#make sure you are following these tags for all confessions and gossip posts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetmage · 1 month

Note

Happy friday! for dwc, from the flufftober prompts for celestine/sebastian: "But you said"

Hiii!! Happy Friday 💖 Thank you so much for the prompt, I filled it right away :D It's a two-parter, since the first part was just her thinking/talking about Sebastian, not actually engaging with him. So I wrote a second section for that too ^^ @dadrunkwriting

--- Rating: M (for innuendos and implications) Characters: Celestine, Charli (Celestine's cousin), Sebastian Tags: Arranged marriage, family bickering, falling in love, non-Hawke romance, innuendos, love confessions, kissing, implied post "Annexing Kirkwall" war table mission, prince!Sebastian (Anders implied alive and well)

Summary 1: During a visit with her cousin Charli, Celestine is caught staring longingly at Sebastian who she once called a "rat" and vowed to never fall for. Charli isn't having it. Summary 2: Later in the evening, Sebastian joins Celestine on the balcony where she tells him what Charli said about him, leading them to discuss the feelings they'd barely suppressed for one another.

Full fic below the cut!

Celestine leaned over the balcony's marble railing, her eyes upon the sprawling gardens below. She'd perch here often to admire the busy world beyond the castle walls, though she so rarely had the desire to venture out. Since her arrival more than a year prior she'd taken to the solitude she had long wished for. She found it a place where she could be free from the endless chatter of her ladies in waiting and the demands of courtly life. From here she'd watched the seasons cycle, and so too had her life changed with the leaves.

He was not the kind of man she expected when she'd first found herself betrothed to a man with whose name had become synonymous with impulsivity and controversy, his reputation so infamous that other families hesitated to take up the Vael name, even with the promise of the highest nobility. A walking target for assassins, a man so deluded by his divine thirst for vengeance that he'd throw his city against an invisible threat and watch it burn for his cause. A tyrant, a libertine, a zealot, a monster. Those were what the rumors told—what she let herself believe—of him.

How curious it had been to find him a man who spoke softly, who would not lay with her despite their need for an heir, who, however rarely, laughed and smiled with such a warmth that it would make her heart skip. She'd hardly call him one of the Anointed, his reputation was not pulled from thin air, but he was surely incompetent, having never been trained for the throne. And eager had he been to learn under her hard guidance in exchange for an annulment when he was fit to rule alone—his own offering, having regretted the marriage he had forced upon her.

He'd displayed reasonable competence since a full summer ago, yet here she remained by her own will, quite reluctant to part from him.

She could hardly hear her dear cousin's endless animated chatter about Orlesian parties and the latest court gossip, too preoccupied with watching Sebastian mingle with their guests in the gardens. He moved among them with an easy confidence that she admired, a genuine smile that was newfound on his features as of late.

"Rats in the garden have your attention, cousin?" Charli asked, her eyes following the direction of Celestine's gaze.

"Pardon?" She looked up, suddenly remembering that the woman beside her was there.

"Ah, so only when I speak of the vermin do you hear me. You shame me, Tina. You've not heard a word of what I've said."

She felt her cheeks heat and turned her back to the railing, though it did little to ease her desire to continue watching her husband. "I'm sorry, my thoughts were elsewhere. But I was listening no less."

"Perhaps a test is in order, hmm? Tell me, who the Marquise was rumored to have had relations with at the Wintersend ball?"

Celestine's mouth opened in a silent 'o' as her mind went blank.

"So you weren't listening at all! What are you thinking about so intensely? It must be interesting. Perhaps about how you might bed the rat?"

"He isn't a rat," she hissed, a little too quickly and defensively. She hadn't meant to say anything at all, and it came out a reflex, as if someone had pulled the words from her lips.

Charli's eyes widened, though little surprise lay there as though she'd already drawn her own conclusions. "Such a change as I do believe you were the first to utter such a title." She paused, scrutinized, then whispered, "You're fucking him, aren't you?"

"No," she said, and the denial fell heavy from her tongue, though the guilt lay bare on her face. "We've never lain together. And I have no desire to, not with him. Not... in that way."

Charli sighed, shaking her head. "Yet you look well ready to hike up your skirts should he only ask." She clicked her tongue at her, a scolding mother hen. "Oh Tina, Tina. My dear cousin has fallen prey to the wiles of an ill-mannered rodent."

"He is not ill-mannered! I can go when I please and he's not placed a hand upon me. I've more work to do yet with regards to his training, then maybe I'll..."

"Maybe, is it? You defend him far too easily, dear. Have you forgotten that it is he who forced this arrangement upon you? You were so angry, you were ready to flee. What happened?"

She had no answer for her, not one that could be easily put into words. There was no moment, no instant, no time that defined what had changed between them.

"He is trying, Charlotte, give him grace. He has lost all, and is learning to rule under my council. You cannot deny that Starkhaven has grown better under his reign, even in a mere year."

"Only because he parrots your every word to the people. I do not deny his success, but it is your hand guiding his, not his own. His hands are still stained by the blood of the innocents he marched upon and the soldier's lives expended. I do not care how well he speaks or acts, his is not a soul worth redemption. He has the heart of a beast, and I would have you rid of him."

Celestine's face fell so hard she could feel it, so lost upon her words that she could do nothing but shake her head. "You don't know him, Charli, not as I. I am not blinded by love, or by lust, or by the naivete of the young. He has his faults... many, I will not deny, but he is not the villain you would have me think."

Charli's own features twisted in reluctant sympathy. "I suppose some of that may be true... but he is dangerous, Tina. The way you speak of him now, it is like a woman enamored. He could crush your heart and you would forgive him."

"He has not yet done so and has shown me only the stark opposite. I am no fool, Charlotte, I will not allow him the power to break me."

"He may find a knife in his belly should he try. I'm not above a spot of regicide." Her plum tinted lips lifted on one side, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Accept this fact and I may feel slightly better about your questionable arrangements. Tell him as such too, I want to see him quiver."

She rolled her eyes at her, but she found some relief at Charli's bizarre brand of compromise. "I'll see to it. He quivers so prettily. I think you'll be quite satisfied."

Celestine's hopes fulfilled, Charli gagged dramatically, waving her hand in dismissal. "You are a horrible, horrible girl. I knew you were bedding him."

She wasn't, but it wasn't as though the thought had never crossed her mind. "If you insist, cousin." She couldn't stop her laughter, her shoulders shaking from the effort.

--- Part 2 ---

Charlie had left, taking the noise and pomp with her, and Celestine was left alone again with her thoughts. She leaned on the balcony's railing, staring into the distance.

The day was ending and the guests had cleared from the gardens, the sky growing dimmer as the sun sank beyond the horizon. She hadn't even heard him enter, but she could feel him as he stepped up beside her, and she could smell his perfume as the gentle summer breeze blew his scent towards her.

He took his place beside her, leaning forward to rest his elbows upon the stone, their sides nearly touching. She looked up to find his eyes already upon her, a softness in his features that made her heart flutter.

"You look troubled," he spoke in a gentle lilt, his brows furrowed slightly in concern.

"She has a way of wearing me out," she spoke fondly of her cousin. As close as they were, like sisters, they had their fair share of disagreements. "She doesn't like you, thinks you're dangerous. She wants me to leave." The words slipped before she could think better of them and as they hung in the air she wished she could snatch them back, her stomach sinking.

Her eyes roamed his face for any sign of hurt or guarded emotion, but there was none. Instead he turned his gaze from her, a quiet contemplation upon his brow as he stared down at the gardens.

"I won't say that I'm surprised. I'm sure many have voiced the same opinion, and will continue to do so for many years to come. I've given them every reason. I do not expect to earn the respect of those I have wronged or who have witnessed my wrongs. But..." It was only then that his face grew dark, and his gaze turned to her again. "Do you wish to leave?"

She had no words. How could she explain the way he had her heart in a vice grip? How could she voice the feeling that she couldn't tear herself away from him, no matter her past wishes... The longing, the desire? How could she describe the way he looked at her, the way his voice could calm the worst of her storms, the way he'd touched her as if she were something delicate, sacred?

