung’s groceries, but of course, you were a nice person, so you wouldn’t do that. It seemed like you just couldn't get a break when your phone had begun to buzz in your pocket.

"Hey, mom," you hummed, trying not to sound too tired lest she started to drill you about resting. You brought your groceries over to the self-checkout aisle, heaving them onto the small platform with a grunt.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

You huffed, "we didn't have enough food, so I went to buy some groceries." Biting back your tongue, you rolled your eyes, scanning your items and bagging them angrily.

"How's finding a job been?"

You shrugged, Lucas had told you about various job openings nearby your house, (surprising you with how much he knew about the area) one of them you were looking into was a simple job at a café near your apartment. Thankfully, not the one that you'd had your little ‘encounter’ with Jisung at.

"Pretty alright, nothing too difficult,” you hummed, fumbling to pull out your card so you could make your payment, ignoring the stares you were getting from the people queueing up behind you.

"Alright, that's good to hear."

"Everything alright with you and dad at home?" you asked, shoving your card back into your wallet before slinging the bags onto your forearms, beginning to walk out of the supermarket.

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about us, we just miss you."

You sighed, something about the night air putting you in a drowsy mood, "me too. I never realised how much I liked living with you guys till now..."

"Don't tell me you're still having a hard time with Jisung," you heard her tone, your knew that this was her way of implying she didn't want to hear anything other than that you and Jisung's housemate experience was just peachy.

"Don't worry, mom, everything's... fine."

You'd tugged your coat closer to yourself, giving her whatever updates you figured she'd want to know before hanging up, enjoying the peaceful walk before you reached your apartment, figuring this was as much peace you were going to get before you returned to the apartment to be met with his stupid antics again.

And surely enough, the evening breeze accompanied with the sounds of faint conversation from the restaurants nearby had started to put you in a rather drowsy mood, making you start to contemplate if you were even still hungry, the lure of sleep starting to seem more tempting.

Reaching your apartment building, the lift lobby illuminated by a harshly bright lightbulb, you’d bumped into one of the ladies living on the same floor as you exited the lift on your floor, watching as her eyes widened in surprise, giving you a small smile as she enquired.

“Oh, are you the resident from apartment 19B?" you nodded.

If you were drowsy before, you sure weren't drowsy anymore.

You flinched slightly when her expression had changed in an instant, her once amiable expression now replaced with an annoyed glare.

"Can you please refrain from singing so loudly in the middle of the night? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Your eyebrows raised, shaking your head as you slot your keys into the keyhole, opening the door just a crack, "oh, sorry, that's not me that's my housemate—”

The middle-aged lady had narrowed her eyes at you, "you know, It's not ethical for someone as young as you to be living with a man when you're so young—”

"Okay, sorry, won't happen again!" you told her quickly in your attempt to appease her, shoving the door open and slamming it behind you, turning around only to see Jisung standing in the living room, dressed in loungewear with black gloves on his hands as he pointed at you in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"Aw, I'm not the only one that thinks it's not ethical for you to live here," he pouted.

You rolled your eyes, "I can't believe she thought I was the one singing," you huffed, going over to the kitchen to see yet more dishes in the sink.

Pointing at them with a look of disbelief on your face, "are you not gonna clean these either?"

Jisung turned around, looking at the sink with evident contempt, shrugging. He held his hands up to you, showing you that they were currently gloved.

"I'm a little busy, why don't you do me a favour this once? Consider it compensation," he grinned, making his way back to....your room?

"What are you doing in my room?" you asked, shoving the last of your groceries haphazardly into the fridge before you'd followed him into your room, shutting your mouth quickly when you saw that he’d practically set up a work station next to your desk, looking closer to find that he was using what looked like tattoo equipment.

“Practicing,” he shrugged.

You didn’t bother asking what his business using tattoo equipment was, simply huffing in exasperation, “and you had to do it in my room, of all places?”

Jisung nodded, pushing one of his sleeves up on his shoulder, revealing a rather big tattoo on his arm that was partially hidden by his sleeve.

“This is the only room with an accessible plug and a good enough space to work in.”

“Then why didn’t you just take this room as your bedroom?” You were dumbfounded at the way he was so nonchalant about his actions, the buzzing of the tattoo needle resuming as he practised on fake skin.

“I like to sleep in a comfortable bed,” he shrugged, leaning back to look at his tattoo.

“And you think I don’t?” You shot back, your hands going to your hips, his reply coming just as quick.

“Well, for $300 bucks above the rent maybe you can,” he smirked, using a tissue to rub at the fake skin, looking at you as he poked his tongue in his cheek, quirking his eyebrows before turning back to continue tattooing.

That night, you remembered asking Lucas if he knew who Jisung was, since he’d mentioned how he was pretty into tattoos, having a few of his own, his reply only making you wonder if the world was just small or you were just unlucky.

lucas wong

8:53pm - oh yeah I know him! he’s apprentice-ing at the tattoo shop I usually go to, he’s pretty good-

8:53pm - why? do u like him? I cld put in a good word for u-

You sighed deeply

8:53pm - no thanks im good-

Little did you know, the next time Lucas had visited the the tattoo studio, he’d spotted Jisung working on his designs at one corner of the room, going against your request and disturbing Jisung even despite how he looked like that was the last thing he wanted, too focused on the shadings of his chrysanthemum flower sketch on his tablet to have paid attention to Lucas' entrance.

“Hey, do you know anyone named Y/N?”

Jisung’s face scrunched up in distaste, looking up at Lucas and hoping desperately that he was joking, “don’t tell me… freshman Y/N?”

Lucas nodded, his eyes lighting up in excitement, “yeah! So you guys do know each other.”

Jisung made an uncertain sound, “I wouldn’t call it much of a relationship. Y/N’s my housemate.”

Jisung’s words had sparked a realisation in Lucas, the latter only piecing together your disdain towards Jisung with your stories about your ‘asshole housemate’

Lucas’ silence had caught Jisung off guard, making Jisung look up at Lucas expectantly, “sorry, you wanted to go get something to eat, right?”

Lucas nodded, masking his shock with a smile, recovering quickly.

“Wait, lemme go call Chan,” Jisung murmured, beckoning the boy who was currently snacking at the reception area.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” Lucas asked, earning a hum from Chan.

“I kinda wanted to get a smoothie,” Chan admitted sheepishly, though thankfully, Jisung and Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

 “Why didn’t you wanna go to the other café? They’ve got better smoothies,” Lucas wondered out loud, making Jisung snort.

“We’re only going there because Chan has a fat crush on one of the baristas.”  

Which was what ended them up at the café you worked at.

The moment they had entered, you noticed your colleague tense beside you, bending down to pretend to take something from below the counter.  

“Shit, they’re here. Oh my god, help,”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “who?”

“That cute tattoo artist guy I was telling you about!” She whispered harshly, standing up and greeting the boys with a smile, her heart eyes directed particularly at one of them with curly hair.

Only then did you realise Lucas and Jisung were there, receiving an overwhelming feeling of wanting to bang your head into the cash register. You already saw him enough at home, and now you had to see him at work too?

“Hi, how may I help you?” You smiled at the curly haired boy, casting a glare in Jisung’s direction, the boy looking equally as dismayed to see you here.

“Hello, can I get the berry smoothie?” He asked, and you stepped aside, letting your colleague ring up his order while you prepared his drink, giving it to your colleague to serve since she’d spent so long talking to him.

Lucas had mouthed a ‘sorry’ to you when he’d gone to sit at one of the tables with Chan, Jisung lingering at the cashier as your colleague went to the backroom to squeal.

“What do you want?” you wore a bored expression.

Jisung looked almost too focused, his eyes glaring at the laminated menu between the both of you.

“I changed my mind, I want a drink too.”

You suppressed your urge to roll your eyes, your finger scratching at the corner of the cash register, “you couldn’t have ordered it like five seconds ago?”

Jisung shot you a look, “yeah, well I didn’t want it five seconds ago.”

Inhaling deeply, you’d gestured to the menu, and now not only was your expression bored-to-death, but your tone was too, "what do you want?”

“I want an iced americano,” he told you, pausing before he added, “and ask your friend to make it. I don’t trust you not to spit in my drink.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “good call.”

Ringing up his order, you’d called your friend, dismissing any thought of ever having a normal encounter with Jisung.

Upon returning to his table, Chan had given him a look, "Lucas told me you know the cashier."

"Not the one you think is cute, don't worry,” Jisung sighed, glancing in his drink just for good measure.

Chan's eyebrows lifted in amusement, "so the one you think is cute?"

Almost instinctually, Jisung replied, "yeah," paying more attention to his drink than his words. Looking up when he heard Chan and Lucas struggle to stifle their giggles.

"What?"

Lucas clapped his hands together, his smile wide, "you just said Y/N was cute."

"No, I didn't, you did." Jisung shot back quickly. It was obvious that retaliation didn't always have to make sense for him.

Chan had a curious glint in his eyes now, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk, "I mean, you guys do live together right, and you've really never thought anything about her?"

“I did, I thought her nagging was annoying as hell,” Jisung shrugged.

 Chan narrowed his eyes at Jisung, an amused smirk on his face, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

Jisung gave Chan a pointed look, "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't stir shit, especially not in front of him." Jisung pointed at Lucas.

"You didn't answer the question," Lucas sing-songed.

Jisung scoffed, casting a furtive glance towards your direction where you were smiling as your colleague showed you something on their phone.

Jisung shrugged, it wasn’t as if you looked bad or anything, with his pride, he’d probably have told Chan that you were pretty if he squinted.

“Guess if they smiled more they'd be...decent."

 Lucas raised his eyebrows, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him very much, “decent, huh.”

Chan leant back in his seat, shaking his head at Jisung, "now I feel like I have to make you my apprentice for relationships too."

Jisung scoffed, regaining his usual confidence.

"If by that you mean you want me to stand at the counter giggling my ass off like how you did with that cashier then no thanks, I'm good on my own."

===

You'd tried your best to tolerate Jisung, especially after Lucas fed you some story about how he takes a while to warm up to people (which you totally bought).

This tolerance came in the form of things like waking up earlier to use the bathroom so the both of you wouldn't have to fight in the morning, or giving him reminders to do the laundry or clean the dishes but only doing them after he forgot the third reminder.

Jisung usually forgot to turn off the lights whenever he went to sleep (though sometimes he did it on purpose, not liking the eerie darkness of the house when the lights were off), so you would always end up waking from the glare of the lights that seeped into your room, stepping over the mess of clothes or socks (sometimes even shoes) in the walkways and turning them off for him instead of nagging him about the lights. See? Tolerance.

Call you a pushover or whatever, but you kind of prided yourself on how your well of patience seemed to run deep. Very deep. Deeper than the average human, you supposed, even.

However, days like the ones you were having now, just didn't seem to let you draw from that well of patience.

You'd started off your shitty morning when you'd slept through your alarm, needing your usual work clothes but realising that Jisung hadn't done the laundry, leaving you with no choice but to grab the nearest hoodie you could find on your bedroom floor and sprint to work.

If that wasn't enough, you'd landed cashier duty as punishment for being late, your social battery starting to empty not even halfway through the day. Your 'hi, how may I help you's slowly turning to 'what would you like's to eventually 'hi's and ending up with a small smile and gesture towards the menu.

It didn't help that Chan, the tattoo artist your colleague had an obvious thing for, had shown up halfway to try and strike a conversation with you about Jisung, much to no avail.

“Aren’t you wondering why Jisung isn’t here?” You remembered him asking, to which you’d shook your head.

“Not really,” you shrugged, earning a thoughtful hum from Chan.

“Really? You’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

You had shook your head at him then, remembering the way he looked so shocked to have made you even more curious about why he was asking you this in the first place.

By the time you were done with your work, you'd wanted nothing more than to just go home, take the longest shower of your life and curl up in your horribly uncomfortable bed. Except you couldn't even do that, because you had unfinished readings for your class the next day.

You figured if you sat yourself at your desk with no distractions you could be done sooner and go to sleep sooner, but your one distraction had just come home from the tattoo studio and was somehow getting on your nerves even more today.

Not only had he been acting as if he was the opera community's 'next big thing', he'd proceeded to seat himself on the sofa behind you, watching whatever show he was into loudly, seeming to find whatever the protagonist was saying to be too hilarious to just enjoy the show silently.

You figured you could handle that much, you know, having to live up to your preachings on tolerance, deciding to breathe deeply and suppress your urge to tell him to shut up, and soon enough, he'd disappeared.

But your joy was short lived, once again, when Jisung came back out, singing as he made a snack for himself and proceeded to eat it right in front of you, the smell growing more and more distracting.

Now, he was now lounging on the sofa in the living room, headphones on and connected to his laptop that rest on his stomach, but still typing away with his phone not on silent, the keyboard sounds distracting you from your reading. You figured, maybe your well of patience was just closed today.

“Hey,” you called. No response. If anything, the silence of the apartment had made his typing sounds even louder.

“Hey, oh my god, can you like put your phone on silent or something?" You tried again. Still no response, now, he was humming in between his pauses before he would type another burst of words on his phone.

Deciding you had to take matters into your own hands, you stormed over to where he was, your book still in your hands as you stood in front of him, making him turn to you with wide-eyes.

Pulling his headphones off of his head, he frowned, "what?"

“This,” you gestured pointedly towards his phone, “put your phone on silent, it's distracting me."

Jisung would've complied, though a part of him couldn't help but be annoyed by your nagging, his instinct prompting him to act defensively, “why don’t you just listen to some music or something? Then my typing sounds wouldn’t be a problem,” he told you dismissively, making you groan in frustration.

“I can’t study with music, it’s already hard enough for me to focus as it is.”

Jisung was annoyed, “It’s just a typing sound, what are you getting so worked up for? You’re always getting on my back about everything when I’m just minding my own business."

You let out a groan, "look, it's been more than a month, and i'm up to here with your shit," you held a hand way above your head for emphasis, any of your tolerance long gone out of the window (which he had also left open, making the apartment chilly and noisy).

Jisung's eyebrows knit in a frown, your outburst coming as a shock to him, "fine, whatever. I'll put my phone on silent, chill."

You shook your head, your gaze firm and unwavering, "no, I wanna make rules."

Rules? Jisung wanted to scoff. What was this, a second-grade classroom?

Jisung stared at you in shock, nodding dumbly. "Rules....oka-alright, yeah. Let's make rules."

You nodded firmly, "first of all, if you're gonna make food at ungodly hours in the morning, eat it in your own room."

"And the dishes, clean up after yourself," you added, gripping your book tightly in your hand.

“Stop leaving your shit in the corridors,” you continued, “and pack up your shoes it’s such a mess at the door way I can barely walk into the house,” you huffed, feeling as though with every rule you made you were finally letting your feelings be heard.

Jisung wracked his brains for a rule of his own, finding ways to regain control over the situation, "well, I have a rule too! You gotta stop nagging me to do shit," he sat up, setting his headphones on the sofa cushion.

You let out a tiny gasp, "excuse me? I only ask you to ‘do shit’ that you should be doing."

Before you could get carried away, you continued, "and as for the laundry—”

Jisung perked up, “okay, how about this. I do the dishes and you do the laundry," he suggested with a forced smile, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, which fell back against his forehead gently.

"You know for a fact that that’s not the same, so we'll switch," you told him, "you do laundry on one week when I do the dishes, and the next week i'll do the laundry and you do the dishes. Fair, right?"

Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, "whatever."

At the mention of laundry, Jisung glanced over at what you were wearing, frowning at the familiarity of his hoodie.

"Good, now that we have an agree—”

"That's mine," he pointed at your stomach, making you look at him in disbelief.

"Huh?" Your stomach? Your hands found their way to cover your stomach.

"The hoodie. It's mine."

You looked down at the hoodie you were wearing, a frown evident on your face. You didn't know what he was talking about, you had this hoodie since you were in high-school, it couldn't be his.

"No, it's mine. I had this since I was in high-school," you frowned, unsure if this was some sort of joke he was trying to play.

Jisung couldn't hide his amusement, letting a laugh slip from his lips, "yeah, so did I... which is why I know that that's mine."

You scoffed, "it was on my bedroom floor," you mumbled, seeing him nod patronisingly.

"Because I left it there," he told you, enunciating his words slower, shocking you when he'd reached over and grabbed you by the sleeve, raising your hand up for you to see.

"Look, this stain. It's tattoo ink. I would know because you're wearing the wrong hoodie. New rule, don’t wear my clothes.”

You stood silent, huffing as you removed the hoodie, leaving you in your shirt and sweats, tossing the hoodie at him in annoyance, the smirk on his face making you even more annoyed.

"Fine, take your stupid hoodie, I don’t wanna wear your stupid clothes anyway,” you huffed, “and you’re on laundry duty this week."

You didn't finish your readings that night.

===

You would like to think your rule system was working pretty well, seeing as you didn't find yourself butting heads with Jisung as often as before.

Halfway into the semester, you had grown busier with your assignments, which had managed to take your attention away from Jisung.

Though you were certainly more tired than usual, from attending birthday parties of friends to working, to rushing your readings during any free time you got (not to mention squeezing in any bit of sleep whenever you could), to rushing through your assignments just to meet the packed deadlines. But you couldn’t complain, this was typical for any college student you knew.

But of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t itching for a break, eyeing the semester break on your calendar that was fast approaching, letting yourself get carried away during classes with Lucas as you both planned on your pieces of scrap paper all the things you’d wanted to do during the break.

Similarly, Jisung had grown busier at the tattoo studio, and Chan had recommended him to a music producer that was interested in hearing Jisung's compositions.

Jisung was more than thankful that Chan had given him that opportunity, of course, but what was bothering him was the pain-in-the-ass creative block he was beginning to struggle with.

Not only was he struggling to find inspiration for a song he'd wanted to make, but the process seemed almost painfully slow, with how he'd fumble around with ideas that he would start on but eventually scrap, deciding that he 'wasn't feeling it'.

He'd started receiving commissions for tattoo designs, and you'd noticed he wasn't at home as often as he was before because he'd made it a point to coop himself up in the studio to try to churn out these design requests.

Fortunately, his customers were always satisfied (and he thought that was great, you know, with all the good words from Chan he was getting), but he wasn't.

Chan had seemed to sense this too, making sure to check in on Jisung more than usual during this period.

"Hey, I'm heading home a little earlier today, you'll be fine alone?"

Jisung's head lifted when he heard Chan's voice, pulling one of his earbuds from his ear as he nodded.

Chan glanced at Jisung's papers scattered around him, of half-done or halfway-abandoned sketches, giving him a look of sympathy, "don't work too hard, alright?" he huffed, glancing out of the window.

"I heard it might rain tonight, so make sure you get home before the rain hits, alright?"

Jisung waved Chan off, not paying any care to the impending rain as he bid Chan goodbye, continuing to tap his pencil on the table in his search for good ideas.

Maybe he needed to consult a lifeline.

"Hello, Lucas?"

The said lifeline was more than happy to hear Jisung's voice, having heard from you that he wasn't home as much recently, a part of him concerned as well.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

Jisung hummed, "wanted to ask if you had any ideas on what tattoos you think would be cool."

Lucas snorted, "you're asking me? You could draw a turd and i'd want to get it tattooed. Dude, you're too good, just go with your gut."

Jisung let out a whine, "my gut's not being very useful right now."

Lucas hummed, letting out an urgent grunt of surprise, "I know! Why don't you take a look at your older designs, maybe they'd give you some vibes or something."

Jisung shrugged, figuring this was probably the best advice he was gonna get, thanking Lucas before hanging up.

Picking up his tablet, Jisung had scrolled through his various sketches until he'd reached the very first few designs, sighing at the sight of the sketches, looking at his first sketch of a peony flower, with leaves dangling along the stem wedged between the budding flowers.

Jisung figured he wouldn't let his dissatisfaction subside until he tried doing a better rendition of the sketch, to refine the shading or the flow of the shape from what he'd learnt from Chan overtime.

Putting back his earbuds in, he turned his music up, beginning to work on the sketch, riding on the motivation he was afraid would disappear at any given moment.

Jisung was surprised at how fast he was done, ( only to look at the clock and realise he wasn't that fast and that it was already a little past midnight ). Removing his earbuds and going back to the sound of the whirring air conditioner and the loud sound of rain thumping against the gravel outside, Jisung knew he was done for.

