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thatsarcasticgemini · 3 years

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Alone time

Ash Lynx x reader

A/n: Banana fish broke me, but writing is my coping mechanism, so...This is an AU where Ash and the reader are married and live in Japan, Ash being a model. Also, Shorter is alive cause I said do ( i would die for him to live tbh). I am so sorry for any mistakes.

Babysitting is a very challenging task, especially when the kid is a carbon copy of the most intelligent, cheeky and bratty man Eiji had ever met. Isaac Callenreese was giving the man a headache and pills were not fixing it. Sure, he knew what he was getting into and knew how much Ash and Y/N needed a break from parenting, but why on earth did he agree? At least Shorter was there to help him right?

Wrong! Shorter was like a second kid. Yelling, running, coloring, making a mess and getting little Isaac even more agitated. Just how much energy did the 5 year old have?

“Shorter, please! You are 30! Your playing days are over. You’re gonna break something and I will yell. I almost had Isaac under control, but then you came along to ruin the peace we had. Isaac come here right now or I’ll call Ash!”

“Jeez, Eiji...you almost sound like a grandpa! I haven’t seen Isaac in about a year. I missed him a lot, you know? Little gremlin did a lot of growing up!” said Shorter, with the same goofy smile he had all those years ago. Isaac was seated on the his lap, looking up at his favourite uncle with a wide grin. Based off the resemblance between him and Ash, Eiji could already sense some sort of comment coming.

“Nuh-uh. I wanna stay right here. Call dad “dad” please. And I love uncle Shorter, he’s taller, funnier and smarter than you, uncle Ji. He was telling me how dad knows how to ride a motocycle! It doesn’t get better than this!”

“Yes it does. If you stay quiet for five more minutes, I can get the rice done and I can tell you how Ash and Y/N..”

“Mom and dad, uncle Ji!”

“How mom and dad met while we eat. Does that sound nice?”

“Dunno, let me ask uncle Shorter too.” The two began whispering to each other while Eiji rolled his eyes. Just one more hour and Ash would be here to pick his spawn up. After a minute, both Shorter and Isaac nodded their heads and went to sit down at the kitche table.

Once the table was set and the rice was done cooking, Eiji put it is bowls are brought it to the table. They all dug in, but Isaac seemed to be watching Eiji with great intrest, expecting the story he was promised.

“So Ash and Y/N...”

“Mom and dad. Continue uncle Ji.”

“Mom and dad met around 9 years ago. They met here, in Tokyo, and I am proud to announce that I am the one who got them to meet up, since Y/N went to the same highschool as me. We were both on the drama club in my third year. She was about 2 years younger than me, but she was so mature. Anyway, they started dating around three months after they met. The had a really pretty relationship. You dad was so hooked he embarrassed himself in front of her on multiple ocations. They got married two years later, lived together for two more years and then you came along. You were a very loved little boy. I wish I took a picture of the face your dad made when he held you for the first time.”

“Yeah! He teared up, but don’t tell him you know. You had this little puff of blond hair on your head, it was as fluffy as the little kitty we saw this morning, if not fluffier.” Isaac had look in his eyes that Eiji had only seen once before and that was when Ash told him about Dino and his childhood. The tiny blond seemed to be so vulnarable almost like a porcelain figure.

“What about mom? Was she happy to see me?” There it was. The love Isaac, much like his father, held for her. It was like they would both die if it wasn’t for her love.

“Well of course she was. She really loves you, you know? Your mom loved you even before she had the pleasure of holding you. You have been one of her favourite people ever since she found out you were in her belly. They both love you a lot.”

“Then why am I here? Why wouldn’t they take me with them? Why do they want alone time?” Eiji couldn’t find an answer. He looked at Shorter, who still had that dumb grin.

“Well, Isaac, mom and dad need to rest every once in a while. Since mom got pregnant with your brother or sister, she hasn’t really been able to rest properly, so dad wanted alone time with her to help her rest, but I am sure they will both be so very happy to see you.”

Just like magic, there was a knock at the door, Eiji went to open it, while Isaac trailed behind him, with his little backpack in hand. The door opened to reveal Ash and the boy jumped in his arms at the speed of light.

“Wow! Hi bub! I missed you so much. How was today hmm? Did you have fun with uncle Ji and uncle Shorter? Were they nice to you?”

“Mhm, they told me how you and mama met. I miss mama, is she in the car?”

“No bub, she’s at home. She missed you too. Told me we should race all of the cars and get home in under ten minutes. We have cake.” And with that, Isaac was set back on the ground and the little boy dashed to the car.

“Damn gremlin didn’t even say bye. Here i was thinking we have something special.”

“Hi Shorter! Hi Eiji! I can’t thank you enough for tonight. She really needed it.”

“It’s ok Ash. He is a little loud and Shorter here is never truly helpful, but it’s our pleasure. Are Y/N and the baby ok?”

“Hm, not really. I mean the baby seems to be fine, but she isn’t. Throws up everything she eats. The doctor said it is because her body is getting used to the pregnancy, but this didn’t happen when we had Isaac. I’m just worried for her.”

“She’s strong. She can take it I’m sure.” Shorter nodded, agreeing with Eiji’s statement.

“I know Eiji, I’m not worried about that. Truth is she seems happy to be pregnant. She’s beaming all the time, even after she got everything she ate out, and I feel bad. I feel like she’s in pain. Her smile makes me feel even worse.” Shorter laid a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, taking his sunglasses off.

“Ash...listen to me. Y/N is someone who’s never lied to you about anything. She’s been genuine about everything. She would never fake a smile and she would tell you if she wanted to abort the baby. The fact that she’s smiling and being her bubbly self only means that the pregnacy isn’t that hard on her. Trust me Ash. I see the look in her eyes when the baby is brought up in any conversation. She’ll be fine. You’ll be a bigger family. Loosen up a little.”

“Thank you Shorter. I owe both of you a drink. I’ll call you. Thank you for babysitting again.” And with that, all three of tehm smiled at each other while Ash picked the tiny shark backpack and went back to the car.

Once inside, the older blond turned towards the younger one, smiling.

“Ready to see mom, bub?”

“Mhm! Is she feeling better?”

“Yep.”

The car ride was one of the happy moments Ash wanted to hold onto. The sang together and talked about how Shorter told Isaac about the motorcycle.

“It’s true, you know? I do know how to ride one. When you’re older, I can teach you too.”

“I wanna ride one now. I’ve seen my friends with theirs, I want one too!”

“Those are lame. I’m talking about the real ones. That’s the true fun.”

Once at home, Ash dropped everything on the floor and went to help his son hung his coat on the wall. The little boy jumped out of his red sneakers and ran down the hall yelling for his mom.

“In the kitchen baby. I was cutting you a slice of cake.It’s vanilla, since I know you like the chocolate one’s less. Where’s daddy?”

“Right behind you.” said Ash, placing his hands on her hips and swaying her a little. She turned around to give him a kiss on the cheek, but her 5 month bump got in the way, making her pull a frustred face and Ash smile even more. Isaac pushed his dad to the side a little, making grabby hands at his mom. No matter how old he acted, his real age was always given away by his gestures around his mom.

Getting his slice of cake, Isaac turned back towards the living room. Eating on the couch was never truly forbidden.

“Mama, tomorrow is Yuri’s birthday. He celebrating it at home, I have the invitation in my drawing notebook. Can I go?”

“Sure you can. we just have to go buy a gift in the morning.”

“A birthday huh? That means a little more alone time for us two.” Y/N hid her face in her husband’s neck, smiling a little. Ash’s finger went to the back of her neck, getting her to look up at him to give her a kiss, but then...

“Gross! He likes cars mama, go brainstorm on that insted of smooching dad in the kitchen!”

#ash lynx x reader #ash lynx #shorter wong #eiji okumura #banana fish

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ediths · 3 years

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here’s to us

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Enemies To Lovers (with a twist)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You hate Harry more than you’ve ever hated anyone else, and he feels the same (or does he?). The people around you see the interactions that the two of you have and believe that you’re a match made in heaven, but you can’t see it, and you doubt he can either. When he’s the last option to help you with a project that you’re working on, things are either going to go very well, or they're going to crash and burn.

Warning(s): alcohol, cursing, kink talk, angst, sadness, innuendos, tension, a set of lovers trying to convince two people that they’re meant for one another, fluff

A/N: this was originally a piece written for a writing challenge but that’s been cancelled (i love u liv take your time i will still participate in any and every wc you ever do bb) so this is now just another piece haha!! Thank you to @tbslenthusiast and @harrysclementines for letting me know that this piece wasn’t as bad as i thought it was (literally forever ago like.... i wrote this a long time ago lmao)!!! Also thank you to @kiwismoon for letting me send you parts of the fic and scream about how much i hate myself for writing things like i did!!!

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Relaxing.

That’s what you were supposed to be doing tonight. You’ve been stressed out about the article that was due in less than a week and you were in need of a night out with your friends. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find the inspiration to write the piece. Plus, you had been completely swamped with your school work. Even though you were still in college, you had gotten a job as a writer and chosen to take online classes.

Sarah had suggested that you and her go out and have a few drinks. That had quickly developed into you, her, and Mitch. Then your ‘friend’ Michelle was added into the mix.

Now, you’re standing at the bar, waiting for your next shot of tequila and wondering how you let Sarah talk you into this. You hate bars. In all honesty, you only hate them because someone always seemed to mess up your nights when they were drunk. Luckily, that someone isn’t here tonight. You had made it abundantly clear to Sarah that if she were to invite anyone, it better not include him.

As the bartender hands you your shot, you down it and place the glass down on the bar. You wait for him to retrieve it before turning to walk back to the table that Sarah, Mitch, and Michelle are occupying. Right before you sit down next to Sarah, you catch a glimpse of a very particular head of curls. Your stomach drops at the sight, and you immediately feel the urge to exit the building. There’s no way that you could mistake that for anyone else but Harry. He’s the only person that has curls as seemingly perfect as that. Plus, he’s the only broad shouldered, muscular, tattooed man that you’d ever seen around here with hair that’s grown out to the point where it passes his shoulders.

Fighting the instinct to be as far away from him as possible, you sit down next to Sarah and do your best to ignore his presence.

That lasts all of three seconds. It’s as if something is pulling your focus towards him, and you can’t stand that, so you quickly tell Sarah that you’re going to head out. Grabbing your coat, you give her a story about suddenly having inspiration and not wanting to lose it before offering to take her almost empty cup back to the bar. She nods, wishing you a farewell.

As you’re making your way over to the bar, someone knocks into you and the small amount of liquid left in Sarah’s cup splashes onto your chest. You scoff, turning to tell whoever bumped into you to watch where they’re going. You’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes, and suddenly your words get caught in your throat. All you manage is a scoff and a quick “fuck you” before handing him the cup and walking out.

You stand outside of the bar, leaning up against the brick wall of the building as you order an Uber for the ride home. The stench of alcohol is radiating from your shirt, and you almost gag at the smell. Beer has never been your favorite, and you have absolutely no clue how Sarah can drink it.

You place the order and go to stand on the sidewalk to wait for the car to pull up.

“Fancy seeing you here.” The voice seems to carry through the entire street.

“What the fuck do you want, Harry?” you snap. The chuckle that he releases at your words makes your blood boil.

“Just wondering why you’re avoiding me, love.” You don’t have to turn to know that he has a smirk plastered on his face.

“Do you have a degradation kink or something?” Your words have their desired effect as he all but chokes on the air.

“Um, no. Why? You trying to turn me on, darling?” You roll your eyes.

“Absolutely not.” How can he be so fucking annoying all the time? “I’m just wondering why you continuously pester me after I tell you how much of a dick you are and that I absolutely cannot fucking stand you.”

“Because normally when you do that, you find some way to compliment me. And I think it’s funny how flustered you get when you realize what you said.” You hear him walk closer to you, but you keep your eyes locked straight ahead of you.

“So you have a praise kink.”

When he speaks, his breath hits your ear. Fuck, you didn’t know he had gotten that close. You have to fight the shiver that’s threatening to run down your spine. You can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s having any kind of effect on you. “Do you want to test it out?”

You scoff, stepping away from him. “You fucking wish, Harry.”

He hums. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You finally turn to him. After seeing him, though, you begin to regret your decision. Seeing him like this, in a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, hair forming his face in the most perfect way, isn’t doing you any good.

“I’m not going to be your temporary fix, Harry. Go find someone else to give you a good time.” He puts on an exaggerated pout. “I don’t even like you as a friend, so stop fucking around like that. It pisses me off.”

Before he can say anything else, your Uber arrives and you check the plates before getting in the backseat and shutting the door, effectively blocking him out.

What he would have said if your Uber hadn’t pulled up, though, is something that Harry decides you’ll never get to know. Because just when he was about to say, “I’d want you to be more than temporary,” you found a way to break his heart yet again.

The Uber driver has continuously given you looks since you got into the car. His nose scrunched up the moment that you closed the door, and honestly, you can’t blame him. You smell like cheap beer and probably look like an absolute mess. He’s most likely just checking to make sure that you don’t look like you’re about to throw up all over his backseat.

You roll your eyes, trying your best to ignore him. It’s not even your fault that you’re like this right now, it’s Harry’s.

Harry, who you absolutely despise with every bit of your being. He’s been an arrogant, selfish dick since the very day that you met. He only cares about things when they include them, constantly dropping comments about his success, and always finding a way to insert himself into any and every situation. You can’t seem to get away from him. He seems to be around no matter what you try (at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but now you’re convinced that he just does it to get on your nerves).

Harry, who’s so fucking annoying and unbearable but also so hot that he makes your mouth all but water. He can draw a reaction from you without even trying. Harry, who you’re so fucking attracted to despite hating him, and that fact makes you hate him even more.

It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be attracted to someone that makes your blood boil.

I’m just drunk, you repeat to yourself as you push the thought of Harry as far out of your mind as you possibly can.

You groan as you walk out of the kitchen.

“Y/N you know I’m right!” Sarah yells after you. “Stop trying to avoid it.”

Plopping down on Sarah’s black faux leather couch, you roll your eyes even though she can’t see it. “You’re delusional, Sarah!”

She doesn’t say anything until she comes into the living room and sits on the couch next to you. She has a bowl of chips in her hands. When you go to grab one, she pulls the bowl from your reach.

“Admit it, you and Harry would be absolutely great together.” You could scream. She’s so adamant about the idea, but there’s no way that she could be right.

“Dude, we hate each other. What do you mean? What do you expect from us in a relationship if we can’t even be in the same room together for more than a few minutes without arguing.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“I know, I know! But Y/N, come on. The two of you are so compatible.” You laugh at her words. How could she possibly think that when she sees the way the two of you interact.

“How so?” you ask, just to entertain her theory and let her get her thoughts out.

“Okay, hear me out. You both like music, right? He sings, you write songs. That’s literally perfect right there, even if you were just friends.” You nod, not saying anything. “You’re always talking about how you want to do hair and nails and stuff for your friends and I know that he’d let you paint his nails and play with his hair.” You had in fact been telling her these things, but you weren’t aware that she would choose to use them to try and set you up with Harry. “You’re both really funny and smart. You guys talk about a lot of the same things, too. It’s just never when you’re around each other.”

“Alright, yeah, that makes some sense.” She perks up slightly but you hold a finger up, motioning for her to wait a moment before getting her hopes up. “It makes sense, but you’re forgetting a few things. I couldn’t write songs for, or even with, Harry. He’d find something wrong with him just like he does now. He’d nitpick them until there was nothing that I could find about the song that he didn’t hate.” You sigh, thinking back to what she had just said. “We’d have to be too close to each other for me to mess around with his hair or nails and you know that every time we get within a few feet of each other, there’s some kind of fight that always gets started,” you trail off, giving her a chance to speak.

“Are you going to give me a reason why the last example of why you’re perfect for each other is incorrect?” She groans when you nod.

“Yeah, actually. We may like the same things and be funny and smart or whatever, but there’s no way that we’d be able to talk to each other.”

“Why?”

“His communication issues.” She throws her head back and obnoxiously groans.

“He doesn’t have communication issues.”

You burst out laughing. “He’s an Aquarius. Of course he does, right on top of those commitment issues.”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, Y/N. One of these days you’re going to understand that the two of you are quite literally a match made in Heaven.”

“Not likely,” you mumble before reaching for the remote and finding a movie to put on.

“Wait, what?” Mitch is looking at Harry like he’s grown a second head.

“You guys were right. Always have been, really, I just couldn’t say it before now.” Harry gulps, waiting for the ‘I told you so.’ It doesn’t come, though.

“Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry.” Harry shrugs it off.

“Not letting it get to me anymore. I’m tired of letting her break my heart.” He curses himself when tears begin to line his eyes.

“If I had known you really felt that way I would have backed off.” Harry nods at his words. “Sarah would’ve too.”

“It’s fine, Mitch, really. I just, I’m just tired, you know? It’s like there’s a magnetic force pulling me to her but every time I try to get close she shows me, yet again, that she can’t stand me.” He’s never been ashamed to show his feelings, and right now isn’t when he’s going to start. He lets his tears fall down his face as he leans back against the chair he’s sitting in.

“I really didn’t know, H. Normally I can tell when you like someone but it wasn’t like that this time.” Harry nods at him.

“You get pretty good at hiding your feelings when you’re hiding heartbreak after heartbreak.” He’s silent for a moment. “Should I cut off my hair?”

“If you want. But don’t do it just because you’re sad or you’ll regret it.” Harry closes his eyes as he debates the decision. A part of him wants to do it anyway, make the sadness go away for a moment as the exhilaration of a new haircut sinks in, but the rational part of him knows that Mitch is right.

As he sits there with tear stained cheeks, new droplets wetting his face every few seconds, he really wishes that he could hate you. He wishes that he could find anything to hate about you. But when he searches his brain for a reason to dislike you, he comes up empty. It’s frustrating, really. You seem to hate everything about him while he can’t hate a single thing when it comes to you.

He hears Mitch get up, presumably to go get something to eat, but he doesn’t open his eyes. There are a million memories with you flashing through his mind and it hurts him even more to know that every single one of them have been bad.

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Your voice is high pitched, some would even say a little whiny. “Sarah, you promised me that you’d sing the song for me.”

“I know, Y/N. But something urgent came up with Mitch’s family and I have to be there.” Even over the phone, you can hear how worried that she is, so you can’t really bring yourself to be upset with her.

“It’s fine, Sarah. Really, I understand.” You hear her sigh of relief and a small smile graces your face, glad that she now has one less thing to worry about. “I’ll just find someone else to do it.”

“Ask Harry.” She suggests.

“Why would I do that?” The way your mood changed was immediate and it’s almost sad, how fast he gets you worked up.

“Because, Y/N, this project is due in like two days and he’s available.” She says in her duh voice. “Plus, he can sing really well, so just ask him. The worst thing he can say is no.”

“That’s a lie. The worst thing he can say is yes.” Sarah laughs before wishing you good luck and hanging up.

You groan, thinking about what Sarah said. She’s right, honestly. There’s nobody else that you’re going to find on such short notice, especially not one that can sing as good as Harry can. Admitting to yourself that you need him (which is something you never thought you’d say), you pick up your phone and click on his contact.

“Y/N?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, a little raspier, too. Almost like he just got out of bed. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t have an effect on you, the way your name sounds coming out of his mouth when he sounds like that.

“I need your help.” You grimace at the words.

“Alright. What do you need.” Your mind races, trying to figure out why he didn’t have a sarcastic comment or a snarky remark to throw at you. You ignore it for now, though.

“I need you to sing a song that I wrote for a project.” He hums, and you can picture him pulling his bottom lip between his fingers and then running his hand through his curls.

“Okay, when do you need me?”

“Does tomorrow work? Around noon?” You hold your breath as you hope for the best.

“Yeah, I’ll be at your place then.”

You thank him and hang up, letting your phone fall from your hand down onto the couch. Harry Styles, the man that you swear you hate, is coming to your house tomorrow.

When he arrives the next day, you almost immediately hand him the song and let him read over it, not necessarily wanting to spend any more time with him than needed. When he says he has a few suggestions, you’re terrified that he’s going to tell you how awful he is, but he actually only has a few suggestions to help with the flow of things. Besides that, he promises that it’s a really good song.

You go to grab your camera and set it up while he strums on the guitar that he brought. Once you’re ready to begin filming, he sets the paper with the lyrics on it to the side and nods.