As he watched her, he seemed to grow more troubled with every moment that slipped by without her answer, though he stayed quiet, gave her space to find her thoughts.

"No..." she said, shaking her head. The first she'd admitted it to him. It was always an excuse, a delay, a lie to herself as much as him. She'd had countless opportunities to leave, and had never taken them. Even after his insistence, she'd never agreed outright to an annulment. She'd only asked that he wait until she'd taught him enough to not send the kingdom into ruins. And she'd stayed long past the point that she could use her training as an excuse.

"No?" he whispered, nearly inaudible.

"You are... different than I expected. I don't want to leave you. I haven't in a long time and I could not bear it."

She could feel him shift beside her, the tension easing from his frame, nervous hopefulness just barely restrained by the creases around his eyes. Slowly, his arm reached across her waist, giving her a chance to protest. When she didn't, he pulled her closer, her body against his, his fingers curling gently around her sides.

"Andraste bless me, I have tried to keep myself from you, but I'm a weak, weak man. I can no longer resist you. I want you free, happy, everything that you deserve... but I'd be lying to you if I said I wouldn't be devastated to lose your company. You are proof that there is still beauty and goodness in this world." He drew back to look at her, a conflict raging behind his eyes. "Forgive me, I..."

She shook her head and took his face into her hands. "You've no idea how I feel when you speak to me this way. I have known nothing but life at the end of my family's strings. I've been traded, paraded, and used. And then you... you take me from that life and show me kindness I have never known. You treat me like a person and I'm beginning to feel like one."

Her words had stunned him to silence, sad but adoring eyes taking her in as his head shook slowly.

"Sebastian?"

"The Maker's eyes upon me, I will try my hardest to be worthy of you. I have many sins to atone for, but none would be so great as to hurt you or betray your trust." He bowed his head against her shoulder, his nose brushing the side of her neck as he inhaled her and shivered. "You are precious to me, Celestine. If I am allowed to feel that... to say that to you... I need to know that you understand that I mean it with all of my heart."

Her hands slid from his jaw to the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair. "I believe you..." she whispered, and he shivered as the warmth of her breath ghosted over his ear. She hardly suppressed a snicker at the accuracy of her predictions about him—he did quiver most prettily indeed.

"Charli said that should you break my heart, she'd kill you," she told him with a roll of her eyes beneath her half-closed lids.

"She asked no less than four servants to tell me as much on her way out," he said, equal amounts of dismayed amusement in his tone.

"She also said I look ready to hike up my skirts should you ask me," she spoke in a low murmur, her lips brushing over his skin. "She isn't always a poor judge of character."

He tensed against her, a soft gasp escaping him. "Maker preserve me..." he whispered and laughed, the words stuttering from him. "I think that's a conversation better had indoors."

"Right, inside... for more conversation, yes?" She teased, pulling away and making her way to the door. She beckoned him in and he followed, a step too quickly to be innocent. She shut the door behind them and took him at once.

#dadwc #sebastian vael #oc: celestine #dragon age 2 #jun fics

3 notes · View notes

pixeldramasend · 4 months

Text

Submission Rules

Please read all of the following before submitting a post or ask.

This blog publishes opinions, confessions, rants, praises, and gossip. Claims of scamming behavior are published, serious claims (racism, ableism, zoo, and worse) without evidence will not be.

Death threats and hate speech will be ignored and deleted.

Insults towards a user's practices will be posted, towards the user themself will not be.

No name-dropping, nor no linking to posts that are not announcements. Try to make sure users are not recognizable in your post. You may shorten a user to the first letter of their username.

Feel free to tag your submissions with the tags we provide. The post will be tagged as such when posted to the blog.

More rules may be added if necessary. In general, have common sense.

#pixel cats end

1 note · View note

valpogossip · 7 months

Text

valpogossiphq will serve as the resident gossip blog, keeping up to date with all the happenings of our valpo region jewels ! make sure to read the rules, to learn about teacaps and how to participate. confessions and how to send them in, and rumors and how to start them read this post. but most importantly have fun ! gossip blog participation is optional, if you'd like your muse not to be mentioned on this page please reach out to the main ( @valpohq ). you can opt in or out at any time, this is meant to be fun and cause drama not do harm. put yourself first ! if participating, please make sure you follow the following tags : valpoteacap, valpoconfession, valporumors

#pinned

0 notes

lovelykhaleesiii · 3 years

Text

Newcomer: Chapter 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader

Words: 2.3k

Summary: The Outer Banks was a place you’d only heard of until recently. The unfolding changes in your life had led you to this very moment, and it appears you still have much to learn...

Warnings: swearing, (***) minor time jumps

A/N - sorry for the delay, had a huge assignment due and work <3 I know this is a slow ass start to the series, but trust I’m trying to build momentum LMAO

It had been just over a week, and seemingly still trying to settle in. Majority of your belongings, clothes and other sentiments have now been unpacked and neatly placed away in their new space, although you felt the hardest part wasn’t over just yet. Yourself, Caleb and Anya still struggled to find your way around town, mostly succumbing to the help of Topper, who despite initially being ever so welcoming, had grown slightly agitated from the coercion of having to always help. He’d be dragged out of whatever event or plans he had made, just to help out, especially during the grueling days of the unpacking stages of moving. Not to mention the not so discrete argument you’d overheard, just a few days ago, that he had with his mother, complaining about not being able to enjoy his own summer break.

You couldn’t deny that your presence did somewhat impede on his break, therefore, the guilt was there. You knew you’d have to start taking on some accountability, with or without Topper’s help.

“Y/N, can we just run to the store real quick, I need to grab a few things and you know how hopeless I am with directions…Please, come with, or else I’ll have to get Topper and we both know how much he loves-”

“Yeah, yeah-”

With a reluctant sigh, you tagged the page you’d just turned over in your book and propped yourself off the bed, adjusting your midi skirt before nodding in agreement.

One of the most convenient things about the Outer Banks was that nearly everything was within walking distance. It gave you a chance to explore the scenic landscape and water front, and perhaps even chat with a few of the locals you hadn’t yet properly met.

“So, how are things looking with that JJ guy? He seems pretty cute,” You intrigued, nudging your sister’s shoulder into conversation.

“Yeah he’s great actually, he's a really funny guy. He, uhm, he wants to meet but-”

“But what, Anya? That’s exciting! We sure could do with someone else’s company that isn’t Topper.”

“Yeah, I know but, I, well we, don’t really know him that well. Who’s to say he isn’t some sociopath, Y/N.”

“I highly doubt anyone around here is a psychopath, Anya. Look around, this is a place people come around to relax or retire.”

“Don’t speak too soon, Y/N…”

For some odd reason, you hesitated in a response. Anya was right, you had no familiarity with the people of Outer Banks, although it just seemed like an outrageous place for crime. Ever since arriving, you felt some unexplainable ease here.

“But I mean yeah sure. I’ll probably meet up with JJ some time… In public though, and you need to promise me that you’ll be on the lookout. Not like you’re busy with any plans at the moment, huh,” Anya remarks, as you appeasingly roll your eyes: God she could be so paranoid.

“Yeah, yeah. I promise. Think we turn right up ahead-”

Continuing right on the pathway, you could just faintly decipher the movement of people bustling in and out of the stores, and with that a wave of relief settled over you. Seemed like you knew your way around after all, having doubts along each turn of the walk.

“Make this quick, Anya, the sun’s starting to set, okay.”

“Whatever, Mum!” Anya quips, before rushing off into the convenience store, leaving your lonesome self outside waiting.

You watched the crowd across the street at the diner, enjoying their dinner, as you observed the locals in action, contemplating who was who, as you heard Evelyn exchange many names with your father over endless dinner conversations.

One name that stuck by you was “Cameron.”

Evelyn mentioned it countless of times, although you’d simply assumed they were one of the many well-known families that had established themselves in town. There wasn’t much else you knew, or wanted to know. You hardly met anyone else outside of the house, nor were you in any rush to.

“Hey!-”

Instantly snapping from your extensive thoughts, the familiar voice dragged you back to reality, as you turned your sight to its direction.