He hadn't brought an umbrella with him, and the rain frankly didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, Jisung contemplated his very limited options.

Was a binder enough to shield him from the rain? Probably not. But was it better than putting down his pride to text you to come and pick him up? He thought the binder was better, honestly.

Deciding to try his luck anyway, he'd sent you a text.

Little did Jisung know, you'd dozed off on your bed while reading, the vibration of your phone next to your face having woken you from your nap, the sound of the rain outside harshly thumping against the window.

han jisung 12:37am -hello, housemate. it is your housemate, han jisung. its raining rly badly. wld u be so kind as to come to the tattoo studio with an umbrella for me pls :D-

You frowned in annoyance, your eyes barely open as you replied him. There was no way you were going to send yourself out in the thunderstorm like that.

12:37am - no. just wait until it stops raining-

Thinking that had settled your worries, you'd shoved your phone underneath your pillow, deciding you'd let yourself sleep in since tomorrow was a Saturday after all.

You should've known better, that this was Jisung, the 'i'm tougher than a little bit of rain' Jisung, so you should've seen it coming when you'd woken up to the sound of his incessantly ringing phone.

Rolling out of your bed with a grunt, you'd pushed yourself off of the bed, ready to confront Jisung about not answering his phone.

Walking across the corridor and pushing his bedroom door open, you'd been met with an empty room, frowning as you walked over to the bed, picking the phone up and stopping the alarm.

You noticed that he'd received a few texts from Chan, not being able to help yourself from reading them.

chan 1:20am - dude! why didnt u just wait for the rain to stop?- 1:22am - ure gna fall sick…-

Frowning, you made your way into the living room, spotting Jisung curled up on the sofa with his blanket at his feet, an instant feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Jisung?” You called, seeing his eyebrows furrow slightly.

In spite of yourself, you’d walked over to where he lay, your hand coming out to nudge at his shoulder with his phone.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You watched and waited as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at you in a daze. There was perspiration beading at his temples despite the coolness of the apartment, giving you more reason to feel like there was something wrong.

As much as you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were responsible for him, and it was kind of your fault that he’d walked back in the rain. You glanced at your brightly-coloured umbrella leaning against the wall, figuring there was something about this umbrella that always got you into trouble with Jisung.

You suppressed your hesitation, bringing a hand up to his forehead, Jisung not even daring to budge even an inch as you pushed his bangs back. The back of your hand pressing against his forehead gently, your breath hitching at the sheer heat of his body.

This was probably the most contact you’d ever had with him in your months of living together, and Jisung knew this too, not knowing how to feel about the concern you were showing him, feeling as though it was some kind of ridiculous fever dream.

“You walked home in the rain didn’t you?” You murmured, your feeling of guilt growing as you saw him nod at you.

You cursed inwardly, “do you have a thermometer?”  

Jisung shook his head, attempting to get up, “it’s fine, I can take care of myself, just give me my phone.”

You handed him his phone, ignoring his previous statement as you went into the kitchen in your search for any kind of medicine you could give him, cursing once again when you realised there was none. Trust the both of you to only care to buy groceries.

“We don’t have jack shit in this house,” you groaned, walking over to the bathroom, finding a cloth and a small pail to fill with cold water, bringing it over to the coffee table and setting it down next to the sofa.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Jisung sighed, though he made no move to get up, a part of him just waiting for you to refute him so he could use you as an excuse to get off work.

You shot him a look, “no, you don’t. Shut up and lie down, I’ll go and buy your stupid medicine. If I come back and you’re not here I’ll kill you,” you warned, missing the way Jisung had complied happily, lying back down with his head on one of the sofa cushions.

Squeezing the water from the cloth, you may have slapped it a little harshly on his forehead, earning an annoyed glare from him.

Walking to grab your wallet, you cast one last look at his bored face, seeing him rush to close his eyes when he saw you glaring.

“I mean it, you better stay here.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off.

On your way to the pharmacy, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing that Jisung was sick.

In terms of your pros, if he was sick, he wouldn’t be able to annoy you, right? And him being sick meant that you’d basically had your desk and your bedroom to yourself, with him unable to practice tattooing in your room and use your desk as his sketching station.

In terms of your cons… well, you were planning on getting some rest today, and having to watch Jisung meant you would technically have to be near him, wouldn’t you? You were starting to wonder if that was even a con that he was basically giving you an excuse to laze around and watch tv.

“Hi, how may I help you?” The pharmacist asked.

You hummed, “uh…do you have those over-the-counter medicine and stuff for like someone with fever?”

The pharmacist nodded, pulling out the various boxes and pointing at each one, confusing you with the sheer amount of names she was listing, resulting in you just choosing the one you recognised your parents telling you to take whenever you were sick.

Making your payment, you swallowed whatever pride you had that was making you hesitate. You figured Jisung falling sick was karma for that text you sent him the night before, so you decided that you were going to see him recover for yourself.

Upon returning to the house, you’d shrugged your jacket off, making your way over to where he was, sitting on your heels next to where he was so you could gently peel the cloth from his head, replacing it with one that was soaked in colder water.

You’d drawn back slightly when you felt Jisung flinch as you laid the towel on his forehead, opening one eye to look at you, “that was fast.”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you took the medicine out, along with a glass of water you’d gotten from the kitchen, bringing it over to him with an expectant look.

Jisung took them from you wordlessly, swallowing them down as he averted his gaze from you, unsure why you were looking at him like some kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, reaching over to grab the television remote in an attempt to calm your nerves, “this is kind of my fault. Since I didn’t go over to the tattoo studio yesterday.”

Jisung took a moment to process what you said, wincing as he let out a (fake) cough, only serving to make you feel even more guilty than you already were.

“Are you actually…apologising to me?” Jisung’s smile was poorly hidden behind his hand, making you roll your eyes, your guilt ever-present when you looked at him.

Jisung sighed, deciding to let you off this once, “seriously, it’s no big deal. I didn’t expect you to come, anyway. I was just trying my luck,” he told you, making you frown, your mouth forming a slight pout.

“I was just being petty, I’m…” you trailed off, shaking your head, “yeah, whatever, I’m just really sorry.”

Jisung looked at you with a hint of a smile on his face, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was his fever, or the way your gestures were exuding warmth, but Jisung swore just for a moment. A second, almost, he kind of thought you looked cute.

Jisung nodded, “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

You frowned, turning away from the television to face him, your back resting on the sofa slightly, “let me know about what?”

Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the television, bringing his hand up to scratch at his collarbone, hints of his tattoos peeking out from his neckline.

 Shrugging, Jisung’s gaze shifted to meet yours, “if your apology is accepted.”

You were sure that your mom would’ve just laughed in your face if you told her about your experience today, as you began to realise just how much you didn’t hate Jisung’s company when the both of you weren’t trying to fight each other.

In the few hours that had passed alone, you’d learnt much more about him than you had bothered to in your months living with him. You’d learnt that he was a music major, that wanted to pursue a career in music production, and that he’d gotten interested in tattoos when he’d met this kid named Changbin in his class, who introduced him to Chan for an apprenticeship.

As for Jisung? He was just learning that you weren’t as intolerable as he thought you were.

You’d ordered food for the both of you, Jisung having refused to eat porridge, and you were currently having an actual, comfortable conversation with him, the hallmark movie playing on the television long forgotten.

Jisung’s phone had started to ring, interrupting him mid-sentence as he told you about how the tattoo studio works, making you lean over to check who it was.

“It’s Chan.”

Jisung grimaced, “speak of the devil,” he scoffed. Shaking his head vigorously as you made to grab his phone, Jisung set his chopsticks down hurriedly to reach for his phone, only to grab air when you’d answered the call.

“Hello?” You heard Chan speak, an urgency to his tone.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Jisung is…not feeling so well right now.”

Jisung shot you a look, bringing his hands around his throat with his chopsticks held between his fingers, acting as if he was so sick he was about to pass out, making loud coughing noises in the background.

You couldn’t help but smile, scrunching your nose and waving him off in your attempt to get him to stop before he choked on his food.

Chan sighed, “Is he, now? Tell him I’m shifting today’s appointment to next Wednesday. Anyway, thanks, Y/N, bye,” he hung up promptly after.

You gave Jisung a grim look, setting the phone down slowly onto the coffee table, “Chan said he’s shifting your appointment to Wednesday.”

Jisung’s lips parted, almost forgetting his cheeks were full of food, tilting his head back to groan.

“Chan’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?”

Jisung shoved more food into his mouth, chewing slowly, “I totally forgot, I was supposed to do this girl’s tattoo today, but cause I’m, you know, sick,” he gave you a pointed look, “I can’t do it.”

“You do tattoos already? I thought you were still just…”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “what? Still just tattooing on fake skin?”

You nodded sheepishly, earning a sigh from him, though you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know, I can tattoo people now. You know Lucas’ tattoo of the angel looking mermaid hybrid type thing?”

You hummed in thought, his description oddly specific yet successfully helping you visualise the tattoo, gesturing to your forearm, “the one he got here?”

Jisung nodded, “I did that for him.”

Your eyes widened, impressed at the scale of Jisung’s detail in his design, remembering how enamoured you were with it when Lucas had first showed it to you.

“Lucas’ been asking me to get a tattoo with him once the break starts,” you mentioned casually, earning a surprised hum from Jisung.

“Oh,” his eyes widened, as if he was still trying to process what you said, “really?”

You nodded, “still thinking about it, though. Haven’t really decided on what I wanted.”

Jisung scooped the last of his food into his mouth, giving you as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster.

“Well, uh, you know, if you want or something you could come one of the days during the break, I could show you some stuff I think you’d like.”

You nodded, the simple suggestion somehow exciting you.

That night, you’d gotten ready for bed, having made sure Jisung ate his medicine before he went to sleep.

Before you could move to switch the lights off, he’d stopped you/

“Wait, like…can you um… leave the lamp on?” You raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless, figuring this was your chance to repent while he was sick.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“Yeah, night…” he murmured, inhaling deeply, “oh, and Y/N?”

You frowned, “uh-huh?” Looking at him expectantly, your breath hitched at the sight of the small smile that made its way on his face, the moonlight casting a calm glow in the room that mirrored his expression.

“Apology accepted.”

You smiled, nodding before you left. Hopefully this meant things were looking up for your relationship.

===

After that day, it was as if something in your dynamic had shifted, you found that Jisung was giving you lesser and lesser reasons to be annoyed at him.

Lucas had gotten a kick out of it when you’d told him about it.

“You guys finally realised it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to each other?” You remembered him telling you.

You would beg to differ, though, because with this shift in dynamic came a whole lot of awkwardness, especially when one of you had done something mildly nice for the other person.

Take this instance, for example.

You’d been sitting at your desk, trying to finish up on your essay that was due that week, not wanting to let your motivation subside without making full use of it (also because you knew if you didn’t do it now, you’d procrastinate and stress out when you realised you were behind time).

You’d been able to faintly smell Jisung’s noodles that he was cooking in the kitchen, making you sigh. You didn’t like eating things after you had your dinner, but you couldn’t lie and say that they didn’t smell great.

Expecting to hear his bedroom door shut and feel the smell of the noodles get fainter, he’d surprised you when he made his way over to you, setting a mug containing a hot drink on your desk.

Turning to him abruptly, he’d flinched back, looking at you with wide eyes as his hands flew up over his chest, making you laugh.

“I’m not gonna hit you, calm down.”

Jisung relaxed (albeit hesitantly), one of his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck, gesturing towards the mug with his other hand.

“Go ahead, I uh…didn’t poison it or anything,” a huff of awkward laughter left him.

You glanced from the mug to him, nodding slowly, “thanks.”

“Don’t, you know…sleep too late, and stuff,” he told you, earning a nod from you.

He nodded back at you, giving you a close-lipped smile before practically jogging back to his room, the door shutting a little louder than usual, a yelp of apology echoing after.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to to be nice to him either, but frankly, he wasn’t giving you many opportunities to do so.

 Jisung was still keeping his worries to himself, with his creative block seeming to have spiralled him into heavy feelings of anxiousness and a lack of confidence in his abilities.

You figured that things had been weighing heavy on his mind when you realised he’d been intentionally keeping the light on more often when he slept, or how the typing sounds of his keyboard would get more frequent as it got later into the night.

You’d even had Chan pleading for you to check up on Jisung every now and then once you noticed that he’d been sleeping a lot more and eating at irregular intervals. Listening out for his humming every now and then, you noticed the melodies seemed to have taken a more slow-paced, almost melancholic turn.

One night, you’d decided that if Jisung wasn’t going to give you opportunities to be nice to him, you would just create them for yourself. Making a determined trip to the kitchen, you’d boiled his favourite type of instant ramen, having seen how he made it so many times you knew just what to add in.

Padding over to his room, you’d knocked on the door before pushing it open slightly, watching him straighten up where he sat on his bed, setting his iPad down beside him, his thigh blocking it from your view.

“Hey, I uh…here,” you cut to the chase, Jisung was quick to find something to put under the pot on his bed, opening it and looking at you wordlessly.

“Figured the both of us could use a break,” you shrugged, oblivious to the way your words had stirred something within Jisung.

“What were you working on?” You asked, scooping some noodles into a bowl for Jisung and handing it to him.

He’d taken the bowl from you absently, his eyes widening at the mention of the sketch, unconsciously pushing it further behind him.

“Nothing, I was just doodling.”

Jisung had no idea how to explain that he had been trying to design something for you, something that reminded him of you. Because frankly, that was the only thing that seemed to be pushing his creative block aside at the moment.

“Can I see?”

Usually, Jisung would’ve fought you ( to the death ) before he’d let you see his unfinished designs, but there was something about your demeanour that made him feel like it was okay to show you. That it was okay to tell you that it wasn’t perfect because something inside of him just told him that you would understand.

In spite of any rational fibre in his being, he’d picked up the tablet, giving it to you as he continued to eat the ramen, his gaze never leaving your expression, oblivious to your scrolling as he was too busy gauging your reaction.

“These are all really pretty,” you told him, scrolling until you’d reached the bottom, clicking on one of the drawings and flipping the screen around to show Jisung.

“I love this,” you told him, earning a surprised hum from him.

He saw that you’d clicked on the sketch of the peony that he’d tried to refine that day he got rained on, wondering what made you choose that out of all his designs, since he was probably the least satisfied with that one.

“Are you sure? What about this one?” He took the tablet from you, scrolling back to the design he was working on, making you hum thoughtfully, eventually shaking your head no.

“I like the other one better,” you told him, earning a confused hum from him.

“Why?”

You scoffed, frowning at him, “why are you so against it? You’re the one that drew it,” you took the tablet back from him, holding it against your shoulder before shaking your head, setting it back down onto your lap.

“Besides,” you murmured, zooming in to admire the shading on the flower, “I think it’s beautiful.”

Jisung’s expression was unreadable, unsure how you had such strong appreciation for something he thought was his worst work, something about the way you praised it making a strange feeling that he couldn’t place build within his chest.

It was like before, the feeling of comfort, that he didn’t have to worry about any kind of creative block that could be thrown his way because you gave him a different perspective on his abilities.

You know, the cliché, hard-hitting feeling that ‘everything is gonna be okay’.

“Do you have anything happening during the break?” You asked, earning a shrug from him.

“I’ve gotta submit my song to Chan’s music producer friend.”

You perked up at the mention of Jisung’s song, “have you thought of what you wanted to do for it yet?”

Jisung shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, “it’s been kind of stressing me out, to be honest,” he admitted.

“I like…I don’t wanna give him something that doesn’t show what I’m capable of, you know?”

You nodded, “I understand…I wish I could help you but I don’t really, you know, know how,” you fidgeted with your fingers, hearing him grunt in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” he mustered a confident smile, “nothing I can’t handle.”

And for a moment, you really would’ve believed that he’d gotten it handled. Leaving him to continue with his work as you got ready for bed.

You had almost anticipated to hear typing sounds as you did every night these days. But unlike the other nights, Jisung didn’t very well feel like being alone with his thoughts that night, not even wanting to type them down. He craved the feeling of being okay, of feeling like he still had time and didn’t have to be anxious or feel shitty about his mediocre work.

So it had come as a surprise to you when you’d heard the gentle knock at your door that night just as you were about to drift into a half-asleep state, hearing the door open and watching as Jisung made his way hesitantly over to where you were.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You heard him let out a shaky breath, and you didn’t need to ask him further, giving him a small hum of approval as he’d pulled the small heated mat from under your bed and made himself comfortable next to your bed.

Jisung let his head hit the ground gently, a deep sigh leaving him as he closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave the lamp on?” You mumbled, hearing him hum.

“No, it’s fine,” he told you, strangely not feeling much of a need for it now that he had you near him.

The both of you knew better than to speak more, the silence seeming to have made you understand how he was feeling. And as he lay there, with your presence in the room, Jisung felt alright, and so did you.

That night, there were no typing sounds.

===

Contrary to yesterday, you'd started today on a good note. Having bumped into Jisung the next morning after he'd gotten ready, meeting in the hallway when you were still dressed in your sleepwear, you couldn't help but smile.

"Morning," he murmured, a small smile on his face as he gave you a little wave, leaving promptly to meet Chan at the tattoo studio.

You didn't have work today, and you'd arranged a meeting with Lucas to hang out, the boy not seeming to want to waste anymore time when he'd finally arrived at the mall, practically bounding over to where you were waiting at the fountain in the atrium.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" he asked you, extending a hand to help you up.

Frowning, your lips parted in confusion, "thought about what?"

Lucas gave you an unamused look, as if you should've known what he was talking about. Pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, he'd raised his hands as he gestured, "you know, about what tattoo you wanted to get."

You made your way to a bubble tea outlet that Lucas wanted to check out, pestering you to go with him as part of the things he’d wanted to do during the semester break.

You couldn't help but laugh at the realisation, feeling awfully giddy at the thought of yesterday.

It was just a simple interaction, yeah, whatever, but no one said there were rules on what could make your heart flutter and what couldn't. All you knew was that whatever happened yesterday, did.

"Yeah, I did," you confessed, huffing with a smile on your face.

Lucas didn't know whether to feel afraid or happy that you were so quick to decide this time, looking at you in concern, "okay...so, what did you decide on?"

You pursed your lips, your smile disappearing, "I don't have a picture with me, it's on Jisung's ipad. But it's really pretty, it's like this drawing of a flower," you explained.

Lucas' eyes widened, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to conceal his growing excitement.

"Oh, it's one of Jisung's stuff?"

You nodded, not seeming to understand why he was so happy about that, "what?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "you and Jisung seem to be on pretty good terms recently, huh.”

You scoffed, shrugging because it wasn't as if what he said was a lie.

Lucas leaned closer to you, "have you been smiling at him more these days?"

You frowned at his question, shrugging at him nonetheless, turning your attention back to the menu board, "yeah, I guess."

Lucas' giggles escaped him like bubbles, nodding at you knowingly, “perfect. You should definitely keep doing that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “questionable advice, but I’ll take it. Anyway, when are you planning on getting it done?"

Lucas straightened up, lifting his phone slightly to check the date.

"I made an appointment for Chan to do mine next Tuesday," he told you, “have you asked your parents yet?”

You nodded, “they weren’t as supportive until they found out Jisung designed it, they just told me not to get anything I’ll regret.”

Lucas couldn’t miss his opportunity to tease you, “well, I’m sure if Jisung’s doing it, the last thing you’d do is regret it.”

Shoving him aside and ignoring the way he’d burst into a fit of giggles, you ordered your drink, and Lucas’ as well once he calmed down enough to point at what he wanted on the menu.

“Maybe you should text him and ask about when you can book him?” Lucas gestured to you with his drink, his leg bouncing absently as he looked around the small outlet, the group of high-school girls in their uniforms sitting next to your table giggling as he’d skimmed over their table.

“Do you think that’d be too much? Should I just ask Chan instead?” You glanced at him for a sign of approval, “but then if I ask Chan would it make Jisung think I don’t want him to do my tattoo?” You wondered out loud, your stream of thought proving to be fairly amusing to Lucas.

“Just text him, it’s not that deep,” Lucas sipped on his drink.

“Nah, you know what? I should just ask him later at home, I shouldn’t bother him when he’s at work,” you shrugged, earning a sound of dismissal from him.