He begins singing after the camera has started recording and you get entranced by him almost immediately. His eyes close as soon as the first word leaves him mouth and with them shut you feel much more comfortable while looking at him. His hair is flowing all around him and you have the intense urge to tuck the strands behind his ears. There’s a small crease between his brows, that of which she wants to smooth out with a kiss to his forehead. He seems so concentrated, and something about it pulls at her heartstrings.

You shake your head. He’s your enemy, remember? you think to yourself as you divert your eyes to somewhere else in the room.

After you’ve looked away you find yourself wondering why. Why do you hate Harry so much, really? Yeah he can be arrogant and cocky and rude but who isn’t? Yeah he talks about his famous life and his awards and chart placements a lot, but you would do the same in his shoes.

Plus, he really is pretty funny now that you stop to really think about it. He’s all the things that Sarah had told you over the past few months, and you can’t believe that you didn’t realize until now. You don’t hate Harry, you’ve been convincing yourself that you do to hide the way that you really feel about him.

You’re broken from your thoughts when he clears his throat. Once you turn to him, there’s a smirk on his face. “Could feel you watching me, love.”

Your cheeks burn at the statement. Regardless of the truth in it, you’re still not very keen on admitting that you were ogling him only minutes prior.

“It’s alright, I find myself looking at you sometimes, too.” You don’t say anything to that, and the room falls quiet.

With that stupid smirk, that’s way too hot for it to natural and fair, he picks up his keys and his coat and walks to your front door. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You raise your hand in a pathetic half wave goodbye and try your best to smile. As he opens the door, cold air sweeps through the room and you can see the snowflakes falling outside. “Great, there’s a storm.” He groans, but still continues to walk out the door.

“Harry, wait!” He stops, turning to face you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um… leaving?” He gestures towards his car that’s most likely covered in snow by now.

“Not in this weather you’re not.” Your voice grows hard as you glare at him. You know that he’d most likely rather not be around you, but there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to allow him to risk his life by driving home.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t put up a fight, he just shuts the door and shrugs his coat back off. He hesitantly comes back over to take a seat on the couch. You stay silent, struggling to find the words to say.

“So, um, do you want to watch something?” He asks after a few minutes of nearly unbearable silence.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching Lucifer on Netflix, but if you don’t want to watch that, we can watch a movie or something.” You offer, looking over at him.

“Yeah, we can watch that.” You grab the remote from the table and walk over to sit next to him on the couch.

Pulling up Netflix and starting Lucifer, you let your eyes wander to Harry for a split second before noticing that he’s already looking at you. You immediately divert your gaze. Your cheeks begin to heat up, but you try your best to ignore it.

After watching almost an entire season of Lucifer, you’re just about ready to go to bed. You’ve gotten increasingly more comfortable beside Harry and you’ve even started to lean into him slightly. Not a single part of your body is touching yours, but you can tell that you’ve gotten closer.

You’re about to get up and brush your teeth when the lights go out. You groan, throwing your head back against the back of the couch. “Great, power’s out.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hums in response.

“Stay where you are. I know where the candles and the flashlight is, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to get around.” You stand up, feeling your way through the living room towards the kitchen. Opening the cabinet closest to the wall, you pull out the three candles and the flashlight. Fuck, you forgot that there are only two candles. That’s not enough for there to be one in the hallway on the table, in the bathroom, and in the living room for Harry. And fuck, your extra blankets are in the washer.

You shake your head, lighting the candles and walking to the bathroom to place one down, and then through to the hallway to do the same. Making your way back to the kitchen, you pick up the flashlight and switch it on.

Once you reach the living room again, you clear your throat. “Okay, bad news. There were only two candles, and they need to be in the hallway and the bathroom.” You cough awkwardly. “Also, my extra blankets are dirty and I don’t want you to lay out here in the dark and freeze to death so,” your voice gets quieter, “do you maybe wanna come lay with me?”

He chokes on his spit and then clears his throat. “Um, yeah, yeah, sure. If that’s okay with you, of course. Remember, I can always go home.” You shake your head as his words.

“Nonsense, come on.”

Once the two of you are in your room, you climb into your bed and wait for Harry to do the same. Neither of you say a word as you get comfortable as you try to get to sleep. Without the heater working and there only being one blanket, though, it’s a little hard to stay warm and comfortable. “Um, Harry, I- can I- you- can we maybe… fuck I don’t know.”

You feel him turn towards you. “Are you cold, love?”

“Yeah.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, letting you lay your head on his chest and wrap yourself up in his embrace. His arms come to wrap around you and one hand finds its way to your hair as the other rests on your hip.

As you bask in his warmth, you try your best to not let yourself think about the way that you feel so perfectly comfortable in his arms. About how he smells so divine and he’s so warm that you’d be content with never leaving his embrace. About how, without even realizing it, you’ve been letting yourself believe that you hate Harry when really you’re in love with him. However, you’ll never tell him that. Not a chance. If there’s one thing that you absolutely will not do, it’s let Harry Styles break your heart.

When you open your eyes the next morning, you’re still in Harry’s arms. He isn’t awake yet, so you let yourself appreciate the way that his hair is tickling your face and the way that his arms are holding you tightly to his body. You let yourself enjoy the way that he’s got ahold of you like he can’t bear to lose you.

You know that when he opens his eyes, everything is going to go back to normal. You’ll have to hate him again and he’ll pretend that none of this ever happened. That thought shouldn’t hurt you as much as it does.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by his voice. “Mornin’, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, all but entranced in the way that his voice is so much raspier when he first wakes up. “Sorry for being all over you, it was cold last night.”

You go to move away from him, but he keeps you hugged to him. “Don’t apologize, like having you here, dove.” The words confuse you, but you don’t question them. Instead, you let yourself relax back into him.

Everything is silent for a few minutes, but the air is comfortable this time. “Do you wanna go get some coffee if the roads aren’t bad?” Harry whispers.

“Yeah, sure.”

The two of you climb out of bed and get ready for the day. You let him use an extra toothbrush and once you brush through your hair, you hand the tool to him. He gives a small “thanks” and gets to work on taming his hair as you walk out of the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he’s walking towards the living room with his keys and then he’s leading you out the door to his car.

The ride to the coffee shop is silent besides the hum of the radio, neither of you really knowing what to say.

Once the two of you slide into a booth at the little diner that he drove you to, you order a coffee and something as he does the same.

“So, tell me about yourself, Y/N. I don’t really know much about you.”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out what to tell him.

“I write. My job is to write articles for this company. But I’m still in school technically, so I’m taking online classes to finish getting my degree. I like songwriting. Um, I think that’s about it.” Your cheeks heat up as you tell him about yourself, although none of the things that you’re listing are embarrassing.

“Why haven’t you ever talked about your songwriting before?” He ponders, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand.

“Um, you hate me. Or.. hated me? I don’t know. I don’t want you to tear it apart just because you’re some hotshot writer. Or because you hate me.”

He pulls back, looking down. “Never hated you.”

“What?” You had to have heard that wrong.

“Ever stop to think why I was only rude when you got rude first?”

Your jaw drops as you think it over. “No, um, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, well. I never hated you.”

“So, you’re telling me that I hated you and you just… never hated me?” He grimaces.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He offers you a soft smile. “It’s fine.”

Throughout the next few hours, you sit there with Harry and talk about any and everything that comes to your mind. He pays for the bill, although you insist on letting you help. As you’re walking out to his car and he’s about to drive you home, he stops. “Um, hey would you maybe want to hang out some more?”

The question takes you by surprise, but you agree nonetheless. “Yeah, I actually would really like that.”

He nods, climbing into the car as you smile to yourself.

It’s been six months since you made Harry stay over at your house because of that pesky snowstorm, and you’ve never been more thankful for the weather.

You’ve spent the majority of your time together, going out to eat when possible and staying over at your house most nights. His is too big, as you’ve always said, so for the simple sleepovers, you insisted that he came over to yours. You’ve grown closer and closer to him, and now you can confidently say that he’s your best friend.

Along with the growing friendship, your feelings have gotten deeper. There’s not a single part of you can deny that you’re absolutely, head over heels in love with Harry. And you don’t want to anymore. You still don’t want to tell him, but you’re no longer lying to yourself in the slightest.

Today is the only day thus far that you’ve even slightly regretted how close that you’ve become with Harry. And that’s because you’re currently standing at the airport, head buried into his chest as you try to find a way to say goodbye for the next six months.

“Don’t want you to go.” You whine as you hold him as close as you possibly can.

He murmurs a “fuck it” before pulling away from you.

“Come with me.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “I know, it sounds crazy. Absolutely ridiculous. But listen, we’ll go home, back to your place and we’ll pack your bags and then we’ll go. I’ll reschedule my flight. I- I can’t do this without you, Y/N.” He reaches up and runs a hand through his curls (which you’d begged him to let you braid, but he said it was easier to have it down for flights). “Listen, you’re my rock. I- I feel like I can breathe when you’re around me. Fuck, Y/N, I’m in love with you.”

You freeze, completely shocked by the words that fell from his mouth.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. That was stupid. Forget I ever said anything.” He’s rambling because he thinks there’s no way that you can feel the same but you do.

“I’m in love with you, H. Have been for a long time.” Before he can respond, you surge forward and grab his face in your hands. Bringing his face closer, you slot your lips with his and allow the kiss to envelop you. After a few moments, you pull back. “Let’s go home and get my bags packed.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #okay yeehaw tell me what you think #here's to us

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battybatzgirl · 3 years

Text

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary:

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?

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echo-of-sounds · 4 years

Text

pursuing a relationship

How Aizawa and Gang Orca would pursue and begin a relationship with someone. I wanted to add Fatgum but this got longer than I intended. I’ll try to post the other part tomorrow with him and either Hizashi or Toshi.

Aizawa Shouta

He argues with himself. A lot. Any relationships, especially long term romantic ones, are not things he’s prioritized in life. He’s never been opposed to them. He’s just put his time and energy into building a career. So if he ever finds himself drawing closer to a person, he’ll shove romantic thoughts away on instinct. He doesn’t like how they invade his mind- he has more important things to worry about. It's when they get too strong and he can’t ignore them anymore that he fights with himself.

The thoughts make him act and think differently. He doesn’t want to wonder what you’re doing after work or if you like a certain cafe. And he certainly doesn’t want to keep thinking about how cute you looked in those pants. It infuriates him. He likes to be in control of his thoughts and focus on his job. But every time he sees you down the hallway, he seriously can’t help thinking how fucking good you look in those damn pants.

Quieter, easy-going people usually catch his eye more. That’s not saying he’s not attracted to other characters. It just he’s spends so much time around big personalities, shouting, screaming teenagers, and ridiculously loud explosions, that he needs (nearly craves) quiet time with quiet people. On the other hand, physical appearances mean nothing to him. Just look at him.

He wants to be gruff when he interacts with you. If his sentences are even shorter than usual and he leaves as soon as he’s done, then maybe the feelings will go away. That’s what he wants to do. But he’ll end up talking to you more, asking questions about your job or hobbies. He’ll walk you to where you need to go even if it’s only down the street. Doors will be held open and if you need help with anything, he’s right there to do it. They’re seemingly small acts but coming from him, it means a lot.

It’ll take him a while to come to a conclusion if you’re worth pursuing as a romantic partner and what exactly he wants to do about it. At the end of the day, he is a straightforward man so once his mind is made, he’ll approach you. When he asks you out it’ll be so casual you might miss it.

Don’t expect him to get fancied up for the first (or really any) date. Since he’s not a fan of crowded restaurants and dislikes them more when he’s with his partner, it’ll be somewhere small and simple. He’ll most likely pick a nice little cafe where he can relax while you two talk. He doesn’t act too differently or try too hard so the whole thing will feel comfortable and natural. When you’re done, he’ll pay and walk you home, grabbing a dessert on the way.

As is everything else, your first kiss will be laid-back. He’ll wait until no one's around to gently hold your chin and kiss you. It’s short and sweet. You can feel his lips curl into a rare smile as he pulls away.

He doesn’t like PDA and will ask you to respect that. He’s just not into hand-holding and hugging in public. However, he will make exceptions in certain situations. If he feels your anxiety rising at a restaurant, he’ll squeeze your thigh under the table. If you get overwhelmed in a crowd, he’ll either grab your arm or let you hold his hand to steady yourself. And don't worry because once you’re alone, it’s incredibly clear how much he loves cuddling. Laying between your legs with his head resting on your chest is his favorite position.

Gang Orca

He's not necessarily slow when it comes to starting a relationship, more so hesitant. People often look at those with mutant quirks differently. It doesn’t mean they’re judging, but he does feel their eyes on him constantly. That’s a big cause of his uncertainty. Most of the attention he got when he was younger was people staring or praising his strength and quirk. Because of that, relationships never really occurred to him, especially growing up. Now that he’s older and has settled into himself, he’s thinking about relationships often (but secretly). He also finds himself longing for a family.

Appearances don’t mean much to him. However, he is drawn to shorter people. Feeling how small you are against him makes him much more protective. Personality wise, he enjoys being around those who can challenge him mentally and help him grow. Now, he’s not looking for someone who can explain quantum statistical mechanics or Nietzsche’s entire library, but someone who has a thirst for knowledge and is willing to learn about and explore the things around them. Engaging in deep conversations lets him see more of you and what you’re fighting for in life.

Whenever someone catches his attention, he builds a friendship first. He wants to get to know you before he decides if a relationship could work. He tries to judge how much you’re interested in him. If he feels like you strictly see him as a friend, he won’t pursue you beyond that. If he feels like you’re responsive to his feelings, he’ll gradually spend more and more time with you and begin to do things for you. He’ll bring you coffee in the morning exactly how you like it, share his meal if you’re still hungry, and offer rides home so you don’t need to take the train.

As the relationship grows and you want more, you’ll have to be the one to officially ask him on a date. He desperately wants to ask and even has a plan in mind but his thoughts swirl, psyching himself out. And regardless of how close you are, he does fall back into thinking you don’t like him like that. So when you do ask, ask clearly because he’ll think you’re inviting him out as a friend.

The first date could be a little bumpy if you go to a restaurant or any popular place. In softer situations like a date, his overthinking revs up as people stare. Discomfort would ooze out of his giant body. A quiet place would be better while the best choice is a stay-in date. Even if you asked, he’ll insist on hosting. Expect a delicious meal, candles and flowers arranged beautifully on the table, and soothing music. When he opens up like this, inviting you into his home, know that everything he says is 100% genuine.

Give him some time to settle into the relationship. The romance aspect is incredibly new and somewhat alien to him. He tries his best to adjust. One way you can help is to question him about any anxieties he has then talk them out. Not only will it relieve some stress for both of you, but it’ll also encourage him to open up in a different way. He’s used to being a leader and people looking to him for guidance. With your support, he’ll begin to talk about his insecurities and doubts.

Holding hands, hugging, and kissing is a slow road. He’s huge, incredibly strong, not used to intimacy, and slightly afraid of hurting you. That’s a lot for anyone to push through. Grab his hand when you’re on the couch. Give him a hug when he walks through your door. Casual touching increases his confidence. And before you know it, he’ll lay you on his chest for a nap.

Your first kiss will be… different. His mouth isn’t like yours so he doesn’t even bother mentioning it. Just like asking him out, you’ll have to do the initiating. Approach him when he’s relaxed to ask for one. He’ll let you sit on his lap as you kiss down his forehead. Place one on his mouth and you’ll feel his tongue briefly touch your lips. Thinking it was too much, he’ll apologize. If you want more, ask. He’ll oblige. His tongue is large and wet and so, so great.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #gang orca #gang orca x reader #aizawa headcanons #gang orca headcanons #kugo sakamata #kugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha headcanons

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Note

Since it's spoopy season, is sr reader a fan of horror movies? Who would use the excuse of horror moveis to cuddle with reader? What does a horror movie viewing look like with the bucci gang?

a/n: i’ve never felt a request appeal to all of my main interests so Strongly . this hits everything in the world that i love. anon your mind is HUGE

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Bruno Bucciarati;

Bruno will go for the full experience if he’s going to watch a movie with you. There will be a charcuterie board, fine wine, candlelight to set the mood, maybe even some essential oil diffusers. When you tell him you were planning to watch a horror movie, he just kind of blinks and goes Oh. He heard “movie” and automatically thought it’d be some sort of romantic endeavor. Not that he’s disappointed, just thrown off.

You might not expect it, but he’s the teasing type. It’s all good-natured of course. He’ll comment on how frightened you look from the movie, and ask if it’s too much for you to handle. Just when you think he’s asking out of concern for you, you catch a smug little smile, that gives him away. He’ll chuckle at any exasperated responses you give.

He’s going to be focusing on playful banter rather than the movie. As soon as you get drawn into the scene, he’ll blow air on your ear, startling you. Or use Sticky Fingers to tap on your shoulder from behind. Bruno acts like he’s none the wiser the entire time lmao. He’s in rare form when it’s just the two of you around, a lot more mischievous.

Giorno Giovanna;

Giorno feels pretty neutral about movies. He doesn’t usually seek them out on his own, but if you insisted on wanting to watch one, he’d relent when he has the time. You should feel special. He’s more into period pieces, as evidenced by Les Misérables being his favorite story, so a horror movie with that type of setting would catch his interest more than a modern setting.

He has a strong distaste for horror that relies solely on shock value and jump scares. It’s not that he can’t stomach it, he just prefers a movie that respects the audience. You’ll hear him sharply exhale after a jump scare, with a mildly displeased expression. Giorno won’t comment on his dislike for it if he feels you’re enjoying the movie a lot. Might try to gently steer you away from jump scare reliant horror movies in the future, but does so with so much tact and charm you probably won’t even notice.

He considers it to be an excellent learning experience. Giorno picks up on the parts of the movie that make you cry, shudder, or frustrated. It all gets stored away in his mental catalogue on you. If you say it’s one of your favorite movies, he’ll even do research on it to impress you later on. Giorno would find it a bit unexpected if you said horror is one of your favorite genres, but he’s going to use this new information to his advantage.

Guido Mista;

Mista loves to watch movies! He’s likely the biggest movie fan out of Bucciarati’s team. Horror isn’t his go to, but he’s easygoing, and down for anything if you’re involved. Expect negotiations though, for every movie you pick, he’s going to make you watch one of his favorites.

He’s the type of guy who does the pretending to yawn so he can put an arm around your shoulder act. You could be sitting on opposite ends of the couch at the start, and by the end of the movie, you’ll be cuddling up against one another. It’s what Mista is looking forward to the most.

Do not even bother making popcorn if you intend on having any yourself. It’s not going to happen. Pistols will be swarming, stealing as much as they can. Number Five holds onto a piece of popcorn, saying that he saved it just for you, sniffling over not being able to save you more. Mista can’t even bring himself to chastise them since he knew it’d turn out like this lmao.

Narancia Ghirga;

Narancia doesn’t have the best attention span. Not for a lack of trying on his part, just sitting down and watching a screen for over an hour isn’t easy for him. He’s going to try his best for your sake, but expect him to be fidgeting during the slower moments.

It doesn’t help that sitting in close proximity to you is so exciting! Narancia’s head is spinning. He can smell your perfume, feel your skin against his, and your hair when it brushes against him. All of his effort goes into maintaining his cool. If you were to get scared and cling onto his arm, his brain might just shut down. He couldn’t handle it.

You might have to gently shush him at times, as he tends to point things out. If there’s a ghost in the background, he’ll be pointing at it, looking at you and asking if you saw it too. In a way it’s actually pretty cute. It’s up to you whether or not this is interruptive, but at least he’s engaging with it in his own way.

Pannacotta Fugo;

Watching movies with Fugo can feel borderline frustrating. He’s going to be making comments to you throughout, thoroughly critiquing the movie and the character’s actions. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. Fugo feels comfortable with you to express his thoughts, and it just comes flowing out before he can stop himself. Even movies he picks out aren’t safe from this.

He would be a tad oblivious if you were trying to take the time to cuddle up to him. Every time you get close, he’ll lean forward, telling you an inaccuracy he spotted. It’s difficult to get upset with him, he looks so excited to show his knowledge off to you. Not many people will always hear Fugo out so he appreciates that you listen to him.

Fugo gets strangely quiet if there’s ever a mindless looking monster on screen, especially if there are close up shots of it drooling. It hits a little too close to home. This is amplified by how the characters in the movie would be frightened by it, running away. You don’t have to think about it too much to know it reminds him of Purple Haze. When you encourage him that maybe the monster isn’t even that bad, and is just doing what it needs to do, he’ll feel a tad better. Will still be in deep thought for a while.