“It’s Y/N, right? Anya’s sister! It’s me, JJ, the waiter-”

“Yeah, of course, I remember you-”

As formal and proper as your manners from childhood were, just as you’d gone in for a handshake, JJ wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in warmly for a friendly embrace, before letting you go.

It had caught you off-guard, although not at all in a distasteful way.

“How are you? How’s Anya?” He asked, folding his arms as he leant against the wooden post of the front deck.

“Yeah we’re good! I’m sure Anya’s kept you posted, we’ve pretty much moved in now. How about you? I haven't seen you around.”

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty good! Oh that’s great to hear, that would mean you guys are free to come to the Boneyard tonight!”

“The what?”

“The Boneyard? Where we have this party with a kegger, Topper didn’t tell you?”

By the puzzled expression reeked across your face, JJ knew to take that as an immediate no, not questioning it any further.

“Well if you’d like, I could meet with you guys later and escort you there myself. There’s a few friends of mine I’d like to introduce you guys to.”

“Yeah, sure. That would be lovely, JJ-”

And as perfect as the timing could get, Anya returned from her little store run, stunned by JJ’s unexpected presence.

“Anya- I was just telling Y/N, I’d love to take you guys out tonight to the Boneyard, I was going to text you about it before, but something with my Dad-”

“That’s fine, but we just don’t know where exactly the Boneyard is.”

“That’s okay, JJ’s got us covered,” You exclaimed, before exchanging a friendly wink to JJ who just managed to catch it.

***

“You texted JJ our address right?” You persisted, growing anxious by the thought that perhaps JJ might’ve forgotten about you two.

“Yes, for the last time Y/N could you just relax. He should be here any minute now!”

And just on cue, in the close distance, the roaring sound of an old engine with dull headlights belonging to one of those old, retro “hippie” vans had pulled up through your drive-way. JJ’s head popped out excitedly by the window, waving for you guys to join, and immediately you both walked over.

It was difficult to convince your father of going out tonight, in fact, he’d been pestering you both to get out and mingle. As soon as you’d both approached him with the idea of heading out to some party, he leaped with relief, and encouraged you both to take up the offer. He was easy going like that, trusted you both knowing how well he’d raised you both. Of course, he covered some basic ground-rules: no drinking, no drugs, no smoking.

By the time you’d both arrived to the van, you could just make out the silhouettes of some figures inside the van through the grimey windows. JJ was out of the van, as the courteous man that he was, pulling the side door right open.

“John B-” Pointing to the boy on the driver’s seat, who gave you a friendly wave, made himself known.

“Kie-” A lovely, young girl, exchanged a gracious smile and nod to both Anya and yourself, before JJ finally introduced “And this is Pope-”, a young, pleasant man sat beside Kie.

“Guys this is Anya, and her older sister Y/N. They just moved here like a week ago.”

“Nice to meet you all, thanks for letting us join you guys tonight-” You warmly proclaimed, before gesturing Anya into the van with you following her behind.

As JJ was carefully closing the door behind you, John B mentioned how JJ spoke of you two, confessing you to be the “mystery newcomers” before kindly welcoming you to the Outer Banks.

You felt Kie’s over gaze fall between yourself and Anya, and felt somewhat intimidated, although it there was no threatening intent to it, however more of a protective sentiment.

“So you guys are Kooks, huh?” Kie blatantly questioned, before Pope nudged his elbow into her, as though to signal her to stop whatever interrogation she had planned.

“Sorry, what?”- Anya questioned in response, frowning as she looked around the van, back to you.

“Kie, stop. They don’t know about any of that stuff. Just drop it, okay!” JJ insisted, as he ran his fingers through his blonde locks, almost in frustration.

“We really have no idea what this whole Pogue-Kook business is, but perhaps you could enlighten us one day, Kie-” You suggested, as amiable as possible, not wanting to already cross the line with the few locals you’d just met.

“I sure will, I just can’t believe you guys live with Topper. He’s such an-”

“Ass?-” Anya intervened, finishing off Kie’s sentence precisely the way she intended, making Kie smile in agreement.

“Yeah, I don’t think he likes us very much,” Anya confessed, and as much as you hated “gossiping”, you couldn’t deny this one.

“Well Kie, you’re on to talk… What about your Kook year?” John B laughingly mocked, as Kie infuriatingly shoved his shoulder.

“S-So what exactly is the difference between a Pogue and a Kook?” You intriguingly questioned, shifting your gaze from Kie to Pope.

“Well, to put it short, Pogues live on the Cut, which I assume Topper would rather die than enter. Whereas yourselves and our Kie here, live on Figure 8,” Pope answered.

“So it’s just a social class thing?” You quipped, being reminded again of how very unprogressive things were around the Outer Banks.

“Exactly!-” Kie shouted, a hint of relief, as though finally finding someone who’d shared mutual understanding with her cause.

“I mean there’s more to it-” JJ added.

“But it’s best if you guys don’t get as involved, your only just new here-” He calmly reassured.

“Just keep an eye out for the Kooks, they usually come to these sort of events anyways for the booze they can’t afford-” Kie ridiculed.

“Yeah, especially Rafe-” Pope uttered, his tone reeking of bitterness to the name.

“Wait-Who exactly is that? The name just sounds familiar-” You brush off, not wanting to vex Pope any further.

“Good God, he’s the worst of the worst-” Pope scorned.

“An asshole-” Kie provoked.

“He’s the older brother of Sarah Cameron, I’m sure you’ve met her. She’s Topper’s girlfriend,” John B confessed.

“HA! Topper has a girlfriend, since when?!” Anya broke out mockingly laughing: as Kie and JJ chuckled to her comedic outburst.

“He must be that bad, huh?” You uttered, as the rest began to settle themselves.

“He’s a terrible person, Y/N. If I was you guys, I’d avoid him at all costs,-” Pope insisted, although by the seriousness of his voice, it seemed more of a warning than anything.

***

The Boneyard was a secluded location of the island, where the ashy white trunks of dead logs were arranged in a way to accompany large crowds, and rowdy parties far from the complaints of the adults. As you’d all arrived, kegs ready at the hand, the party had already commenced, as people from which John B described had consisted of Pogues, Kook and tourists. Regardless, all strangers to you.

As you finally eased yourself into that party mood, you found yourself enjoying the company of the Pogues, they were quite the friendly bunch. And it seemed ANya was letting loose as well, no thanks to her new-found companions: it always seemed like an impossible mission for Anya to enjoy herself, although witnessing her from the standpoint of a bystander, you felt comforted.

“I’m just going to go grab myself a drink-” You assured John B, as he nodded in agreement.

As you crammed yourself through the crowd, you felt a tight grip pulling on your elbow, making you topple in the direction of whomever it was that grabbed you.

“Topper, what the fuck?”

“How the hell did you get here, let alone find out about this?” He exclaimed, by the faint smell of the beer oozing with each breath, you could tell he was slowly becoming intoxicated.

“No thanks to you-” You snapped, before jolting your arm out of his strained grip.

“Seriously, Y/N. Does your Dad even know you’re here?”

Before you could even respond, some sort of internal sixth sense, felt an intense pair of eyes on you. As you shifted your gaze, to a bunch of people standing behind Topper, you’d immediately recognised his face.

For some odd reason you felt a shiver crawl down your spine, as though in fright of seeing some ghostly figure. His intense, blue eyes just fixated on you and only you, as he took sips of his drink, with one hand snugged away in a front pocket. It seemed he was in conversation with a bunch of other guys, all dressed quite similarly to one another in their polo shirts and summer shorts, and yet he was not at all engaged... Only to you.

“Earth to Y/N!” Topper loudly interjected, stirring you to snap back, as you fixed your view on him.

“Y-Yes, yes he does. Now could you just let me be?”

And before you knew it, you instinctively stormed off, before Topper had the chance to drunkenly question you any longer. As you disappeared into the crowd, heading for the kegger, your mind persisted in contemplation.

That was Rafe, surely. You vividly remembered the whole, minor incident during your first encounter with him.

After what the Pogues had confessed about him, and by his looming nature, you’d never felt so unnerved by someone, you’d in fact, never even met.

But why?