“Texting him would be a lot faster, you know.”

You shot him a look, “why are you so insistent on me texting him?”

Lucas scoffed, “why are you so against it?” He shot back.

Giving him a look of feigned annoyance, you’d set your phone down onto the table, staring blankly as Lucas had turned it to face him, unlocking your phone and going to Jisung’s chat.

“How should I start? ‘hey baby’—”

Your eyes widened, about to snatch the phone back from him when he’d pulled it towards himself in time, shooting you a look of feigned confusion.

“What? Too mild?” He laughed.

Sighing as he calmed down from his laughter, he shook his head slowly as he typed out a message, “man, you’re so bad at this,” he murmured.

“What makes you say that?”

Lucas pressed something on your phone with finality, scrolling up as he showed you your previous texts with Jisung. Texts like:

1:09pm - dont eat my chips get ur own - or texts like

 10:11pm - keep it down! Im trying to study -

Jisung 10:11pm -well so am I!-

“All you guys ever text each other for is to ask each other to do things, how can you expect him to like you if you’re always telling him to separate his lights and darks?”

You took the phone back from Lucas with a huff, “leave me alone. And who said anything about wanting him to like me?”

Lucas looked as though you’d just asked him an obvious question, looking almost scandalised at your denial, “really? You went from ‘oh, I don’t wanna bother Jisung at work’ and ‘oh, heehee me and Jisung ate ramen together yesterday night’ to ‘who said anything about my big fat crush on Jisung’?”

You huffed, “that’s inaccurate.”

Lucas chewed on his tapioca pearls harshly, making sure you heard the smacking sounds of his chewing to unnerve you, shaking his head at you matter-of-factly, “it’s pretty much-what’s the word, ah! Verbatim. That.”

 You rolled your eyes at him, wondering how the high-school girls sitting next to you still managed to find Lucas an absolute dreamboat despite how intentionally ridiculously he was behaving.

The truth is, Jisung wouldn’t have cared if you’d ‘bothered him during work or not’. He probably would’ve jumped at the notification of your text.

After the night before, Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of comfort that flooded him at the thought of you. Finally getting enough inspiration to work on his song when he’d gotten home, even despite the pounding in his head and the sheer fatigue from the day that had passed.

Call him whatever you wanted, but Jisung couldn’t shake the feeling of reassurance he got with you, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d be experiencing as deeply as he did now.

From how familiar it was to hear your voice (even if it was asking him to fold the laundry), to how the smell of your perfume would awaken him on certain days, just in time for him to start his routine for the day. In small things, like how whenever he was looking for a break from work, somehow he’d find it with you.

He’d been working on his song for hours now, though he’d kept letting his gaze wander to the door in anticipation, wondering what was taking you so long to get home. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were still with Lucas, his imagination running wild with all sorts of scenarios that could have taken place to warrant you coming home so late.

Jisung brushed the thought away quickly after he found himself going to your contact on his phone, setting it down quickly as if it burned him. It was fine, you were an adult (he figured), you didn’t need him to hound you about a curfew.

Deciding to work on his lyrics for the song, he’d typed away on his laptop his ideas, his mind seeming to always gravitate to thinking of you as he read what he’d typed down.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d gotten done for that day, Jisung had let his head lean back against the armrest of the sofa, his legs bent as he lay on his side, letting his eyes rest from all that staring at his glaringly bright computer screen.

You’d gone for a late-night movie with Lucas to end off your day, having gone home later than usual, though you didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if you had a curfew anymore.

You managed to reach your apartment as stealthily as you could, since the walls were really that thin and you didn’t want the old lady from next door to get on your back for being noisy when she was trying to sleep or whatever again.

Shoving your keys into the keyhole, you frowned when you saw that the lights in the living room were still switched on, spotting Jisung lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, his head lolling to the side as he dozed off.

Going into your room (in stealth mode, again), you’d set your things down quietly, deciding to take a shower and get ready for bed before anything else. Suddenly everything seemed to be a thousand times louder than you were used to. You were sure Jisung hadn’t been getting much quality sleep recently, so seeing him dozing off on the sofa had only made you want to ensure that his sleep continued uninterrupted.

Once you were changed into your sleepwear, you’d gone into Jisung’s room, taking a soft blanket from his cupboard and bringing it over to where he was, draping it over him till it reached his shoulders. You couldn’t help but find how peaceful he looked to be rather endearing, wishing you could do more but knowing there wasn’t much else you could do.

Jisung considered himself a good actor, because on the inside he was far from peaceful. He’d awoken at the feeling of being covered by the blanket, the back of your fingers grazing against his arm slightly.

His heart had fluttered, extremely, at the gesture, though something in him was yelling at him not to open his eyes, wanting to savour the moment for himself. It felt warm, a comfortable kind of warmth, the kind you would want to bask in for hours after being in the cold for so long. Something like a ray of sunshine.

Jisung was convinced he was going mad.

Switching on the lamp at your desk so that the living room wouldn’t be in complete darkness, you’d switched off the lights in the living room, bidding a silent goodnight to Jisung in your head before you’d gone back to your room, leaving Jisung dumbfounded.

===

“What did you say the song was called, again?” Chan had asked Jisung on Tuesday morning, looking at him with an endeared smile.

Jisung felt shy for some reason, pressing his lips together firmly as he averted his gaze from Chan, preparing his equipment as he waited for you and Lucas to arrive.

“Sunshine,” Jisung told him.

Chan huffed, his smile growing bigger, “I like that,” he hummed.

“What’s it about?” Chan asked, pulling his phone out to check for a text, “also, Lucas says they’re nearby.”

Jisung shrugged, “what’s it about?” He echoed Chan’s question, as if not knowing for himself either, something about him seeming fairly preoccupied, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”

Chan nodded in understanding, glancing at the way Jisung fiddled with the practice sketch he’d done of Y/N’s tattoo, twirling it around in his hands and anxiously glancing towards the door.

“Nervous?”

Jisung’s head shot up to look at Chan with wide eyes, “huh?…” he nodded slowly, “yeah, kind of.”

A small smile played at Chan’s lips as the boy had finished up the stencil for Lucas’ tattoo. “Is it because it’s Y/N?”

Jisung let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, duh,” he mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I’m nervous because she’s the one getting the tattoo but more like…”

Jisung shrugged, “I still don’t understand why she chose this out of all the designs I had.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, the jingling of the bells at the door followed by a loud guffaw of laughter signalling to him that the both of you had arrived.

“You should take more pride in your work,” Chan pat Jisung on the back, almost sending the boy stumbling with the sheer force behind the hit. Though Jisung couldn’t very well pay attention to the pain in his shoulder once he saw you with Lucas.

Lucas was quick to shove you towards Jisung, going over to one of the beds with Chan as they discussed the placement of the tattoo.

Jisung was almost uncharacteristically tense, leading you over to the station across from Lucas and Chan, holding the stencil up for you to see, “you’re absolutely sure you want this?”

You rolled your eyes, nodding, “yes, I’m sure.”

Jisung nodded slowly, albeit hesitantly, at you, “have you figured out where you want it?”

Lucas had perked up at that, butting into the conversation despite being across the room, “we were thinking between two places.”

Jisung hummed as he’d gone over to take the tablet containing a form for you to fill out before he got started.

You shushed Lucas quickly, accepting the tablet from Jisung with a nod of thanks, “yeah, I was thinking between here,” you gestured under your collarbone, “or here,” you gestured to your shoulder, just above your shoulder-blade.

Jisung nodded, “which do you feel more comfortable with? I think both are alright.”

“I was thinking maybe here?” You held a hand over the space under your collarbone, earning a nod from him.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking the tablet from you once you were done and quietly gesturing for you to lie down.

In your haste to get it over with, you’d almost completely forgotten about the placement of your tattoo, Jisung quirking an eyebrow at you and letting a huff of nervousness escape him.

“Sorry uh, I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured, pulling the collar of your shirt down to expose the area you’d wanted tattooed, making Lucas (who was watching intently) snicker from where he sat.

You’d felt heat creeping up to your neck, making you stretch your neck to look elsewhere, deciding to focus on the black pipes lining the ceiling, your shyness reducing your voice to a mere mumble, “yeah, sorry.”

Your nerves had built up even more with how tense Jisung was, even as he had disinfected the area and transferred what looked like a blue-ish outline of his sketch to your skin, making you almost want to writhe in your place with how nervous you were growing.

However, once you’d heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, it was as if you were transported into your room, the familiarity of the sound making you less nervous, simply anticipating the pain that you’d associated with the tattoo to occur.

It was a wonder you hadn’t even been able to think much about the pain of the tattoo, though, because you were too busy trying to ignore Jisung’s proximity to you.

He was a stark contrast from Chan, who was making conversation with Lucas throughout the process, whereas Jisung had simply loomed over you, a tense knit to his brow and his lips pressed tightly together. Just by your expressions alone, people would have thought he was the one getting the tattoo.

This was only so because Jisung was struggling, with the smell of your perfume making him feel more awake than ever, and not to mention the pressure to make sure the tattoo turned out well that weighed heavy on him. Everything about you was so familiar, yet everything about the experience was not, and it was driving Jisung crazy with the amount of tension it was making him feel.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gauging your face for any sign that you were in too much pain.

You wanted to laugh, “This is like the fifth time you’re asking me that,” you told him.

“Can’t help it,” he told you, and you swore you saw his cheeks start to tint pink, “just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know…since it’s your first tattoo, and all.”

You nodded reassuringly, “it’s fine, just keep going.”

Jisung nodded, “I’ll be done quicker than you know it, I swear.”

You continued to distract yourself with the sight of Lucas across the room, Chan having to bring the needle back whenever Lucas couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“I’m sorry, It tickles,” you heard him tell Chan, making you have to stifle your laughter.

“Can I ask you something?” You decided that maybe talking to Jisung would help time pass faster (and less awkwardly).

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, shifting his chair slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You asked, earning a long, reflective hum from him.

“I got a few in the time after college started, I would say about 5 or 6 now?” He shrugged, “and if you’re gonna ask me what’s their meanings…I don’t really know how to explain it, I just like the feeling they give me when I look at them.”

“I get it, it’s expression after all.”

Jisung nodded, his focus returning and making him let the conversation still. You didn’t like that, the feeling of awkwardness that returned with his silence, making you wrack your brains to find any sort of other conversation topic you could think of.

“Are you seeing anyone?” You wanted to instantly hide your face once you heard the words leave your mouth, Lucas turning to you with a wide-eyed expression.

Jisung sputtered, pulling the tattoo gun away from your skin, shaking his head at you.

“Uh, no, I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to regain his confidence in the situation, “why’d you wanna know?”

Now it was your turn to flush, averting your gaze, “oh, you know, just…curious, is all.”

Jisung smirked, “well, don’t go getting any ideas. I already like someone,” he told you, feeling as though he was dangling a carrot right in front of you.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, “really? Who?”

Jisung shrugged, “it’s a secret.”

You frowned, wanting to get back at him but not quite knowing how, deciding to go with the first thing you could think of, “well, I like someone too, you’re not special.”

Jisung hadn’t expected you to retort with that, narrowing his eyes at you, “wait, really? Is it Lucas?”

“Oh my god, no way, never.”

“Then who is it?” He met your gaze, making you stick your tongue out at him, mustering your best impersonation of him.

“It’s a secret.”

You had almost thought you were imagining things, but you noticed Jisung’s mood take a turn from there, seeming awfully pensive as he did the rest of your tattoo, the both of you having maintained a silence after your failed attempt at a proper conversation with him. He’d already begun to do the shading for your tattoo, so you figured he was really going to be done quicker than you thought.

You tried to distract yourself by glancing towards Lucas and Chan’s direction. Jisung could see you staring in their direction from the corner of his eye, wondering why your gaze kept travelling there when he was right in front of you.

“Is it Chan?” He blurted out, making your eyes go wide in shock.

Your smile grew, shaking your head, “no, definitely not.”

Jisung frowned, “who could it even be, you don’t even know that many people,” he huffed.

You sighed, trust you to fall for someone as oblivious as him.

“Do you want a clue?” You asked, earning a grunt from him.

“They’re very oblivious.”

Jisung frowned, looking as though he were contemplating, his tissue going over your tattoo slower as he thought. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, a gasp leaving him.

“No way, it’s not that Felix kid from your department, is it?” He looked as though he was hoping you would say no.

You fought to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, yet not realising you were smiling at him, “no, it’s not him.”

Jisung sighed, “oh, good. I know I always say I’m the best looking but he’s a lot better looking than I am, don’t tell him I said that.”

“Good?” You questioned, wondering why he seemed so relieved that all his options had turned out to be false. Jisung had realised he may have made things a little too obvious, shaking his head vigorously.

“Nothing, you’re all done, forget I said anything.”

He pushed himself away from you, his chair swivelling far back as he tried to calm the racing of his heart as you sat up and stretched, your body tired from being in the same position for so long.

“What time is it?” You asked, earning a grunt from Jisung, not knowing either.

Chan had chimed in from the other side, having been done with Lucas’ tattoo way before yours.

“It’s 4:24,” he told you. Jisung had been busy putting an adhesive bandage over your tattoo to pay attention to your reaction.

You spent 4 hours lying there and you only got like what, two conversations with Jisung? This was a new low, even for you.

 You were snapped out of your disappointment when Jisung had spoken.

“Uh… yeah keep this on for like three to four days?” He gestured to the bandage, your breath hitching as he hiked the collar of your shirt up so it wasn’t still dropping off your shoulder.

“You can still shower and everything so yeah…” he told you, reciting from memory after having been told this a thousand times by Chan.

You tried your best to pay attention, though you knew you’d probably forget by the time you were home, making him stand up mid-speech and walk over to the counter, pulling out a little brochure to hand you.

“Honestly, just read this, it has everything you need to know inside,” he told you, walking away briskly to compose himself at his station.

You’d made your payment to Chan at the counter, Jisung having pretended to be busy with cleaning up, making Chan flash you an amused smile.

“What?”

He shook his head, dimples appearing as he gave you your receipt, “You two are just too cute,” he huffed, earning a loud hum of approval from Lucas.

“Aren’t they?” The tall boy chimed in, making you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bye,” you waved, seeing Jisung turn around to give you a wide smile before turning back around, practically collapsing onto the bed once you and Lucas were gone.

“Those were the most excruciating 4 hours of my life.”

Chan’s laughter could be heard as he made his way over to Jisung, giving him a pat on the back, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Jisung let out a loud groan, “we were like this close!” Jisung brought his hand in front of his face for emphasis as he whined to Chan, “and I couldn’t focus at all I was so scared I was gonna screw up her tattoo because I kept zoning out,” he rambled, feeling as though his knees were about to buckle.

Chan shook his head with a feigned look of sympathy, looking at Jisung as though Jisung were his son, “I’m glad you’re feeling stressed.”

Jisung scoffed, shrugging Chan’s hand off of his shoulder and glaring at his mentor with a look of disbelief, “you’re glad? Aren’t you supposed to be feeling some sympathy for me? That’s sick, I can’t believe you.”

Chan wasn’t surprised at Jisung’s dramatic reaction, simply laughing as he shrugged.

“I’m glad because if you’re stressed, you’re gonna be pushed to do something about it soon. And then I can stop hearing you stress about it and just see the both of you together, instead.”

Jisung shot Chan a dirty look, “you’re mean, old man.”

Chan scoffed, “at least I’m not stupid in love.”

===

Jisung had been keeping himself fairly busy since then, the both of you having been busy with your own plans since the semester break had started. However, the both of you had somehow managed to enjoy suppers together, bonding over a (rather unhealthy) meal of snacks or instant food whenever it was late in the night and the both of you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

And speaking of sleep, you’d also noticed how Jisung had started to look brighter these days, seeming to have been overcoming that period of lethargy he was previously in.

Now, the brightness was heard in the songs he hummed, in how he smiled and laughed more whenever you were together. Even in how he'd started growing more comfortable with sleeping in the dark. You weren’t sure what exactly sparked this change in him, but whatever it was, you were glad it happened, yourself seeming to be all the more enamoured with this version of Jisung that had grown on you.

You’d planned with Jisung to have a day of celebration (or a pity party) once he’d submitted his song to Chan’s music producer friend.

Since you had work that day, you’d wanted to get up early to prepare breakfast for him, but you didn’t realise how late you were until you woke up and found that he had already left.

Making your way over to the kitchen to find some food for yourself after you’d gotten ready for work, you yanked open the door for the fridge, expecting to be met with all of Jisung’s snacks and cans of drinks that still had their post-its on them.

However, as you were scanning the fridge to see if you had anything you could eat, you spotted a different coloured post-it on a bundle of juice packets, peeling the post-it off of the packaging to inspect it.

‘y/n, I heard these are great to start the morning with, try them for me?’

You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming up to your face to attempt to slap away the heat you felt in your cheeks, pulling out a packet of juice anyway.

You were starting to think the juice did have some sort of magical properties in them, because when you got to work, you’d been on drink duty, which was your favourite to do. Well, technically, anything other than cashier duty was your favourite but who’s keeping track here?

You knew Jisung's meeting with the producer was around the afternoon, so when Chan had shown up at the café alone, you didn't question it.

Now you were really glad you weren't on cashier duty today, giving your colleague more time to talk to Chan while he ordered.

"One strawberry smoothie for Chan?" you called to get his attention, seeing him stroll over to the pick-up point with a smile on his face.

"Sorry, Jisung's not here," he teased, sighing wistfully.

You scoffed, "yeah, yeah. I know where he is.”

“How’s the tattoo healing?” He asked, making your hand go up to your shoulder unconsciously, “It’s alright, looks really pretty now that it’s all healed.”

Chan gave you a thumbs up, opening the lid of his drink as he took a sip, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Is he meeting your friend now?"

Chan’s eyebrows raised in confusion, “who?..oh,” he nodded in realisation, “yeah, just went to meet him. Honestly, if you asked me, he didn’t seem as excited about the meeting as he was to meet you for dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “don’t put ideas into my head, old man.”

Chan simply gave you a shrug, “I’m not that old, you know,” he brought his drink up to his lips to take a sip, “and they’re only ideas if you’re in denial.”

You groaned, “go, begone, leave me alone.”

Chan giggled, nodding as his hand went up in surrender, “fine, I’m going. Have a good dinner later, Y/N,” he sing-songed.

Curse Chan for putting the thought into your head, now you couldn’t stop thinking about dinner.

Your shift only ended at 5:30, so that gave you just about enough time to go get groceries while Jisung prepared the things for your hotpot at home.

Deciding you would do what you were called to do, which in this case, meant to send Jisung a text wishing him the best of luck, you did as such.

2:31pm - hey, all the best for your meeting with the producer man!!-

Jisung’s reply had come quickly,

han jisung 2:32pm - thanks :( im waiting to see him now, I didn’t know there was gonna be a whole queue -

Setting your phone aside, you’d tried not to let yourself get too anxious while you waited for him to update you, busying yourself with washing dishes and even serving tables out of your sheer boredom due to the crowd starting to disperse at this time.

You waited, and you waited, you waited until the word ‘waiting’ itself felt weird to say in your head. You should’ve known better to have expected Jisung to update you over text, only receiving a text in the evening that read

han jisung 5:23pm - hey…i just finished meeting him…see u at the apartment?-

You’d texted him back, not knowing what to make of his text.

5:23pm - is that a good hey or a bad hey? -

Jisung hadn’t answered your question, his next text coming as more of a source of confusion for you.

han jisung 5:24pm - ill tell u in person -

“What happened? Is it Jisung?” Your colleague seemed to have sensed your inner turmoil, looking at you with concern etched in her features.

“Yeah, he told me he was done meeting the producer person…but he didn’t wanna tell me how it went,” you frowned, seeing your colleague hum in confusion.

“D’you think it didn’t go well?” She asked, mirroring your expression of uncertainty.

You typed out your reply to Jisung as you shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m hoping he’s just messing with me.”

5:26pm - my shift ends in like 4 minutes… I’ll go and get the groceries before I get back -

han jisung 5:26pm - okay, ill be waiting -

“All the best, then?” Your co-worker offered, giving you a look of sympathy.

“You too, enjoy the rest of your shift,” you returned her expression, sighing as you removed your apron, grabbing your bag from the back room before you left.