Leone Abbacchio;

Nothing can scare this man. You have tried, and he doesn’t even blink at the most screwed up movies in all of existence. It’s become something of a game at this point. To see if you can finally earn a reaction out of him. You’ll walk up to Abbacchio, excited, telling him you finally have found the movie that’ll scare him.

He’ll occasionally complain about how insistent you’re being. Don’t worry though, he doesn’t mean it at all. Abbacchio actually lives for your horror movie nights and doesn’t want to admit it. Seeing how you get frightened and subsequently cling to him thaws his icy heart.

May or may not consider using Moody Blues to scare you at a later time. Abbacchio would let his Stand to transform into the monster from the movie, all for the sake of seeing your reaction. There was a time you summoned your own Stand to fend the supposed monster off, so he learned the hard way not to mess with you like that. The bruise from being punched on the face is still recovering...

Trish Una;

Trish can appreciate a good film. She’ll never admit it, but she has a preference for very sappy drama romance movies. Horror isn’t a genre she’d actively watch on her own. Excessive gore makes her feel sick, so you’ll need to pick a more tasteful film for her to agree to watch it, which can be a challenge.

She surprises herself by getting into the artsier movies. Films that use lots of color and new techniques draw her in. Trish might later ask you how they pulled off a particular special effect, or ask for your opinion on why a scene was the way it was. Creative elements are Trish’s fixation.

Trish is 100% going to want to do some sort of matching couples Halloween costume. You can do one another's makeup, but she’s adamant on handling the costumes. She’ll often use the movies you’ve watched as inspiration! Honestly just wants to take pictures of the two of you together, not intending to go out all dressed up. It’s going in her memory book <33

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

Text

Title: coward :: old friends Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: Your kids openly hate Miya Atsumu and the appearance of an old friend stirs up mischief and unwanted memories of the past. [ft. aomine daiki from knb] notes:

i probably cant stress this enough but thank you so much for all the love T-T it means a lot <3 like 118 followers in a span of two weeks? That’s just shhddhbdbx anyways i hope enjoy another buttload of angst! remember to always stay safe and wash ur hands!!

i find it funny when people point out atsumu to be a player or a fuckboy because this guy looks like a one-woman (or no woman lets be honest) type of person, his whole personality revolves around volleyball i guess and being straightforward to everyone with an idgaf attitude ksksks

previous next masterlist

“You haven’t even wiped your sweaty backs and you both think you’re good to go?” you narrowed your eyes at the two boys who sheepishly gave you a smile as you lightly scolded them for not taking care of their health, the boys had decided to join a mini sports club after class where you could play for an hour any sport you’d like in the gym. They had promised it wouldn’t affect their studies.

Bending down to their level, you signal them to turn around. The pair furrows their brows, not wanting to be coddled by you in public, when you noticed that they were about to complain, you cocked a brow at their actions and tighten your lips. Begrudgingly they slowly turned around, not wanting a lecture from you.

You first wiped Yuuto’s back and handed him a t-shirt he could change on. As you were wiping Youta’s back with another towel, he suddenly spoke out, “Kaasan, that Atsumu-guy’s looking at you again.” he frowns.

Yes, apparently Miya Atsumu had the time to lounge around at a kids sports club and accompany his friend Hinata who would occasionally be there to help around because he was bored and they were ordered to rest (judging from your past conversations with Hinata these days, you noticed that the young man did not know the meaning of what resting was).

You thought that the little scene at your workplace would be the last time you saw him but these past days, you saw him a lot. It seemed to be getting too frequent to the point where you wondered if it could even be called a coincidence at all, “Do you want me to spike at him, kaasan?” the oldest twin asks as he turns to you, a small pout on his lips.

“Now, now, do you remember the story I told you about the bully last night?”

“Don’t throw stuff at people?” He blinks innocently.

You let out a soft and gentle laugh, the one only reserved for your boys, “Yes, Yo-chan. Don’t throw stuff at people.” you leaned in to give him a peck on his nose in which he immediately moved away and wrinkled his forehead in disgust.

“Stop doing that, kaasan. I’m a big kid already!”

“Hai, hai.” You patted his head and stood up while handed him his t-shirt, “Hurry along and change now, you big baby.”

Atsumu watches the bizarre interaction from afar, he’s never seen you this soft in public. Even when you were dating back then, the most public display of affection you two would have when you were dating was just you playing with his fingers and drawing small circles on his thighs unknowingly under the table (save for that one time where you wiped blood off his nose in public but then again you guys weren’t dating that time so that didn’t count) yet seeing you laughing, wiping the sweat out of the little boys back, and even giving a small peck on his nose was a very different sight to behold.

Daresay, it suited you.

“You’ve been staring at her for quite some time, Miya-san.” Sugawara comments as he puts the last grade-school volleyball on the cart. Atsumu jumps on the spot and rubs the back of his head nervously making Sugawara laugh in reply, “Funny, isn’t it? Whenever I talk to L/N-san, she’s always like ‘okay.’, ‘that’s nice.’, ‘good.’ yet when she’s with the kids, she’s the softest person ever.”

“Yeah…” The blonde mutters, “definitely funny.”

“Heard from Hinata that you and L/N-san used to be together back in college.”

That damn orange haired snake-

“Yeah, two years.” Atsumu clears his throat, “We, we fell out of love though.”

‘You fell out of love.’ he corrects in his head.

“Oho,Fates a fickle huh? Anyways, Me and Hinata are actually planning on inviting Y/N and the boys for dinner, do you want to come with us?”

“I have a girlfriend.” he replies in defense.

Sugawara looks at him, completely baffled by his reply then immediately bursts out into laughter, “I doubt Y/N would care, really…” He paused, “No offense.”

“None taken.” the blonde deadpanned.

You don’t know why you ended up at a chinese restaurant that night with one kid animatedly chatting Hinata Shoyou’s ear off while the other was openly glaring at Miya Atsumu, “Youta please swallow your food before talking.” you frowned, taking a napkin to wipe the rice off the mouth of the younger twin.

The blonde kept glancing at you but whenever he did, he’d receive a very harsh glare from Yuuto, “Hey watch where you’re looking at, jiji.” Yuuto suddenly spat out loud, catching him in the act this time as he stabs his chicken with a fork.

Sugawara sweat drops at the interaction unfolding in front of him while you try to tell your oldest son to be more kind to the man sitting in front of him, “Yeah. Listen to your mom, brat.” Atsumu frowns, in which the child retaliates with a tongue out.

“Yuuto, eat your food and stop disturbing Miya-san.”

Yet their stare-off seemed to continue as soon as you turned away from the pair and Sugawara had to intervene before Yuuto would pounce at the professional volleyball player across the table, “You should be nicer to him, Yuuto-kun. You want to be a setter right? He’s a better setter than I am.” Sugawara tries to ease off the tension between the two.

“He’s not,” Yuuto frowns, “I don’t even know why Kaasan says you’re the best setter in the whole wide world, Adler’s Kageyama Tobio’s obviously better!”

You feel yourself freeze up at Yuuto’s innocent babble, Atsumu seems to be taken aback by it too but he immediately regains himself, “Your mom’s got taste that’s all.” He leered at the six year old boy, not daring to back down from the brat’s challenge. Sugawara pales when the tension rises even higher and tries to get Hinata to ease it up but the orange-haired is too engaged into the conversation with the other twin.

“Baby, just eat your veggies and stop disturbing Miya-san.” You snap back to your senses as you evenly try to get him to calm down once again but he refuses, another trait he got from his father.

“Hey troll, the jiji won’t stop staring at kaasan!” he calls for his twin, trying to get him to back him up, “I told ya he was a crackhead!”

Your eyes widen at your son’s attitude and his uncouth table manners, “L/N Yuuto, that’s it!” You suddenly raise your voice, Yuuto’s scowl deepens as he crosses his arms. Everyone in the table turns silent by your outburst.

Anger, Miya Atsumu realizes how many different emotions you manage to muster out today. It was a lot more than what he had experienced with you, he’d usually take these emotions by crumbs back then since it was rare but it seemed that these boys had it easy with you. You were so open to them, so vulnerable.

“We’re going home right this instant after you apologize to Miya-san.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Yuuto…”

“Y/N, it’s alright-” Atsumu tries to ease up the kid's burden, suddenly feeling bad since it was his fault in the first place and the kid was probably just trying to protect you.

“I said I don’t wanna!” The oldest twin immediately stands up and runs away, you grab your youngest son by the hand who was sadly saying goodbye to his idol as you placed the payment for your meal on the table.

“He’s not usually like this.” You bowed your head, “Sorry Miya-san, I really am.”

He watches you dash away to the direction where your younger son ran off to, Youta trailing behind you as he waved goodbye to his two favorite men and a tongue out to Miya Atsumu, signaling that he too, like his brother, hated him.

“Way to go, atsumu-san” Hinata grimaced, openly judging him for picking a fight with a kid as he munched on his sweet and sour pork.

Later that same evening, you stood outside your sons room, regretting how you handled the situation. Of course, Yuuto was wrong to say that but you should’ve been more mindful with your tone and words. You were their mother and an adult for crying out loud!

“Yuuto?” You knock on the twins shared room, “Baby? Would you mind opening the door for a sec?”

“Kaasan, Yuuto says he don’t wanna!” Youta replies in his older brother's stead.

“Okay,” You calmly reply, expecting that, “Then can you tell Yu-chan that there's a glass of milk on the counter? I know he wants to drink some after that heavy dinner.”

“He says big boys don’t need milk, kaasan…” Youta paused, “But he says he’ll drink it later since we shouldn’t throw food.”

“Okay, goodnight boys.”

You slowly head to the couch and lay there, basking in the silence of your apartment and waiting for your son to come out of his room to be ready to talk. As you hear the door creak open, you see Yuuto slowly waddle his way towards the table where his milk was on, “Yu-chan? Can we talk?” you ask, your voice is soft as you slowly made your way to the oldest twin, bending down to his level so you could see him eye to eye, “Oh, baby...Kaasan is so, so, sorry…” You apologized, taking his small hands and resting your head on top of it.

“I don’t like yelling.”

“I know.”

“I had to protect ‘kaasan,” he frowns, his nose wrinkling, “He was looking at you badly.”

“Kaasan deserved it.”

“No one deserves to look at you badly, kaasan!” he exclaims, “You’re the bestest, kindest person in the whole wide world!”

You wondered if they’d still say that when they’d find out you were lying to them about how their father was just right in front of them tonight.

“ ‘Kaasan had hurt miya-san really bad before,” You try to explain to your son in words he could understand and digest as you run your hands through his silky black hair, “That’s why he’s like that…”

“B-But…” he tries to stammer out an explanation but you cut him off with a kiss on his cheek.

“You’ll understand what ‘kaasan means when you’re older,” you smile, slowly standing up and handing him his glass of milk, “Sometimes we hurt people really bad that even saying sorry can’t fix it.”

“W-was it really bad, ‘kaasan?” the boy asks, taking the milk to his small hands and drinking it slowly whilst trying to discern what you were saying. After placing the glass down, he asks, “Did you break his favorite toy or something?”

“Mhm,” You hummed, picking him up as he stifled a yawn and slowly nuzzled on your neck,“ ‘Kaasan broke something so important, she couldn’t fix it with just saying sorry.”

“Babygirl, aren’t you looking better these days?”

“You call me that one more time and I swear I’m disemboweling you.” You deadpanned, meeting his dark eyes. Aomine Daiki lets out a boisterous laugh right after when he sees your blank expression, “Still the same as ever, Y/N-chan, you really love breakin’ my heart.” he teased, clutching his heart in fake pain.

“Tch,” You clicked your tongue at the tall basketball player, “Tell that to the women you play around with.”

“I take it the boys are at school today?”

“They begged me to skip it since they heard you were back in japan.” You replied, recalling the twins fake sickness this morning just so that they could see the navy blue-haired giant.

“I’m surprised you even took the time off to see little ol’ me.”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

“Hn,” He hummed, leaning in closely as he rested his head on his palm, “I got news by the way, I was at our hometown and I bumped into obaasan.”

You cross your legs and lean back on the chair, the mere mention of your mother had you automatically on edge and annoyed.

“What did she say?”

“She asked me a favor,” He shrugged, taking in a sip of his banana milk, “Says that she wants to meet up with you… She mentions that ojisan’s gonna make time too, I think they’re going to try to make amends with you.”

“That’s nice.” You dryly remarked, clearly you didn’t care about their apology or their willingness to ‘talk’ it out.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Daiki frowns, raising his hands in reply, “And judging by the look on your face, you’re not going to see them?”

Flashes of your childhood and the event that transpired six years ago wormed its way back to your head, it had been so long but its had severely affected and haunted you to this day, “I don’t think I’d ever want my kids near them, who knows what they’ll say around them.” you responded truthfully.

Daiki’s gaze turned soft as he noticed how tightly you were holding the coffee cup, “You got overtime again, right? How about I’ll take care of the boys in the meantime? You know how much they love the huge fridge and pachinko machine in my apartment... I’m also sure they miss their favorite ojisan.”

“Just make sure you hide your porno magazines.”

“That was one time, Y/N.”

You and Aomine Daiki go way back the tall boy lived right across your house and had been your companion since you were the tender age of six. He knew what went around your house, why you were so quiet and expressionless most of the time. At some point, the tall man tried to cross the line of friends to lover but he was only met with the very familiar blank gaze and harsh words of, “I don’t think I’ll ever see you that way.”

The man had no choice but to accept the scraps he was given, he couldn’t really blame you though. After the messed-up emotional trauma you experienced growing up, he knew you wanted nothing to do with the idea of families or lovers.

Yet one winter night while he was in the middle of his training for the national team, he received a phone call from you with two words he never expected to hear from you at all, “I’m pregnant.”

It’s been three years since he last saw you that time and he’s puzzled, who took advantage of you? Where was that asshole so he could beat him to a pulp? Why couldn’t the father be a man and face you? He becomes even more confused because apparently you knew this man very well and you had an intimate relationship with him, something he never imagined from you, “I broke up with him.”

“W-what?”

“I broke up with him,” you repeated, clutching the ultrasound picture on your hand tightly, it probably looked unrecognizable at that point, “I told him I never wanted to see him again.”

“You didn’t tell him?” He bellowed, he placed his hands on your arms and held you while shaking you lightly, “Y/N are you out of your mind? How are you going to raise a kid in this state? You may have graduated early but you’ve got student loans and yourself to fend for! How are you going to do it? Your parents disowned you for cryin’ out loud!”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What do you mean? Do you want to have it aborted, Y/N?”

“I don’t know.”

Daiki lets out a frustrated sigh as he lowers his head, realization slowly dawned upon him at that moment, you were running away. Your defense mechanism had always been to run away. Ever since Aomine Daiki met you, he always noticed that whenever you had problems, you’d run towards the opposite direction and never meet them head-on.

They’d pile up to the point that he was worried you’d burst one day.

It had happened once before and it was something he prayed he’d never see again.

“You know you can’t keep running, right?” He manages to croak out softly, looking at you dead in the eye, your face was blank but your eyes held so much emotions in them; grief, anguish, misery, and what pained him the most was that you drowned yourself in these emotions that you probably didn’t know how to express them anymore because you were used to it.

“I can try.”

“You have to tell him, what’s his name? Where does he live? Y/N-”

“Don’t.” You replied, contrasting to the blank tone you were using moments ago, your voice was now soft. He notices that you’re inching closer to him and he observes you as you melt on his arms just like that moment eleven years ago, you’re shaking uncontrollably, “Please don’t tell him.”

“Y/N-”

“I-I- you-shouldn’t- can’t tell him, please just this one time,” You stammer, begging him with whatever strength you have left, he feels his jacket getting wet. He holds you tight, not knowing what to say anymore, whoever this jackass was, you must’ve really loved him because he’s never seen you this scared before, “just this one time, let me run away from this again.”

Miya Atsumu feels a tick on his forehead when a very tall, dark, and daresay, handsome man appeared to pick up the boys during the club activity today. He wouldn’t openly admit it but he wanted to talk to you after that little fiasco that he had with that brat but when this guy appeared out of nowhere instead of you.

He was beyond annoyed.

He couldn’t pinpoint where he actually saw this guy but he was very familiar.

“Oh, is that Aomine Daiki?” Sugawara gasped, completely surprised by the tall man’s presence.

“Wow, He’s way too tall to be japanese.” Hinata pointed out, “Is he a volleyball player? I wanna match him!”

“Shoyou no, he plays basketball for the NBA.” Sugawara comments, “I didn’t know Y/N knew him, he’s pretty big internationally and in japan too.”

Atsumu clenched his fists as he watched the brats easily cling onto him and ask him if they brought some gifts for them from abroad, judging by their body language, this guy must’ve been with you since the beginning.

“Oh, ninja shoyou was it?” The tall man suddenly exclaims, going up to Shoyou eagerly with no shame, “I watched some of your matches while I was in Brazil! I’m Aomine Daiki.”

Miya Atsumu wished this guy was an asshole but he was nothing like that, in fact, he looked like an excited kid when he started talking to the little orange-head, telling him how good he’d fit in at basketball with his jumps, “You must be the teachers?” he glanced towards Atsumu and Sugawara, the latter nodded but the blonde didn’t seem that amused by him.

“I’m Hinata’s teammate.” he said through gritted teeth, offering his hand to shake, “Miya Atsumu…”

“Nice to meet you, pal.”

“Daiki-ojisan, jiji’s an old friend of ‘kaasan back when she was studyin!” Youta exclaims randomly, Atsumu wants to snap at the brat for calling him jiji once again but he holds it back because he was still at odds with the other one and he didn’t want to strain whatever he had left with the excited one.

Daiki, on the other hand, feels his body stiffen at Youta’s random fact outburst. You had never told him who the father was until today, all he knew was that he was with you in Tokyo university and that you were very much in love with him.

Did this guy perhaps know who the boyfriend was?

“Friend, huh?” He laughs, taking his hand and shaking it, trying to lighten up the mood, “I heard she even got her first boyfriend there.”

The trio fell into silence at what Aomine said while the two kids tilted their heads at the new word they heard. The basketball player felt confused by the sudden silence and when he noticed the red ears of the blonde in front of him, realization finally dawned on him.

“That…” Atsumu clears his throat, ears tinged red by the man’s forwardness, “That would be me.”

Aomine’s eyes widen, no fucking way, “Wow,” he throws his head back, howling in laughter, were you a masochist? How could you lounge around the father of the kids without him knowing jackshit about what happened and still be alright? He immediately regains his composure, this poor blonde bastard was probably confused since he heard you just ghosted him and left him out of the blue, “You definitely get my respect, Miya-san.”

Atsumu doesn’t know why the man in front of him is so amused or why he’s taking out a scratch paper on the kids notebook to write his number on it, “I hope we can be friends, it's definitely an interesting story to hear how you two got together. Y/N never entertained me and I’ve been chasing her since we were thirteen.” he grins, as if he just hadn’t nonchalantly revealed that you had rejected him more times than Atsumu back in college.

The blonde setter is confused as the navy blue-haired man slaps a phone number on his palm, “Call me when you need a drinking company, alright? Let's talk, I’d love to hear how you ended up together.” the smile on his lips turning wider by the minute.

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @jungshookmeup ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily

@misosamu @Etherynaw @ryaaaax [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu headcanons #haikyuu angst #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines

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okaywitheverything · 4 years

Note

hi! can i request minato fall for naruto kindergarten teacher please? thank you 😁

Ma'am: A Possible New Mom? Minato x KindergartenTeacher!Reader

My actual first request! Hope I did it justice! Thank you honey for the request. I wrote some sort of mixed AU so I hope you don't mind.

A/N: This took a lot of time because I have a lot of tests every month. Also i threw up a week ago and was somewhat sick. Then I lost the two drafts and was so irritated with ms word but somehow I managed to write again. So a lot of blood, sweat and tears went into this. Please shower it with love if you even read this awful Author’s note.

Positive A/N: I did like how it turned out tho, the ending is too cute and you won't know what to expect as I didn't either. I genuinely hope you have fun reading this piece.

Word count: 3K

Your POV

“It must be fun to play with the kids all day."

People who think that are the biggest fools on the planet in the universe.

You were picking up the various toys scattered throughout the main classroom, sorting them category wise while the kids took a nap. Most of them anyways.

A few babies had insane amount of energies that they refused to sleep whatsoever. But it wasn't as big a problem as people think it is. All kids have different strengths, a variety of ways to function and unique physiology. You knew if a kid was not tired, forcing him or her to doze off isn't healthy.