TAGLIST - @juliep7654 @foggybanditgardenprune

108 notes · View notes

0606-hyuck · 3 years

Text

first kiss forum

♡ everyone has their first kiss eventually. sometimes, you just have to create an online forum to find the right one. and sometimes, the right one is not at all who you expected it to be.

genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you look hard enough, university!au, friends to strangers to lovers!au

paring: na jaemin x female reader

word count: 3.5K

a/n: i have never had my first kiss b4 so the description of it might be a bit off lol but i tried. this is unedited btw. my masterlist is here!

tagging: @nct-writers

Everybody has their first kiss eventually.

First kisses are described as an experience every young girl yearns for. An experience classmates sit around in a circle and proclaim their excitement for, and gossip about their own stories. Something that, for some, was everything they'd ever hoped for and more - for others, a memory they’d rather forget.

A first kiss was something you had not had yet.

At the age of twenty-one, you were getting to the stage where your lack of romantic life was veering towards concerning. Now in your third year of university, you really thought that by now you would have at least had your first kiss. Or a boyfriend. Or even held someone’s hand romantically, for god’s sake!

You weren’t one to rush into things, though. You didn’t see the point in trying your hardest to get a boy’s attention when you were perfectly fine without it. Some people you knew couldn’t stand being single - for you, it was all you’d ever known. Sure, you’d wanted to be in a relationship before, but you’d always prioritised your education and grades over hooking up with people at random frat parties in the weekend.

The only problem was, your last remaining single friend, Asi, had gone and found herself a man, and was now just as loved up as everyone else. She was the friend you’d hang out with when everyone else was on dates with their significant other, the friend you’d roll your eyes with when your other friends were going on and on about the latest cute thing their partner had done for them. Now, you were all alone, with no one to save you from the clutches of boredom or second hand embarrassment.

You were happy for your friends - of course you were, all you wanted was for them to be content in their relationships - but it was worrying you that boys had never really shown an interest in you. You didn’t think you were ugly - in fact, you had a healthy level of self esteem - but you’d never had anyone confess their feelings for you like your friends had. You were starting to wonder if there was something wrong with you. Were you really that boring that no boys wanted to talk to you? Were you just that unlikeable?

Before your train of thought plunged itself off the rails and into a deep pit of self loathing and pity, you reminded yourself that you were, in fact, likeable. Boys had liked you before, of course they had - you were great! Only, it had been a long time since someone had had a crush on you.

Na Jaemin had been the first boy to show a serious interest in you, back when you were both just sixteen years old. Jaemin was that boy in class that all the girls had a secret crush on. He wasn’t necessarily good looking in an “oh my god he’s so hot!” kind of way, but his bright smile, eyes that shone with curiosity and amusement, and cheeky personality had you hooked on him since the first time you’d met him.

You’d been classmates with Jaemin since you were fourteen, and you’d had a crush on him for just as long, but it took a few more years for him to return your feelings. It was only after you were paired up for a science project together that you actually started talking to each other and becoming friends. Jaemin was virtually a massive ball of sunshine in the classroom, and ever since you were paired up together he always made sure to include you in conversations, games, and the friend groups he was in. It was a few months after your science project that you heard little snippets of conversations from his friends - rumours started circulating that Jaemin had a crush on you!

When you brought it up with him, expecting him to brush it off as a joke his friends had started to embarrass him, you were utterly shocked when he admitted the rumours were true. He told you outright that he liked you, but didn’t expect or want to pressure you into feeling the same way back, so he simply grinned and walked away before you could respond.

A few days later, he came into class carrying a yellow flower. You’re positive every single girl in your class had their eyes fixed on Jaemin as he walked up to your desk and placed it in front of you. The flower was frayed and browning at the edges, and it appeared Jaemin had simply ripped it out of his own back garden, but it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you.

After that, he constantly invited you to hang out with him and his friends at the local arcade or basketball court. He was never embarrassed to have you around, and would always make sure you felt comfortable and were having fun above all else. Soon, you would hang out together, just the two of you. You never established what your relationship was, but you both knew you were best friends, and that Jaemin liked you and you liked him just as much.

And then, he left.

Just like that, Jaemin was no longer a student at your school. You heard from his friends that he’d transferred to another school a couple districts over. He left without saying a word to you, and you weren’t even upset. You just wondered what would have happened between you two if he’d stayed.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you finally focused on what Asi was saying. It was when your best friend was going on a tangent about how lovely her new boyfriend was that you made a decision. If you couldn’t get your first kiss the conventional way, then you had no choice but to resort to unorthodox methods.

You were going to create a first kiss forum.

It was simple, really. Create an online forum with some crucial questions - name, age, why they wanted to be your first kiss, etc - and then send it off into the online world. It took you less than thirty minutes to decide on the questions, create the forum, and then post it on a facebook page followed by students from your university. You honestly felt a little embarrassed that you were going through this much effort all for a first kiss, and you were worried about what people would say in response to your post, but after an hour all the comments people left were either them being super supportive of your initiative or people tagging their friends to apply for the position of “first-kiss-taker”.

Now all you had to do was sit back and wait a couple of days for the responses to roll in.

“So, have you checked the responses to your forum yet?” Asi asked, reclining back into the sofa in your living room and grabbing a fistful of crisps. When you’d told her your plan to create the forum, Asi was hesitant. She didn’t believe you needed to go through all that effort just to get a first kiss - according to her, first kisses weren’t even a big deal anyway - but once she realised your mind was set she did everything in her power to be that supportive best friend you needed.

“Not yet,” you sighed, fiddling with your phone in your hand. “I’m just nervous, you know? What if no one wants to be my first kiss, and they only applied because they thought it would be funny?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, Y/N. Crack that bad boy open and let’s go through some of the responses!”

You’d refrained from checking the forum since you’d posted it thus far, but at this point it had been quite a few days and the hype your post initially received had died down. Pulling up the forum on your phone, Asi leaned over your shoulder while your jaw hung open in surprise.

“Asi, are you seeing this?” You managed to stammer out. “53 responses? That’s so much more than I was expecting. I thought I’d get, like, five at the most!”

“Damn, that is a lot,” Asi replied, beaming at you. “Now let’s narrow that 53 down to one.”

Huddled together over your screen, you and Asi spent the next few hours deciding between the applicants, searching for your ideal first kiss taker. “How about this guy, Taeyong?” She suggested.

“His responses to the questions were sweet,” you agreed, and then blanched. “Asi, he’s 25! I don’t want to have my first kiss with someone that much older than me!”

“Okay, so someone close in age with you....hmm, how about this dude, Donghyuck?”

Glancing at the screen for a second, you shook your head. “Did you see his response for the ‘why do you want to be Y/N’s first kiss’ question? He said ‘because I have a corruption kink’. No thank you.”

“God, you’re so fussy, Y/N!” Asi joked, shoving you lightly with her shoulder, although your focus was back on the applicants.

“How about this guy? He simply put his name as J but his responses are so heartfelt,” you pointed out. “In response to the ‘why do you want to be Y/N’s first kiss’ question, he said ‘have you seen her? Y/N is literally a goddess sent down from the heavens and a first kiss is a beautiful experience for both parties and one I would love to share with her’.”

“Oh, so this J is a sweet talker then, huh?” Asi grinned. “I think you’ve already made your mind up, then. Go ahead and message him, he sounds like a good guy!”

And message him you did.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear?”

Today was the day you’d agreed to meet this mysterious J and have your first ever kiss. After selecting J out of all the applicants, you’d messaged him with the good news that he’d been chosen. J seemed really excited, and you’d been talking with him every day leading up to when you would finally meet him. The lucky guy seemed almost perfect for you. Somehow, J knew exactly what to say in response to your messages, and every time you checked your phone you were smiling because of something funny he had said. He was genuinely sweet, and you don’t think you could have made a better choice when it came to your first kiss taker.

Only now, you had spent too long fretting about your outfit and you were running slightly late to your meeting with J. You’d both agreed to meet at this cute little park down near the subway station close to your university - somewhere public, so you felt safe, but also somewhere that was relatively quiet and offered you some privacy. J had sent you pictures of himself before, but only pieces of his appearance - a mirror shot with his face covered by his phone, a corner of his eye and forehead, his hair - nevertheless, you still felt confident you’d made the right decision and that J was the right person for the job.