You’d tried your best to be quick in getting your groceries, making sure you’d gotten everything Jisung had told you to, your footsteps quick as you briskly walked to your apartment building.

Not knowing if it was because you hadn’t eaten in hours or if it was because you were just excited, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in you, not so much because you were excited to hear how Jisung’s meeting went but more of because you were excited that you were going to see Jisung soon.

Finally reaching your apartment, you’d pushed the door open to spot Jisung coming out from his room, a towel on his head as he rubbed at his freshly-washed hair.

“Hey,” you breathed, a hint of a smile on your face, scanning his face for an expression as he glanced at you, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose cutely.

Jisung had a whole plan for how he was going to surprise you with the news, he wanted to wait until the food was ready and when the both of you were seated across each other in the living room, wait for you to ask him about how the meeting went so that he could pretend to be upset about it.

And just like he’d seen in the romantic movie Chan was playing in the studio the other day, he would wait till you showed concern to give you a smile and tell you the good news, already being able to imagine the smile you would give him in celebration.

But seeing how you looked, a little bit breathless from rushing, carrying groceries in your hands as you looked at him with a smile that spelled nothing but relief, Jisung couldn’t help himself.

“He offered me a job,” Jisung confessed, his grip tight on his towel as he let his hand fall limp to his side, any perfect, fool-proof plan of copying the romance movie now long gone.

Your eyes widened, setting the groceries on the counter as you cheered, “oh my god, that’s great! I’m really happy for you!” You cheered, practically running towards him before stopping yourself halfway, realising you were almost about to hug him.

Jisung noticed you stop too, tilting his head at you as his hands had already begun to raise to welcome you into a hug, hesitating once he’d seen you stop.

“Sorry,” you huffed, shoving your hands into your pockets, taking a step back to create some distance between the both of you.

Jisung smiled, shaking his head, “don’t be.” Shocking you with his confidence, he’d taken a step closer to you, his arms going around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, his head leaning against yours gently as one of his hands went up to pet your head gently.

“You really helped me through it, believe it or not.”

Your eyes widened, trying not to get too carried away with the way his hold felt too comforting for you to pull away, thankful that he’d let go first, his hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

“You hungry? The soup’s almost done.”

You nodded, “can I uh…take a shower first? I’ll be quick I promise.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you’d escaped to the bathroom, too focused on showering quickly that you’d almost forgotten about the hug. Keyword, almost.

Once you’d changed into a comfortable shirt and shorts, you’d practically jogged over to the kitchen, seeing that Jisung had already taken out the ingredients to thaw the meat and prepare the veggies.

“Wow, who are you and what have you done with Jisung?”

Jisung turned around at your voice, rolling his eyes at your statement, flicking the water from the veggies at you as you dodged, “figured I’d do something while waiting, you know, make myself useful.”

You huffed, a smile on your face as you gestured for him to continue, “well, don’t let me stop you.”

“So how did the interview go?” You asked, watching intently as he brought the platefuls of ingredients to the coffee table, stopping you when you’d moved to help him get the pot of soup.

“It’s okay, you go sit down, I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help the impressed pout from your lips, not wanting to let on that the gesture had made your heart flutter.

Once all the food was on the table, Jisung had taken a seat next to you, the both of you starting to throw your ingredients into the soup, Jisung turning to you looking as though he’d wanted to say something.

“What was I saying before? Oh, right,” he nodded, “I didn’t expect him to be so intimidating, I nearly pissed myself when I walked into the room.”

You’d burst into laughter, Jisung laughing along with you, “I’m not even joking. Chan gave me a completely different description of what he would be like.”

You’d tried your best to calm down from your laughter quickly, seeing him take a piece of food from the pot and place it into your bowl wordlessly, choosing to ignore the gesture for the sake of your heart.

“But I’m assuming he’s not that bad? Since he offered you the job?”

Jisung let out a sigh, “yeah, thank god he did, I was a stuttering mess. Even Iwouldn’t have hired myself.”

You let out a chuckle, “you’re lucky he judged you based on the song, then,” you teased, earning a harmless glare from him.

You’d scooped some food into your mouth, looking up at him to see that he’d already had his cheeks full of food, nodding at you expectantly.

“So does this mean you’re gonna work on that producer guy’s team?” You asked, earning a nod from him as he swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince.

“Yeah, he said I could intern at his company in the holidays and if everything goes well he’ll give me a contract once I graduate.”

You let out a low whistle, “wow, imagine all the exposure you’d get there…all the different types of genres and artists you’d be exposed to,” you marvelled, Jisung finding it amusing how you seemed more excited about it than he was.

You perked up in realisation, “speaking of which…I realised you’d never let me listen to the song yet.”

Jisung flushed, shaking his head, “did I? I swear I did,” he lied, making you shove him, a smile showing on his face as you did, nodding in surrender as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“What’s it called?” You asked, seeing him nudge his glasses up with his knuckle, shaking his head to flick his hair from his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he told you quickly, not wasting anymore time and playing the song.

As he started to play the song, you were surprised at the light sounding melody the song had started with, the sounds of the city that he’d put inside, the feeling that you were…at home?

“Don’t look at me when you’re listening to it, I’m shy,” he brought a hand up to cover your face, making you yelp, your hands coming up to grab his wrist, pulling it away slowly as you grew more focused on the song, recognising his voice as he sang.

It wasn’t a love song, thankfully, you realised. You realised that the song revolved around a certain feeling of calm, with themes of getting away from the busy nature of your life and taking time for yourself, something you realised you and him both kind of needed.

You listened until the song had ended, looking at him with a big smile on your face, a smile that made Jisung want to cover your face in fear that it would make his heart burst with how giddy he felt.

“I love this,” you told him, “can you send it to me?”

Jisung scoffed, “no way, how do I know you’re not gonna sell it before I can get it copyrighted?” he huffed, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table to support his head on his palm.

“I’m really impressed, how’d you get the inspiration to do this?”

Jisung shrugged, “my own life I guess, and the people that helped me get through that weird period of creative block that I was in,” he murmured.

You nodded, “well, whoever they are, you should thank them for me.”

Jisung nodded, facing the television as he contemplated in his heart whether to do what he wanted to do, turning to you with a small smile on his face, he nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened, not knowing what to make of his words. The song had started to repeat.

Jisung had shook his head, “I’m not just saying this because I like you or whatever—” he stopped himself with a small curse, “shit, that was not how I planned on telling you. Whatever, as I was saying…” he trailed off, his gaze landing on your tattoo, the neck of your shirt having started to slip off your shoulder slightly.

“Honestly, I really hated that drawing,” he told you, your gaze following his to look at your tattoo, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

“This? Why? But it’s so pretty,” you insisted.

Jisung shook his head.

“It was my first design, and I wasn’t…you know, I just didn’t think it was that impressive, and all. Chan had told me to keep it in my portfolio but I was really close to just removing it.”

His gaze shifted to anywhere except your face, distracting himself by looking at the various things in the house, his gaze landing on the rainbow-coloured umbrella at the door.

Jisung sighed, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the sofa now, his body angled towards you, making you unconsciously shift your body to face him as well, your breath hitching in anticipation for what he was about to say next.

“But then, you said you wanted it tattooed, and I honestly didn’t want you to get it but I had no choice, you know, blah blah customer’s preference first and all that bullshit,” he waved his hand for emphasis, “but then after I saw you with the tattoo more, I guess my perspective started to change? I mean, like, you kept insisting that it was so beautiful and all that..you know, seeing you with it kind of started to grow on me.”

Jisung paused, his gaze on a corner of the coffee table as he tried to find the right words to express how he was feeling, shrugging at you and just deciding to say whatever was at the top of his head and work from there.

“I guess it kind of made me love my work more, and like, trust myself, you know… because I realised how beautiful it could be.”

You looked at him wordlessly, your heart picking up speed at the tension in the room, something in you urging you to stand up, making you get up on your feet with no aim in mind.

So as not to look like a complete fool, your hands flew up to hug your arms, “oh, it’s a little um, chilly. Be right back,” you sprinted to your room, reaching in your cupboard for your hoodie and putting it on without a second thought, too preoccupied to notice how it stopped at your thighs and how the sleeves bunched up more.

Returning to the coffee table, you’d almost regretted your decision to put on the hoodie, feeling utterly warm from how flustered you were, especially with the way Jisung was looking at you with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze as you tilted your head down, not expecting Jisung to tilt his head down as well so he could search for your gaze, making you scrunch your eyes shut, wrinkling your nose as you let out a huff of laughter.

“You can reject me, you know. I remember you said you already liked someone,” he told you, and Jisung meant it, not wanting anything but to make sure you were okay, and happy.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to,” you murmured, finally daring yourself to meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the way Jisung had smiled.

“I can’t say I’m not happy to hear that,” he told you.

Jisung had brought his hand up, lazily removing his glasses and looking at you finally, since now the other things in the house weren’t as clear in his vision, all that was important being that you were right in front of him, and he could see you clearer than anything.

“Why’d you take your glasses off?” You murmured, seeing him shrug, giving you a lazy smile.

“What? You scared I didn’t wanna see your face?” He teased, the flush on your cheeks making him give in almost immediately, “I’m kidding. I just didn’t feel like being distracted anymore.”

Maybe it was the atmosphere of the living room, or the lingering feelings the song had left in you, maybe it was even the way you felt like you were finally getting what you were waiting for.

Whatever it was, there was an overwhelming feeling of giddiness in you, especially with the way Jisung’s gaze had flickered between your lips and your gaze, and yet he’d made no move to lean closer to you, as if he was expecting you to move first.

Leaning closer, you’d let yourself glance down, getting distracted by the stain of black ink on the sleeve of your hoodie, only realising then that it wasn’t your hoodie.

“Shit, sorry I’m wearing yours by mistake again, it must’ve gotten mixed up,” you murmured, knowing it wasn’t your week to do laundry duty.

Jisung stopped you before you could stand up, pulling your hand forward so the only thing stopping you from losing your balance was his grip on your arm.

“I never thought I’d be saying this but, you can wear it.”

You’d sworn if your heart were any weaker, you wouldn’t have been able to last this long, Jisung seeming almost teasing with the way he’d inched closer at a painfully slow pace, so his lips were barely touching yours.

Just before he could pull back, you’d groaned in frustration, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of his jaw, meeting your lips with his.

And there it was again, the feeling of relief that washed over, knowing that this was very much happening, and that you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Jisung pulled away first, his pupils blown and his eyes giving away his surprise, huffing at you and folding his arms, increasing the distance between you.

“I’m only realising this now, what do you mean I’m oblivious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll explain it again later, I swear.”

Jisung huffed, more dramatic this time, making sure you sensed his sulkiness (as feigned as it was), looking at you with a pout on his lips, “give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you.”

He puckered his lips, making you roll your eyes, though you didn’t hesitate to cup his face again, pressing your lips against his as your thumb brushed over his cheek gently, pulling away before he would’ve wanted. You couldn’t help yourself from laughing at the way he’d leaned forward, chasing your lips, frowning at you with a soft sigh when you’d straightened up.

“Can we eat now? The meat’s getting overcooked.”

===

lucas 11:30pm - dude I told u it would work if you smiled at him more cant believe u didnt believe me smh -

1K notes · View notes

aitarose · 4 years

Text

CACTUS JUICE | SOKKA

sokka x reader [fem]

PLOT: Three kids and a flying lemur stranded in the desert with nothing but the bags on their backs, not to mention the boy that’s high on cactus juice.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

A/N: i love boyfriend!sokka but lmao how does suki deal with this?? also this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written, sokka on crack is high quality stuff

MY MASTERLIST

“You look gross.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped in annoyance at her boyfriend’s remarks. She, Sokka, and the rest of the Gaang had been trekking through the desert for hours without any clear path ahead.

With Aang and Appa missing, they had no direction or any idea of what surrounded them. Their only objective was to find someone, anyone who knew the way out of the sand filled hills.

“I’m sorry..what was that you just said to me, Sokka?” Y/N raised her eyebrows at the warrior.

He stared at her with wide eyes while he watched his beloved girlfriend wipe beads of sweat off of her forehead. She was covered in sand, they all were—but Y/N was in a bit of a worse condition than everyone else.

Grains of sand fell from her hair with every step she took. Her clothes were stained with a thick layer of dusk. Dirt gathered beneath her fingernails and was smeared across her cheeks.

“Oh nothing, Y/N.” Sokka laughed sheepishly, cowering slightly from the harsh glare the girl was sending his way.

He slung his wrapped arm over her shoulder, pulling her close whilst the dust migrated to his own body. “The dirt really captures your personality, brings out your character.”

Y/N jokingly pushed Sokka away as she heard sparse giggles from Toph and Katara. Even Aang let out a curt laugh at the couples’ playful antics. It had been a really tough day. It was nice to have some sort of positivity after the incident at the library.

As the group of misfit teens carried on, it was becoming apparent that they wouldn’t be able to go all day without any source of water. The sun was beaming directly above the group, tiring them to near exhaustion and dehydration.

Sokka felt that it had become almost unbearable, to the point where he was using Momo as a sun hat to cover both him and Y/N.

“C’mon guys,” Katara sighed from up ahead. She was trying to keep everyone motivated and optimistic, something she had to do far too often. “We’ve gotta stick together.”

Y/N stifled a laugh as Sokka peeled himself out of their lazy embrace.

“If I sweat anymore,” he sarcastically replied, “I don’t think sticking together will be a problem.”

The group was beginning to become restless, specifically Sokka. He needed some sort of liquid to calm his nerves.

“Look!” He cried, using Y/N’s finger to point to a tower of cacti. Surprised by the strength of his pull, Y/N fell to the ground, sand filling her entire mouth.

“Some boyfriend you are!” She huffed, spitting the tiny morsels into the air as Sokka made his way to the cacti in a trance. “You could’ve at least helped me up!”

Sokka waved his hand dismissively at the girl, “Not now, my little dirt queen. Sokka needs water.”

Everyone watched as he brought his sword down on the plant, making a clean slice. He held the makeshift cup above his head before he chugged the strange juice, not letting any drop go to waste.

Y/N grimaced at the thought of drinking the pale liquid. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Y/N’s right, Sokka.” Katara said, agreeing with her brother’s girlfriend. “You shouldn’t be drinking from strange plants.”

Sokka shrugged whilst he split open yet another cacti. “But there’s water inside these plants!”

He looked up at Y/N as he held up a freshly cut cactus for her to drink out of. She smiled sweetly at the boy before pushing his hand away, knocking over the cup in the process.

“No thanks,” she blatantly said to him. Y/N was thirsty, but not thirsty enough to drink out of something that could give her a disease. “It’s all yours.”

“Suit yourself!” Sokka exclaimed, liquid dripping down his chin onto Momo’s head. “It’s very thirst-quenching, though!”

Not even a moment later, Y/N’s face dropped to see Sokka’s eyes wide and dilated. He seemed frozen in place, holding his cactus while he stared into space.

“Drink cactus juice.” He said, twirling his fingers around the drink. “It’ll quench you. Nothing’s quenchier!”

Y/N stood up, still picking sand out of her teeth. She cautiously made her way over to her boyfriend and placed both hands on his shoulders.

“Sokka.” She could feel him shaking with anticipation, but anticipation for what? “Are you alright? You don’t look so—”

“IT’S THE QUENCHIEST!”

Y/N screamed in surprise at Sokka’s outburst. His nose touching hers as he surged forwards offering her another drink. She stood completely still, making uncomfortable eye contact with the water tribe boy.

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough.” Katara’s eyes narrowed as she emptied his drink.

Sokka completely ignored her, using Y/N’s finger yet again, this time pointing at Toph.

“Who lit Toph on fire?”

“How did we get out here in the middle of the ocean?”

“Why am I dating a sand monster?”

Sokka’s questions were relentless. The cactus juice made his usual nonsense sound even more delirious. He was bouncing off the walls with energy. Constantly relaying between the three girls.

After the first five minutes, Toph was over Sokka’s antics. She continued walking, pretending the boy didn’t exist while Katara made her best attempts to control his outbursts.

The only girl enjoying the insanity of the situation was Y/N, but then again she was his girlfriend. She enjoyed anything and everything Sokka did.

“Y/N!” Sokka exclaimed excitedly, pulling her along with him as he ran in circles. “I’m making a tornado! Who’s the airbender now, Aang?”

Y/N burst out laughing while she was yanked in each direction. Her hair whipped in her face, dust flying everywhere. She and Sokka looked like two flying lemurs during a hurricane. It was truly a sight to see.

Her feet stumbled over each other as Sokka sprinted in front of the others. He continued screaming absolute nonsense to the clouds, not noticing Y/N struggling to keep up.

“Sokka!” She yelped, tripping over her own footsteps. She was beginning to think she had had enough of her boyfriend’s chaos. “I think we should slow down now!”

The boy whipped his head around to look at her. His gaze intense, not with lust or romance, but with a frenzied craze.

His abrupt movement shocked Y/N, who was still in motion.

As she went flying forwards, Katara screamed, watching her friend fall down the massive sand hill. Sokka rolled down after her, somersaulting in unison with her tumbles. Toph stood still not knowing what was happening.

“Sokka!” Y/N shouted between faceplants, “I am so breaking up with you after this!”

The free falling girl came to a halt at the bottom of the hill. Once again sand filled her mouth, but this time that wasn’t it's only hiding place. It was lodged in her ears, her armpits, and her clothing.

Y/N cradled her neck in pain as she heard muffled footsteps nearing her. She looked up to find Sokka. Her vision flared. Anger being the only emotion on her mind.

“You idiot!” Y/N slapped Sokka’s knees from her seat, feeling satisfied as she watched him crumble to the ground. “I could’ve gotten hurt! I could’ve broken my neck! You could’ve broken your neck! If I fall down on something tall—you don’t jump after me!”

While Y/N scolded Sokka with worry laced in her voice, he moved to hold her tightly. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist and he nestled his face in her neck.

Y/N’s rant ceased. She maneuvered herself so that they were in a more comfortable position. She sighed contently as Sokka ran his hands up and down her back.

“I’m sorry for getting upset.” She mumbled in his ear. “It wasn’t really your fault.”

Sokka pulled back slightly, a soft smile gracing his face. He pushed the loose strands of hair away from his girl’s forehead, holding her cheeks in his palms.

Y/N blushed as he surged forward, much like the last time but also much different. Now he was gentle, the rowdy mood long gone, as he pressed a soft kiss to her chapped lips.

Sokka didn’t need to use his words to apologize, the kiss speaking for him.

As he slowly let go, Y/N grinned at the boy. She was glad that his insanity had finally passed.

“Let’s get back to Katara and Toph,” he said whilst helping her stand, his hands finding their rightful place in her’s.

“They need to see that my girlfriend looks even grosser than before.”

With that comment, Sokka received a hard smack on the head.