Just let the kids be.

So that explains why Naruto was alongside you helping you to collect the sponge shurikens scattered around while you put away the stuffed ninkens on the high shelf. Usually Kiba and Rock Lee would be awake as well, and this trio would play in the hall until their limbs gave out but today even they slept after tiring poor Akamaru out for weird challenges.

“Ma’am, I almost forgot! I want to show you something! Come with me!” Naruto suddenly grabbed your hand leaving his task in the midst and urging you to leave yours too. You looked at him puzzled but giggled at his enthusiasm nonetheless, sometimes kids were too darn cute. You loved the ways kids’ eyes lit up, so optimistic and happy and hopeful until the world snatched it all away. You wanted to preserve this for as long as could.

He took you to the room where the kids kept their small backpacks filled with their favourite articles that they thought were absolutely necessary to take everywhere.

No Neji, you don’t need to have three combs for the care of your luscious hair every possible instant.

Naruto generally brought a lot of snacks which you had to retain sometimes so that he would eat healthy but it became even harder to do so when all he wanted was for Sasuke to taste the tomatoey flavour ‘these’ chips had and gift Rock Lee the curry flavour. That boy had a heart of gold.

He pulled the zipper of his orange backpack open, and took out a stuffed fox.

“Ma’am meet Kurama! I told him all about you and he wanted to meet you!” He held Kurama up while you were gently petting the plushie’s head, he was so excited to see your happiness to meet his esteemed companion.

These kids and their imaginations! You loved every ounce of it!

“Hello Mr. Kurama!” You didn’t feign excitement, you actually were. You loved kids and their creativity and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“He’s my best friend! Don’t tell anyone else though! Others might get sad.”

You did an action of zipping your lips, “Your secret is safe with me, sweetie.”

“Look! I also drew something!” He hastily handed you Kurama and proceeded to take out his yellow sketchbook. He kept turning pages filled with rainbows of colours morphing into one another that made some sense in his cute, little head and finally reached his desired page. He pulled your dress with his little chubby hands, an action he often did when he wanted you to sit beside him. You kneeled down, his plushie settled in your lap now as you waited for him to go ahead.

He handed you his open sketchbook where there were three figures, two adults and one kid judging by the height, all wearing triangular outfits. One kid and an adult had striking yellow hair and blue eyes while the other adult wore an orange dress with a large circle in their hands. On closer inspection, you saw your own hair colour and eye colour being illustrated to the best of the toddler’s ability, as far as the crayons allowed him to portray it. You had a circle in your hands, almost the size of your drawn head with black spots in between while the child in the photo held an orange squishy ball. To save you from your confusion, Naruto came to the rescue and started explaining.

“That’s me and Dada over here. And I’m playing with Kurama! And that’s you Ma’am! Bringing me and dada cookies for being good boys like you do in class!”

Your heart melted right there and then. For some reason, your face heated up too.

“Oh my God, honey, that’s amazing!” You pecked his cheek as Naruto blushed slightly and rubbed his head, “You liked it?”

“I Loved it! What did Dada say about it?”

“He got so red like Sasuke’s tomatoes haha. But he put it on our fridge like my other drawings and he said it was the best one yet.”

Before you could reply, crying was heard from the nap room and you sighed. Looks like someone woke up.

“Yay, someone is up! We can now play!” Naruto began running but you stopped him.

“Let’s be sure to pack this all up before, Ma’am Anko will see to your friend okay?”

Minato was waiting alongside other parents, it was 10 minutes till the kindergarten was over. His mind wandered afar, thinking about his journey to this town.

Minato was very afraid when he moved to Konoha, about Naruto settling in and making friends. Of course, back in his previous town he had already got Naruto a place in the best Kindergarten there, pulling all the needed strings but his promotion caught him off guard. Being a single parent was hard enough as it is, and with the worry of adjusting to new surroundings for his growing son, he was almost going to decline the offer. Only after much conviction from his friends that he deserved this, he took the offer, albeit hesitantly.

He was happy with his new workspace and colleagues as well, and was over the moon when he one of his erudite associates had a son the same age as his own, and recommended the city’s best kindergarten where his son was set to go. He went blindly on his associate’s word, because he knew him to be a wise dad.

For the first two months, he had to work relentlessly to prove his position as the new leader in the branch, and so he had his assistant pick Naruto up while he prepared lunch at home for his precious boy, barely making it home fifteen minutes before they did. But when the company celebrated their first real accomplishment, only then did Minato feel he could take a step back and indulge with his son more as he used to do.

When he began picking him up himself, he realised what he had been missing on: small quirky tales, new words his toddler learned, new friends’ names, his favourite teacher’s cookies apparently. Minato quickly noticed, being the perceptive man he was, that Naruto could go hours and hours talking about his Ma’am. He would have thought of it as a crush, had Naruto been older.

But when he first saw you, he could relate to his son if Naruto did have a crush. He knew he was being superficial, being attracted to your appearance at first sight but he couldn’t help himself that you were almost ethereal, too gorgeous to be true. It seemed as if you were glowing when you laughed alongside the kids or held one of them on your shoulders while searching for the parents.

However, your personality was even more so captivating when he finally talked to you at the parents-teachers conference. You were such a quality teacher, he deduced when he noticed how apt you were at describing each kid individually and how dedicated to their growth you were. He loved the bond you had with Naruto, the boy couldn’t stop grinning upon meeting you on his day off.

The bell rung, breaking him out of his reverie, and he waited as the kids ran to the parents, waving goodbyes here and there, ready for their weekend. He could hear your faint shouting over the buzz, “Make sure you have taken all your belongings, kiddos! Have a good weekend!”

He knew if you had a special place in his son’s heart, he could let you stay in his heart as well.

It was 8 PM, one hour past the Uzumaki kid’s bedtime, but the blatantly crying kid was nowhere near sleeping. A distressed Minato held him on his hip, as he searched the entire house for his favourite plushie, Kurama, without whom Naruto had never slept.

“We’ll find him, Naru. Do you remember where you last saw it?” Minato asked, pausing and sitting in the comfy sofa, looking at Naruto, hoping he’d have an answer.

Naruto’s wails quietened down, fortunately there were no tears, as he pondered and spoke, “I last showed it to Ma’am!”

Minato sighed, he grasped that Naruto would have left it at the playschool because no inch of his house was unsearched. He settled Naruto down on the couch as he deliberated calling you over a toy. He had your number for emergencies, but was this one? The real objection, the actual reluctance he had for calling was totally different though. He hated to admit it, but talking to Naruto’s daydream of a teacher always left him stuttering like a teenager. He could barely listen and respond when he met her at the kindergarten, but talking to that Goddess one on one was more terrifying and nerve-wracking than moving to a new town.

But he knew there was no way Naruto would sleep without Kurama and it was only Friday, nights to wait if he doesn’t ask you about the plushie today. He couldn’t imagine how disheveled will Naruto be without Kurama by then. He would surely award himself with wine if he managed to finish the call without fainting.

With clammy hands and a vigorously pounding heart, he dialed the number.

You were finishing up the last batch of forms and cleaning up, when you saw something abruptly put in the otherwise shipshape playroom. Before you could further inspect, your phone rang, Mr. Uzumaki flashing on top of the screen. Your heart hammered as you wondered what he could be calling about.

You were not going to lie, Mr. Uzumaki was easy on the eyes, always in class A condition with his well-tailored suits as he came to pick Naruto up. Even the married housewives ogled him not-so-subtly. He was such an excellent father, really devoted in his son’s life while simultaneously conquering the business world. An eye candy, with all the best qualities that existed, an immensely put together God’s creation. He was dream partner to have, yet somehow he was single.

Your phone’s ring broke you out of your musing, as your sweaty palms grabbed the phone and received the cal.

“Good Evening, Mr. Uzumaki.” You managed out, your neck suddenly heating up.

“Good Evening, Miss. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all, I was about to head home. How may I help you?”

“If you are still there at the playschool, could you please…… If you don’t mind….. I’m sorry again I called-”

“I assure you, it’s fine. You don’t need to worry about it. Although you do need to tell me the problem if you want me to help.” You giggled lightly, amused at that man stuttering.

“Thank you. Umm Naruto left his night time plushie there I suppose and he doesn’t sleep without it. Could you please, please check if it’s there?”

“Of course.” You held the phone and as you hummed and went to the Kid’s playroom you found Naruto’s sketchbook with the drawing laying on it, and the Kurama toy beside it. You swore you promised Naruto pack it earlier in the day.

“Looks like he did leave it here.”

“Can you keep the school open a bit late, I’ll come and collect it right aw-”

“Its pretty windy right now outside, and you’ll have to bring Naruto too at this hour. I’ll drop it at your home on my way back, I was planning in leaving in five anyways.” Your mouth spoke before you could process what you said, offering to go to his house? Nice going there, you desperate weirdo.

His choked out “Okay” almost surprised you as you ended the call.

This will be a nice, little detour.

About twenty minutes later, the doorbell to the Uzumaki household rang and Minato sprinted to the door, opening it immediately.

There you stood, with tousled hair from the wind, in your long red pea coat and black heels. Your cheeks lightly tinted, no doubt because of the unruly weather outside. Somehow you still looked absolutely perfect in Minato’s eyes as he traced your form, unable to initiate the conversation.

You, on the other hand, had halted completely when the door opened revealing a ripped Minato, his muscles bulging underneath his black shirt while grey sweatpants hung loosely on his hips. His biceps were so thick, you wondered how he managed to exercise on top of all the responsibilities he had.

You handed it over to Minato whose eyes widened at the piece of paper and stood there awkwardly, processing what to say.

Somehow stopping yourself from all the gawking, you cleared your throat as you dug in your black purse and took out Naruto’s best friend and his masterpiece.

“Guess he left this as well.” He gave a forced laugh, trying to make things less uncomfortable after he stood silent for two minutes.

You chuckled lightly in agreement when suddenly thunder boomed behind you, causing you to shriek and slip, only to be caught by Minato, his hands holding you around your middle tightly in a protective manner. You coughed as you stepped back again and he cleared his throat this time when suddenly it started pouring like hell’s rage on Earth.

“You should stay for a while, at least until the rain lightens.”

You were going to decline, but when you saw how bad it was raining, you knew you would have to accept. “Looks, like I’ll have to. Sorry to impose.”

“It’s no imposition at all. I’m inviting you, don’t fret.”

You stepped inside, shrugging your pea-coat off, revealing your black dress underneath. Minato reddened visibly, taking your pea-coat from you and hanging it. He cursed himself as he thought of conversation starters, wanting to say something, anything to not stand like a fool.

“Would you like wine? I have this blush flavoured bottle reading to drink.”

“I would love that, Thank you. What are you celebrating though, if I may ask?” You agreed, maybe the alcohol would calm your buzzing nerves. Besides you were a sucker for wine.

“Nothing much, a simple personal achievement of sorts.” He said with a grin as he led you inside, hopeful of where the night might lead. Maybe the liquid courage would help him finally ask you out.

Behind the wall, Naruto grinned with a pacifier in his mouth. Mission successful.

So that was that. Until next time, cookies.

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pinnithin-writes · 3 years

Text

newfound information

I have a running theory that Goemon Ishikawa is legally blind and decided to write something about it. This is some of the gayest and most pointless shit I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. 1778 words.

“I’d like to know,” Goemon said, “what color your eyes are.”

Thick silence wrapped the room like a blanket. The scratching of Lupin’s pen on a notepad stilled. For a while, the only sound was the tic tic tic of the radiator.

“Which one of us?” Jigen asked. The leather of the couch creaked as he leaned further back in his slouch.

Today marked a full week they’d been crowded together in a drafty apartment in Zürich - the morning had passed with Jigen smoking and Lupin planning and Goemon untangling the knots within him. The coffee table had been shoved aside to make room for a cluttered spread of maps and books on the floor. The heist was days away, and Lupin was audibly puzzling out their approach as he cross-referenced the recon notes his partners had put together.

Goemon wasn’t facing either of them; he had his forehead pressed against the window, eyes unfocused. The street below their hideout was a brick red blur. I’ve never seen Switzerland before, he’d commented upon their arrival, and Lupin had chuckled at his joke.

“Both.”

“Oh,” Lupin answered brightly. “They’re brown. I thought you knew.”

He did, in fact, know they were brown. Lupin and Jigen had both mentioned their eye color to him before. There were a lot of things about his partners’ appearances Goemon had pieced together over the few years they’d been working together.

It wasn't that he couldn’t see them at all. He just saw them at a distance that usually reduced them to a collection of colors and shapes. To Goemon, Lupin was a bell-tone laugh and a flash of bright red and a courteous hand on his elbow when he passed in the hall. Jigen was the smell of Marlboros and a longsuffering, gravelly sigh and the steady click of leather shoes on hardwood. They were whole, complete people to him already.

But lately he’d been hungering for details he wasn’t sure he could have. Certain things that required a proximity Goemon rarely permitted.

“What?” Jigen interjected suddenly. “They are not. They’re gray, right?”

A soft rustle as Lupin set his notepad aside. “Really, Jigen? How long have we known each other? You don’t know what color my eyes are?”

“They’re gray. I swear to god they’re gray.”

“It says ‘brown’ on my birth certificate!”

Goemon wordlessly listened to their argument as he turned away from the window. He leaned back on the sill in preoccupation, the cool glass chilling his neck. He should just ask. It beat staring at the street and dwelling on it for hours.

He ran his thumb in distracted circles against Zantetsuken’s sheath. “Can I see them?”

“Lupin’s birth papers? I’m not sure they’re legitimate,” Jigen said, ducking quickly to avoid the pen Lupin chucked at him. It clattered harmlessly behind the couch.

“No,” Goemon clarified sharply. “Your eyes.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence passed, which Lupin broke first. “Well, sure you can,” he answered. “Then you can vouch for me.”

Goemon imagined he was shooting Jigen a barbed look as he said this. A stack of papers shifted as he unfolded his skinny legs and stood, and then Lupin was crossing the room toward him. Goemon felt his heart rate tick up - he hadn’t expected his odd request to be honored. Lupin’s visage grew clearer as he approached, until Goemon could easily clock his lopsided smile and tweaked eyebrows.

Lupin tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned in close. “What do you think?” he asked. “Brown or gray?”

“Hold still.”

Narrowing his eyes, Goemon raised a hand to grasp the other man’s chin, tilting his face this way and that. The light from the window fell softly on his cheeks and the slope of his nose. Lupin blinked expectantly. He was close enough that Goemon could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

Gray was his first impression. Silver, really, like a pair of shiny round coins. Lupin’s gaze was restless, darting back and forth between Goemon’s own eyes as he allowed himself to be examined. His skin was startlingly soft.

“Hold still,” he ordered again, tugging Lupin closer.

This time, Lupin obeyed, fixating on a single point and staying there. His previously cheeky grin disappeared when his jaw went slack, and Goemon felt a tiny puff of air as Lupin exhaled.

He could see now that his irises were also flecked with shades of brown, ringing his pupils in a lovely starburst. Goemon studied Lupin’s eyes a moment longer, taking note of how they settled from ink to fawn to ash from the center out, committing the image to memory. He observed his facial structure - how it was soft and sharp all at once, unique and conspicuous. Lupin’s fondness for disguise made more sense to him now.

Goemon was sure the man could hear his pulse thudding in his neck at this point, so he finally released him. “Both,” he said conclusively. “Probably varies with the light.”

Lupin was slow to step away, cheeks rosy. “Oh,” he managed to say. “So… we were both right.”

“Indeed.”

Jigen was uncharacteristically quiet from where he watched on the couch. Goemon heard him tap ash idly from his cigarette before taking a contemplative drag. “Sounds like a cop out to me,” he murmured as an afterthought.

Goemon slanted him a glance. “You could see for yourself,” he challenged, brows raised.

“I’ve seen ‘em already,” he grumbled.

Lupin took another step back, melting out of focus to his usual blur of black and red, and folded his arms. “Jigen, dear, I believe it’s your turn.”

Jigen coughed. “Excuse me?”

“You're up next. Let the man see your eyes.”

Sensing his hesitance, Goemon’s mouth softened from its steady set line. “Only if you want-”

“No,” Jigen was already interrupting him. “I’ll do it.”

The couch protested as he leaned to set his cigarette in the ashtray, elongating into a dark capital I when he stretched and stood. The approaching tap of his shoes was slow and familiar.

“No need to look so nervous,” Lupin teased, leaning impishly into Jigen’s personal space as he pulled to a stop.

Goemon prodded Lupin out of the way with the sheathed end of his sword, resting it against his sternum in a silent warning. Lupin retreated, smirking, while Jigen drew in an almost imperceptible breath and let it out slow. The same technique he used before pulling the trigger on an impossible shot. Goemon reached to remove his fedora with as much care as he could, pressing it delicately against his chest.

“Hold this, please.”

Jigen nodded. The tips of his fingers trembled where they touched the felt.

“His eyes are definitely gray,” Lupin commented, angling his chin at Jigen. “Oh my god, are you shaking?”

Goemon gave Lupin a pointed tap with Zantetsuken in lieu of reprimand. He fell silent.

Out of respect for his trepidation, Goemon was gentler with how he handled Jigen’s face, nudging his jaw one way and then the other with the backs of his knuckles. Stubble prickled his skin. He was struck by how sharp his cheekbones were at this distance; he had never really noticed their prominence before. He was certain they’d draw blood if he ran his thumb against them.

Jigen’s eyes were significantly darker than Lupin’s. Storm clouds gathered around his pupils, shades of slate and black bleeding into one another. Instead of meeting Goemon’s stare, he determinedly stuck his gaze at an indiscriminate point somewhere past his left ear. These were marksman’s eyes, sharp and steady and missing nothing. Shame he hid them under his hat all the time.

Goemon dropped his hand from Jigen’s face. “They are gray,” he agreed.

The swiftness with which Jigen stepped back and replaced his headwear was possibly the fastest he’d ever seen him move. He cleared his throat, adjusting the hat’s brim. “Great. Glad we worked that out.”

Lupin jabbed him with an elbow. “Congrats on surviving the ordeal.”

Jigen grumbled something indistinct, tipping his chin and hiding his eyes further.

Goemon kept his expression carefully neutral. Now that he possessed this newfound information, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He had learned quite a bit more about the others than intended; not only about their appearance, but their mannerisms, as well. Their relationship with closeness. He didn’t know there was a way to turn off Lupin’s motor mouth. He didn’t know Jigen became so mystified when touched.

These were things he would file away for later, additional pieces for the frustrating jigsaw that was his feelings.

“Thank you,” he uttered finally.

“No problem,” Jigen responded at the same time Lupin said, “That’s what we’re here for.”

Goemon scoffed with disbelief. “Is it?”

Lupin paused and moved out of the way to allow Jigen passage. Goemon caught a whiff of smoke - he must’ve resumed his previous task of mangling the cigarette he’d been working on. Lupin leaned easily against the window beside Goemon, not as close as before but close enough he could tell the master thief was examining him. Embarrassment creeping into the back of his neck, Goemon lifted a prompting eyebrow in his direction.

“Sure it is,” Lupin went on. “I ask you two for weird favors all the time. It’s only fair.”

“Hm.” Goemon was skeptical.

“We’re a team,” he insisted. “It’s good for a team to know each other really well. Right?”

“...Right.”

“Useful for recognizing each other in disguise.”

Grateful for Lupin’s valiant effort to spare his dignity, Goemon allowed a small smile. “Sure.”

Lupin grinned back, tilting his head to the side until his temple touched the windowpane. “I’d never really looked at your eyes this close before, either,” he admitted, some of the bravado leaving his voice. “They’re really… intense. Super dark.”

“Pretty,” Jigen added around the cigarette in his mouth.

“Pretty,” Goemon echoed, caught off guard by the compliment.

“Pretty scary,” he clarified hastily, and Goemon couldn’t hold back a soft laugh.

Silence settled on the group, introspective rather than discomfited. Goemon’s heart rate was beginning to return to normal. The atmosphere in the room had shifted into something thick and unnameable, and he was definitely responsible for the change, but it didn’t feel bad. Just new. Unfamiliar. And while Goemon was out of his depth, it was reassuring to know the others were just as bad at navigating this as he was.

“So,” Lupin clapped his hands together emphatically. “That was a nice break. Let’s get back to business, shall we?” He swept a gesture at the paper nightmare on the floor.

The team murmured their assent, but not much else was accomplished that day.