You sent J a quick ‘I’m here now, sorry I’m late’ text once you reached the park, and headed towards your agreed meeting spot. There was an old bench secluded under a wide cherry blossom tree that you’d decided to meet J at, and because it was over the other side of the park you picked up your feet and increased the pace.

You only slowed down when you spotted a figure, already sitting on the bench under the tree. As you got closer, you realised it was a male, around your age, dressed in a knitted brown sweater and black jeans. His light brown hair was wavy and brushed back from his face, and he appeared to be clutching something tightly in his hands. He looked vaguely familiar from this distance, you thought, but you figured it was because you were finally seeing his face in real life, rather than piecing it together through random selfies.

That was, until you were close enough for him to notice you, and turn around to say, “hi, Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you again.”

Standing up from the bench was Na Jaemin, your former best friend and crush, holding a bunch of yellow flowers between his hands. Of course J was Jaemin, that was just your luck.

You and Jaemin hadn’t left on good terms. Back in high school, back when you were best friends with him, Jaemin was very popular. He seemed to do everything right - from hotspotting your classmates to helping them with their homework, Jaemin was loved by everyone because of how caring he was. You were lucky enough to bear the brunt of that kindness when you were his friend, but you were also young and prone to jealousy.

Not only was he loved by everyone, but Jaemin seemed to love everyone back as equally as much. His innate ability to charm literally everyone he talked to - from classmates to teachers to parents - was something you’d loved about him at first, but soon became the bane of your existence. You found it hard to share Jaemin’s attention with everyone else in your class, and, although you knew Jaemin liked you the most, in your eyes it seemed like he was treating your classmates the same way he treated you.

You started questioning whether Jaemin actually liked you at all, or if you’d just read too much into the situation. You tried to ignore the sweet smiles and kind compliments he gave other girls in your class, and looking back now you realised he was only being friendly and that’s just who he was as a person, but you were starting to slip into the poisonous grasp of jealousy and feel like you were no more special than anyone else.

One day you decided to confront Jaemin about how nice he treated everyone, and how it made you feel like he didn’t behave towards you the way someone would to their crush, and he did not take that conversation well. You don’t blame him, not really, considering you essentially told him to stop being so nice to everyone and focus on you instead. Jaemin said he wasn’t going to stop being kind to people because you felt jealous, which upset you even more, and you didn’t talk to each other in the days following your fight.

When Jaemin left your school, you two were still very angry at each other, so he didn’t tell you he was having to leave. Quite frankly, you didn’t care. Jaemin could suck it, at that point. If he insisted on treating you the same way as your classmates, who he didn’t have a literal crush on, then he didn’t deserve you at all. You felt like a whole lot of weight and unnecessary jealousy was lifted when Jaemin left, but as you got older you started to wonder how your relationship would have turned out if you hadn’t been so damn immature.

It’s funny, really. When you were sixteen, you thought Jaemin was going to be your first. Your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first love. And here he was, five years later, offering to give that to you.

“I got you flowers. I remember they used to be your favourite,” Jaemin spoke, flashing you a soft smile as he held out the bouquet of flowers to you. Now that he was standing next to you, you noticed all the traces of the sixteen year old version of him that you were familiar with. Although he had gained an extra half foot in height and lost the chubbiness of his cheeks, he retained the stunning smile and bright eyes that you fell in love with all those years ago. He really was handsome now.

“So, you’re J?” You managed to say, confusion and surprise evident in your voice as you took the flowers. You took a seat back down on the bench and Jaemin followed your lead, sitting closely beside you.

“That I am. Sorry I wasn’t honest with you about who I was,” he admitted. “I figured you probably wouldn’t meet up with me if you knew who J really was.” You lifted the flowers up to your nose and took a long draw of the flowery scent. Jaemin was right, that infuriatingly attentive bastard, they were your favourite.

“Right. And yet you still applied to be my...first kiss?”

Suddenly, you felt very embarrassed to confess you’d never had your first kiss before. Jaemin was gorgeous, and there was no way he was in the same boat as you, you thought as humiliation flooded through your body.

“Uh yeah, about that,” Jaemin chuckled, a blush appearing on his cheeks. Hold up, why was he blushing? “When I saw your post about the first kiss forum online, I was so surprised that you’d never had your first kiss before. I kept thinking, if we hadn’t stopped talking to each other we probably would have been each other’s first kiss back in high school.”

He paused, and glanced at the ground, unable to keep eye contact with you. “I feel really bad, you know. With how things ended between us. We never dated, Y/N, but I really liked you. When I moved to my new school, I wanted to message you and tell you all about it, but because you never messaged me I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Your breath caught at Jaemin’s words, and you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. “That’s not true,” you revealed, and he finally looked up at you again. “I was so angry at you, yes, but I missed you so much, too. I wanted to talk to you, but my pride stopped me from messaging you first. If you’d sent me a text I would have replied.”

“I nearly did. When I finished high school, I was going through all my old subject books and found a note you’d written me. It was so childish, something about how you would love me forever, with a stupid little love heart beside it, but I suddenly had the urge to wrap you in a massive hug and tell you I was sorry, and that I forgave you. I was going to message you that day, but we hadn’t talked for years and I thought you would find that weird,” Jaemin said sadly.

He let out a loud sigh, and replaced the very sorry look on his face with a bright smile. “I’ve had my first kiss already, but when I saw your forum I thought it wasn’t too late to give you yours!”

“Wait, what?” You furrowed your brows, your brain still processing the fact that Na Jaemin missed you as much as you missed him, if not more. “You actually want to be my first kiss?”

“Of course! I couldn’t give it to you when we were sixteen, but it’s not too late to make up for past mistakes, Y/N.” Jaemin placed a hand over your own and pulled it closer to him, wrapping you in his warmth. “Y/N, I would be honoured to be your first kiss, if you’ll have me.”

Unsure as to how to reply, and transfixed by how seriously Jaemin was taking this whole ordeal, you simply nodded your head eagerly. His eyes lit up with pure happiness when you gave him the green light, and Jaemin turned on the bench so you were facing each other directly. He placed a hand lightly on your jaw and tilted your head upwards - not with force but with a dominance gained only from having kissed others before - and searched your eyes for any signs of resistance, finding none.

One minute you were gazing back into Jaemin’s rich brown eyes, and the next his lips were on yours, pressing softly against your mouth. It was like an alarm went off in your head, screeching to you that your childhood crush, your first love, was in fact actually kissing you and this wasn’t a figment of your imagination. Using his palm to tilt your head slightly to the side, Jaemin deepened the kiss and you grasped for his forearms as he increased the intensity by parting your unpracticed lips. Tremors passed from your head down to every single fibre in your body, and through the pleasure and dizziness you were vaguely aware that you were kissing him back. Kissing Jaemin was exactly how you imagined it would be, yet it was a whole new experience at the same time. A perfect mix of familiar and foreign.

After a few long moments, Jaemin released your lips and leaned back, a smile equal parts bashful and smug crossing his face. His face was red, and you weren’t quite sure whether it was from a lack of air or because of what you’d just done together, but what you did know was that you couldn’t think of someone more perfect to share your first kiss with.

“So,” Jaemin grinned. “I think we have about five years worth of kissing to catch up on.”

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct-writers #dreamwritersnet #nct #nct dream #na jaemin #jaemin nct #nct jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin scenario #jaemin imagine #jaemin fic

185 notes · View notes

tamagochiie · 3 years

Text

a line without a hook | part three.

part three. “merely tolerable, really.”

chapter synopsis. Had you known freedom tasted like this, you wouldn’t have bothered to form an attachment with Mr. Ackerman. Was there really a point in what you were doing?

word count. 7.5k

tags. swearing, angst, tones of misogyny

notes. This is a very late post, and I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. As for the upcoming chapter for this week, there may been another delay. I’ve been swamped with a lot of assignments and its my finals week, so I hope you all understand :/

back to master list

<< part two. | part four. >>

Your mother always told you gossip to women is like honey to a swarm of flies: you can catch more of them depending how sweet the scandal is. But she never thought to tell you what it'd be like if you were the honey, that the women would stick to you, drinking the life out of every little thing you do and unpack it together with their girl friends over afternoon tea and biscuits.