#sokka x reader #sokka imagine #sokka imagines #sokka oneshot #sokka fluff #fluff #aang #katara #toph #appa #momo #cactus juice #atla #avatar the last airbender #the last airbender #atla imagines #atla oneshot #atla imagine #atla x reader

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yonqha · 3 years

Text

—- 📞

speed dial

the light bulb in your room goes bust, and you needed someone to fix it fast. you had absolutely no clue on how to change a light bulb. but allen ma, your ex-boyfriend, knows how.

allen x reader oneshot (requested) // semi-angst, fluff (?)

word count: 1.9k words

a/n: this was just lightly edited (i got too lazy) lmao so pls excuse any errors >< and :D let me know if y’all want an alternate ending for this i might write and post one soon ^^

masterlist

heavy hands on the keyboard, the smell of coffee suspended in the air, and light illuminating your weary face. this was the current situation as you were busy typing away your report for work. your hours at the office were seemingly not enough for the amount of tasks you needed to do, hence the urge to continue work at home instead of taking your time to rest.

you gave yourself no breaks, wanting to finish this as quickly as possible to stay on track. the only breaks you considered were mini sips of the instant coffee by your side and fast trips to the bathroom. notifications from your phone didn’t bother you at all, you were that driven to finish this report as soon as you could.

but the main light in your room didn’t seem to favor that. after taking a sip from your coffee mug, it flickered a few times and decided to die on you. the room suddenly went dark, minus the light coming from your laptop. this made you groan in frustration. standing up, you went to the light switch just by the door to check. you turned it on and off but to no avail-- it’s a busted light.

a loud sigh came out of your mouth. out of all the things that could happen, your light had to die on you. you thought of just continuing to work without the light, but your eyes were starting to get strained from looking at the screen for hours. this made you regret not buying a desk lamp in the first place.

you had to think of a solution, you didn’t want to stall for too long as you might lose your energy to work. grabbing your phone from the desk, you opened your contacts to try and see if you could call an electrician. but upon seeing the time, you immediately gave up.

there is no way an electrician would go to your place at 2 in the morning.

plus, the time for them to get here? you couldn’t wait that long.

so you decided for plan b: going to wikihow to search how to change a busted light bulb. scrolling through the steps, you just got more and more confused. you don’t even know how to differentiate light bulbs, how on earth are you going to change one by yourself?

so you settled for plan c: finding someone on your contact list that knows how to change a light bulb (and is possibly still awake at this hour). you paced back and forth inside your room, scanning each name in your contacts to find anyone that can help you.

your eyes then fell on a certain name, making your feet halt immediately. does this person know how to change light bulbs? yes. is this person still awake at this hour? you’re definitely sure about that. does this person live relatively close to you? yeah, somewhat.

but are you sure you want to call your ex-boyfriend to help change your broken light bulb? no answer.

you didn’t want to bother him, probably cooped up in his studio busy producing tracks like he always does. but you have no other option, well, unless you want to cite the rest of the alphabet starting from the letter d for other plans.

you took a deep breath. ‘you have a report to finish, y/n. get yourself together.’

you dialled his number and put the phone to your ear. it only took a couple of rings before the male answered. “hey, allen? i need some….help.”

just a few minutes after the call, allen was already by your doorstep ringing the doorbell. you took one quick look at the mirror to fix yourself, thinking you might be a complete mess from doing work, and opened the front door.

your eyes met and you swear you could feel the butterflies enter your stomach. those same pesky butterflies that gave you that fluttering feeling whenever you were with the male. you mentally cursed. you thought you’re already moving on from him, but it seems not. your body can’t lie, what else could be a possible explanation for this? the coffee?

yeah, probably.

“hey, y/n.” allen greeted, giving you a small smile.

“hey.” you replied back. sensing the forming awkward atmosphere, you moved aside to give allen space to enter your unit. it honestly felt weird for you to be letting allen in like this, especially when you’re used to him just entering the unit without your help. after all, this used to be allen’s apartment as well. the both of you lived together in this space you both could call home.

without hesitation, allen headed to the room just by the kitchen. “everything’s still here, right?” he pointed at the door. standing by the kitchen counter, you nodded in reply.

“i never really touched that room, you were the one who took care of it after all.” you commented as allen turned the knob. he opened the door to see that his arrangement of the supplies inside remained as it was. he let out a chuckle. “i can definitely see that.”

after getting the brand new light bulb and a flashlight from the stockroom, the two of you headed over to your bedroom to have the light bulb changed. allen grabbed a spare chair from the room to stand on and proceeded to work. you sat on your office chair, taking a sip of your already cold coffee.

“just an idea but, i think you should be teaching me how to change a light bulb,” you set down your mug. “or any home repairs in general.”

“i’d be willing to offer you lessons,” allen replied as he unscrewed the broken light bulb. “that’d be 5 bucks per lesson. deal? we can start now if you want to.”

you kicked his leg from your seat, and the two of you laughed at the exchange. “i can’t believe you.” you muttered and shook your head.

it was just like how it was before— exchanging jokes, having playful conversations. except, you two broke up. it reminded you of how the two of you first hung out together, enjoying each other’s company through hours of talking and joking around. but that reminder came with the small pang in your heart, another reminder that it is now just a memory living in your head. something you don’t experience as often as before, and something you have to get used to not having.

allen took out the new bulb out of its box, and broke the momentary silence. “so, how have you been?”

it took you quite a while to answer, coming up with something that isn’t about you thinking about your breakup and starting to move on. “i’ve been….well. just busy with work as usual. you?”

“just the same. i’m finishing up an EP, just a few final touches and it’s ready for release.”

hearing that made you smile instantly. allen’s music was your favorite, and hearing that he’ll be releasing new songs soon brightened up your mood. “oh? that’s great! finally, i have something new to listen to.”

“and something new to have on repeat for hours.” allen remarked as he started to screw on the new light bulb. you rolled your eyes at his words and at how he still remembered your habit of leaving songs on repeat.

“okay, done.” allen turned off the flashlight, got off the chair he was standing on and went to turn on the light. the room was illuminated, and that meant you can finally start working again.

“thank you so much, allen. i’ll treat you to a meal for the help.” you stood up from your chair, watching as allen returned the chair to its earlier position.

“no need, y/n. but thank you.” he flashed you a smile and exited the room. you followed shortly behind.

allen went to return the flashlight back in the stockroom. closing the door once he was done, he suddenly searched for something in is pocket. seeing as he couldn’t find it, he faced you and asked for a favor. “can i borrow your phone? i think i left mine in the car. i just have to make a quick call, if it’s alright?”

“oh, sure, it’s in my room.” you replied as you made your way to your room, grabbing your phone from your desk and heading back to allen. you unlocked your phone and handed it over to the male.

as he was busy inputting the number and making the call, you awkwardly looked away and gave him the space to make his call.

soon after, you heard a phone ring beside you. you turned to face allen who just fished out his phone out of his back pocket. the confused look on your face made allen chuckle.

“here, thanks.” he handed back your phone. “i placed my number on speed dial. so if you’re ready for those lessons, or just need some more help in general, just give me a call.”

taking your phone from his hands, you smiled. “thanks, allen. i appreciate it.”

allen paused, gathering his words, and spoke. “i…know you’re trying to move on and maybe you don’t wanna see me,” he started. “and you’re probably still a bit sensitive from the breakup. but i hope you know that i’m still sorry for the way i acted that day.” his eyes met yours, showing how much he means it. “we both weren’t in the right minds to talk, and it led to...this. maybe it’s for the best, but, i wish i could’ve handled my emotions better. and i’m truly sorry for that.”

as if on cue, your brain played the memory of that day. two stressed individuals fighting with each other under the control of raw and ugly emotions. you both decided after that it wasn’t working anymore, and it led to a mutual breakup. it still hurts for you, though. someone you held so dear to your heart suddenly leaving just like that. the two of you didn’t meet ever since that day. well, until your light bulb decided stop working. is this fate doing its work?

“as cliche as it may sound, i hope we can stay friends at least.” allen smiled at you, hoping you would agree to the idea. it hurts for you knowing the most you two can become are friends, but you thought that maybe this is for the best. maybe this is what it should be. and i guess it’s better than losing allen in your life. besides being your partner, he was like a best friend to you. why waste this chance?

“can i still be your best friend?” you asked after a short while, and allen gave a lighthearted laugh.

“that would be great, y/n.”

the thick air between the two of you dissipated, and the heavy feeling in your heart started to fade away. meeting allen one more time was what you needed all this time.

you escorted allen to the door and bid him goodbye. the apartment was now empty again besides your presence, but it felt much more lighter. like the invisible cloud of black smoke around your unit was finally gone.

with a light feeling in your heart, you went back to your room. you headed to your desk, the laptop screen flashing for you to finish the report. after giving it a good stare, you closed it.

you deserve a break. the report could wait.

#cravitywriters #cravity imagines #cravity oneshots #cravity x reader #cravity scenarios #cravity drabbles #allen ma #allen ma x reader #cravity #kpop oneshots #kpop x reader

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szynkaaa · 4 years

Text

The Boy Movie Timeline or Why Did Brahms Have a Beard And How Long Did It Take Him to Grow It

Again, I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes in advance.

Malcolm comes by weekly to deliver groceries. For the sake of simplicity, let’s say it’s a Monday, he delivers grocery every Monday.

**** Week 01 ****

Day 01 - Monday

Greta arrives at the manor, bumps into Malcolm who was delivering grocery and showed him the way to the parlor to meet the Heelshires

Day 02 - Tuesday

The Heelshires goes on vacation

Greta does not follow the rules, including throwing leftovers away. We know that Brahms is watching her all this time - he knows PBJ is her favorite, since he said later he made her her favorite

Makes me actually wonder if he made the sandwich because he watched her doing it or if at some point he fished out the leftover from the trash like the hobo he looks like

I’m personally leaning toward watch-and-then-do, I think that despite living in the walls he is being well-fed by his parents, and he has his own little food storage in his lair, he never needed to resort to fishing leftover out of the trash

Brahms “okay-I’m-hungry-but-I-have-standards” Heelshire

That being said, in the first week not too much happened. Seems like Brahms is biding his time and watching, gauging what will happen next. And clearly he had enough food for a week in his storage to feed himself.

Moved the blanket off the doll, that’s pretty much all the shenanigan he did iirc

Goes without saying, but basically all ten rules have been broken here lmao

**** Week 02 ****

Day 08 - Monday

Malcolm drops by again for his delivery + Greta’s paycheck Malcom asked her out

Greta agrees to go out with Malcolm. We learn that sound is amplified and from the doll’s room, you can hear everything. It’s not clear however, whether it’s just what is being said in the guest room to the doll room (Brahms’ eavesdropping on everything) or whether the majority of the rooms - if not all the rooms - in the house are amplified.

I personally think that everything in the house amplified in some way, maybe some rooms more than the others. Brahms most likely has very good hearing and knows all the sounds and creaks in the house well enough to realize if something is ever off. Plus he’d need to be able to hear everything in case there is the risk of his hideout to be discovered I assume.

Greta gets locked in the attic overnight

Day 09 - Tuesday

Greta is let out of the attic, Malcolm comes over bla bla bla

He also rings the phone once but doesn’t say much beside some heavy breathing.

Must be hard to breathe under that mask lmao

Confirmed here that the reception there is shit and there is no TV or computer and stuff

Day 10 - Wednesday

TL;DR Brahms made her a PBJ sandwich as an olive branch. Greta starts to do take the rules serious and follow the instruction

Day 11 - Day 14

Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire writes the goodbye letter to Brahms

**** Week 03 ****

Day 15 - Monday

Malcom says that he came earlier than usual with his food delivery to check up on her. In the previous scene we hear the phone ringing but Greta decided not to pick up - safe to assume it was Malcom to check up on her. We don’t know whether he showed up a day or two earlier or just earlier in the day. My assumption would be he simply showed up at an earlier time than usual.

Malcolm brings in the post - including the goodbye letter from the Heelshires

Greta’s chalk experiment

Brahms only moves the doll after Greta says that she will have to leave if Brahms won’t show any signs that his spirit is there. I guess that is another nod toward that Brahms as abandonment issue?

Sometime during the day or night Brahms goes and collects the letter and learns about his parents’ passing.

Day 16 and 17 - Tuesday to Wednesday morning

Cole shows up and that’s where everything pretty much goes south

So basically the whole movie spanned across 17 days. We know that on the morning the Heelshires were leaving for vacation Brahms threw a tantrum - it’s not explained why. I personally think is because he doesn’t want his parents to leave him. They did say that they haven’t gone on a vacation in a long time. The way Mrs. Heelshire breaks down and says “Mummy has to go now. You have to be a good boy because you promised us”... oof, it hits hard. It shows that Brahms has been emotionally abusing his parents and the mom sounded like she was at her wits end and just so done with everything (in a very bad way).

Parallel to that scene, during Greta’s escape, Brahms’ voice starts to crack when he says “I’ll be good, I will” and shouts at her to come back. I’ve always felt in this scene he seemed very desperate to keep here there. He didn’t want his parents to go on vacation. Then he finds out that his parents are never going to come back, Greta is there now in their place instead. The news of his parents passing at that point is still very very very fresh.

Now for the reason why I spent 3h this morning putting the timeline together: Brahms’ Beard xD

Tried to find some shots that gives a better angle on just how much beard he has:

The last photo is taken from this article about the cgi mask. I’m 99.99% sure this is James Russell’s face and they were testing a bunch of different masks on him (the eye color and shape of the ear matches) soooo this photo is pretty good reference on how much beard Brahms had under the mask xD

This is where I had to google a lot of things because ya girl does not have a beard so I had to educate myself there. Each beard grows at a different speed.

Based on the volume of his beard, my guess would be that it did take Brahms good 2-3 months to grow the beard? Meaning that well before Greta accepted the job, our boy was already too lazy to bother shaving his beard. He’s living behind the walls and everyone thinks he’s dead, there isn’t really anyone he needs to impress so really, who cares what he looks like. Mummy and Daddy want to see him wearing the mask all the time anyway.

I hope at least he has a decent bear care routine. Again, long beard =/= bad hygiene. Brahms takes care of his hygiene and this is the hill I will die on. Probably orders his socks by colors if he would lead a normal life.

Ending this post with some pic of James Russell with a stubble because who hasn’t imagined shaving the beard for Brahms (I know it and you know it and Brahms’ knows it too):

#The ham talks #brahmbling #brahms heelshire #brahms #the boy #the boy movie #brahms the boy #the boy 2016 #james russell

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sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

“Oh, darling, everybody sees how you look at him.” | Part 4

Part 4 of a little series I have going on!

Mentions: violence (lmao Kylo is Kylo what can I say?)

---

It’s challenging for Kylo, remembering that not everyone’s accustomed to violence the way he is.

There’s no excuse for his behavior most of the time, and he knows this, but… but after all this time, after all the training and the fighting and the living in fear under Snoke, Kylo just can’t help himself. He’s working on his anger, really trying to tamp down the rage the boils within him so easily and so often— it’s just so difficult. People can exhibit such insolence and disrespect, they feel no remorse in making their pompous little powerplays, and yet—

And yet that’s still not a good enough reason to end their lives, Kylo thinks to himself, blowing a breath out through his nose. It gets him worked up just thinking about it, just picturing how insufferable people can be sometimes, makes his skin itch and his hands clench. He takes a swig of wine from the glass in his hands, in need of an outlet for his pent-up frustration—but then his eyes land on you, and all is well again.

Kylo’s only here at this party because you asked him to come. He hates things like this usually, can’t stand all the schmoozing and the ass-kissing and the drunkenness. But this little gathering is being thrown almost entirely in your honor, a celebration of a trade deal that closed between your planet and another powerful one in this solar system. Your mother the Queen worked out a large portion of the terms, of course, but you were right there by her side. From what Kylo understands, it was your level-head and pleasant affect that helped ease tensions when things got heated at the negotiation table— your mother really couldn’t have done it without you. And you were the one who announced the terms to your people! Kylo couldn’t be there to see you speak in person, but he watched footage of the event after it happened. You were a vision, so confident and self-assured as you addressed the crowd. He fell in love with you all over again in that moment, daydreaming about what it might be like to have you by his side, to have you speak on behalf of the Order. You’re ambivalent about your ability to be a great ruler, but Kylo doubts that you’ll be anything less than extraordinary when the time comes (if it ever comes— Maker, Kylo prays you’ll have him one day, that you’ll sit on the throne beside him and call him your husband).

As you catch Kylo’s gaze and flash him one of your soft, pretty smiles, he remembers exactly why he’s trying to curb his anger. You’re so good, so sweet and kind to absolutely everyone you meet, and Kylo’s not sure how you stand all of his volatility. You’re always telling him that you like him just as he is now, but he senses it in you, senses your desire to help him be a calmer, more even-keeled person. You think he could channel his aggression into something more positive, and you’re probably right about that. So, when Kylo feels rage boiling up in his chest, he bites his tongue, clenches his fist, and thinks of you. It works… about forty percent of the time. But he’s trying, and that’s all he can really do right now.

You beckon Kylo closer with a toss of your head, your thoughts as clear to him as his own in this moment. Come stand by me, you say, I miss you.

Utterly unable to resist you and your soft voice, Kylo finds himself crossing the room, on his way to the group of people you’ve been standing with for the better part of half an hour. You beam when Kylo comes up beside you, latching onto his arm at once, and the adoration shining in your eyes is bright enough to make his chest clench. And though your mother’s in the room, Kylo still leans down and kisses the top of your head, too in love with you to care about your family’s definition of propriety at the minute.

“What are we talking about?” Kylo asks, speaking to the group before him after everyone’s shown him the proper respect. But not you, of course— he could never have you kneel before him, not like that.

“The Princess’s speech,” answers a man clad in yellow, taking a sip from the glass in his hands. “We’re trying to decide whether or not a particular line was well received in the outer parts of our solar system.”

Kylo’s first reaction is to cut this man down to size, to bark and say that he nor anyone else should be speaking poorly of your announcement. But you’re not in the least bit offended, looking up at Kylo with bright eyes as you tell him what bit of dialogue is in contention at the moment.

Some members of the group think the line was perfectly fine, others aren’t sure of the wording— but everyone agrees nonetheless that your speech was excellent regardless, and Kylo’s fine with that.

“It’s honestly just your subjects in the Distant Quadrant that I’m worried about,” one of your friends says, halfway rolling her eyes as she moves to explain the comment. “My father’s from out that way, and him and his people can be so sensitive sometimes. Next time, it might be best if you have someone who knows their culture a bit better proofread your talking points.”

You’re about to say something, more than likely about to agree, but then a man on the other side of the circle chimes in. “Be careful there— we wouldn’t want to upset the baby.”

This man now has the full attention of the group, all eyes trained on him in the wake of his little quip. Kylo hates him at once, for his expression is too smug, the look in his eyes too self-satisfied.

“Excuse me?” you say softly, speaking before Kylo can ask the man to explain himself. He scoffs, cutting his eyes to the side as his mouth twists into a cruel smirk.

“I just don’t want you to get upset, Princess, that’s all.”

Someone on Kylo’s left tries in vain to stop this before it starts. “Ambassador Fal’kek, I you should—”

“Look, all I’m saying is that I’m not in the mood to watch the Princess burst into tears because someone said something mean about her,” cuts the ambassador, the smell of wine thick on his breath. At once, Kylo wants to make him sorry, wants to make sure this man can never talk about you like that again, but you’re here right beside him, and—

“I mean, no offense, Princess, but sometimes I can’t believe that you and your mother are even related. She’s willful and built to lead, but you let people walk all—”

Kylo tunes Ambassador Fal’kek out after that, opting instead to focus on you, on your expression and the energy that radiates off of you in this moment. He feels it, feels the shame and embarrassment that washes over you like a wave, hot and utterly uncomfortable. The ambassador has jammed his fingers in one of your sore spots, that much is obvious. Your chin trembles just the slightest bit, and almost imperceptible spasm of the muscles on your face, but your thoughts are loud and clear— don’t cry, don’t cry, not here, not now, not in front of everyone—

Kylo fractures the ambassador’s skull with a single punch. The bone yields to easily to the force of his fist, Fal’kek falling to the ground in shock. All around, people scream and cry out in surprise, in horror, but Kylo barely hears them. No, his pulse is far too loud in his ears, and he’s not satisfied yet.

Two more punches, both delivered in quick succession, and then the ambassador’s bleeding from the mouth and nose, gurgling and squirming and trying in vain to get away from the vicious attack. Only when he’s poised to deliver a fourth punch does Kylo come back to himself, the realization of what he’s just done in front of you hitting him like a transport vessel.

You’re flanked on all sides by members of the royal guard, the men and women trying to shield you from the chaos with middling success. Your defiance is written plainly on your face, it shows in the way you jerk away from their grasping hands.

“Let go of me,” you hiss, wrenching your arm free from one last hand. Anxiety claws at Kylo’s throat and heart as you stalk towards him, for he’s sure it’s over now. He’s ruined your party and probably frightened you beyond belief— if you never want to see him again, he understands.

You look so, so angry as you cross the floor, the crowd parting for you without a word. Kylo wants to weep, wants to drop to his knees and beg your forgiveness because he’s not sure he can handle—

“Is no one going to call a physician for the Supreme Leader?”

You’re sniping to the room at large, eyes almost murderous as you stare down the crowd. At once, everyone snaps into motion, most of them moving to leave as a select few rush to do as you say. Kylo feels as if he’s been slapped, and the sensation goes double as he watches your face soften before him.

“Did you hurt your hand?” you ask softly, and the tone of your voice is so sweet and concerned.