#lupin iii #lupin the third #goemon ishikawa #goemon ishikawa xiii #daisuke jigen #what the hell even is this ship name #lupin goemon and jigen are triple married fight me #ink #fanfiction #writing #takes place in an indiscriminate time early on in their relationship

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juseki-taisen · 3 years

Text

How about how the 12 warriors celebrate V-Day? (Bonus challenge being Doudecuple and Navi)

Thank you for the request @gale-dragon-writer

This was a long one! I hope you guys like!

Inounoshishi

Without S/O

This wouldn’t happen, let’s be real. If it did she planned this by choice, so she’s probably busy kicking ass and taking names...and numbers

Probably prowls bars for lonely men/women/they’s ect to buy her drinks.

Never pays for any food or drink of Valentines. She’s hot af and knows it

It’s 50/50 if she’s going to go home with someone

With S/O

Expects to be spoiled. Please spoil her

Despite her immense wealth, she doesn’t expect you to buy her expensive things. She can do that herself. What she’d really like is for a gift that’s full of thought.

If you make her a gift, she’ll play it off but she secretly loves it. It doesn’t matter how shitty it is. If you make her a cute boar figure out of clay and it’s lopsided, but you tried hard and painted it her favorite color, it’s going on her mantel in the living room.

Spoils you too. You will drown in gifts and kisses. Don’t worry, she uses amazing lipstick and it doesn’t stick to your face.

Dotsuku

Without S/O

Spends the day giving candy to the children.

Secretly gives his daughter a secret admirer letter, her confidence SKY ROCKETS

Decorates his classroom

This man is great at help kids learn about consent. No pulling pigtails, and if a boy likes a girl and she tells him no, he makes sure he knows not to keep bugging her. Same thing with the girls. If a boy doesn’t like them they’re not allowed to keep bugging them either.

Watches cute love movies with his daughter. He’s her prince charming.

With S/O

You better believe he has you help decorate his classroom

You make cute paper hearts and pick out candy

The kids leave you valentines

He takes you to dinner. His daughter comes too. You guys have a lot of fun. He buys you and his daughter a dessert. Somehow she eats here and half of yours

Snuggles on the couch and a cute movie.

Niwatori

Without an S/O

Doesn’t celebrate

She doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal

Indulges the day after on discount candy

With an S/O

Help her

She wants to celebrate but she’s in Ushii level awkward when it comes to doing anything

Picks the most popular movie out, watches it, and THAT is the basis for her whole idea

Gets you candy. Wears a cute dress. Picks a place to eat. Buys you roses, or do you get her roses? She’ll get them for you...just in case

Candy? Candy. Lots of candy.

Any small thing you get her she’s going to love. She never has really gotten gifts, and one out of love is a gift she’ll treasure forever

If you do get her flowers, she’s going to press them or dry them and keep them forever

Sharyu

Without an S/O

She had a fiancé for what seemed like forever, so a day without one is kind of difficult for her

She’s happy she’s alone, because she’s happy with who she is and now doesn’t have anyone to try and fit her into a mold that she didn’t belong

Kind of mopes though. She wants romance and someone who loves her for who she is and everything she does

Drinks hot coco and eats an ungodly amount of chocolate

With an S/O

So. Excited.

She cooks all day and makes cake, dinner, and everything else from scratch

You get her gifts and feel like it’s still not enough

Honestly? It doesn’t matter what you get her. She just love shaving you around and knowing how much you care for her for who she is

PLEASE slow dance with her in the kitchen while you’re doing the dishes. She’ll remember it forever

Hitsujii

Without an S/O

Hangs out at home

Waiting for the candy to go on sale

Babysits for his child so they can have a romantic evening

Watches random shows on TV, but avoids romance stuff

With an S/O

Still wants to hang out at home, but will go out if you want

Uses this as an excuse to DESTROY the candy aisle

Gets you flowers, they’re not red roses because that’s pretty expensive, but he gets cute ones...and a bear

Snuggles and falling asleep to bad rom coms on TV

Uuma

Without an S/O

Spends it alone

He wishes he had someone, but he’s alright for the most part

Okay he’s not

He’s a big softie inside and somewhat romanticizes the holiday more than he should

Eats cake...and chocolate

With an S/O

The man goes WILD

Roses everywhere

Candlelight

A romantic dinner he made meticulously after practicing for weeks

Remakes the titanic ship in a bottle, with you two as the figures on the front of the ship

He loves any gift you get him. He cries. He tries not to, but he does.

He writes you a poem he gets to embarrassed to read. You get it in a card.

Takeyasu

Without an S/O

Steals everything with his brother

Necklaces, candy, and even flowers just so he can light them on fire

Doesn’t think much of the holiday, never has. It’s stupid.

With an S/O

He’s awkward. He doesn’t know how to celebrate the holiday

He gets you the basics, candy, a bear, and flowers. That’s it right?

Oh wait, you wanna do something? Uh, can a theme park be romantic?

You have a lot of fun actually, and when inevitably he lights part of it on fire, he has stuff for smores.

You save the picture from the tunnel of love. You managed to snap it before he lit it on fire. The tunnel was the point of origin.

Later on down the road he plans more stuff. He may also use fireworks to do your name in the air or something

Steals you a car.

Nagayuki

Without an S/O

Steals stuff with his brother

Gets entirely to many snacks

Does anything but Holiday stuff

With an S/O

Doesn’t want to do anything, but will because you ask him

Takes you for dinner, and he enjoys spending time with you, but because social convention is making him he’s grumpy about it

If you’re the kind of person who is easily embarrassed, he may send you cheesy emails with stupid valentines cards

Chocolate and all KINDS of snacks

Later on down the line he’ll plan more romantic stuff, and buy you nice things with real money so you know he cares

Usagi

Without an S/O

He likes the Holiday and wants someone to do it with SOOOO BAD

Watches all those cute movies and cheesy rom coms

Has a “Friend” he takes out on a date

It doesn’t go well

With an S/O

Oh boy. He’s SO HAPPY

He gets you everything. Flower, roses (ignore the blood it’s fine), and he lets you know he’s arrived to pick you up by having his friends hold him high while he has a boom box playing your favorite song. Even if it’s metal. Even if he thinks the holiday begins at midnight. Your neighbors wont care, right?

You will go to ALL the cheesy stuff. Cute rides at a theme park, which somehow gets burned down later on thanks to someone (Takeyasu)

A dinner and flowers, chocolate. SO MUCH CANDY. He even likes the terrible heart ones. He made you a box filled with ones that have saying that remind him of you

Cuddles, kisses, and smooches that just...don’t stop. Even in public. You gotta tell him to tone it down.

Tora

Without an S/O

Drinks, and mopes

She doesn’t really want to date, but seeing other people happy kinda rubs it in when you’re single

Partakes in day after candy sales

She actually avoids the bars, to many couples being happy and cute

Angrily eats snacks

With an S/O

She doesn’t expect much, other than maybe being one of those annoying couples who steals Every. Booth. In. The. Restaurant.

Please get her presents. Please. She’ll get really happy and flustered

This girl will actually try and make you chocolate from scratch. Sharyu helps. She even wraps them in a cute wrapping paper she draws herself

It’s pretty casual and after bar hopping you spend it at home. You’re with her so she cuts back so she’s not sloshed. She wants to remember being with you.

So many cute kisses.

Hand holding. It still gets her flustered.

Please get your picture taken at some point. She’ll put it by her bed and fall asleep smiling

Ushii

Without an S/O

There’s a Holiday?

He guess he noticed it was harder than normal to get a table for his favorite restaurant

Doesn’t really like sweets so the holiday just annoys him

So many people confess to him and he’s just like “Okay. Cool. Thanks”

With an S/O

He’s not great with the holiday. He’s smart though, so he tries to research what to do

Googles top ten most romantic gesture, luckily has the sense not to propose

Gets you candy, roses, and all the stereotypical stuff

You have to tell him to relax, because all the stuff he’s saying is regurgitated rom com lines

When he does relax, he’s actually really sweet. Stupidly sweet actually.

“I don’t need a holiday to tell me you’re important, you’re already always on my mind, but the candy is nice I guess”

Will watch whatever you want. Is always confused by romance movies, but oh BOY does he love going out to eat with you. Hell. Yes. The desserts are amazing and now he gets to share them with you

Care you a card. It’s ugly, but he tries

Gets you a really cute necklace. It has a small ox on it, so he can always be with you.

Nezumi

Without an S/O

Eats candy and sleeps. It’s no different than any other day, other than people piss him off more.

He doesn’t like how weird people get

They also made out on his locker...and he needed his textbook. Please....Let him get his books

With an S/O

Uses his paths so much that he passes out and HARD CORE NAPS before you go out

Has the perfect gift.

Plays co op video games with you

He doesn’t like people, so you get take out and stay home

You watch movies, but they’re movies like Princess Bride, Warm Bodies, and love stories that aren’t so normal and are more fun

If you’re LGBT he goes out of his way to find a good movie ahead of time, because he loves and supports you and this day is about you two damn it! (The other’s would try to do this for their S/O, but would have a harder time. since most of them are not great with technology like Nezumi is)

So much candy and snacks

Selfies and filters

You fall asleep together and nap

get him a gift. He’ll know it’s coming but it still makes him happy

BONUS CHALLENGE

Doudecuple

Without an S/O

Doesn’t do a whole lot. Has wine and watches the mortals below

Maybe messes with people just a bit to amuse himself

Does his own thing. He really doesn’t care for the holiday

With an S/O

Wine and a dessert charcuterie board

Gets you an expensive gift, but practical. A coat, a scarf. Something to keep you warm and cozy you can use everyday and think of him.

Makes the impossible possible. A romantic setting with only a few people

Getting the tickets for some play or show the last minute

Please do something cheesy, it’ll amuse him, and he’ll secretly keep it

ON THE FLIP SIDE

He may get a gift from you, then anyone who goes in his office will see it.

“Look what my Love got me. Have you beheld it?”

It doesn’t matter if it’s stupid. He’s keeping it forever

Navi

Without and S/O

Stays home and has snacks and chocolates

Maybe organizes his hat collection

Watches fun game shows or anything without romance

With S/O

Has a special hat he wears for the occasion

Gets you one too

Gets you candy and a single rose, as well as a teddy bear

Uses his tablet to find the best places to go with the best rating. Uses his ability to multiply to hold your place in line so you can actually do other stuff

Ferris wheel. He has to hold his hat on but you guys get an AMAZING picture together. It’s his screensaver. He texts it to Nezumi. Nezumi and him start having a couple picture off. Next year, double date.

#juni taisen #juuni taisen #juni taisen x reader #juuni taisen x reader

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bureowo · 3 years

Text

don’t say maybe (cause i’m not a little boy)

summary: jeongin just wants to be your man.

genre: slight angst. | word count: 2540.

warnings: sensual themes & mentions of alcohol consumption.

Jeongin suspires, leaning back against the couch as you leave a trail of open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along the side of his outstretched neck. You’re straddling him, knees on each side of his hips, and he clutches your waist like you’re going to disappear into thin air at any given moment. You smile, lifting your face to connect your lips to his once more, he almost whimpers; you taste sweet and smell even sweeter, and the way your tongue glides over his lip makes his insides burst into flames. Jeongin stares at you, entranced, as you lean back on his lap, your bottom lip caught between your teeth and a playful glint adorning your gaze. You run your hands down the expanse of his torso and halt to a stop once you reach his hips, your thumbs drawing circles against the exposed skin right above his belt buckle; he shivers, anticipating your next move, and then – he wakes up.

Jeongin awakens, clammy and disoriented, the movie he’d been watching still playing on the tv. He looks around the room in a daze, glad to find his roommate nowhere in sight, he’s not in the mood to deal with Hyunjin’s teasing right now. Jeongin runs a hand through his hair, sighs and leans back onto the couch – the same couch, yet the way he feels now is a sharp contrast to what he’d been feeling just minutes prior; he feels cold, embittered and palpably uncomfortable. He wallows in his misery for a few more minutes before he decides to hop into the shower.

To say that Jeongin is grouchy this morning would be an enormous understatement, his exasperated state obvious to anyone who’s looking; he hasn’t been getting much rest lately, thoughts of you occupying his mind till ungodly hours, images of your eyes, your lips, engrained deep into his brain – it keeps him awake at night, you keep him awake at night.

His ears perk up at the sound of your laugh, he looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of your wide, toothy smile before your hand shoots up to cover it; he hadn’t been paying attention in the least to what Hyunjin had been saying but judging by your reaction it’d been something incredibly funny.

Jeongin has to muster every ounce of strength in his body to not let the jealousy, rising up his throat like bile, spill out of his mouth; he yearns to make you laugh like that. He wishes he could tell you, unabashedly, how he feels – how much he covets your attention, your affection, and how badly he craves your touch. But, alas, he lays his head back down onto the table, pushing the untouched tray of food next to him further away.

“Are you tired, Innie?” You ask him, your fingers spreading over his own. He wants to tell you it’s your fault, and that you should either apologize or start paying rent for living in his head day-and-night, but your beauty leaves him mesmerized; the way you’re looking at him – eyes bright and focused on him, and a slight grin on your lips – makes him go a bit lightheaded.

Jeongin sighs and fantasizes about kissing that look off your face, replacing it with one of shock, of newfound awareness and passion. He’s so enraptured by his reverie, he doesn’t notice you pulling your hand away from his and getting up from your seat; only the tapping of your feet against the ground makes him look up at your retreating form, and his heart sinks to his stomach.

“How do I look?” Jeongin asks you, before proceeding to strike a pose – head tilted up and towards the side slightly, showing off his jawline, and his arm flexed over his head; he hopes you don’t notice how calculated his moves are. You giggle and walk closer to him, your hand reaching out to pat his head.

“You look cute Jeonginnie.” You tell him, melodiously, and he hates it. He straightens his back and his jaw tenses almost imperceptibly; here he was, in his tightest pair of jeans and with a sleeveless shirt cladding at his body and all you can say is he’s cute? He can’t help the scoff that escapes him; he had asked you for help picking an outfit for a date – a date he’d only agreed to go on because Hyunjin kept on pestering him about his love life, or the lack thereof rather. A date he fully knew he would spend thinking of nothing else but you.

He had asked for your help in hopes of getting some alone time and maybe even some compliments from you, but, really, he should have known better – you always treated him as a child. He despises it; it makes his blood boil, how you would ruffle his hair and smile fondly at him, the way you would pinch and squish his cheeks while talking to him in the best baby voice you could muster, even the manner in which you would hold his hand sometimes, like you were holding a toddler. He wishes he could make you see him, really see him for what he is – a man, who’d like nothing more than to hold you tight and hard.

“Don’t I look hot, though?” He questions you with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk on his lips. Your hand falls from his head and onto his arm as you take a step back; you look him up and down a few times, before finally gazing back into his eyes with a smug grin of your own.

“Maybe.” You reply, most tauntingly, as you lick your lips.

Sometimes, Jeongin feels hopeful; he’s not dumb nor blind, he sees the way you every-so-often check him out, biting your lip, he feels the way your hand lingers on his bicep for just a second too long, and he is not oblivious to the flirtatious comments you throw his way from time to time. Most days, he’d consider this just friendly banter, but at times like these, he feels confident, buoyant even.

The two of you had been teasing each other all day, relentless sneers and mocking remarks coming swiftly from both ends; it was all light-hearted, of course, but the nature of this exchanges leaves him feeling electric.

“Seriously Innie,” you say loftily, hands on your hips. “You can’t even make popcorn by yourself, what would you without me?”

“Oh, shut up.” He retaliates as you pour the popcorn into a bowl.

“Make me.” You turn around to face him, leaning back against the counter with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Before he can even begin to comprehend what he’s doing, Jeongin feels something bursting inside of him; he strides up to you, his hands falling onto the counter behind you. He’s so close, you can just about hear his heart pounding; he’s so close, you can feel your own heart hammering against your chest. You mutter his name, so faintly, he almost doesn’t catch it.

“What is it, Y/N?” The smug look on his face makes you shiver. “Didn’t you want me to shut you up?” He presses himself flush against you, his arm encompassing your waist.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He challenges you, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks.

“Maybe.” You mumble, eyes not leaving his lips for a second. And, with that, he pulls his body away from yours and reaches for the bowl of popcorn behind you before strutting his way back to the living room, leaving you reeling.

Oh yes, at times like these, Jeongin feels on top of the heap.

Love is dead – Jeongin concludes – and he is doomed to live a life of silent heartache and unspoken longing. The fear settles itself in the pit of his stomach, slowly crawling its way up; he feels like he’s choking, like every word he so desperately wants to tell you is fighting to come out at once, still, they all stick to the back of his throat like a thick coating of honey.

He thinks he could laugh right now, burst into a fit of loud, manic cackles, if only he wasn’t so close to crying. Of course – of course you’d be into Hyunjin, of all people; of course, he’d walk into the living room just in time to see you, bleary-eyed and rosy-cheeked, laying a kiss on his roommate’s lips.

Jeongin remains still under the doorframe, jaw clenched tightly and arms crossed over his chest; he clears his throat, not making any effort to conceal his distaste. You turn around first, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

“Innie-” You stammer, standing up. You dodge the sofa blocking your path, steps wobbly as you approach him.

“I’m heading out.” He interjects, voice low and steady, and you stop in your tracks. His stare feels like it’s piercing through you even after he leaves the apartment.

Jeongin relaxes the instant his phone stops ringing in his hand; he’s been avoiding you like the plague for the past few weeks – but honestly, what did you expect? That he would just be fine? That he would just smile and nod, and pretend like he doesn’t have all these feelings for you? No, he couldn’t do that – he can’t do that, so he sighs and deletes your name, once more, from his missed call log.

Jeongin gets up from his bed, looking at himself in the mirror – he looks pretty good, if he does say so himself. He tousles his hair a bit and puts his things in his pockets before beginning to make his way to the front door. As he steps into the living room, he nearly lets out a curse; he’d been doing a pretty good job of evading Hyunjin as well, however, it seems, luck’s not on his side today.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says apprehensively, turning his head in Jeongin’s direction but not quite looking at him. “You going out?” Jeongin nods.

He resumes walking, stopping before the door to grab his keys.

“Hey,” Hyunjin calls out again, Jeongin spins back around, a little irked. “Have you spoken to Y/N lately?” He questions, and Jeongin is left with a raised eyebrow and a whole lot of questions – did he mean he hadn’t spoken to you lately? Or was he just testing the waters? Is there something he’s supposed to know? Something you have to tell him?

“No.” Jeongin shakes his head.

He doesn’t spare Hyunjin another glance before heading out the door; he arrives at the club and sees his date waiting for him outside.

Jeongin lets out a humourless chuckle – it’s just his luck, truly, running into you at the nightclub. He can’t really remember when or where his date seemed to disappear from his side, but, if he’s being honest, he can’t really muster up enough will to care.

He makes his way over to the bar and asks for a drink; the bartender hands him his glass and he takes a swig, his face contorting as soon as the alcohol makes contact with his tastebuds. He sets his drink down and turns around to face the dancefloor.

Jeongin looks through the hordes of people until he finally spots you, and then he scoffs; he scowls brazenly at the unknown person grinding their body against yours. Just as though you can feel his gaze on you, you look up straight into his eyes; you disjoin yourself from the stranger and march up to Jeongin. Coming to a halt in front of him, you greet him, eyes still staring deeply into his.

“You’re here without Hyunjin?” He chides, reaching for his glass. You laugh, and the sound makes his stomach churn slightly – Jeongin tries his best to convince himself it’s not you, but the alcohol that’s making him feel so skittish.

“Why should I be here with him?” You question, a smirk finding its way to your lips and leaving him in a state of stark bewilderment.

There’s a lot of things Jeongin doesn’t understand – he doesn’t understand why he agreed to this, he doesn’t understand what it is about you that makes him unable to ever deny you; he doesn’t understand how you don’t realize that he would do anything for you if you gave him the chance, that he would pull the moon and each of the starts down from the sky and give them all to you. He sighs and sinks into the couch, sneaking a glance at your profile as you browse through the catalogue of movies, searching for one that piques your interest.

Hyunjin plops down onto the sofa, tossing a bag of snacks in Jeongin’s direction. He truly doesn’t get it – how can you and Hyunjin act so nonchalant? How can you pretend that he didn’t catch you two kissing on this very same settee? How are you not getting the picture when his heart is quite literally on his sleeve? When his feelings are so blatantly obvious? He spends the entire duration of the movie brooding, a mopey look etched onto his features.