Your name, along with Mr. Ackerman's, had travelled from one tongue to the other in the last four days.

Each story are more intricately fabricated than the last. You heard all sorts of things, too many thing to keep track of — something about Mr. Ackerman's family background and more so yours, but you didn't want to pay heed over something that didn't come directly from the man himself.

And just the other day, while you commuted to town to deliver Reiner's forgotten lunch, you overhead a group of women whispering that you were already singing with the church bells.

You had shuddered at the thought and assumed it was something your mother must've cooked up given how she easily melted at Mr. Ackerman's feet when he came to visit a few days ago.

You and Mr. Ackerman were both aware that his visit, and all the kind and loving words he had said before you and your family, were merely for show. And that it was for purpose of sweeping your house clean of all trespassers and violators of your freedom.

But nonetheless, even with a letter that came to heed you of his visit, you were still left utterly speechless.

Mr. Ackerman had strolled into your cozy home, he hadn't been swathed in his usual drab choice of clothing, but settled with more pleasing fashion that didn't say,"I'm pessimistic and moody, and I've got a reputation for killing for sport".

He had been bathed in shades of blue, but still leaned on the darker side of the color spectrum. It had been a good change save for his signature cravat, and it led you to wonder just how many he owned.

You came to the conclusion he owned quite enough to be stitched together and make a thick and long blanket to last through the winter.

However, what had left you gobsmacked and rapidly blinking in succession was not Mr. Ackerman's slight change of style, but the little smirk across his lips while he spoke to your mother. His tone hadn't been clipped and did not drip in annoyance, but was a twinge softer — completely out of pocket for a man with a reputation for being dark and brooding.

Sasha, on the other hand, had been easily tickled in pure curiosity by Mr. Ackerman, poking and prodding him with peculiar and rather personal questions. You had expected he'd yell at her, seeing he'd be the kind of person to do that.

But he didn't snap. It was obvious his patience had been wearing thing, so he kept his replies quick and short just like his temper.

Pieck never spoke a word, but had instead observed the exchange as she sat on the couch, sandwiched between Connie and Jean while your mother had done her best to entertain Mr. Ackerman in small talk even though the man reeks of disdain for it.

Though Mr. Ackerman had successfully wooed your mother, and probably the rest of your sisters and Connie, Reiner was anything but.

Your brother protectively glued himself to your side, glaring down at Mr. Ackerman with a vexed look plastered across his scruffy face. Unfortunately, Reiner's attempt to be intimidating had fallen short and made you not only you, but Mr. Ackerman, suppress a stifling laugh.

Regardless of your brother's wishes, Mr. Ackerman's visit had been deemed fruitful. Your mother's eyes as well as her heart completely set on Mr. Ackerman and Mr. Ackerman alone.

To which both requests you firmly nodded and smiled at.

But your smile had been quick to fade.

You agreed to this little sham because you admired your freedom, but ever since Mr. Ackerman's visit, despite no men coming to bother you from the early hours of the morning till the late afternoon, you find yourself anything but free.

Your mother, the seventh circle of your personal hell, has taken it upon herself to berate you—tells you to make more of an effort on your appearance. She'll comment on how you sit, how you speak or how you eat, and every other thing you do.

You may have been liberated by the lusting grips of men, your mother's iron clad hold on even the thought of you being a few steps away from marriage is much tighter, and much more stubborn than you ever imagined.

So you spend your days hidden in your room, away from your mother and the rest of the world.

Sometimes you'll read or stare out the window, and when you do decide to step out of your little bubble, you'll be sure to check if the coast is clear from any possibly ambushes from your mother.

Though the only time you really do go out is to check the mail to see if Mr. Ackerman has written to you — he has not — or spend some time with your great love, your horse, Maria.

But for the most part, you plant yourself on the couch right up against window sill with your back slumped on the wall and legs sprawled out. You stare outside, not really looking at anything in particular.

Maybe the chickens.

You heavily sigh, fogging up the class as you gaze idly, twirling the ends of your hair. You grow jealous of the chickens and the roosters because at least they have their freedom. Their simple minds and their simple lives; the lay eggs and crow at dawn.

Damn chickens, you seethe in thought.

There's a faint knocking on your bedroom door that cease your internal tanget. You turn your head as the door creaks open, revealing your sister, Sasha, poking her head out between the gap. A friendly smile adorns her pink lips as she holds a plate of food in her hands.

"Can I come in?" She asks, already stepping inside. "I brought you food. You've been cooped up in here for too long, I thought you might be hungry."

You chuckle and motion her to come in.

Sasha moves briskly and steps inside before shutting the door behind her. She tiptoes across the room and over to you. She lightly taps your foot to make room and you swing it off the couch.

She places the tray between the two of you. A few loaves of bread, some grapes, and other fresh fruit that you assume she's stolen from the batch Reiner's supposed to sell.

She swipes the loaf of bread, breaking it in half and hands you the bigger piece before chewing her's down.

"You alright?" She asks, her words muffled by the bread. "Mamma's gotten under your skin, hasn't she?"

You bob your head, humming in response as you eat the bread bit by bit, taking your time.

Sasha follows your line of sight, checking to see what you've been so keenly staring at. Only to find that it's just a bunch of chickens running around.

"I'm overwhelmed," You confess breathily. You pull your legs up to your chest and rest your chin onto your knees. "I don't like the feeling one bit."

"Is it because of Mr. Ackerman?" Sasha looks at you with concern outlining the softness of her face. You don't really reply, just lulling your head in thought. "You surprise me, you know."

"I do?"

Sasha hums delightfully as she takes her last bite of her bread before moving onto the grapes.

"For someone who admires her freedom and never spared an interest in even the thought of forming an attachment, you latched onto Mr. Ackerman rather quickly." Sasha had always been mistaken for an idiot at a surface level, but she's a lot more perceptive than people give her credit for — than you give her credit for. And for once, you hated it. "One could even say that it's a bit...odd. But you've always been off, so maybe it isn't so out of the blue."

"Oh, how you read me so well," You say, sarcasm oozing from your words. You take a quick bite of bread.

"What's he like?"

You shrug your shoulders, pouting in thought. "I've only ever met him thrice," You point out, laughing at the curiosity avidly pooling from her eyes. "There's not much I can judge. If anything, I think you'd know more than me since you've pummeled the poor man with one too many questions."

Sasha takes the tray of food and scooches closer to you before putting it on her lap.

"But that's different! You've gotten first hand experience. Is he really like all the rumors?" She asks, a little too keenly. "Is he really as mean as they say? Because when he visited the house, he seemed too stiff for comfort."

You snort and are quick to cover your mouth to keep the bread from spilling from your lips.

"Mm, well, Mr. Ackerman is man of few words and very few expression, but he seems...genuine?" You don't mean for it to come out sounding like a question, but the more you speak, the more you're hit with the realization you know absolutely no idea who the man is.

All you're really left with is his hatred for attention, and your mutual need for peace. Everything else you try to think of comes up short.

Mr. Ackerman hasn't written a letter to you since his visit. It's not like he said he was going to, but a very small and naive part of you thought he would.

Sasha continues to rain down on you with more questions, but it isn't as persistent as you'd expect her to be. Its either her line of concentration snaps too quickly for you to formulate a response, or she's just too excited to hear more.

You answer what you can until you can no longer think. Eventually you're too tired to talk about you and the subject of the conversation shifts to Sasha.

"Hey, Sasha," You carefully speak between chews, minding the grape in your mouth. Sasha's eyes, still colored in hunger as she takes another loaf of bread, darts to look at you. "What about you, though?"

"Hmm?"

"You and..." You shift in your seat and lean in. "You and Nicolo - are you two really - Oh! My God, are you alright?"

Sasha nearly chokes on her bread. Clenching her fist, she beats her chest to help soothe the burn in her throat, coughing for air.

"Sasha!"

"I-I'm fine!" She finally says, swallowing thickly. "Sorry, yes, I'm fine."