“What?” Kylo says stupidly, in disbelief as he watches you take his dominant hand in your own. Your fingers work ever so gently, slipping off his glove, running down the length of his broken fingers.

“Did you hurt your hand, Kylo?” you press, fussing over the bruises already forming underneath his skin.

All-consuming relief washes over Kylo’s body in and that moment, and then nothing matters anymore after that.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #oh darling #my writing

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

A Beautiful Blessing

Summary: Someone leaves a mysterious box outside your apartment in the middle of the storm. Fortunately, no one gets hurt.

Author’s Note: This is my first story for @bnhabookclub‘s Hero Camp Bingo event happening right now! It officially runs from June 5th until August 15th and I received my very own bingo card to fill out. Fun fact, I wrote this story prior to the bingo event happening (lol), so I’m glad it worked out!

I posted my bingo card below. Each time I submit a story for this event, I will cross off the prompt I used as well. The first prompt I crossed off was Adopt a Pet! Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1.5K

A powerful storm rages through your neighborhood.

It is the perfect excuse to stay inside and watch random Netflix movies with your favorite person by your side. You snuggle closer to Shinsou, resting your head on his shoulder; his arm comfortably holds you and acts like a weighted blanket that nearly puts you to sleep. You suppress a yawn as an impromptu lullaby emerges from the raindrops pelting against the glass window.

The movie ends, and you stretch forward, “Pick the next one.”

Shinsou reaches for the remote, moving the bowl of popcorn sitting in the middle. You snatch it before the snack falls, avoiding a great tragedy. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for last week’s popcorn mess; the couch wouldn’t stop crunching up a song that night. Shaking your head, you shove a handful of the buttery goodness into your mouth and check some text messages. Your ears perk when a distinct sound rings outside.

“Did you hear that?” You glance at the window. A ray of lightning scatters across the dark clouds, which looms above the apartment building, “It sounded like a high-pitch mewl.”

Shinsou shrugs, “Probably your thought process at work.”

You whack his stomach. He snickers and continues scrolling through the selection.

“Very funny,” you dryly remark. The wind howls as the storm picks up its strength. A bright, white sheet temporarily blinds the entire sky, followed by a ferocious thunder that shakes the apartment complex. Through your munches, you hear the high-pitch noise return. With narrowed eyes, you stand up from your couch, “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“I’ll start the movie without you if you take too long.”

“Pfft, sure.” You stride toward the door, but regret opening it when the rain rudely greets your face. Groaning, you rapidly scan around until something catches your eye. An odd, medium-sized cardboard box sits near the door, a raggedy shirt flapping on top; you become suspicious.

“Hitoshi!” His eyes immediately peel away from the TV at the sound of your worried voice. You look over your shoulders, “There’s a random box outside.”

Shinsou springs into action, “Don’t touch it and get away from the door!”

He snatches his scarf and rushes to the entrance. Just as you turn around, the same mewl cries from inside the box; it sounds like a baby animal. Your curiosity ultimately wins as you kneel to inspect the package. Shinsou screams out your name, but you ignore him like an idiot. Tossing the torn cloth aside, you gasp at the sight below—it’s a little kitten.

“Oh, you poor thing!”

The frightened animal shivers in the farthest corner from you. It helplessly cries like a broken record, and your hands reach inside to comfort the wet bundle. Shinsou arrives with his scarf ready to protect you from an attack. His defensive stance weakens when he sees a black kitten in your grasp.

You shield the animal from the rain, “Let’s get inside! Find me a towel!”

A trail of water droplets follows you to the kitchen. Shinsou hands you a towel before heading outside again to inspect the box. The kitten meows as they get dried, their head twisting nonstop and body squirming around. You couldn’t blame the innocent feline for being petrified. After a few minutes, you uncover the kitten and scratch behind their ears to calm them down; it works like a charm.

Cradling the fur baby in your arms, you search for a warm blanket and head to the couch. Shinsou finally joins you with a puzzled expression. His eyes land on the kitten comically wrapped up like a burrito. The animal sneezes and owlishly blinks at Shinsou; the hero fights back a snort.

“Was there anything else inside?”

“Nothing. Not even a single note.”

You frown, stroking the kitten’s forehead, “Who the hell left this poor baby outside in that dirty box? Especially in the middle of this horrible storm! What if we weren’t home to save them? I don’t even want to imagine how much this fur ball would have suffered.”

“I’m wondering why they chose our apartment,” Shinsou mutters, his mind trying to remember anyone who might know his address. He tries to keep his personal life under wraps, even if he works more as an underground hero. Only his closest friends know where he lives, but they never would do something like this. Shinsou didn’t find any explosives or deadly chemicals inside the box, ruling out a villain. Maybe a crazed fan? He’s had a few run-ins with them before. Your giggles interrupt his brooding thoughts.

Lilac eyes shift down and watch as the kitten chews on your finger. A small grin curves on Shinsou’s lips at the adorable sight. You loosen the blanket so the kitten can move more freely. Little paws press on your thighs as its button nose sniff your clothes.

Shinsou tilts his head, “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Good question,” you hum and inspect the kitten’s behind, “It’s a girl!”

“We need to take her to the vet tomorrow,” Shinsou’s hand immediately gets attacked by the kitten’s paws and he chuckles while playing along. The exuberant fur ball distracts him from his thoughts, nipping the hero’s fingers with their sharp teeth. It does not hurt Shinsou one bit; if anything, the bite feels more like a small prick. He then grins, “Got to get this little rascal properly checked out for any injuries and see if she’s a lost pet.”

“I doubt she’s a missing pet.” An annoyed thumb jerks behind you, “This little angel was left outside our doorstep in a wet cardboard box. If anything, I want to find the person who abandoned her like this and kick their ass.”

A meow squeaks below. You gesture at the kitten and chirp, “See? Even she agrees with the idea!”

“Let’s take this one step at a time,” Shinsou smirks before searching for the nearest veterinary office on his phone. You roll your eyes and continue to play with the energetic kitten. Shinsou does not react when you reach for his scarf to entertain your new guest. Dangling the fabric in the air, you squeak when the kitten jumps and grabs it; the scarf quickly engulfs the fur ball’s tiny frame. After a few shuffles, her head pops out, and you laugh.

“Got the address,” Shinsou takes a screenshot of one location. He glances at the kitten who endearingly tilts her head at him; he shakes his own, but a faint smile creeps on his face, “I guess we’ll create a make-shift bed for her in our room.”

“Ooooh, yes! I got some old clothes we can use.” You scoop the kitten in your hands and jump off the sofa. Heading to the bedroom, you cry out, “C’mon! She needs some rest; poor baby has been through a lot for one night.”

Shinsou doesn’t argue with you as he snatches his scarf off the couch and follows closely behind.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“Well,” the veterinarian does a quick once-over at her patient. You wait with bated breath for the doctor’s results. Shinsou stands beside you with arms crossed, “Despite missing some vaccinations, she appears to be a healthy three-month-old kitten. I gave her a couple of shots, but she will need to come back in a few weeks for the next doses, though.”

You are relieved, “Thank you, Dr. Sasaki!”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles, bopping the animal’s nose, “The kitten also has no prior owner since I did not detect a microchip. She’s all yours!”

The curious kitten almost falls off the exam table, but you grab her with lightning speed. As soon as the doctor leaves, you face Shinsou and slice the air with your hand, “We have to keep her!”

“Huh?”

“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. She has no home, and I don’t want her ending up in a shelter. Besides, look at her!” You raise the kitten to his eye level and pout to strengthen your case. Shinsou arches an amused eyebrow. “How can you say no to that itty-bitty face?”

On instinct, the kitten meows and instantly melts the hero’s heart. He scratches the back of his neck while saying, “Okay, fine. We’ll keep her.”

You squeal, cradling the bundle of joy closer to your chest; she purrs softly in your arms. Shinsou enjoys seeing you this happy. Unbeknownst to you, he already made his decision after yesterday’s events. You and Shinsou played with the kitten all night long, laughing as she eagerly swatted a piece of yarn dangling mid-air. Once the mini tigress tired herself out, Shinsou tucked her into her make-shift bed.

Your smile brings him back to the present, “We still need a name for our little girl.”

“How about Emi?”

“Emi…” You test out the name and your eyes sparkle, “It’s perfect!”

Shinsou wraps an arm around your waist and fondly looks at his new child while grinning, “Welcome to the family, Emi.”

She is indeed a beautiful blessing.

Which prompt will be crossed off next? Who knows, depends on what my brain comes up with lmao.

As always, thank you for reading!

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou imagines #bnhabookclub #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #hero camp bingo #adopt a pet #fluff #kittens are ADORABLE

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littlespoonevan · 4 years

Note

i think you’ve done one before where ian and mickey run into trevor? but i’d love another one like that. or caleb. or kash. or literally anyone from the earlier seasons (could even be an old school mate who we don’t know!) and who has a shocked reaction that they are still together/married.

anon said:prompt: ian and mickey introducing each other as husbands at a group event scenario

so because i combined two prompts here, have two blasts from the past!! (though idk who’s gonna be happy to see caleb lmao hopefully the 2nd guest makes up for it) i hope u like it!!! :D

Mickey loosens his tie as he scans the room, idlywondering when exactly he’ll stop putting himself in uncomfortable socialsituations for Ian’s sake. Then again, Ian walking towards him in his fancyblazer with the top few buttons of his shirt undone and a bottle of beer ineither hand is a very particular fantasy he’s enjoying right now.

“How’re you holding up?” Ian asks, handing one of thebeers off to Mickey and sliding his free arm around Mickey’s waist. It’s prettyfucking ridiculous how quickly it makes Mickey relax but he figures he marriedIan for a reason.

When Ian had first told him about the benefit all theSouth Side emergency services were holding to raise money for a new hospitalwing Mickey had thought it sounded like his own personal version of hell. Buthe’d realised pretty quickly it was also Ian’s personal version of hell so he’dagreed to go.

Now that he’s here he’s gotta admit it’s not so bad.The charming, confident persona Ian used to wear back when he’d drag Mickey toafter-club parties back in the day seems come back to his husband easily enoughwith Ian flashing everyone hundred-watt smiles and schmoozing with thehigher-ups. There have been a few moments where Mickey’s felt uncomfortablestanding next to him but only because of his total lack of understanding aboutall the medical bullshit everyone is spewing rather than him actually feelinglike he’s being excluded from the conversation.

Plus, he can’t help the way he inwardly preens everytime Ian introduces him as his husband.

“’m surviving,” Mickey tells him, leaning into Ian’sside. “This place’s got good beer.”

“Its one saving grace,” Ian jokes, dropping a kiss onMickey’s temple. “Sorry, I know you’re probably bored. Just another hour or twoand we can hit the Alibi.”

The last thing Mickey wants to do is stay out evenlonger when Ian’s standing next to him looking like he does but he hums in acquiescenceanyway. Not like Ian’ll be complaining later on.

“It’s fine, man, I get it,” Mickey says, turning intoIan so they’re facing each other and putting his free hand on Ian’s hip. “You’restill on probation and it’s a fuckin’ miracle your old job even took you back.You need to stay here and act like employee of the month – I know the deal.”

Ian’s beaming at him by the time he’s finishedtalking and Mickey clears his throat, aware his ears are probably turning red.

“You’re the best,” Ian tells him, the words half lostto Mickey’s mouth as he darts in to kiss him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey huffs when he pulls away, tryingnot to act as flustered as he feels. “You can show me how much you appreciateme later.”

Ian’s smile turns devilish and he uses the arm aroundMickey’s waist to draw him in closer. “Oh, I plan to.”

Mickey’s just about to incite a game of chicken whenIan suddenly freezes and Mickey raises his gaze from Ian’s mouth to his eyes.Turning to look over his shoulder he attempts to follow Ian’s gaze but there’stoo many unrecognisable faces around for him to tell who Ian’s looking at.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, squeezing Ian’s hip to gethis attention.

Ian blinks, looking back to Mickey with an expressionthat’s some weird mix of panicked, apologetic and determined. “My ex is overthere.”

Mickey whips around again to look before he remembershe has no clue what Ian’s ex even looks like. “The firefighter?” he guesses.

Ian nods, offering him a tight smile. “Caleb,” hesays. “It’s fine, I don’t think he saw me.”

Which is probably the stupidest fucking thing Iancould’ve said because, of course, five seconds later someone’s calling out adisbelieving, “Ian Gallagher?”

Ian plasters a fake smile on his face and Mickeytakes a moment to pray for patience before he turns around to eye up the guymaking his way towards them. He’s attractive, in that clean-cut all-American way.He looks like the very definition of normal which Mickey knows just translatesto boring in Ian’s brain.

Ian had told him a little about him when they’dtalked shit through in prison. Said he’d been Ian’s attempt at a “normal”relationship that didn’t require all that much emotional effort because he’dpretty much been trying to haul himself out of a depressive episode when they’dmet. He’d also admitted he’d been trying to shove Mickey out of his mind at thetime which had hurt but he gets it, he thinks. God knows, he’d tried to drinkIan away in Mexico. It doesn’t hurt all that much now with Ian’s arm around himand Ian’s ring on his finger.

“Hey Caleb,” Ian greets half-heartedly when Calebreaches them and Mickey takes a drink of his beer to hide his laugh. It’s astark contrast to the enthusiastic friendliness Ian’s been sporting all night.

“How’ve you been?” Caleb asks, all earnestness thatMickey doesn’t trust for a second. “It’s been what? Nearly four years?”

“Yeah, I guess about that,” Ian agrees, voicecompletely neutral. “I’ve been good. I’m-“ he pauses and looks down at Mickeywith a smile that makes his knees weak. “Well, I’m married now,” Ian says proudly, arm tightening around Mickey. “Thisis my husband, Mickey.”

Caleb’s mouth drops open in shock as his eyes flashto Mickey and Mickey immediately feels himself puffing up his chest. He’s readyfor whatever bullshit this fucker tries to throw at him.

“Wow,” Caleb splutters after a beat. “Congratulations.I- you’re his ex, Mickey, right?”

Mickey clears his throat and rubs at his eyebrow,pointedly using his left hand so he can show off his rings. “Not exactly his exanymore.”

“Right!” Caleb says quickly. “Sorry. You get what Imean, just- you two were broken up before.”

“Yeah, almost the biggest fucking mistake of my life,”Ian cuts in and he’s over-exaggerating a little for Caleb’s sake but Mickey canstill tell he means it. “No way am I letting him go again.” He directs the lastpart to Mickey and Mickey can only hold his gaze for a couple of seconds beforehe has to look away, throat feeling thick with emotion.

Caleb looks at a complete loss for words and Mickeyfeels privately vindicated. Yeah, gocrawl back to whatever hole in the past you came from, he thinksmutinously.

“That’s um- I’m glad you’re so happy,” Caleb says finallyand Mickey’s just narrowing his eyes to try and figure out if he means it whenhe hears another familiar voice calling his name.

“MickeyMilkovich?”

And Christ, Mickey never thought he’d ever be happyto hear a fucking cop calling hisname.

He promptly turns away from Caleb, hearing Ian’sexcuse of, “Sorry, an old friend,” before he turns with him and then they’reboth standing face to face with Tony fucking Markovich.

“Don’t tell me you’re a cop now,” Tony jokes andMickey had not expected him to lookso happy to see him.

“I don’t think they let ex-cons join the force,” hesays, blinking in surprise when Tony only laughs. Huffing an unsure laugh ofhis own, he nods in Ian’s direction. “Nah, I’m only here for Ian.”

“He’s my arm candy,” Ian cuts in, moving his arm fromMickey’s waist to drape it around his neck.

Mickey rolls his eyes but watches Tony carefully forhis reaction.

“Glad to hear you two worked shit out,” Tony says,looking painfully sincere, and since when the fuck did Tony the cop know theywere even together? “I was always rooting for you two.”

“I’ve got him locked down all official now,” Ianboasts, flashing his ring proudly at Tony.

“No way!” Tony exclaims, grin becoming impossiblywider. “That’s amazing, congrats! Let me get you two a beer later, consider ita belated wedding gift.”

Ian barks out a laugh beside him and Mickey is soconfused right now. “Hey, how’s your boyfriend?” Ian asks then. And what thefuck?

“We’re living together now,” Tony admits sheepishlyand before Mickey can stop himself he blurts out, “You’re gay?”

Tony laughs, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, Ian hadthe same reaction when he discovered that little revelation a few years ago.”

“It’s Fiona’s fault,” Ian tells him conspiratoriallyand Mickey finds a laugh bubbling out of him unexpectedly.

“Dan’s around here somewhere,” Tony says, craning hisneck to scan the room. “Hey, how about I find him and we get that drink? I haveto hear the proposal story.”

“You sure?” Mickey scoffs. “It’s a long one.”

“Eh these things are always boring anyway,” Tonyshrugs, gesturing to the banquet hall at large. “It’ll keep me entertained forthe night.”

Ian snorts beside him and waves Tony away. “Go findDan. We’ll meet you at the bar.”

Tony nods before taking his leave and Mickeyimmediately twists to face Ian once he’s gone. “What the fuck just happened?”

Ian barks out a laugh, depositing his beer bottle ona nearby table to wrap both his arms around Mickey. “The cop that you used toterrorise as a teenager just saved you from an awkward encounter with my ex.That’s what happened.”

Mickey shakes his head in disbelief. “I’ve had a lotof fuckin’ weird social interactions when you’ve dragged me to this kinda shitbut that has to be the weirdest.”

Ian laughs again, hugging him close and pressing hislips to Mickey’s forehead. “Just accept the free beer and remember it’sprobably good for us to have a friend who’s a cop.”

“A gayfriend who’s a cop, apparently,” Mickey scoffs, leaning his forehead againstIan’s shoulder a moment later. “Tony better not cheap out on the beer.”

Ian rubs his hand across Mickey’s shoulder blades, breathinghim in. “Pretty sure he’s on better pay than both of us so I think we’re good.”

“Come on,” Ian says then, catching Mickey’s hands anddragging in the direction of the bar. “I’ll buy you a shot of tequila first tocalm you down.”

“I can think of something else that’d calm me down,”Mickey says pointedly, nodding in the direction of the bathroom and raising hiseyebrows.

Ian halts, sizing him up for a moment and Mickeyknows he’s won before Ian even opens his mouth.

“Tony won’t miss us for a couple of minutes, right?”

Mickey grins, triumphant, and begins towing Ian inthe opposite direction.

He could get used to these benefit things.