No sooner do the credits start rolling through the screen, Hyunjin jumps to his feet and sends a subtle albeit conniving grin in your direction.

“Well, it’s time for me to head out.” He announces, arms lifting over his head as he stretches. “I’m gonna be late for my date.” Jeongin is, once again, left perplexed, although in a whole different way now – Hyunjin was going? On a date? With someone other than you?

He can’t believe it; he watches, dumbfoundedly, as his roommate gathers his things and begins to head out the door, he listens as you bid Hyunjin goodbye with an animated ‘have fun!’ and a wave of the hand, and he sits there, in astonished silence, as you turn your body to face him.

“What’s the matter Innie, cat got your tongue?” There’s something in the way you’re looking at him that Jeongin just can’t quite put his finger on; it leaves him feeling sort of feather-brained.

“Shut up.” He forces a scoff, although it comes out so gently it nearly passes as a breath.

“Make me.” You tell him, dauntlessly, and in one swift move you straddle him, knees on each side of his body; you hover over him, not quite sitting on his lap, hands settling on his shoulders for balance.

You’re so close he forgets to breathe, and, for a second, Jeongin fears that this is nothing but another one of his dreams, that he’ll wake up, high and dry, alone on the couch yet again. But you repeat yourself, tone more demanding this time, and the way his skin tingles, goosebumps rising as you trail your fingers down his arms, lets him know he’s awake.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks almost tauntingly, eyes turning hazy. He stares you down, as if daring you to say the one word he loathes the most – maybe.

You get even closer to him, setting yourself down on his thighs at long last, his hands reach for your hips and he feels the warmth of your breath fanning over his lips as you say: “Yes.”

#skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #i.n scenarios #i.n imagines #skz scenario #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #bibi 🔞 content

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

Why do I not have the option to copy and paste formatting? Why is that an option I am not given? Who thought that I wouldn’t need that when I’m on my phone? Screw that guy, who I am arbitrarily calling Adam. If anyone knows how to do that, please tell me.

Chapter 6 Pt 2

“There is no fucking way you got a date with her.” Raphael does not even look it up. “No way in hell.”

“And yet the flow chart worked.” He laughs from his lab, shutting off any excess equipment as to not overwork it. “It worked like a charm and she asked me to go to her place so ha.”

”You didn’t show her the chart, did you?”

“I did not.”

“Well, there you go.” Leo looks back at him from his seat on the couch. “What time?”

“Seven o’clock.” He slides the door closed. “But I’m planning on being there at six fifty-five so that she knows I value her time.”

“Does the sun set that early?”

“Why do you even ask?” Raph turns a page in his once periodical periodical. “You know he looked it up.”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Forgive me for also valuing preparedness.”

“Nobody likes a know it all.”

He grins smugly. “That’s where you’re wrong. See, I,” he gestured to himself, “have a date with a gorgeous girl tonight, one where she has already invited me into her home, and you,” he gestured to Raphael, “are reading a magazine from a company that went out of business two years ago alone.”

“Donnie, don’t be a jerk.” Leonardo looked back at the television. “Raphael brings up a valid point; you tend to act like you know everything, and the actual request wasn’t for a date.”

“How else can I interpret one on one time with her?”

“Well,” he counters, “how do you interpret one on one time with us?”

He blinks. “Wait, so you’re saying she’s… how do you put it?”

“Nah, I don’t think she’s friendzonin ‘im.” Mickey looks up from his drawing. “Think she’s sending signals she doesn’t mean to.” He sets his half-shaded piece aside. “Think about it; she said she’s been all stressed out, right? She died like two weeks ago.” He shrugs. “She’s probably just lonely and needs the company.”

“That’s… actually really insightful of you.”

He grins. “What can I say? I’m a modern McPherson.”

Raph snickers at that. “Donnie is more of a McPher—how old is that movie, anyway? A hundred?

“Hey!” He shoots a glare at his brother. “Respect the classics.”

“Not to interrupt your riveting intro to film class,” Donnie interjects, losing his shit, “but I really need to know what this is before I go, and it’s already fifteen ‘till.”

“Look, maybe she’s interested, maybe she’s not.” Leonardo’s eyes are back on the screen. “Just try to tread carefully and you’ll probably be fine.”

“Probably?”

“Again, Raph had a point.”

He groans, walking to the entrance and exit of their home. “You guys aren’t helping.”

“Not our job.”

Leo calls after him. “Be home before six!”

He turns the corner, cradling his head in his hands. ‘I am totally and thoroughly fucked.’

GoodFellas.

Of all the movies in the world, that is the movie you have decided to use to explain these concepts. This is the example piece that you are going to show to the vigilante. All you know is that you had started watching the Phantom Menace and had decided against explaining the concept of racial coding and this is the only other movie that you can think of right now. You have decided to commit, and you are already regretting it, but you decide to figure it out as you go.

You set the pizza on the coffee table, throwing a bag of popcorn in the microwave to pop. You do not expect Donatello to be late, so you decided to start now so that they could get started right away. You start walking to the window, stopping at the mouth of the hallway. You look yourself over one more time in the bathroom mirror despite yourself. You do not exactly know why you care so much; this was not a date, and you had not advertised it as one. Still, impressions are important, and the last thing you need is for him to not listen to you because of it. That is what you are telling yourself, anyhow.

You hear knocking against the glass. You check your phone for the time. ‘Five minutes early.’ You smile softly. ‘How responsible.’ You open it up, smiling at your guest. “Welcome, Donatello.” You take a step back. “Please, make yourself at home.”

He barely makes a sound as he steps off the windowsill, looking around your apartment, fully illuminated, for the first time.

After about thirty seconds of his investigation, you clear your throat. “Donnie?”

He snaps out of it. “Huh?”

You smile gently. “You wanna sit down? I bought pizza.”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, sitting down and facing the television screen. “I like your place.”

“Thanks.” You sit down next to him, tucking your feet under you as you flip on the television. “How do you feel about gangster movies?”

“Gangster movies?”

“Yeah.” You list a couple on your fingers. “Scarface, Godfather, all that jazz.”

He shakes his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “How can you make gangster movies legally?”

“That is a long answer. The short version?” You lean forward, taking a slice from the box. “The police are kind to those who cooperate, and people think their stories are fascinating.”

“So they’re documentaries?” He mimics you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. You want something to drink?” You hear the microwave beep as you stand up.

“Water?”

You nod, walking over to pull the popcorn out of the microwave and grab your drinks. “I trust the walk wasn’t too bad?”

“Not at all.” The small talk is torture. “Getting to your window was a bit of a challenge, but it wasn’t anything too bad.”

“That’s good.” You pour him a glass. “I’ll have to get something for that; maybe a planter or something, so you have a bigger ledge.”

“It’s alright.” He taps his fingers against his knee. “It’s wide enough to stand.”

“Still.” You place his cup on the counter, dumping the kernels into a large plastic bowl. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if one of you guys got hurt trying to come in through the window.” You grab a can of soda out of the refrigerator, sitting down and handing him the glass.

He smiles slightly. “You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that?”

You grin. “I try,” you hum, starting to pull up the movie. “I think you’re pretty cool too, Hamato.”

He chuckles. “You make me sound like I’m fifty.”

“Oh, totally.” You nod in agreement. “You’re an old soul.”

He blinks. “Old soul?”

“Mature, I mean.” You shrug. “I mean, handling the stuff you do with any degree of tact, to me, displays a great maturity you don’t see in most teenagers, myself included.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You get back up for napkins and plates. “Not at all.” You hand him one of each. “It’s an admirable quality, though not one I particularly envy.”

“You think?” His hands linger for a moment longer than typical as he took them.

“Yeah. You want me to turn down the lights for the movie while I’m up?”

His face goes red. “I-I mean,” he stutters, “if you want to.”

“Then I will; shows the image better when it’s dark.” You walk to the wall, flicking off the lights and sitting down next to him, setting your slice on your plate as you turn on the movie.

Your reactions to it are different.

He does not seem what you would call disturbed, but he gets grossly invested in the story extremely quickly. He is noticeably more interested in watching you watch the movie, but he studies the plot intently, noting the more domestic plotline between the lead and his wife in particular. His reaction to the violence is strange to you; he is not aloof, so to speak, but he does not flinch much until the fighting is between Henry and Karen.

You have seen this movie what feels like a thousand times. Whenever you think it applicable, you lean over and whisper to him about the directing, the script, the plot—it is supposed to be a lesson, after all. But you realize that your attention, every so often, shifts to the bed, to your pillow with the knife underneath it. The violence of the movie makes you edgier than you are used to.

About halfway through the movie, you move closer to the boy sitting beside you. You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you listen for cues for comments. You don’t notice his reaction, but you do notice how his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You do not object; you were the one who initiated, after all.

“Here’s a psychology relationship thingy you can tell your family about.” You cringe at that poor little girl standing in the hallway. “’That’s all in your head’ is classic gaslighting. I dunno if that’s really your area or not.”

“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.” He fiddles with the cloth of your jacket absentmindedly. “It’s kinda hard for me to wrap my head around, people staying like that. I mean,” he clarifies, “I get why, but—”

You both tense up as a young man on screen is shot dead by Joe Pesci’s character.

You exhale. “Yeah, I get what you mean.” You shrug. “But folks get scared, ya know? In her case, she doesn’t want to break the family apart, and she’s really into him.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way.” You look up at him. “What can I say? We fall into infatuation so fast with bad people who say what we want to hear.”

“Don’t you mean fall in love?”

You watch as Lorraine Bracco holds a gun to her husband’s face. “Nope. Love is entirely different.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at you.

“Apples and oranges.” You gesture to the television. “Love is supplementary, a beautifully imperfect connection between people.” Your voice becomes smoother, airier. “It’s a bond built on trust and respect. Infatuation is more of an addiction than anything.” You sigh as Liota meets to discuss his relationship with Sorvino. “At least I think so. That’s why love at first sight is a bunch of bullshit; you can’t have that kind of profound trust with someone you just met.” You shrug, looking back up at him. “Then again, what do I know? I’m an inexperienced, fifteen-year-old girl.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually.” He looks back down at you. “I get what familial love is, but whenever Master Splinter talks about his wife, he has a hard time putting what he means into words.”

You hear their guilty verdict. “Totally get that. Articulation is not easy to do.”

A few minutes go by.

“May I be frank?”

“Please.”

You watch as a man drags his wife out of a Christmas party. “This movie is exactly why I don’t ever want to learn how to do the stuff you do. It changes you, all that violence; desensitizes you.” You bring your knees to your chest. “Especially Raphael. I swear, that shift was as dramatic as his, at least at this point in the flick.”

He pauses. “Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

You close your eyes, breathing slowly. “I’m going to try my best,” you swear, “do everything in my power, to see to it that you guys don’t experience more than you have to.”

You mean it. He can tell.

You two are quiet for the rest of the movie. You explain why certain directing choices were made, connect the beginning with the end, talk about the theme, all while you two watched their fall from grace. When the movie ends, you realize how tangled up in him you are; your head on his chest, legs draped over his with his arms around your waist. You feel the icy air against you, as if his skin attracted it to you. You push the hair out of your face. “So,” you stretch, turning the light back on, “do you wanna see another movie, or do you have a curfew?”

He pauses. “I should honestly probably get home,” he sighs. “If I’m not home early they’ll start getting ideas.”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod, completely understanding the reasoning. “You can take the leftover pizza home if you want; the guys’ll probably eat it before I do.”

“Mikey’ll be on cloud nine.” He picks the box off the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You stand at the window, opening it for him.

He climbs onto the windowsill, looking down at you from his perch. “I had a good time.” His face flushed. “We should do this again.”

You nod in agreement. “Definitely.” You rub the back of your neck. “I’ll pick a lighter movie next time.”

“Alright. It’s a plan.” He gives you a thumbs up.

You steal yourself, cupping one side of his face and kissing him gently on the cheek. “Goodnight, Donnie.” You smile. “See ya tomorrow.”

You are a bit concerned he’s going to fall off the windowsill. “Y-Yeah,” he grinned, words slurred. “See ya later, Y/N.” He waved, climbing up and out of your window.

You smile softly, sigh. You flop back on the bed, rolling over. You have not been this at ease since you died.

‘I really like that guy.’ You close your eyes. ‘I really, honestly do.’

You drift off to sleep, dreamless for the first time in too long.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 6 Part 1

Chapter 7

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

Note

I think I drank too much - with ma boi John Tracy, Eye in the Sky?

(I hope you wrestle uni into submssion)

A Bad First Impression

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, John, Penelope

Brain is in default Scott mode (when is it not?), so more Scott than John, but it is John saying the line, so that counts, right? Haven’t proof read this or anything, but alcohol+John gave me one idea straight away, so here we go!

4am so the other prompt currently sitting in my inbox will have to wait until post-sleep (and probably post-more uni work), but feel free to send more in!

(Uni is... not going down without a fight but I have got my lecturers on my side so it’s not quite as terrifying as it was the other day. Still got a heck of a lot of work to do, but hopefully it’s survivable now.)

Lightheaded/Fainting Prompts (I know it says ‘starters’ but I figure as long as the line’s in there somewhere it counts). Or honestly any other prompt games I’ve reblogged are fine, too, just make sure to tell me which one it’s from!)

Scott glowered down at his phone, where his message was stubbornly remaining as sent. Ideally, he wanted a reply, but it had been five minutes and it still wasn’t even showing as read.

People were sending him disapproving looks, no doubt seeing a stranger with a backpack lurking outside a door and drawing their own conclusions the longer he remained slouched against the wall. Apparently even in England, people didn’t take too kindly to loitering, and Scott would appreciate it if his brother would hurry up and let him in.

Maybe for some people, five minutes was too soon to be getting cranky, let alone worried, and any of his other brothers, in any other situation, Scott wouldn’t expect an instantaneous reply, but it was John, at midnight. He should be wired into whatever technology he was playing and receiving messages instantly - especially as Scott should be expected.

The journey had been a long one, jet lag was hammering hard, and he just wanted to greet his brother, catch up for a bit, and then crash out on the couch. It had been too long since he’d last seen him - why John had decided to go to college in England, Scott had no idea.

Seven minutes, and still no answer. No little icon assuring him John had even seen it, even though John had known exactly what flight he was on and had been the one to tell Scott how long the taxi would take from the airport. Scott had fully expected his younger brother to open the door just as the taxi pulled to a halt.

The fact that he was still standing outside, seven minutes later - and midnight in Oxford was not warm - had Scott one part annoyed to three parts worried.

The looks were getting dirtier. He was surprised no-one had confronted him yet, and hoped that didn’t mean they’d decided against talking and skipped straight to calling the police.

“C’mon, John,” he muttered. “What’s taking you so long?”

Looking up from his phone again - nine minutes - he caught sight of a pair staggering their way in his direction. One was ginger, and he straightened, more than a little disbelieving when his younger brother staggered right past him without looking and pawed at the door ineffectually.

“Honestly, John,” the girl he was with - petite, blond, and in high heels that made Scott’s feet ache just to look at (his younger brothers didn’t know about his time in high heels and it was staying that way) - sighed, although the giggle that followed it ruined whatever gravitas she was trying to exude.

There were many things wrong with the sight, from John being not inside, to John looking like he’d been at a nightclub, to John apparently bringing a girl home, but the thoughts all temporarily abandoned his head as John swayed just a little bit more.

“I think I drank too much,” his brother commented, in that sort of detached fashion Scott recognised from his own nightclub experiences, and ignoring the girl, he lunged forward just in time to catch John as he crumpled.

This wasn’t the greeting he’d been expecting.

Nor was the stiletto kick to his chest, winding him and almost making him drop his brother. It was fortunate his first instinct was always to hold on tighter, otherwise John would probably have just gained a concussion to go with the hell of a hangover he was going to be facing in a few hours.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the girl demanded, drawing herself up to her full height - and even in those dagger stilettos, still failing to reach Scott’s chin. “Unhand him at once, or I’ll call the police.”

Scott was tired, grumpy, and had no patience for irritating girls trying to get in with his not interested younger brother. He straightened, hefting John into his arms - he might be tall, but John had never been a challenge to lift on the rare occasion Scott had carried him - and made a show of looking down at the small female.

“And I suppose you were planning on carrying him inside?” he challenged, shifting John’s weight until he could slip two fingers into his pocket and extract his door key.

John always kept his key in the same pocket. Scott was glad that hadn’t changed.

“And now you’re trespassing,” she huffed as he fumbled the door open. “No-one invited you in. Leave, before I call the police.”

“Actually, I was invited,” Scott snapped, stepping through the door. “You, on the other hand, are not welcome. Go home.”

He kicked the door shut with his heel, knowing Grandma - and probably John, in the morning - would be furious with him for leaving her outside by herself at midnight, but not finding it in himself to care right then.

The apartment wasn’t large, just a kitchen with a sofa and a door that Scott determined had to lead to the bedroom and en suite, which meant he heard the front door open again as he shouldered his way into the bedroom.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded. Scott ignored her as he settled his brother on the bed - planets and stars embellishing the otherwise plain navy comforter. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Scott pulled his brother’s sneakers off and set them down on the floor, making a mental note to find where John kept his shoes and put them away properly before his occasionally-clumsy brother tripped over them later.

“Why are you in his apartment?” he asked, kicking off his own shoes and letting his backpack fall onto the floor before pulling himself up onto the bed. John could sleep in his clothes just fine, but that coat and jumper had to come off before he overheated.

“Are you stripping him?” she shrieked. “That’s it; I’m calling the police.”

...Okay, Scott could see why it might look bad if she didn’t know who he was.

“Look, miss,” he started.

“Your ladyship,” she interrupted.

“Uh, what?”

“It’s your ladyship,” she said. “Not miss. I am Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, and I insist you tell me who you are and why you’re manhandling my friend.”

“John has friends?” John did intellectual peers, but he’d never cared for friends, mostly because he found it tiring when people couldn’t keep up with him - or tried to force him into socialising, which Scott was starting to suspect this girl, Lady, whatever, had done tonight. His friends were computers.

“Of course he does, you pervert,” she snapped back. “Now answer my questions, and if I don’t like the answers, I’m calling the police.”

“Perv-” Scott interrupted himself with a sigh. “I take it John didn’t bother to tell you I was coming to visit for the week?”

“Your name,” she insisted, and he rolled his eyes.

“Scott Tracy. I’m his brother, so if you could stop the ridiculous accusations that would be great, thank you very much.”

“You don’t look related.”

Oh, for-

“You should see the rest of them.” John shifted against his chest in a quickly-aborted attempt to sit up. Scott tightened his grip. “Scott, Lady P. You won’t get rid of her. Trust me. Lady P., my big brother, Scott. You won’t get rid of him. Trust me.”

“John-”

“So stop arguing and let me sleep. My head kills. Penny, why did you let me drink so much?”

“I was curious what you’d be like drunk,” she answered, completely unapologetic. “You didn’t tell me your brother was coming.” She paused. “Why didn’t you tell me when I came to get you earlier?”

“You’d have accused me of lying to get out of going,” John muttered. “Sorry, Scott. Thought I’d be back before you turned up. Wasn’t expecting to drink so much...” He trailed off with a yawn, and Scott helped him lie back down.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said - not strictly true, but as far as reunions went it was already terrible. He had no intentions of worsening it with an argument. “Get some sleep. I’ll find you something for the hangover in the morning.”

John was asleep again before he’d finished talking, and with a fond smile, Scott slipped off the bed and pulled the covers loosely over him.

Then, he eyed the blonde in front of him. John didn’t like socialising, and yet she’d dragged him out regardless - and apparently never took no for an answer.

Scott did not like the implications of that.