"Do you need water?" Sasha shakes her head as she rests her hand on your shoulder to keep you still in case you choose to leave. You move even closer to rub her back to ease her, but once she does, a smirk plays across your lips and chuckle stumbles from your lips. "So, I guess it's true. You and Nicolo really are —"

"Shut up!" Sasha interjects, her head snapping up to look at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "Please! I've had enough of mamma pestering me about this— ever since Pieck decided to tattle on me! If you're going to being just as annoying as her than—"

"I won't be!" You argue, your tone playful and lilting. "I'm only asking, and you're taking forever to say anything!"

"Well, fine! Alright." Sasha sharply huffs in defeat as she tosses her bread onto the tray and sets it back onto the couch. "Yes, okay, I suppose I might have feelings for Nicolo, but I don't know. I can't tell."

"You can't tell...?"

Sasha lets out another breath as she slumps against the wall. Her head tilts up to look at the cracked ceiling before looking back down to you, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she picks the right words to convey how she feels. She nervously twiddles her thumbs while doing so.

"How do you even know when you like someone?"

You blink at Sasha, taken aback by her question while she looks at you eagerly.

You realize, after a few breaths, you don't have a definite answer because unlike Pieck, you've never really experienced the feeling yourself. You always lived vicariously through fictional characters you read in novels, and Mrs. Bloom's sweet story of how she met her husband.

But other than that, you come up short—you can't tell at all.

"I think I'm the wrong one to ask." You confess, causing Sasha to look at you quizzically as confusion stirs in her mind. "I haven't really found the answer myself, I'm sorry."

Sasha sighs dejectedly.

"It's best to ask Pieck, isn't it?"

"As me what?" Pieck's voice, delicate and laced in curiosity, has your heads turn to the bedroom door.

It seems you were both too deep into your conversation to hear her knocking.

Pieck stands by the door, her olive green dress flows in the gentle window coming from the opened window, her hair into the usual messy, low ponytail that falls down her shoulders; her eyes heavy-laden with sleepiness.

Your eyes trail down to her hand, finding a pile of letters tightly held in it.

"Pieck, what's that?" You ask, dismissing her question with a question.

"Now hold on," Pieck hides the letters behind her back, pressing herself against the door to create even more distance—as if the wide expanse of the room wasn't enough. "What's the question?"

Sasha rolls her eyes. "It's silly."

"Well, if it's from you, I'm sure it is."

Sasha grumbles at Pieck's sarcastic retort, and you watch as your two sisters begin to bicker.

"If you're going to be an ass, I won't tell you." Sasha crosses her arms and twists her body away from Pieck and towards the window, her eyes falling to the clucking hens.

Peick nimbly trots across the floor and over to Sasha's side, crashing into her and quickly wrapping her arms around her shoulders, nosing through Sasha's hair bunched up in a high pony as she rests her chin onto her shoulder.

"Go away!" Sasha growls, her face contorts a sour expression as her attempts to shove Pieck off fails.

"Oh, c'moooon," Pieck coos, peppering kisses over her little sister's cheek, "won't you tell me? I hate being left out, especially when it's the two of you."

Sasha grunts as she tries to pry away from Pieck, but only to be caught in sloppy kisses on the cheek and the temple of her forehead. Though Sasha visibly shows disgust, even you can see that she loves being showered in affection from Pieck.

Pieck, being the eldest and holding the most responsibility, had always held you both with great love and adoration.

"Alright!" Sasha yells in surrender, tangled in the arms of her sister and somehow in a headlock as Pieck sits behind her. "I'll tell you, I'll tell you! Let me go and give me room, please."

Sasha elbows Pieck away from her, giving her enough space to breathe, and you snatch the tray off the couch and onto your lap to keep it from falling.

And as Sasha begins to explain her little dilemma, Pieck comfortably sits herself behind her, propping her chin back onto her shoulder and winding her arm around her waist as she listens intently. Pieck's gentleness doesn't go unnoticed by Sasha, and you watch as she sinks in the hug.

Pieck clicks her tongue, her eyes look at you as she falls into a thought, not deep enough to overthink and get carried away as she finds the answer.

"Hmmm, love and likeness can be complicated, but only if you let it be." You tilt your head at Pieck as she continues on her train of thought. "But you can tell if you like someone if you enjoy being with them and find their company pleasant. Do you find Nicolo's company pleasant?"

Sasha mindlessly hums in thought as her head lulls back on Pieck's shoulder.

"I do, actually." Sasha admits without hesitation. "I think..." She takes a beat to suck her teeth as she continues to think about it a little more, "I like the food he makes and that he, well, never seems to be bothered by me..."

"He's always so kind—like his eyes. His smile's nice, too, I suppose. Whenever he speaks, whether it's about food or well, other things, I can't help but listen."

There it is, the shimmer of affection in her light brown eyes and the oh-so-subtle smile across her lips. You almost miss it, but the world stills around you as you're caught in her bubble.

Pieck gives you a knowing look, smiling playfully.

Without saying a word or even slipping a sound, you and Pieck come to the agreement that Sasha'll have to come to her own realization that he loves him. The question is when she'll arrive at it.

Sasha brushes it off, not wanting to muddle herself any longer. She plucks the letters from Pieck's grasp and eagerly swifts through the pile while humming thoughtfully, completely ignoring Pieck's groan of disdain.

It's the usual; a couple of people from your father's family, inquiring when you're to sell the estate, one from your distant aunt from your mother's side that never bothers to actually visit, but diligently sends letters whether it be rain or shine, and one for —

"You've got a letter!" Sasha chirps, snapping her head up to look at you before shoving it into your hands. "It's from Mr. Ackerman! He's finally written to you!"

You throw your legs over the edge of the couch, sitting upright and fixing your hair as if Mr. Ackerman's just right there, watching you as you open his letter with shaky breaths and nimble fingers.

You quickly but carefully open his letter, scanning through his words and your eyes bulge out of it's sockets.

"What's it say?" Pieck inquires, excitement dripping from her lips as she scooches closer to try and peak at the letter. "Will he be visiting again?"

You shake your head.

"Well, don't be shy!" Sasha whines, "What is it?"

You open and close your mouth, blinking frantically as your shock still rides through your body. "Mr. Ackerman would like me to visit him at his estate next Tuesday."

When your mother heard news of your presence being requested by Mr. Ackerman, she took it upon herself to teach everything you needed to know about being "prim and proper". She stole your remaining days of peace and prepped you as best as she could.

When it came time for you to leave, she was adamant that you opt to take horseback instead of taking the carriage. All, especially your brother Reiner, were completely against it when they noticed the storm clouds reeling in. But your mother was deeply rooted in her stance, firm like a tree that not even the wind of your brother's disdain could change her mind.

So there you stand, having been caught in the rain, dripping from head to toe as the Smith estate towers over you, as if it's ready to swallow you whole in one go. You have to crane your neck back in a particularly painful angle to get a good look of the entire building, and you’re sure you’re only seeing the very tip of the iceberg.

Your mother warned you it would be much larger than you were used to - you just never imagined it to look like something out of a book.

Shivering and tightly wrapping your coat over you to trap any warmth you might have left with one hand, you swiftly knock on the door with the other. A shuddering breath escapes you when the door creaks open, revealing a servant to greet you in.

“Ah, Miss,” The servant’s eyes widen in fright, flinching back. His gulp is audible even with the thundering behind you. He scans you from head to toe, and he doesn’t bother to mask his sneering at your drenched frame and all the mud collected at the hem of your skirt. “You must be Miss Blouse, yes?” You greeted him with a sneeze, and briefly apologized. “Come quickly before you catch a cold.”

But your second and most aggressive sneeze yet tells him you might already have one.

“He’s been expecting you,” Is all the servant says before guiding you down that hall.

You rub your eyes, wiping your hairs sticking to your face as you take in the sight before you. The air in the estate is chilly and deadly quiet - enough to hear the sound of your clothes dripping with water and to catch the servant clicking his tongue at you.

You hold your breath; you didn’t think the estate could get any bigger, but it does. The hallway is vast and seemingly endless; portraits of many different men and women - all who you assume were probably family members of Mr. Smith because of the signature blonde hair and blue eyes - canvas over the great walls.