#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #Anon #asks #my fics

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pettrichore · 4 years

Text

dunno if i’ll be able to finish this. but so like dabihawks au where like. dabi does his research aka when he was touya he was with his dad once during the whole takami thief thing and met keigo. flash forward he doesnt believe a thing about this hero hawks. sees him for the fabricated person he has become. and eventually hawks sees dabi for who he really is and was and like vigilante-ish dabihawks. bits about the au and the snippet i wrote under the cut.

cause this shit gets LONG af

hawks feels fake. doesnt rlly know who he has even become

the commission kinda forced a lotta habits out of him and completely molded him into who they want him to be

he barely even finds his name to be anything more than a stranger’s name at this point.

anyway so dabi p much knows who he is. does his own digging. and kinda puts some pieces together and sees how fake hawks is

hawks barely even knows if he shows any genuine emotions at this point. he’s kinda at a breaking point where he cant recognize himself and separate keigo from hawks. feeling like hawks has just swallowed him whole

he does show genuine things though. sometimes says or does shit out of line but he tends to have obedience beat into him even if he sometimes has a bit of a mouth on him. it’s mild tho

at the start of dabi working w hawks, hawks was very careful

it kinda progressed into keigo coming out more around dabi even though it was in bits and pieces

anyway dabi puts two and two together and realizes him and hawks are pretty similar and instead of seeing him as a traitor (though he’s sure that he’s not 100% on their side) he sees him as someone who can fit in with the misfits and he can p much fully convince hawks to ditch the bs

so the confrontation happens (see ending snippet) and hawks is like wtf just happened

and p much eventually there’s some tender moments between dabi and hawks and hawks ends up explaining how used he’s felt

he has been molded into the perfect obedient soldier; maybe sorta kinda explains that the commission is having him do double agent duties and instead of reacting badly dabi is p receptive and doesnt just try to kill him. instead he can see how badly hawks wants to break out of his cage and fly free and he deeply feels for that and knows how that can feel and is like aight well fuck them

so hawks kinda double agents on the commission??

and he does end up meeting the LoV and like sees how human they are

but also he’s like damn son but okay i dont agree w everything

and dabi is like yeahhh same ??? idk they are a means to an ends for me but also not lmao

and then there’s some dabi spilling his guts as they get closer and get more intimate and very much boyfriends

and hawks is so livid and he cant help but fuck around with endeavor the next time he sees him. and like he’s just so much more distant to him. he can’t begin to wrap his head around it. and he’s so broken that like.. the one person that he saw as his true hero. that “saved him” is a horrible person behind closed doors

the one person who he was inspired by and agreed to join the commission’s forces for is just horrible

there’s just a lotta solidarity between hawks and dabi and a lotta shared anger and hurt

and they’re boyfriends and it’s great but also like hawks isn’t a horrible person

neither is dabi ??? i mean listen they’ve both killed ppl. they probs will continue to kinda do it. but it’s always just horrible ppl

like listen killing ?? not great folks??? but also like idk man..

they also def leave kids outta this 10000%

anyway p much they end up ditching the LoV too. try to get some of them outta that shit. like toga who has become like a sorta lil sister for dabi in a way

they both just feel so horrible and gross seeing kids get into that shit

also like the girl needs some HELP. some therapy and rehabilitation idk

idk i love the morality shit with the LoV but might not play with it too much here

anyway they end up doing their own thing and the commission is quick to denounce him and just ruin his image

and try to kill him lmao they made him a perfect hero which could be a perfect villain and if he isn’t working for them he’s working against them (i mean he is) and needs to be Stopped Permanently

anyway here’s the snippet. my single brain cell that helped write this has left my body:

At this point, Hawks wasn’t so sure he was even real. His existence felt fabricated. Each smile or joke carefully placed. Each movement was calculated. He didn’t act out of line. His interviews were carefully thought out months in advance if not lies that he himself began to believe after years of telling them. His penthouse had just enough “personal” touches that when he had a spare moment to invite someone over it actually seemed like it could be a home. Hawks’ original motivations were squashed and were pushed aside unless they created an interesting story. His natural mannerisms that came with his mutation quirk were learned to be suppressed. Hell his own name sounded like a stranger’s to his ears. That is if anyone even knew it.

“Is there anything real about you, hero,” Dabi spoke. His back wasn’t fully to Hawks, left side presented to him as he set a framed graduation photo down and fully faced the winged hero. Dabi stuffed his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to the side some, waiting for an answer. Hawks snorted and gave him an unamused look.

“I’m as real as they get, hot stuff.” He kept a casual air about his words, hands spreading out in surrender. “Not sure what else you expect.”

Hawks was on edge, but he wouldn’t let the villain know it. They were supposed to be meeting soon, but once again the villain pulled something unexpected and had been waiting for Hawks in his own apartment. Hawks’ feathers twitched slightly, sharpened edges ready for the command if it came. Dabi leveled him with an unimpressed stare. There was a moment where their gazes met in an intense battle, though Dabi’s look softened as he broke out in a lazy grin.

“Y’know... You might be just as much of a mystery as I am, Pretty Bird.”

“I think I’m a pretty open book myself.”

“I think you like to let people think that.”

“And I think you’re just trying to fuck with me. Can we just get to what you came here for? I had a looong day and kinda wanna get some food and some sleep.” Hawks punctuated his words by stretching his arms up high before shedding off his coat, goggles, and headphones. He tossed the coat over the back of his couch and dropped the gear onto the end table. He hoped Dabi would just drop this whole line of thought, take this as some sort of submission, and be satisfied enough to leave.

Wrong.

“Oh, we can get to that later… You, on the other hand, are much more interesting.” He moved closer, hands coming out of his pockets as he crossed the room to stand a few feet from Hawks.

“I’d love to be a great host and entertain you, but unfortunately I wasn’t expecting any guests today.” Hawks crossed his arms and watched Dabi carefully, eyes narrowing some in challenge.

“That’s too bad. You know, I’ve been doing some research on you. I don’t quite think you are who you say you are, Hawks.” The winged-hero tensed just ever so slightly before forcing his muscles to relax some. He didn’t like the way things were going. While Dabi’s fire was his ultimate weakness, he’s sure that he’s fast enough to put a sharpened feather to his throat and end this all here and now than Dabi would be if he wanted to put the spy to an end.

“And who do you think I am then, Dabi?” He raised an unruly eyebrow. His primaries ached to shoot out and end this, poised at the ready.

Dabi blinked slowly, bright turquoise eyes disappearing for a moment before shining under heavily lidded eyes. His grin stretched a bit wider, tugging on where healthy skin met the grafts.

“I think you aren’t the hero you put out there… Or the person you say you are. You like to say a lotta nothin’ don’t you?” Dabi stepped closer and Hawks’ fingers twitched but his arms remained crossed.

“I think you like to pretend to be this airhead bird. Like to use that name. Like to look like you’re the perfect little hero... You’re good at it, too. You aren’t though, are you… Takami Keigo.”

Hawks had a primary feather in each hand, on pressed to Dabi’s throat. It pressed in just enough to draw some blood from the marred skin grafts. He could feel the heat radiating from Dabi’s skin and particularly from the small flames in each of his palms, but the villain made no move to use it against him. He just continued to grin.

“What’s the look of surprise there, Birdie?” Dabi purred.

“How do you know that name?” He demanded, crowding further into Dabi’s space.

“Like I said, I did my research. Now unless you want to end up on the crispy side of cooked, I’d ease the fuck up,” Dabi’s voice took on a slight bite towards the end and his grin lessened. “And here I was going to tell you that you can meet the boss finally. Thought you might be real League material.”

Hawks instincts and mind screamed to press the sharp feather further or at least hold his position, demand answers. His judgment told him to ease off and soften the feathers once more. Hawks didn’t move too far from Dabi, though the primary feathers in his hands softened and returned to his wings. The heat radiating off Dabi died down along with the flames in his hands. Steam left his skin as he killed the flames.

“Much better… We don’t want any incidents like that when you get to meet the boss, right? You’re lucky I’m a lot more patient.” Hawks wasn’t sure what this was all about but didn’t argue with him on that point.

“Glad to see your fake little hero persona is starting to crack.”

#long post #dabihawks #dabi #hawks #todoroki touya #takami keigo #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #my writing #speaks #bnha au #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia

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whitecatindisguise · 4 years

Note

Ok, so here goes. How about a lil mashup? (TTS would be modern, to match the other fandoms) Imagine what would happen if Varian travelled to San Fransokyo for some kind of science expo and meets Hiro and Baymax there. There is a robbery at the Expo and Player asks them for help (he already knows Hiro) as it's V.I.L.E.'s doing but Carmen's on another mission somewhere else. I know it's a bit chaotic but I tried to explain idea as good as I could

Okay, took me a while. It might be different from what you imagined, but that's what you get when you ask your sister dearest to write you a story lmao.

------

“Alchemist to Zero. What’s your status?” The communicator in Hiro’s helmet sounded and the boy rolled his eyes.

“I see the target. They are entering the building. Can’t see the cargo, tho.” He replied. “And what’s with the codenames?”

“Because I think it’s unfair only Player gets to have one.” The person on the other side replied and Hiro rolled his eyes again. So childish.

“Because I have to stay anonymous.” Another voice cut in. “And remember this is only for one job. Normally I’d send Red, but she has her hands full in Seul already.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The previous voice dismissed and Hiro could hear the sizzling of acid. “Anyway, I’m in. Let’s get my stuff back and go already. I have an Expo to win.”

“In your dreams, Va- Alchemist.” Hiro corrected himself quickly. No matter what he said about codenames, he didn’t want to risk anyone hearing their real names. “The prize is mine.”

“You wish!” The other replied and Hiro chuckled.

“Guys, work now, bicker later.” Player called with an exasperated huff. “Besides, if I was there, none of you would even stand a chance.”

Hiro decided to leave it at that, opting to focus on the mission instead. He still had no idea why someone would steal Varian’s chemicals, but it was always better safe than sorry.

The Expo was an international science event, when the scientist from all around the globe met in one place to show their latest inventions and fight for the main prize, the title of Scientist of the Year. What was amazing about the Expo, it allowed both adults and teenagers like him, or Varian, compete alongside.

You never know where the genius is hiding, was the Expo’s motto. He and Varian met on the event few years ago, and became quick friends, despite being rivals in the contest.

Varian didn’t live in San Fransokyo. The boy was German and was extremely intelligent. He spoke several languages, English, French and Italian being only few of them, except for his native German. He was into chemistry the most, but also had a knack for engineering.

They often spoke online, comparing their latest inventions, sharing stories and giving advice to one another.

Player, on the other hand, was a mystery. Hiro never saw the guy, but from what he’d learned, he was only a year or two older than himself, and extremely intelligent too. He was a talented hacker who lived in Ontario, Canada, and preferred to stay at home.

He contacted Hiro on the day of the Expo (how he got his phone number, he had no clue) and told him about the upcoming heist happening at the Expo. Apparently, some group called V.I.L.E. was planning to steal some very dangerous chemicals during the event.

Player explained he’d normally didn’t bother uninvolved people, but the chemicals are supposed to be extremely dangerous in wrong hands, and his usual team was busy somewhere else.

A short talk with Honey Lemon confirmed Player’s info, so Hiro decided to help the boy, if only to stop the criminals from doing something really bad. So, imagine his surprise, when the stolen chemicals turned out to belong to Varian.

The German scientist absolutely refused to let Hiro go after the thieves alone, claiming his knowledge of what exactly the chemicals were and how to best contain them will only help him. Player agreed shortly after and Hiro gave the boy a spare communicator, so they can all communicate with no trouble.

Hiro’s scaled down from the building across the street, where he was positioned, and approached the abandoned warehouse the criminals went in. He pushed himself against the wall, stealing a glance through one of the windows.

There were only two people inside, a blonde woman in a tight suit and mask covering her face, and a man dressed like a mime. Quick conversation with Player revealed their names to be Tigress and Mime Bomb respectively.

The woman held out a hand with a suitcase. A quick glance told Hiro it contained the stolen chemicals, as he noticed the moon emblem on the front, which was the symbol Varian used to mark his property.

Hiro peeked out some more, and noticed the said boy crouching behind one of the crates in the warehouse, observing the two. Varian’s hands twitched and Hiro knew they didn’t have much time.

“Don’t do anything stupid, V.” He whispered into the communicator, which only earned him an annoyed huff. God, this was terrible idea to bring him along.

Varian was extremely possessive over his things. Sure, he let people see them, but if you try to even touch them without his consent...

“Va-Alchemist!” He called out more urgently, hoping to stop the boy from doing anything reckless.

Varian had literally no experience with criminals. Hiro met and fought with his fare share, but the German boy was a complete rookie. If he doesn’t do anything now it’s-

Just then it seemed like Varian’s patience finally reached his limit. He jumped from behind the crates with a battle cry, brandishing some colourful balls in each hand, strangely similar-looking to the ones used by Honey Lemon.

“Crap! Player, I’m going in!” Hiro called out and pushed away from the wall, running to the door.

He heard shouts and some explosions from the inside. He pulled the door open and hoped for the best, bursting inside. His eyes felt on the scene in front of him and stopped, dumbfounded.

“Zero, what’s going on there?” Player called out in his ear, but the boy was too shocked to reply. “Hiro!”

“You... just access my helmet camera and see for yourself.” Hiro sounded tired.

He heard fast typing and then a gasp of surprise, which told him Player finally had a visual. And what visual was that.

Mime Bomb was sprawled out on the floor, stuck in some pink goo, looking confused at the ordeal. Tigress was on the other side of the room, stuck to the wall with the same kind of substance, snarling and shouting in anger at someone crouching on the floor.

That someone was Varian, who frantically worked to open the suitcase, his hands trembling in fear. Finally, the lock clicked open and the boy let out a sigh of relief.

“Nothing is broken. Thank the Sun.” He breathed out and closed the suitcase. He picked it up and stood up, staring at the woman glued to the wall. “What were you thinking, throwing it like that?! Don’t you know if any of those broke it would be a disaster?! We could all die!”

“I wouldn’t have to throw it, if you didn’t attack us!” Tigress snarled back angrily and tried to pull herself free. “Who even are you?”

“I’m the one who made those chemicals, you dumbass!” Varian shouted back, not even noticing Hiro standing in the now-open door. “If you steal something, at least learn what to NOT DO with it!”

“Is Varian just... lecturing her?” Player asked. Hiro could almost see his wide-open eyes threatening to fall out of the eye sockets.

“Yup.” He confirmed, staring blankly at the scene.

“Is he normal?” The Canadian sounded shocked. Hiro shrugged.

“Is any of us?” He replied and earned a sigh and a snort in return. “Are the police coming?”

“Oh, yeah. I gave them an anonymous tip few minutes ago, They should be here soon.” Player finally seemed to shook himself awake. “Better leave before they arrive.”

“Sure. Hey, Alchemist!” He called out, sparing the trapped woman another tirade of insults.

Varian turned around and smiled.

“Hey, Zero. Got my stuff!” He raised the hand with the suitcase and waved with the other. “Easy-peasy.”

“Good, ‘cause the police is going to be here soon.” Hiro could already hear the sirens coming closer. “We gotta go.”

“Oh, right!” Without further stalling, Varian ran up to him and they left the two criminals still stuck by the peculiar goo.

They were already several blocks away, when Player finally deemed it safe enough to stop running.

“By the way.�� Hiro turned to panting Varian, who rose his head in question. “What’s with the goo?”

“Oh, that?” Varian grinned, showing his bunny teeth and pulled out a pink ball from his pocket. “It’s my own invention. Sticks to everything it touches. I actually came up with it as a more humane way to get rid of the pests back in Old Corona. But it works just as well at stopping idiots from doing more harm than they already did.”

“Nice.” Hiro nodded. “How long does it take to dissolve?”

“Few hours. That is, unless you have a dissolver at hand, which I have right here.” Varian fished out another ball, this time green and cackled. “Serves them right for stealing from me.”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Hiro laughed and shook his head at his friend. “Are we clear to go back to the Expo now, Player?”

“Sure thing. Thanks for the help, guys.” Player replied.

“Oh yeah! Go Team Genius!” Varian laughed and raised a fist in the air.

“We really have to talk about those codenames.” Hiro let out a tired sigh and Player laughed in his ear.

#tts #carmen sandiego #bh6 #tts/cs/bh6 crossover #varian #player #hiro hamada #team genius

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obaewankenope · 5 years

Note

i adore aziraphqle taking care of crowley so much, touch starved demon boy needs snuggles

Okay so, this has gotten away from me and it’s not really Snuggles so much as feels lmao but, yeah, enjoy!

“Honestly angel, there’s no- no need todo this,” Crowley says even as he willingly burrows in the blankets and pillowsthat are far too numerous to be anything other than miraculously conjured. “I’mfine.”

“You’re not fine, Crowley,” Aziraphaleadmonishes, insistent and unyielding as he continues to guide Crowley beneaththe blankets and against the pillows. “You almost had one of your wings rippedclean off, Crowley—that’s not fine.”

The angel gently reaches out with hisown wings—not in the physical plane—and brushes them against Crowley’s skin, silkenwhite primaries that create every colour in the cosmos prickling with Soft FeelingsCrowley doesn’t want to name. The sensation is welcome even if he won’t admitit to Aziraphale.

“Eh, I didn’t though,” Crowley pointsout and he’s mostly just arguing for the sake of it now. He is really, reallycomfortable. There’s heat emanating from Aziraphale’s hands on him and thereptilian part of his being wants to curl up in those hands and bask in thewarmth for eternity. The part of him that’s less reptilian enjoys the feel ofthe hands in general. “Still got me wings. They even wiggle still.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes at Crowley’sattempt at humour, focusing instead on undoing the buttons to Crowley’s shirt.The demon all but leaps out of the bed at that.

“Aziraphale!”

The angel blinks. “What?” he asks, “youdon’t want to constrict your wings if they come into being on this plane,” hesays, blinking at Crowley with some measure of impatience and concern.

“I- my- they’re not affected by myclothing!” Crowley manages to splutter, sounding more startled than aVictorian lady faced with a lewd comment for the first time.

“Not normally no,” Aziraphale agreesreasonably, like a reasonable person. “But you know that injuries to our wingscan cause them to—that is—‘act out’ so to speak.” He gives Crowley thatreasonable look of his that accompanies his reasonable tone. “You don’t want tobe sound asleep and have yourself almost choked or a shirt ruined because yourwings decide to ignore typical etiquette and get themselves tangled in yourshirt—do you?”

It really was very annoying thatAziraphale could make things sound so reasonable... it was meant to beCrowley’s job—making anything sound like a reasonable plan or idea, notAziraphale’s. Bloody angel was stealing his job.

“Fine,” Crowley says. “Fine,” he saysagain, “but—just let me take the damned thing off okay?”

“Of course dear.”

Oh, that was not helping. That wasseriously not helping.

Crowley struggles with the buttons ofhis shirt—having to undo them the human way since any sort of miracling ormagicking things away too close to where his wings come into being on the humanplane would be... probably a bad idea. Painfully bad. Because of that, it takesCrowley an embarrassingly long time to undo the buttons before he realises,rather belatedly, that he can’t just shrug the shirt off like he could donormally.

Bugger.

“Angel, I need help,” Crowley mutters.Aziraphale looks at him only a little smugly and it helps to soothe the stingof having to ask for help after insisting he didn’t need any.

“Of course my dear,” Aziraphale saysand Crowley blushes. He can feel it creeping into his cheeks, staining hisrather pale face with just enough pink to be noticeable and Crowley curses thathe can’t do anything to hide it.

Hell, he doesn’t even have his sunglasseson.

Aziraphale helps him remove his shirtwith little fanfare, Crowley doing most of the panicking and internallyscreeching at the angel Removing His Shirt for them both. The angel is, ifCrowley were forced to pick a word, steady. Steadily focused. Steadily calm.Steadily kind.

Crowley finds it nauseating.

Crowley wants more of it regardless.

“Thanks angel,” Crowley mutters, notstammering or blushing like he feels he ought to—he’s a demon, he won’t do thateven if he feels like every part of him is doing precisely that—and he settles back in the bed, letting Aziraphalemother hen him with the covers. “If you wanted to see me with my shirt offthough,” he adds, choosing to take some control over this, “you only had toask.”

Aziraphale—as Crowley expects—blushes.It makes Crowley’s lips quirk up into a smirk at the angel’s pink cheeks.

Of course, that’s when Aziraphale doessomething Crowley doesn’t expect.

The angel sits on the bed in a way thatenables him to easily reach out and touch Crowley’s cheek with his left hand,right perched on the angel’s own knee. Aziraphale’s face is still pink from blushingbut there’s fondness there in that expression—it’s the kind of fondness apartner has for their significant other (or others) when their love is secureand steady and needs no real expressions of it although they are appreciated.

“You really ought to be more carefulwith yourself, Crowley,” Aziraphale admonishes softly, fingers trailing alongCrowley’s jawline, tracing the shell of an ear before finding their way intoshort red strands. Crowley, against every ounce of his stubborn will, leansinto the touch.

“I’m always careful,” Crowley responds,not pulling away from those fingers gently massaging small circles into hisscalp. The sensation is—well—heavenly. “You’re the one who almost got his headlopped off in Paris over crepes.”

Aziraphale smiles. “True,” he agreesamicably. “But I’ve never picked a fight with a human-made demon and almost hada wing torn off because I didn’t want for backup to arrive.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a look. “Notthe same,” he says but Aziraphale’s gentle fingers rob him of any true vitriol.The angel robs him of a lot of things. “It was spitting hellfire left andright, angel. One ember and you’d have been in far worse shape than I am.”

“And with holy water I would have beenable to stop it from attacking you in the first place, dear,” Aziraphale replies.There’s a bit of a sharp rebuke in the angel’s words but it’s softened bywhatever Aziraphale’s actions are doing to both of them.