“We need to talk,” he said, quietly enough not to wake John, but seriously nonetheless. Blue eyes flicked from him to John and then back again.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose we do.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #lady penelope creighton-ward #thunderfluff #drabbles #such-a-random-rambler #a bad first impression

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keanan1501 · 3 years

Text

Notable swaps: Dream & Tubbo, Fundy & Ranboo, DreamXD & Micheal

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentioned child death, attempted child murder, intrusive thoughts

Short synopsis: Tubbo escapes prison and heads to Logsteadshire to deal with Dream once and for all, instead he finds something intresting in Logsteadshire... or should i say someone? Tubbo swings his sword in a lazy arch, a pleased grin on his face as the sword's enchantments hum under his hand "This is perfect" he breathes, turning to face his three companions with a bright smile "You three did wonderfully! Sam, consider your debt repayed" The creeper hybrid huffs, eyeing Tubbo as if the younger male was nothing but dirt beneath his shoes "Whatever, just don't expect me to come running when that cranky hog starts chasing" Tubbo giggles, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him down, allowing Tubbo to pet Sam like one would pet a dog, the ram hybrid is blissfully ignorant of the creeper hissing in protest "Awe, Sam~ It almost sounds like you care for me~" he coos, and his bright smile transforms into something more sinister "Let Techno come, i escaped his 'unescapeable' prison after all. There's nothing that stupid pig can do that i can't counter"

Sam nods, a short and tight one, before he turns around and takes a few steps away from the group "Also, Tubbo. Keep away from Fundy, or else" Tubbo blinks, tilting his head slightly as Sam walks off, he'd known Fundy had moved in with Sam and Ponk shortly after L'manburg exploded, but for someone like Sam, who had rumors surrounding him about his heartlessness, warming up to the cheeky fox hybrid? That was something he didn't expect, he could feel excitement bubbling inside of him, Fundy was his little spy, and Sam and Ponk were both very powerful people, if his motto wasn't "the higher the risk the better the reward" he would have felt fear, unfortunately for Sam and Ponk, he only sees this as a challenge.

"Tubbo, everything alright?" right, he isn't alone. "I'm fine, just scheming" Tubbo shrugs Purpled's concern off, and smiles at Tommy, who is looking at him like he hung the moon and stars just for the blond, maybe he had, the white streak in Tommy's hair certainly proved he had. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he thought back to his now dead ally, Quackity, the duck hybrid had given him the revive book, allowing him to bring his two favorite toys back to life after their deaths, both now sporting a white streak amongst their usual brown and blond hair, proudly showing off the fact that they belong to him, that they're his toys, and noone else could ever hope to claim them.

Sure, Wilbur would have protested with every inch of his being if he could hear Tubbo now, but Tommy had accepted it, embraced it even, all he has to do is give Wilbur a nudge in the right direction, and his favorite toy will fall back into place, just like he'd done during exile. And Tubbo knows exactly how to give said first nudge, who better to target than Wilbur's best friend, his emotional support, his other half, his Dream?

Tubbo digs inside of his pocket, taking out a slightly dented but otherwise beautiful and functioning compass, the words "your Wilbur" carved into it with so much care, Tubbo could insult Phantommy in a lot of different ways, but he can't help but compliment the late ghost's designing skills and steady hands. Phantommy had given the compass to Dream, giving a similar one to Wilbur, except Wilbur's was labled with "your Dream" during exile, Tubbo wanted to tear Phantommy a new one right then and there, but he knew better. Phantommy wasn't Tommy, of course the silly ghost would think Wilbur belonged to Dream, he simply made a mistake, Wilbur belonged to Tubbo, not to Dream! So when Dream, Schlatt and Ranboo were attacked by a horde of creepers Tubbo swooped in and stole the compass, giving it to its rightful owner.

"I'm going to give a short visit to everyone's least favorite president" Tubbo announces, clicking the compass shut and stuffing it back into his pocket "Tommy, i trust you can distract Wilbur and Fundy long enough for me to have a pleasant chat with Dream?" the blond nods quickly, and Tubbo affectionately rolls his eyes, Tommy knows his place as Tubbo's toy, but even Tubbo is sometimes suprised by how much Tommy wants to please his "hero". The poor boy hadn't learned a thing in Pogtopia, had he? As soon as someone more powerful comes along Tubbo would drop Tommy like a stone, but until then Tubbo could enjoy soaking in the pure wonder and awe Tommy has for him.

The blond scurries off, and Tubbo turns to Purpled, smirks and winks, which causes the purple-hoodied male to grumble in either disgust or adoration, Tubbo liked to believe it is the latter "Don't forget i left Ranboo at the alter for you!" Tubbo shouts teasingly as he runs off, laughing as he could hear Purpled make fake gagging noises, definitely disgust.

The trek from the prison to Dream's new village... what was it called again? Logsteadshire or something? wasn't long, and Tubbo cringed as the buildings came into view. Sure, the odd mish-mash of dirt, stone, wood and diamond were passable as houses, but Dream never did have the best eye for design. Tubbo was glad Dream let Schlatt, Ranboo, Fundy, Ponk and Techno do most of the rebuilding for L'manburg, Blood God knows what Tubbo would have done if that stupid country was filled with Dream's odd shacks.

He wasn't here to bash on Dream, he was here to get his armor and weapons back, most notablely his sword "Wasp's Stinger" otherwise known as one of, if not the, most powerful weapon in his land. The dry sand crunches under his feet as he walks confidently across the sand, he could see Eret's kid, Junior, peeking out of one of the holes in the second biggest dirt shack, which must mean that Dream lives in the biggest shack.

Tubbo throws the door open with reckless abandon, walking in to the space like one would walk into their own house, he knows Dream isn't home yet, a good predator waits for their prey after all. He plops down on the couch, his ram ears perking up as the couch lets out a creaking noise, he can't help but wonder if the couch is older than him.

Then he freezes as hurried footsteps thunder down the stairs. Had he been wrong? Is Dream home? Is someone else here to housesit?

"Daddy! Daddy! Look!" Tubbo relaxes as a young ocelot hybrid comes around the corner, the kid couldn't be older then three, which means there is no threat. The kid is beaming, eyes screwed shut and a large droopy smile on their face as the kid proudly holds up a drawing containing four stick figures.

"I'm not your dad, kid" Tubbo chuckles "Sorry to disappoint you" the kid gasps and their round big cat ears pin back, their green eyes wide with both curiosity and fear. Tubbo blinks, and suddenly the ocelot hybrid is gone, and in their place is a ziglin, looking at him like Tubbo was the savior of the world, back then it had felt nice to have someone depend on him, now? It fills his chest with a burning emotion he can't quite place, a mix between grief, anger, confusion and betrayal. Michael can't look at him anymore, so why is he still looking at Micheal?

"Come sit kid, i won't hurt you" Tubbo pats the seat next to him, kids tended to overshare, he was going to use the kid to get some info on Dream, that was all, he wasn't being nice because the kid reminds him of Micheal, he's just being tactical. The kid slowly shuffles over, clutching the drawing like a lifeline, once the kid decides they're close enough he stops, and Tubbo leans forewards to inspect the drawing.

For a three year old he had to give the kid props, the lines looked good and he could make out who was who. Dream and Fundy are standing close together, the kid inbetween them, Wilbur is off to the side, but just like the three in the foreground the kid had drawn him with the biggest smile.

"Who did you draw?" Tubbo asks, looking at the kid with a genuinely curious expression, the kid glows at the question, and points to each stick figure in turn "That's my papa Dre! That's my daddy Funwy! And un'le Wilby! And me!" Tubbo nods, a small smile on his face, so what if the kid reminds him of Michael, noone would get hurt if he entertains the kid for a bit, right?

"Owl?" the kid asks, poking Tubbo in the leg and Tubbo chuckles "I'm not a owl, i'm a ram" he helpfully informs the kid, who pouts in response "Owl?" the kid asks again "You want to go see Wilbur?" Tubbo asks back, knowing Wilbur's wings were often compared to those of a owl, but the kid shakes their head, grabs a book, and flips through the pages. The kid holds up the book and presses it against Tubbo's face "Owl?" Tubbo backs away a bit so he can read the words on the page, it's a classic toddlers book, going over different animal sounds, and a lightbulb turns on in Tubbo's head "Are you asking me who i am?"

The kid nods, gleeful that Tubbo finally understands "I'm Tubbo, can you try saying my name?" Tubbo crouches next to the kid, gently grabbing the kid's hand and writes each letter of his name on the kid's palm, as the kid reads them out loud "T-u-b-b-o" a second of silence "T'bbi!" the kid cries victoriously, and Tubbo just puts his arms up in celebration with the kid, not having the heart to correct them.

"T'bbi, out?" the kid asks, looking at him with the biggest puppy eyes Tubbo's ever seen, how does this kid know his one weakness? Tubbo signs but smiles, opening the door, the kid rushes out and throws themself into the sand, letting out a screech of excitement "Daddy and papa do not let me out!" the kid babbles, making sand hills with such vigor that Tubbo can't help but admire the kid.

Would Micheal be like that if he'd hadn't...? His hand twitches. It was Dream's fault. The handle of his sword felt cold against his hand. He could get revenge. He takes a step forewards, his sword hanging limply by his side, when did he take it out of the scabbard? He could make Dream feel the same pain, the same dark spiral that he went through. His eyes flicker across the kid's body, quickly finding every weak point that would ensure a quick and painless death. He wasn't heartless, he wouldn't let the kid suffer. He puts his hand on the kid's cheek, the kid leans in to the touch, leaving their neck vulnerable. He wasn't a monster like Dream, he wouldn't leave the kid to bleed out, scared and alone.

He snaps from his thoughts as he feels something rumble beneath his hand, his ears face towards the kid, flicking whenever he could pick up on the faint sound of purring. Tubbo quickly sheaths his sword, noone deserves to go through the loss of a child, not even his greatest enemy. He lets out a sigh and pats the kid on the head, the kid purring even louder.

His ears flick backwards, and he realizes someone is approaching, probably either Fundy or Dream, and as much as he wanted to stick around and taunt the two, the ocelot kid was too young to get wrapped up in their silly game of chess. "Hey kid? I have to go" the kid whines as Tubbo pulls his hand back, short stubby arms reach out to his hand, trying to grab hold of it, but Tubbo is faster, he jumps up and silently runs to the other side of house that the approaching person is coming from. He could hear the kid yell "Daddy!" loudly, the kid's feet kick up sand as they run towards Fundy, the fox hybrid's orange hair standing out against the pale sand "XD?!" Fundy asks, worry coating his tone like Tubbo coats things he likes with honey "How did you get outside?! Is Dream here?!"

"T'bbi!" the kid answers simply, and Tubbo could almost see the fear rolling off of Fundy in waves "Y-you aren't try-ing to say Tubbo, are you?" the kid doesn't answer verbally, but from Fundy's sharp intake of breath he could tell the kid confirmed Fundy's words.

"Tubbo?! I know you're here! I'm calling Techno!" Fundy barks, and Tubbo peeks around the corner to see Fundy typing something on his communicator. With a ease that clearly shows he's done this many times before Tubbo pulls out a bow & arrow and shoots, the arrow goes straight through Fundy's communicator, breaking it, leaving Fundy with no way to call for help, and judging by Fundy's startled yip, the fox knows it. Tubbo steps out in the open, and the kid reaches towards him with a delighted cry "T'bbi!" Fundy grabs the kid's arm and pulls them close, baring his teeth at Tubbo. The ram hybrid just smiles and walks towards them, hand already on his most dangerous weapon of all, eyes unmoving from Fundy's stone-still form. Tubbo whips out his most dangerous weapon and fires, Fundy letting out a screech as he's assaulted by twin streams of thick honey. Tubbo knew repurposing those water guns into honey guns was a genius idea, he can't believe Sam doubted him.

"What?! Why?!" Fundy groans, trying to brush the sticky liquid out of his coat, but only succeeding in smearing it out more "Because, you and me, we're friends Fundy, best friends even!" Tubbo replies, walking past Fundy like he didn't just doom the poor fox to being a bee attraction for the next week "We're not friends!" Fundy snaps back, and Tubbo turns to face him, blue-green eyes almost seeming to glow in the light of dusk

"If we weren't friends, why would you help me so much? Blowing up the community house, spying on important events, guarding Wilbur's music disc, setting off the TNT trapping Wilbur in prison. All of those things are things that you did, things i asked you to do"

#dream smp au #dream smp #dsmp au #tubbo #fundy #dreamxd #swap au

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Exile- Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Prompt: Ever since you two broke up, Harrison’s felt like he’s been exiled. What happens when you two cross paths at the premiere of your movie?

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: swearing, (implied) getting hit on by a creep?

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

Based On: Exile by Taylor Swift ft. Bon Iver

“I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out”

This was also for @harrysleftchelseaboot ‘s writing challenge for the prompt (bolded in the fic): “On a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if-” “At least a twenty.”

~~~

Harrison knew you would be here. He knew you wouldn’t miss the premiere of your first big movie. And he knew he wouldn’t miss it either, not when his name was also on the poster right beside yours. Well, it wasn’t right next to yours; in between your names was your fellow co-star’s name, but still, Harrison was here, on the red carpet of the big event, acting like he didn’t see you at the end of the carpet. And you were doing the same, not acknowledging his presence either. Both of you focused on the flashing lights in front of you.

The carpet was unbearably long for Harrison. He wanted to be excited about this film, it was meant to be his big break, but how could he be enthusiastic over it when he already knew how the film ended? As the movie played on the silver screen, his mind raced back to you.

After all, he’d seen this film before.

“We’re never going to get through this scene.” The director sighed as you and Harrison tried your best to quit laughing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You said, your breath faltering before you burst out in laughter again.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N. Get it together.” Harrison couldn’t even try to sound stern as he joked, his laughter echoing through the room. You leaned against him on the couch, clutching onto his arm momentarily.

“Hey! You’ve messed up all the other takes too!” You huffed, standing up to go to your mark. You wiped away the tears that had come to your eyes as Harrison moved his jaw around, his cheeks hurting from laughing too hard with you.

While this film was meant to be reminiscent of a classic 2000’s romcom, this scene wasn’t meant to be humorous. This was meant to be the most intimate scene between your characters- your character was distraught over how Harrison’s character got into a fight to protect her in an effort to show her how much he loved her, though his intentions were laced with jealousy. Despite the feeling in the scene, neither of you could film it properly, instead you both kept bursting out in laughter. The casting director had loved the chemistry between you and Harrison, but the actual director almost hated it because of the added difficulty when it came to filming scenes like this.

“And action!” The director called.

“Are you mad?” Harrison asked.

“Of course, I’m mad.” You scoffed, walking to the couch that he was on and sat down beside him. You placed the wrapped ice pack in our hands on his knuckles, painted with realistic, yet fake blood. “You can’t just beat up my ex with no warning.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if-” He started, but you cut him off.

“At least a twenty.”

“Even if he was-”

“A twenty.” You confirmed, not even letting him finish again, just as scripted. “I love you, but you need to control your jealousy.”

“You what?” He asked quietly, and you looked away from him, bashfully.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, you said you love me.” A small smile played on Harrison’s lips. He lifted a hand to your chin, tenderly bringing your face to his, “Say it again.”

“I love you. There.” You said, and he leaned in, his lips just barely not on yours.

“Again.” He whispered. He was so close, you felt like he was sucking the breath right out of your lungs. The intimacy of this moment, right here, was always the one that broke the two of you.

“I love you.” You repeated, biting back a laugh in order to keep a straight face. Harrison’s lips brushed against yours, bringing you in for a kiss. You felt him shake a little underneath you, before he pulled away, and you both began laughing.

“Cut!” The director shouted, and Harrison bit his lip, looking at you. “Perfect. We need a couple more angles and then it’ll be done.”

Technically, that day on set was when you and Harrison shared your first kiss, the first kiss of many for your relationship, both on-screen and off-screen. Much like his character, Harrison fell for you quickly. And, much like his character, things didn’t end well for him. He could remember it all so clearly, even now he had to swallow back his tears.

Another night, another fight, but this time it sounded like it was really over. It had to be the hundredth fight this week- arguing over him never defending you, over your offending words, over you never hearing him out, over him not being able to read your mind anymore. It all built up to hurt, and Harrison wasn’t sure if he could turn things around.

He raced home as soon as he could, but being multiple zones away from your shared home in London, it wasn’t nearly fast enough. When he arrived, everything of yours was gone, except for a single cardigan, but technically it was his cardigan that you would wear more often than him. No amount of crying could bring you back, though, as he called and called you, hoping that it wasn’t actually over. He couldn’t just let it be over, even if he hadn’t seen all the warning signs. He wanted nothing more than to turn things around, but he was too late this time.

The film ended, and he was right. He had seen this film before. Not only had he acted it out with your character leaving his in the end because the relationship had gotten out of hand, but he had also lived it with your actual relationship, like a sick, twisted parallel. Surrounded by his supportive friends and family that clapped him on the back in congratulations, he couldn’t help but feel exiled as your eyes avoided his at all costs.

The crowd of people migrated to the after party, and Harrison found himself leaning against the bar, trying his best to hide his sulking. He looked up from his drink as he heard your laughter from down the bar. It was your fake laugh, he just knew it, but he still missed the sound of your attempted happiness nonetheless. He eyes trained on you, watching how a man told you yet another awful joke with his arms around your body.

For a moment, Harrison wished he could be the stranger, holding you tightly in his arms again and telling you the worst jokes because he could always make you laugh no matter what, but then he noticed who the man was. It was his stunt double from the film. While the film was relatively stunt free, there were still a few scenes that required a double. If it was any other guy, Harrison would be jealous; he was still in love with you after all. This was different though. His stunt double, though Harrison appreciated his role in the film, continuously flirted with you throughout filming, always trying to get with you, even once you and Harrison started dating. You’d told Harrison more than once about the uncomfortable situations the stunt double put you in.

Your eyes flickered over to him, meeting Harrison’s briefly. He may not have been able to read your mind while you two were dating, but he could certainly read it now. He immediately recognized your silent call for help and took action, setting aside his drink and hurrying over to you. You weren’t his homeland anymore, but he had to defend you, he’d always defend you.

“Hey, mate, I think you should back off her.” Harrison said, putting a hand on his castmate’s shoulder, who just glared at him.

“And I think you should fuck off.” He replied sharply, but let go of your waist anyway. “Don’t you already know she doesn’t want you anyway?”

His spiteful words were enough for Harrison to see red, sending a sharp punch straight to his stunt double’s nose, who stumbled back in surprise and pain.

“Harrison!” You gasped, not expecting that response from him. He let out a hiss, rubbing over his pained knuckles. You grabbed his hand, leading him out of the party, where people were starting to talk already. You sighed lightly, taking his hands in his, tracing over his freshly bruised knuckles, blood ready to peek through the cracks, “You didn’t have to get your knuckles all bloody for me.”

“I had to defend you.” He reasoned as if it was that simple.

“Well, thank you. I guess you do know how to read my mind after all.” You said almost hesitantly, unsure about bringing up the same words that wounded the two of you months ago. As you looked into his eyes, you felt something twist inside you; it added insult to injury, but they were still the same icy blue eyes that you fell in love with over a year ago.

“I should go.” Harrison spoke up after a moment, drawing you back to the reality that was right now. He was once your crown, your everything- and you couldn’t just see him out, you couldn’t let him go. Your hand held tighter to his, keeping him from moving even though he made no real effort to walk away.

“Stay.” Your voice was so quiet he barely heard it. He winced a little under your touch, and you looked down, seeing the blood beginning to peek out of his knuckles from you squeezing that hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“You know, this seems familiar.” He stated, cutting you off. He repeated his line from the movie, “On a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if-“

“At least a twenty.” You smiled at him. You leaned in and kissed him, your hand going to the back of his neck. His hands wrapped around your body, pulling you into him. It was then, with his lips moving perfectly with yours again, that Harrison felt a wave of relief wash over him. He liked this ending a lot better than the movie’s ending, the ending that brought him out of exile.

~~~ Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

#zoeyswritersappreciationwc #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield imagine

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Sub Rosa [58]

xiii. praimfaya

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: angst, mentions of radiation sickness/poisoning, injuries, stitching up wounds.

Summary: the end is near, praimfaya approaches. a last minute plan to go to space leaves your small group scrambling to get ready in time.

a/n: IT’S HERE THE FINALE IS HERE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK BC IT HELPS ME A LOT TO DETERMINE IF THERE IS INTEREST IN SUB ROSA CONTINUING!!! OKAY I LOVE YOU LITTLE MOONS!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 21st, 2150; Becca’s Lab; less than 2 hours until Praimfaya

The planning that goes into sending 9 people into space is a lot more intense than you expected. You spend the next couple of hours trying to figure everything out, get the rocket modified, and informing those in the bunker of your plans. Right now, you are in the office with Bellamy, sitting near the radio, talking to Octavia. He just told her everything, down to the smallest of your plans, letting her know exactly what challenges you’re facing, and she seems surprised that you’re even doing this. “Five years. Can you really survive up there?”

“Raven says we can. As soon as it's safe, we'll find a way back down. We will meet again.”

“I'll be waiting…” She pauses, giving the moment a dramatic effect before finishing, “Under the floor.”

“You're not that little girl anymore.” He sits back, waiting for her response, met with nothing but silence. He glances at you and then over to the radio, his brotherly instincts kicking in. “What is it, O?”

“I'm not sure I'm up for this, Bell. They look at me like I know what I'm doing, just because I won a fight.”

“They look at you like that because you saved them, but it won't last. Now you have to lead.”

“How? I'm not a leader. It should be you or one of the twins or-”

He cuts her off, nipping the insecurity in the bud. “O, stop. None of us could've done what you did, and it wasn't just winning a fight. You gave people hope when there was none. You're Prometheus, stealing fire from the gods and giving it back to the human race.”

You smile at your history nerd, proud of his metaphor, and Octavia jokes, “Prometheus got chained to a rock so that eagles could eat his liver.”

“Thanks for ruining my metaphor, O.”

You and Bellamy laugh, and you can hear Octavia laughing on the other end before she gets serious again. “I love you, big brother. Guess it takes the end of the world for me to say it.”

He drops his head, and you can see him fighting back tears, after weeks of desperately wanting to hear the words from his little sister. “I love you, too.”

He lets go of the button, and a static that wasn't there before comes through, growing louder and quieter every few seconds. Bellamy looks at the radio in confusion, and then fear, as he questions, “O? Hey, O, are you there?”

When she doesn't answer, he fiddles with the dials, and you stand from your chair nearby and come to settle beside him on the couch, placing your hand on his thigh as he repeats, “Are you there, O?”

When nothing comes through, he drops his head again, the tears threatening to fall, before he pushes them away and whispers, “May we meet again.”

You echo, “May we meet again.”

The door to the office opens and Clarke steps inside, looking happy, blissfully unaware that the radio cut out before you could talk to your mom. She smiles at you, “Hey, do they have her?”

“The radio's dead, we won't get to say goodbye to mom.”

Her face falls at your words and you stand and walk over to her, pulling her into a hug as she starts to cry. You comfort her, feeling your own wash of sadness, and you feel Bellamy place his hand on your shoulder, allowing you to draw strength from him. The moment doesn't last for long though, because Murphy yells from down in the lab, “Twins of Terror, Bellamy, get down here!”

You all run out of the office and down the stairs into the lab, stopping beside the others to watch the giant screens in front of you. One of Becca’s drones is situated outside of Polis, filming the tower, and in the background you can see Praimfaya approaching, the large, fiery death wave barreling towards the tower. You reach out and grab Bellamy’s and Clarke’s hands, all three of you connected as you watch the death wave cover the tower, before it knocks out the drone itself, ending the signal.

Your stomach drops as the transmission ends, aware that now, all 9 of you are well and truly alone, with no help or assistance coming from your friends and family. Raven stares at the blank screen, her voice a horrified whisper. “It's 210 miles from Polis to the island. According to what was our last drone, the wave is accelerating.”

This new challenge hits her, making her think, and she starts to whisper a list of things that need to be done for this mission to be successful. “If we're not off the ground at least 20 minutes before it hits, the electromagnetic charge in the pyroclastic cloud will shut down the rocket's avionics, meaning it won't fly. That gives us 90 minutes to run a 6 hour preflight check, retrieve the oxygen generator from the lighthouse, turn a cockpit designed for two into one that can carry 9, and load the cargo hold with enough food to keep us from starving in space while we wait for algae to bloom.”

Murphy quips, “I thought you said it was gonna be hard.”

“That's not the hard part. Becca designed her rocket to dock with Polaris, not the Ark. That means I have to pilot it into the hangar bay on the ring.”

Harper looks towards Raven, shaking her head in confusion. “What's so hard about that?”

“That's not the hard part, either.”

Clarke starts to grow exasperated and she looks over at Raven. “What is the hard part, Raven?”

“Assuming we blast off in time, CO2 scrubbers on a two person rocket won't support 9 of us.”

You shrug, “So, we use supplemental oxygen.”

Monty informs you, and the group, what makes that a challenge. “Our tanks only hold an hour of air.”

“Correct. We'll have one hour to get into orbit, land in the hangar bay, and fire up the life support system using an oxygen generator built to supply a lighthouse bachelor pad.”

Murphy looks over at Raven and deadpans, “You suck at talking people into things. You know that, right?”

“Anyone here still need to be talked into this?” Bellamy looks around at everyone, waiting for each of you to shake your head no before he looks at Raven. “Good. Now we know the many ways we might die today, why don't you tell us what we have to do to live?”

Raven turns to the monitor and pulls up a 90 minute timer for all of you to keep an eye on, before she starts to hand out assignments. “Monty and Murphy, I need the two of you to go to the lighthouse bunker and get the oxygen generator.”

She hands them the tools they’ll need and the two boys nod and quickly begin their journey. Raven turns to Harper, Emori, and Echo. “I need you three to help me get the rocket ready, run the preflight check, and pack up the food.”

They nod, awaiting further instruction, before she turns and looks over at you, Bellamy, and Clarke. “I need you to go over the plans again, thoroughly, and make sure all the calculations are correct. Otherwise, this is all for nothing. Everything is up top on the next level of the lab.”

She points you to where you need to go, and all three of you immediately head there and start to comb over the plans, schematics, and data laid out before you, ensuring everything seems correct. You’ve run through it at least three times before Bellamy gets distracted, and walks away from the table, looking out over the lab, over to where the others are preparing the rocket. You look over at him, watching him, as Clarke begins again. “So, let's go over this again. I figure two months until the algae farm produces enough food to feed us. If we ration the MREs, we should get there.”

She looks over at you and Bellamy, realizing you’re not listening, and she sighs. “I’m going to take a break. Be back in a few.”

You nod and watch as she heads towards the stairs into the main part of the lab, and you walk over to where Bellamy is standing at the railing, nervously tapping his fingers. When he sees you approach, he smiles, and shakes his head in disbelief. “Grounders in space, it's an oxymoron.”

“It was the only choice.” You smile and shrug, “Only choice, also an oxymoron, by the way.”

He turns towards you, eyes anxiously scanning over you, the way he seems to do every hour since you coughed up blood in the snow. He runs his hand over the top of your head, to the sweat gathered there, and pulls a face. “So is cold sweat. I’m still holding out hope for that Nightblood solution.”

“Seems like there was never any solution. I guess Alie was right about that.”

“Hey, Our fight isn't over, not yet.”

You shrug again, thinking of your mom’s vision that she seems so convinced of. Clarke seems to feel the same way, because every mention of it leaves her worried. “My mom had a vision of me and Clarke dying, apparently just like the one Raven had that told her there was a rocket here.”

“It is not the same thing.”

“Maybe not. But they were both EMP'd.”

“Abby will be fine, Raven told her how to stop it.”

You shake your head, Bellamy still not understanding. Maybe you’ve evaded Death too many times before and this really is it. If it is, not many people get the chance to say goodbye to the love of their life, and you’re starting to feel like you should take this rare opportunity and remind him how you feel. “That's not what I'm talking about. If anything happens to me-”

He immediately cuts you off, not wanting to hear this conversation. “Nothing is happening to you.”

He tries to walk away, deflecting, distracting, motioning towards the charts on the table. “Come on, let's run these water numbers again.”

You reach out and grab his hand, your voice and expression pleading. “Please, Bellamy, I need you to hear this.”

You wait and he nods, letting you know he’ll give you this one goodbye. You take a deep breath and begin, “You and I have been through a lot together. The moment I met you in the halls of the Ark, I thought you were an asshole. That didn't change once we got to the ground, but somehow, someway, I found myself hating you less and less with each passing day. I never would have thought that the guy that threatened me my first day on the ground would turn out to be the love of my life, but I’m so glad you are. I’m so thankful for every second that I’ve gotten to spend with you. I have loved seeing you grow from a selfish asshole into a caring leader, always willing to do anything to save his people. I trust you, I trust your heart, I trust your decisions. The only thing I ask, is that you watch your emotions, check on how you feel. Sometimes your heart rules you, my stormy love, and you make rash decisions based on how you feel. Step back, evaluate everything, and do what’s best for everyone. That’s how we’ll survive, that’s how we’ll deserve to survive.”

Tears well up in his eyes as you talk to him, eventually spilling down his cheeks as you say what might be your last goodbye. He pulls you towards him, into a kiss, pushing his feelings into it. You feel his wet tears graze your cheeks as he reminds you of his love for you, making sure you never forget that you have his heart and that he’s better for it. When he pulls away, you realize that you’re now crying too, suddenly faced with the idea that you don't want to die, you don't want to be without him. But sometimes, these things lie in the lap of the gods, and you can't control it. If Death is coming for the Bringer of Death, then so be it.

Unfortunately, a soft moment can never stay a soft moment on the ground, because chaos always strikes at some point. This moment is no exception, as a giant zapping sound comes from inside the rocket, followed by Raven’s loud cry of anger. You and Bellamy turn to look at the rocket in alarm before you run down the stairs, meeting up with Clarke at the bottom before you run over to the rocket and peek inside, looking down at Raven who is waving smoke away from her head. “Raven, what is it?”

“Oh, there isn't enough time. We're pushing too hard.”

Bellamy shakes his head, giving her a concerned look. “What's happening?”

She ignores him and calls out, “Computer, systems check.”

“Launch system...optimal. Navigation system...optimal. Life support system...assessing damage.”

Raven waves off the worry she sees crossing your faces. “It's okay, we're using supplemental, anyway.”

“All life support systems are offline.”

She nods, holding a finger up at the three of you. “Just wait, two more.”

“Landing system...optimal. Communication system...assessing damage.” She drops her head, looking slightly worried as she awaits the verdict. “All communication systems are offline.”

“Recommend repair options for communication system.”

Harper looks her way, not understanding your pilot’s worry. “Who cares? There's no one to talk to, anyway.”

“Quiet.”

“Damage is beyond repair. Total system replacement required.”

Raven sits frozen in place, staring off into the distance, and Bellamy looks at her, concerned. “Talk to us, Raven.”

“We're not going anywhere.” She looks over at the fried panel, before she storms out of the rocket, yelling at the computer as she leaves, “Computer, terminate launch sequence.”

You, Bellamy, and Clarke exchange a worried look before you all hurry after her, and Harper, Emori, and Echo join you as you come to a stop around Raven. She’s staring down at a tablet in her hand, and you try to get her attention. “Raven, explain.”

“It's simple, there's no power in the ring. Two minutes ago, I thought it wasn't a problem because I could activate it remotely.”

Clarke nods her head, starting to understand. “Over the rocket's comms system.”

Bellamy shrugs, and tries to offer a solution, “So we turn the power on from the inside. “

“We can't get inside, that's the point. Without power, we can't even open the hangar door.”

Clarke steps closer to her, trying to diffuse the situation. “Raven, think. You've solved bigger problems than this before.”

“Oh, yeah, not in 53 minutes.”

“Raven-”

She cuts her off, plopping down onto the stairs to the rocket with defeat. “It's over, Clarke! You know, maybe if I still had Alie's code eating away at my brain, I could figure it out. I'm not smart enough myself.”

Clarke turns around, looking lost at what to say, and you all turn to Bellamy, knowing he’s the best at pep talks. He accepts the role and sits down beside Raven, his voice soft. “Raven, you can do this. How many times have you saved our asses before you ever even heard of Alie?”

“Too many to count.”

“You're damn right. We don't need Alie on the Ark, we need you.” Something about his words stop her falling tears, and she stares at him, clearly working through something in her head. “What?”

She jumps up very suddenly, pacing around your small group. “Alie was on the Ark, Alie was on the Ark! I was right there, so close to the kill switch, but she got away by transmitting herself to the ring.”

Emori nods, remembering. “Using the pod in the temple.”

“Yes! If she can do it, so can we.”

You look at her, not sure how she expects to get to the pod in the temple. “Raven, we'll never make it back to Polis on time, and the radios are dead.”

“We have something better than radios: the satellite tower.” She turns and points to Echo, Emori, and Harper. “You three, back in the cockpit, finish those restraints.”

They immediately follow her directions and climb back into the rocket, and she turns to you, Clarke, and Bellamy. “You three, helmets on. You're with me.”

She starts to walk away, but she remembers there's one last thing to do first. “Computer, resume launch sequence!”

“Resuming launch sequence.”

She grabs her helmet and the three of you grab yours, following her out of the lab and to the surface, her tablet still in hand, and she stops outside in the snow, pointing to the tower in the distance. “The tower's less than a mile away. All you have to do is plug this into the junction box at the base of the tower. Sat-Star-One is the name of the dish.”

She hands the tablet to Clarke, and you repeat back, “Sat-Star-One.”

“Everything is set. Once the tablet is connected, the dish will align itself with the Ark. The graphic will flash green, and that's how you know it's locked on. When it says 'send', you hit send, and the power up signal will turn on the lights, and that's it. Are there any questions?”

She finishes her instruction with a smile, leaving the three of you a little unsettled given the gravity of the situation. “Yeah, why are you smiling?”

“Because without comms, even with the power on, we still can't open the hangar bay door from inside the rocket.”

Bellamy shakes his head, his helmet shifting slightly from the movement. “Wait. How is that a good thing?”

Clarke connects the dots first. “She gets to take her space walk.”

Movement behind Raven pulls all of your eyes in that direction, watching as an orange suited figure climbs over the snow and runs towards you, struggling with a large machine part in their hands. You all run towards them, recognizing Murphy, who puts the machine down at your feet as you look around for the other man he was with. “Murphy, where's Monty?”

Murphy glances up at Bellamy, struggling to catch his breath. “He's in trouble, he had to expose his hands. He passed out. If we go back now, we can get to him.”

Bellamy looks over at you, expression worried and Murphy quips, “You can be impressed with me later, we gotta go.”

Raven picks up on the indecision in the group, turning to tell Bellamy, “Aligning the dish is a two person job at best, the twins can handle it. Harper will help me with the generator. Go!”

They start to run off, the ticking countdown making all of you too anxious and too eager. You call out to Bellamy before he gets too far, “Bellamy-”

He spins around, practically buzzing with nervous energy. “If this is one of those moments where you tell me to stop and think-”

You cut him off, “No, I was just gonna say, hurry. And that I love you.”

The words never fail to soften him, and ease some of his anxiety. “I love you more than the stars. See you in a few.”

You nod and he turns and runs into the woods, following Murphy, and you watch them until they’re out of sight as Raven hands Clarke a pack. “Monty's pack, everything's inside. It's gonna take you a good 10 minutes to get back from the tower and down to the cockpit. You have to leave that tower with 10 minutes on the clock or you'll both be left behind.”

Clarke tries to hide the anxiety in her voice, but fails as she checks her timer and sees 25 minutes on the countdown. “Ten minutes, we got this.”

You give Raven one last look, “Any last advice?”

“Yeah, run fast.”

And that’s all she has to say to push you and Clarke into gear. The two of you take off running towards the tower, ignoring the struggle of running in the snow in clunky suits. You can feel your earlier radiation poisoning wanting to slow you down, but you ignore it, determined to make it there and back in time. Your path takes you to the top of a small hill, the tower just at the bottom of it, and you lift your timer to check the time. “Eleven minutes.”

You and Clarke exchange a worried look before you scramble down the small hill to the panel of the tower, and you pull it open while Clarke grabs the tablet from the pack. You scan the names, looking for the right one, excited when you see it. “Sat-Star-One!”

You point to the right outlet and she plugs the cord in, both of you looking towards the tablet with excitement. But your excitement turns to frustration when the computer beeps, “Dish not aligned. Dish not aligned.”

“What did we do wrong?!”

“I don't know, radio for help!”

Clarke grabs the radio from the pack and frantically calls out, “Raven, please say that you can hear me. Something went wrong. We did everything you said, but it wouldn't-” Something on the door of the panel catches her eye and she reads outloud, “Manual operation? You've got to be kidding me.”

You both look up the tower, to the very top, where the dish is situated, before you exchange a look, knowing what you have to do. When you check the time on your countdown, it’s ten minutes on the dot. If both of you want to survive, you have to leave now. But if you leave now, you’ll all die in space, unable to get in the Ark. Clarke pushes the radio into your hand and starts to unplug the tablet, “Get back to the rocket, I’ll meet you there.”

“No, I’m not leaving you!”

“If you don’t, you’ll die!”

You grab her hand, holding her in place. “Mom’s vision had both of us dying. If this is it, then this is it. No avoiding it now. Stronger together.”

“Stronger together.” She repeats it back to you, accepting this, before she moves over to the ladder and starts to climb. Before you follow her, you lift the radio. “Bellamy...if you can hear me, don't wait. I love you, so so much.”

You run over to the ladder and start to climb up behind your twin, watching as you climb higher and higher. Each rung that brings you higher into the sky brings you a better glimpse of the approaching death wave, growing more terrifying the higher you get. Each time your arms move to pull you higher, you get a glimpse of the countdown, and when you’re halfway up, you whisper, “Oso gonplei ste odon.”

Our fight is over. Finally, the two of you reach the top, just as the timer on your wrist starts to beep, signaling that you’re out of time. Less than a minute later, you hear a sound tearing through the air, followed closely by the rocket, launching into the sky. You and Clarke both watch it, left behind, and you feel emotion start to grab you and choke you. Clarke reaches out and squeezes your hand, reminding you, “They’re not safe yet. Not until we get the power on.”

You nod and turn towards the control panel, watching as Clarke plugs in the tablet again, the computer repeating, “Dish not aligned. Dish not aligned.”

Clarke smacks the side of the panel, growing frustrated, “Come on, turn!”

She looks up at the dish, and you catch onto her line of thinking, already reaching towards the ladder that will take you up to the satellite. “Tell me where to go, Clarke!”

You climb up to the dish and start to pull it towards you, the satellite pointing into the sky. You hear it make a clicking sound, and you look down at Clarke, who calls out, “Good, now push it forward!”

You do as she says, pushing the satellite forward, pointing it towards the ground, until you hear another click. You look down for more direction, and she yells, “Pull it back again!”

You pull it back again, using all of your strength to get it as far back as possible, until you hear the third and final click. When you look down at Clarke, she screams, “Yes! Dish aligned!”

You lower yourself back down to her, just as she hits the send button. The two of you watch the green bar load, the message taking an agonizingly long time to send, until finally it goes through, a small little message popping up in the corner. “Sent!”

Both of you hug the best you can given the suits still on your body, pulling away when you realize the growing roar of something fast approaching. You look out towards the sky again, the death wave now horrifyingly close, and the two of you exchange a terrified look before Clarke yells, “Go, go, go!”

The two of you scramble down the ladder faster than you thought was humanly possible, running and stumbling through the snow, trying to escape Praimfaya, which seems to stay right at your backs. As you near the lab, the death wave roaring right behind you, Clarke stumbles and falls, the distinct sound of breaking glass heard as she hits the ground. You reach out for her and grab her, and at the same time she tries to jump to her feet, causing the two of you to collide in an awkward way, the broken glass of her helmet tearing into the left suit of your arm. You let out a cry of pain, the glass cutting into your skin, before both of you clamp a hand over your exposed areas and take off running again, nearly at the door to the lab.

The death wave seems to overtake you both as you reach the door, and Clarke pulls it open, stumbling inside. You run in after her, pulling the door closed, both of you slipping and sliding inside on wet, snowy shoes. Clarke stumbles to the table you were running numbers at less than two hours earlier, and she tugs off her helmet, instantly coughing up blood. Her face is covered in lesions, red and angry, and she stumbles once, before falling to the ground, unconscious. You run over to her and try to lift her, but the movement tugs on your arm, forcing you to cry out in pain. You check and make sure Clarke’s still breathing before you do anything else, and once you’re sure she’s still alive, you pull yourself from your suit, screaming as the suit takes some of your skin with it.

The cut on your arm definitely needs stitches, black blood dripping from the wound and running over the lesions on your arm, and you fumble around for a first aid kit, already feeling weak and sick. You sob with pain the entire time you stitch up your arm, doing the best you can as the stitches tug and pull on the fragile skin. Finally, once the wound is closed, the last bit of your energy spent, you lay back on the ground beside Clarke, lightheaded from radiation, blood loss, and pain. And as unconsciousness creeps up on you slowly, reaching out to drag you under, you look up at the ceiling, imagining the sky above, the Ark floating across it. Just as the darkness starts to take you, you whisper, “In this lifetime, and in the next.”

Somewhere in the sky, swimming amongst the stars, Bellamy Blake stands in the viewing window of the Ark, staring down at the Earth below, covered in a toxic death wave. Tears fall down his face, thinking of the love of his life, swallowed whole by radiation, and he chokes out, “Forever.”

next chapter

#the 100 #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 rewrite #the 100 4x13

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