“I was afraid, Crowley,” the angeladmits, eyes locking with Crowley’s own and full of pain. Pain Crowley’s circumstanceshave caused. “I arrived and saw you wrestling with that thing and you werebleeding and bloodied and I was terrified that I wasn’t going to be quickenough with the counter spell to unmake that thing before it finished you off.I saw you with a wing hanging by a few feathers and a broken bone and I- it- Ifeared I’d lose you even if that beast didn’t kill you.”

“I’m tougher than any human demon,angel,” Crowley says.

“That’s not the point!” Aziraphale exclaims and he leans forward, face close toCrowley’s own, his upper body almost flush with Crowley’s own. The demon can feelthe heat emanating from the angel and he has the strongest urge to arch up intoit.

“You are incredibly strong and powerfuland I am so thankful for that because anyone else would have perished longbefore I even arrived,” he says and Crowley’s eyes widen at the compliments—Aziraphaledoesn’t tend to compliment his strength, rather his ‘acts of kindness’. “Butyou were injured and I couldn’t help you fight it because I didn’t know how to fight it with you right there anddistracting you could have gotten you killedso I had to watch and hope thecounter spell would work!”

Aziraphale tears his gaze away fromCrowley who instantly reaches out with a slightly trembling hand to touch theangel’s own face. His fingers aren’t as gentle, as divinely caring, but there’sa heat to his touch that speaks of more than just the hellfire he can summon oncommand.

“I’m sorry angel,” he says, givingAziraphale an apology with more heart and feeling in it than he’s ever givenanything—not even She has ever had such an apology from Crowley, this is forAziraphale and Aziraphale alone. “I didn’t want you to fight it, not when it couldhave killed you with one breath.”

Aziraphale lets out a shudderingbreath, eyes falling shut. The angel looks so very broken and Crowley aches ina way he hasn’t ached for anything that wasn’t his car, his plants, or thissingle angel. “I know,” Aziraphale whispers, “it makes it worse. You would havedied just to prevent any harm befalling me and I- I would have been left-”Aziraphale breaks off with a hitched breath.

“Alone.” Crowley stares at Aziraphalewith open pain. “I know how it feels, angel,” he says, voice breaking. Aziraphaleopens his eyes and looks at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but there wasno way I was going to let you face that thing and I’m sorry I can’t regretfighting it and keeping it away from you,” Crowley says and he’s making anadmission, confessing to the angel just how much he means to Crowley. In words heboth says and doesn’t. “I’d rather my wings torn off and my soul destroyed thansee you hurt- than lose you again.”

Aziraphale lets out a sad, aching laugh.“As would I,” he says.

“But,” Crowley continues and the angelgives him a vaguely hopeful look. “I’ve hurt you with what I did and that—well—wecan’t have that,” he says and Aziraphale gives him a small smile. “So how abouta deal—another Arrangement? We fight together no matter what, yeah?”

Crowley holds out the hand onAziraphale’s arm and the angel’s smile grows wider, eyes a little wet as hewithdraws his hand from Crowley’s hair to clasp the hand in a firm shake.

“Deal.”

“Great, now get in this bed with me andkeep me warm,” Crowley says and Aziraphale really does let out a laugh at that.

“Always so bossy, dear,” the angel sayseven as he stands and moves to the other side of the bed. He toes off his shoesand settles on the bed, allowing Crowley to nestle close to him. “You reallyought to get a heater.”

“I’ve got one,” Crowley retorts.Aziraphale gives him a look and Crowley smirks. “You.”

#Good Omens #GOmens #Crowley #Aziraphale #Ineffable husbands #fic #my writing #kat writes #GOmens fic #Anonymous #Kat answers #People talk to me!!!

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comicsnas · 4 years

Text

showtime

WARNING: eye gore!!, violence Disclaimer: this is..... an au where guy fieri isnt a cool and chill dude that just likes food. i am very sorry for what i do to him in this. i dont mean it and if the cops knock at my door i will blame it on hussie word count: about 3.7k. i am so sorry

context john gets kidnapped by his mom dave doesnt panic

Los Angeles, CA, Wednesday

“No matter what happens, nobody cancels the premiere,” you say. “Okay? No matter what’s in the news. No matter how bad it gets. The movie drops on Thursday, and people are gonna watch it. Got it? This is a scare tactic and we’re not falling for it. Even if the world is ending, we are premiering this movie and going through with the promo. With or without me.”

Catalena, your manager, has been with you for too long to think that you’re joking. She was who flew you in from Houston to LA back when you were twenty, who let you sleep on your couch until you made enough money to get an apartment, who thought that the message you had for the world was one worthy of her help. She knows that all of this is real, and that she can’t stop you.

Her face says, Dave, you’re scaring me. Her mouth says, “You got it. Could you at least tell me… what you think is going to be in the news that would make us not premiere it?”

“Something bad,” you say. “Hopefully, anyway.”

She tilts her head. “Are you faking your death?”

“Lalonde and I are gonna disappear for a sec,” you say. “How people interpret that is gonna be up to them.”

“Not like you to leave things up to chance,” Catalena says. “Some will think it’s elaborate PR.”

“That’s why I’m only telling you. Lalonde and I are gonna frame this to look serious, and no one else is gonna know what’s going on. You keep your cool, but don’t let anyone know that you’re in on it.”

“I mean, I barely am.” She gives you a Look, a capital L Look, then sighs and nods. “Fine. So if I hear about your presumed death tomorrow, I won’t freak out. At what point am I allowed to assume you are actually dead, and freak out a little bit?”

“If you don’t hear from me in a week,” you say, “then Lalonde and I have been killed by Betty Crocker.”

Houston, TX, twelve years ago

You’re blind.

That’s not true. You’re not blind. You don’t think you are going to be blind. There is no way that you’re fully blind, because the assassin only got your right eye, so it doesn’t make sense for you to be blind, but you’re blind.

The pain might originate from your right eye, but it’s engulfing your entire head by now, and there is something sticky in your left eye and you can’t open it anymore and it burns, and you’re going to go blind, and then you’re going to die in a ditch, in a pool of your own blood, and this is it. It’s over. You and your half sister fucked around on the internet a bunch, got really deep into some conspiracy theories, and barely two weeks after you made the discovery that Betty Crocker definitely, undoubtedly, literally is an actual alien, someone was sent to kill you.

They didn’t manage, so far. They got your eye, and they broke your glasses, leaving a cut on your nose, and a bunch of cuts everywhere else, and you think you cracked your head open when you fell. But you cut their knife hand off, good and clean off, watched it fall to the ground right in front of you. By the time it hit the pavement, the assassin had already turned around and ran away, leaving you to crumple and suffer here by yourself.

This is it.

“Strider?” Rose says. Before the blood trickling into your good eye ruined your vision, you managed to dial her number and call her up, and now you’re lying on your side with your phone pressed to your ear, imagining her in her college dorm room in New York. You were going to visit her there, years ago, after you ran away from your parents. It never worked out. Neither of you has the money. You really wish you could have seen her at least once.

“Yeah,” you croak. “You at home?”

“At the dorm, yes. What’s going on?”

“You gotta go. She sent someone after me, she’s gonna come for you too. If she knows that I know, she’ll know that you know.”

One of the most comfortable parts of friendship with Rose, you’ve found, is that she never asks you to clarify what the fuck you’re talking about. Either she just lets you ramble, or she knows exactly what you mean. “Shit,” she hisses, and you can hear rustling on her side of the line, hopefully from her getting ready. She probably has a getaway bag somewhere, you think. You have one, but not on you right now. It’s too late for that.

“They’ve already hit me, so whoever she sent to you can’t be far,” you say. You try to blink your eye open, but then it hurts the other more, and it burns. You can’t even tell where exactly. It just burns. “Hurry up, Lalonde.”

“They’ve hit you?” she echoes, still rustling, breathing into the phone. On the move. Good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say. “Gonna call an ambulance after this. Just get the fuck out and text me later, yeah?”

Rose pauses. You can hear her pause, you can hear everything go very silent for a second. She says, “You called me before you called for help?”

“Yeah,” you say. She told you, once, that there is a quick and easy way out the window of her second-storey dorm room, that lets her balance over to her girlfriend’s room only a few windows ahead. She can’t hide there, it’s too close, but it’s a start. She’ll figure it out, she always will. She was the first person to ever have your back. “Of course I did.”

On a plane, Thursday morning

“What’s on your mind?” Rose asks.

You’re leaned back, staring out the window, listening to the clicking of her knitting needles next to you. The pilot here doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, just that he is flying two rich people and their car to Washington, DC. Your Mustang is in the cargo part of the plane, a vital part of the plan. You’ll torch it later. It was the first car you bought with your own money, after SBaHJ had become big and you had finally paid off your hospital debt.

Rose’s apartment isn’t that old, she got it after Roxy was born and she decided to move to Los Angeles, so you could help each other babysit. Trashing it still felt wrong. A home is a home, but you wanted it to look broken into, to make sure that people put two and two together. This isn’t a Dave Strider marketing scheme, you both got hit. After all the work that you’ve done, at least some of the public should understand what that means.

“Us,” you say.

“That’s very sentimental,” she says. “Are you sure you aren’t mourning your car again?”

“Shut up,” you say, and blindly swat at her, hitting her elbow. She hits you back, hand slapping your shoulder. “It’s a good car.”

Rose hums. When you look at her, she’s already back to knitting. You have no idea what she’s making, but it looks like a onesie for an octopus. “We will be fine,” she says. “We have to.”

You nod, and go back to staring out the window, thinking about what Alma said. “It’s just,” you say quietly. “We gotta start thinking about the endgame, here, don’t we.”

“Start?” Rose echoes. “Dave, we know the endgame to this. We’ve known for a while. The second you landed in the hospital with a cut inside your eyeball, you and I both knew that this would end in death.”

You don’t say anything. She’s right, of course she is. You knew then, and she knew, as soon as you texted her from your hospital bed, and she texted you back from a Greyhound bus. And you tried to forget, you both did, for a very long time. You almost managed, for a whole decade, until last year, someone made you scared and angry enough to ram a sword through his throat. Until Rose came and disassembled the body on your rooftop, and then helped you burn it. Reality has caught up with you, and someone is going to die.

The clicking of her needles has stopped again. You turn your head to look at her, and she’s looking back at you, and her face seems younger than it should be. She is just as scared as you are. Neither of you ever wanted it to go this far. Neither of you wanted to kill.

“I don’t like it either,” Rose says. “But someone is going to wind up dead, and it sure as shit isn’t gonna be us.”

Washington, DC, now

)(IC: u comin or what TG: yeah about that

You’re on the hood of your car. The children -- and Sally, John’s pet hedgehog -- are with the one sitter you still trust. Rose is in position, which means she is at a remote location outside the city holding Guy Fieri hostage. She has sent you a picture of him tied to a chair and gagged, which means that it’s go time.

All according to plan.

TG: how about you come kill me somewhere else instead of home sweet home )(IC: why would i do that TG: dying mans last request? )(IC: stfu lol this is so obviously a trap TG: wow ok so is yours )(IC: fair TG: just thought that you know TG: john means something to both of us and dont try to tell me no because i know he does TG: so like can we maybe duke it out somewhere where i wont accidentally blow him to smithereens TG: innuendo intended )(IC: UG)( )(IC: gross TG: lmao TG: anyway bethany you know me and you know im comin with c4 in my backpack if im comin TG: do you really want that around your son or can you just get off your ass and meet me here so john stays safe )(IC: u reely think ya have a fighting chance to even get that far )(IC: buoy you set one foot in my house and ya get spearfished TG: yeah not really making a great point for me to come there rn TG: just thought maybe youd wanna be with your guy guy )(IC: who TG: you know TG: guy the guy )(IC: tf

You text her the picture that Rose sent, just Guy Fieri looking miserable, no indication of whether or not you or Rose are with him.

)(IC: )(-EY )(IC: motherglubber what do u think yoar doin TG: yoar??? TG: thats literally not a word. wym you oar?? what TG: anyway im gonna dismember this asshole if you dont agree to keep john safe and come here and im gonna start with the frosted tips )(IC: FIN--E )(IC: cant effin wait to be done with you )(IC: ill come krill ya if its so shrimportant just gimme the location TG: ok shrimportant is actually pretty funny TG: [coordinates] TG: see you soon

She drives a fuchsia Jaguar that looks like Xzibit threw up all over it, because of course she does. You watch it leave from your perch on your Mustang, then slide off the hood. shes gone, you text Rose. get ready to bounce

Before you leave, you turn back toward you car, and gently pat the roof. “See you soon,” you repeat, “for one last ride.”

Look, it’s a good car, alright.

Later on in the plan, once you’ve convinced John to come with you, and Rose has joined you in the no doubt brutal course out of the house littered with security guards, the three of you will pack into this car, and you will drive. You will be tailed, you know you will. Rose and you estimate two to three SUVs with more security personnel that will follow you, and sooner or later, you won’t stand a chance against them.

So, you’ll call the cops. You don’t usually do this -- even during all these years, neither you nor Crocker ever called the police on each other, and technically, you still won’t, today. You will just anonymously call authorities, and tell them about a burning car by the side of the road. Then you will hang up, and you and Rose and John will hop out of a moving vehicle as you crash your beloved Mustang and have it go up in flames. Authorities will come and find Dave Strider’s infamous car, and hopefully that’ll get people talking.

Crocker’s guys will hopefully exit their cars and go looking for you, or at least for John. It’s an easy con from there -- while they look, you will steal their SUVs and drive off toward your safehouses. Simple. No sweat.

“This better work,” you mutter to yourself, then leave your car behind and start climbing the fence around Crocker manor.

You’ve been here once before, while she was out and John was showing you around. You weren’t actively trying to case the place back then, just spending time with your boyfriend and checking out where he grew up, but you couldn’t help how curious you were. You still remember the most important spots, and you did your best to paint a proper picture of them to Rose (you drew a map in MS Paint), so now you have a pretty good idea of where you need to go.

The guard posts, of course, are randomized. You’ll have to take these as they come, and you feel prepared enough, with just your sword and a handful of knives. You’re wearing the kevlar you wore to the Oscars. You’re gonna be fine.

It’s a race against time now, knowing that there is no guarantee when Crocker will be catching on and returning to her house, and knowing that you stand no chance actually fighting her face to face. You climbed in toward the side of the house, because it’s the shortest distance between fence and wall. The front and back yards are ridiculously huge and opulent, and while you would have plenty of gaudy statues to hide behind, you’re not looking to make your way through there.

The first guard spots you right as you hop down off the fence, and your knife is in his shoulder before he even finishes drawing his gun on you. He’s also wearing a vest, but those don’t stop blades, and you take offense in knowing that she made them dress up like that. As if either you or Rose were going to show up with guns. She really doesn’t know you at all. You knock out the guard with a hit of the knife grip against his temple. Maybe you can get through this without deaths.

One of them you comfortably take out from behind a useless fountain placed in this part of the garden for some reason, appreciating how quiet and low-key you can be about it so far. The bigger the ruckus, the sooner she’ll return, so having them all go down in silence is your best case scenario.

It’s the third guard that ruins your track record. You’re almost at the house wall, and you know you’re under the right window, which means all you have to do is scale it and climb right into John’s room, but for that to work you need to have a clean path behind you. Which you don’t, you realize the second a bullet hits your back.

Your vest catches it, but the momentum still knocks you down, and you scrape both of your palms open on the weird break between lawn and pavement. You hate this fucking garden. Who lives like this? You’re gasping for breath and trying not to inhale any grass, dealing with the reality that this is the first time someone has shot at you and actually hit you, and the bullet might not have penetrated skin at all, but Jesus Fucking Christ it still feels awful. Like someone kicked you in the spine, only with a bullet instead of a foot.

Onward. You hear footsteps behind you, and now it’s your turn to kick, hitting them in the face with your boot in the same motion that you’re pushing yourself up from the ground. As they curse and stumble, you draw your sword, but they catch their footing quickly, and you know you only have a split second to act. That gun is pointing at you, again, or still, and they’re going for your head this time, and if you don’t fight now, the journey ends for you here. Someone is going to die, and it sure as shit can’t be you. Your arm darts forward.

The sword goes through their vest, their ribs, and their heart -- you wouldn’t call it smoothly, you really wouldn’t. You can feel resistance with every inch, you feel it right up to your shoulder, and you hate it, and it makes you want to throw up, but you can’t, now. You shove them off your blade and watch them crumple to the ground, and turn right back toward the wall. They are not getting up again. That’s on you, and you can deal with that later. You have to get moving.

Your phone vibrates.

You manage to pull yourself up on a balcony and crouch there, hiding from whatever is going on in the yard now. Other guards must have heard the shot being fired, so you really need to get the fuck out of sight, but this has to do, for now. If Crocker is messaging you, you have to respond, so she doesn’t think you’re in her goddamn garden.

)(IC: yo )(IC: send me proof yoar still with him )(IC: almost there this betta be worth it TG: one sec

As expected. All according to plan, so far. You hope the blood on your sword won’t make the sheath sticky. You’ll have to clean it, later. You don’t want to.

TG: shes asking for proof TG: go ahead. sorry TT: No worries. TT: I know we don’t endorse violence, but honestly, Dawon, after being in a room with him for this long, I am quite happy to do this.

She sends you a picture, and you grimace at your phone. It takes a lot to make you grimace, as a Strider born and raised -- at the same time, you’re not easily shocked or grossed out, but this isn’t great to look at. Fieri’s eye has been pulled from its socket, dangling down his cheek suspended from the nerve, a hole in the eyeball. You hope Crocker won’t be able to tell that this was done with a knitting needle, and forward the photo to her.

TG: hows this )(IC: )(--EY FUCK OFF )(IC: stop i reely like guy 38( TG: yeah well i really like john TG: eye for an eye TG: hurry it up im waiting and theres a second eye to gauge out )(IC: ten minutes )(IC: ur gonna be so sorry buoy

TG: 10 mins TT: On my way.

Okay. Crocker is on her way to a location where there will only be Guy Fieri and a set of elaborate boobytraps which you know won’t kill her, but hopefully slow her down. Rose is on her way here, to help you and John get out of here. That’s plenty of time you still have. Things are going suspiciously well, you think, before you remember the ache in your back and the fact that you killed someone.

You have to get to John.

He’s another two floors up, but you are right in front of a balcony door. For a second, you wonder if you could get into the house from here and do the rest from inside, so you don’t present yourself to the mob of people with guns in the garden. Unfortunately, before you can do that, another person with a gun appears on the other side of that door, mouths an angry what the fuck at you, and draws an assault rifle. Alright, well.

The thing that has mostly kept you from becoming too violent in the past is the fact that you’re fast, and you’re a great climber, so when you hop backward onto the banister of the balcony and pull yourself up to the next one above you, it happens so fast that nobody in the garden reacts. It’s after you’re already crouching behind the balcony, thankfully made of robust concrete, that the shots start hitting it. You do nothing, count the bullets, wait for them to get rid of half of their magazines down there. Then you pull a knife, peek over the balcony, and throw it right into someone’s bicep.

More shots. More ducking and counting. You have two more knives to throw, and you do, rinse and repeat. The people down there are very angry with you now, and very much still able to shoot, but you figure at least their aim will be off, and they’ll be slower. You hope. You haven’t held a gun yourself in fucking forever.

You take a breath, and jump up to grab the balcony you know belongs to John.

As soon as you’re in the open, another bullet hits your back, further toward your side this time, and you almost let go. You let out an undignified noise instead, and hold on harder, focusing all you have into your arms to pull yourself up. Shots are ringing in your ears, and one hits the concrete right next to your head at almost the same time that another one grazes your leg. You hiss in pain, grunt in exertion, pull, pull, and roll yourself onto John’s balcony.

Someone in the garden yells, “Motherfucker!”

You sit, curled up, and pull apart the tear in your pants with your aching fingers to check the wound. It’s not deep, certainly not as bad as the chunk of missing flesh you have in your arm from being shot at last year. It’s fine. You’ll forget about it in a second, when your newest problem will be telling your amnesiac boyfriend that he needs to come with you.

You pull yourself up into a crouch, not more. You don’t want to risk getting shot in the head as you finally face him, so you just do it like this. Hunkered down, disheveled and bloody, you lean forward and knock on John’s window.

#posted ooc #action post #woof #eye gore text -#graphic violence -#eye trauma -#the rest of this will happen in discord :')#mentioned:#fontjoke #comedianrhapsody #mindparkour #jakepalooka sort of

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