Giddiness tickles down from your chest and into your stomach as you trail behind the servant, your arms swaying to the side with a little skip in your step. You try your best to catch a peak at every room and hall you pass by, but everything moves in blur.

You can’t tell if you’re tired from your travels or if it's the pace you’re walking in. You take deep breaths, trying to pull yourself together as the servant ushers you into the drawing room.

“Mr. Ackerman will be here shortly,” is all he leaves you with, not bothering to spare another breath.

You’re surrounded by more paintings and books, but a particular painting catches your eye. It’s a portrait of a woman relaxed on a chair; she looks nothing like the ones outside. She has soft features and kind eyes, her lips supple and plump with an endearing smile. Her dark hair flows down to her shoulders, framing her face.

You squint your eyes, inching towards it with your hands clasped behind your back to avoid reaching out to touch it. The longer you stare, you find a weird sense of familiarity in her. But you just can’t -

“You’re wet.” You snap your head towards the gravelly voice to find Levi standing by the door with his brows pulled down in horror. “You’ve tracked in so much rain water, I thought a dog had stalked in.”

“Oh, I’m quite fine - achoo! Thank you for asking - achoo!” Your feeble attempt to shoot down his sarcastic remark is embarrassingly interrupted by your persistent sneezing. You wipe your nose with the back of your glove, earning a look of disgust from Mr. Ackerman. “Excuse me, I got caught in the rain.”

“I couldn’t tell,” He clips with a tight lip. “You could catch a cold -”

“Achoo!”

“It seems you already have…” Mr. Ackerman groans, and you find yourself picking at your fingers in embarrassment, your head lowered to the floor. “Follow me, I’ll give you something to change out of.”

Mr. Ackerman wastes a single breath, nor does he allow you to. But instead, with the utmost jaded expression on his face, he turns on his heels and leaves the room, expecting you to follow. You have to admit, with a fuzzy feeling buzzing in your head and the sudden sensitivity to the ache in your bones, it takes you a moment to pick up what he says and follow suit.

Has it always been this chilly?

A tremble in your damp coat, exhaling tremulously as you trot down the hall behind Mr. Ackerman. Your struggle for warmth doesn’t fall on dear ears, but it does motivate him to pick up the pace, up the winding steps and into another hallway.

Your shoes continue to click against the marble, passing by paintings and statues; for a moment you mistaken yourself to be wandering around a museum and not someone else’s home. But your head is spinning and you can’t appreciate the art even if you wanted you - you can’t even glance at a painting without wanting to vomit.

Mr. Ackerman comes to a jagged halt, causing you to nearly stumble against him. He glares at you over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” You mutter before stumbling a few steps back to give him space.

“Wait in there,” He instructs dryly, “and I’ll get someone to help you in a bit.”

“Oh, I - I don’t understand -”

“You have a cold,” He points out, “and I don’t think you’ll appreciate it if it were me helping you change out of your clothes.”

Your cheeks flush and your heart paces quickly in your chest; embarrassment overwhelms you and you wish the ground would swallow you up. He’s too direct and it makes your knees a little wobbly along with the rest of your body - you’ve turned into jello.

“Just wait in there and there’ll be a maid to bring you clothes. I’ll meet you again once you’re done.”

“Oh, uh, thank you.” You whisper, your eyes finally snap from the floor and meet Mr. Ackerman’s same old arid visage, but there’s a tenuous, unfamiliar gleam in his eyes you can’t seem to read.

He sternly nods, but just before trodding off you call after him, “Mr. Ackerman?” Your voice hushed and trembly.

“Yes, Miss Blouse?” He watches you expectantly, his head faintly tilting to the side. “Is there something else?”

Ironically, despite Mr. Ackerman coldness and indifference, you can feel that he cares - his warmth. And you can’t help but feel dangerously eager, a little selfish even, for wanting more. You can’t help but want to push further, but you’re reminded of the rumors and prefer not to push your luck.

“Thank you,” You say with a smile, a genuine one that catches him off guard, but not that you can tell with your glossy eyes. “Thank you fo - achoo! I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Ackerman.”

There’s a very, very subtle blush that spreads across his cheeks that reaches the tips of his ears, and maybe if it wasn’t for the odd lightly in the hallway, you would’ve caught it. But once again, Mr. Ackerman thanks his lucky stars and gulps, “Don’t mind it too much,” and spins on his heels before striding down the hallway.

You watch till his footsteps fade and his slender frame disappears as he turns the corner before finally looking at the door beside you. You stare at the door knob, your hand fidgeting over it before finally taking it in your hand and opening the door.

You gasp in awe, your eyes going round - the room can eat your house in a single bite. Even the bed that sits at the center, headboard pushed up against the wall, is bigger than the one your share with Pieck. Maybe bigger than the bed your mother and father shared.

You step inside, pushing the door shut behind you before twirling and taking in all the green and gold in the room. You’ve never seen so much gold - you’ve never seen gold in general, but here you are completely surrounded by it.

The strident knocking on the door causes you to still, staggering over your feet to find a familiar face greeting you with a cheerful smile, balancing a folded pile of clothes in their hand.

“Hange!” You squeak in shock, nearly losing your balance.

“Miss Blouse,” They playfully salute to you before entering in completely. “I saw you come in earlier and Levi said you’d be in here, so I thought to help. Though he did oppose, I'm not one to follow orders anyway.”

They cleverly wink at you, stretching their arm out to hand you the clothes and you meekly take it.

“How are you feeling?” They ask, taking a seat on the bed, “You can change over there, behind the partition,” They point to the other side of the room where it stands beside the window, and you quickly shuffling behind it.

You finally peel off your clothes, finally being freed by way your damp clothes and the way it clung to your body. You sigh heavily, tremulously.

“So, how are you feeling?” Hange’s voice echoes in the room from where they sit. They lean back on the heel of their palms, lulling their head bad carelessly as they wait for your response. “Levi said you might have a cold, and luckily for you, I’m a doctor.”

You hum in response, your focus directed on changing your clothes as quickly as possible.

“I’m, uh, I think I’m okay,” There’s a tingling in your skin and an unbearable ache in your bones. Your whole body feels sensitive; you’re not sure if you feel chilly or too warm. But you don’t want to be a burden, especially since you’re already borrowing someone else's clothes.

Whose are these anyway? You can’t imagine these are Hange’s, it’s way too small.

“He said you were sneezing!” They say, their voice slightly raising. “That you were sneezing a lot.”

“Probably just allergies!” You try and laugh it off, hoping Hange doesn’t press any further. But much to your displeasure, Hange isn’t one to simply let things go.

But the moment you step out from the partition, tying your hair up to keep from staining the dress, Hange strides over to you, placing her wrist onto your forehead and hums.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” You press.

“You’re a liar.”

“I'm not!” The whine that escapes your dried lips, takes enough energy from you to have your vision grow spotty and have your knees give in. Hange loops their arm around your waist and you slump onto their chest for support. “Right, maybe I am a liar,” You admit breathily, your eyes fluttering shut. “I’m really sorry, this is extremely impolite and my mother would kill me if she found me like this.”

“Never mind what your mother says,” They sigh before helping you over to the bed, “nothing good will come of thinking about what your mother says,”

You laugh softly, finding irony in their words.

The cushions are warm and comforting, pulling you into ease as you’re swayed by your need for rest. You try to combat it by blinking away, but drowsiness overtakes you like an unrelenting storm and you fall perilous to it the second your head sinks into the pillows.

You're greeted by a sharp, persistent ache in your head and a stubborn throb in your bones. You moan in discomfort and writhe beneath the cotton bed sheets.

You feel something cold dripping down your head, but before you can reach to check, you feel a wet cloth being placed on your forehead. You crack your eyes open and draw a bitter breath to find Mr. Ackerman towering over you. His brows pulled into a deep line of focus and his eyes colored in determination as if its taking all his verve to adjust the way the towel sits on your head.

He looks down at you and his expression softens.

It softens?

"You're awake," Mr. Ackerman notes. Maybe its the sickness, and that you're probably imagining it, but does Mr. Ackerman's tone sound a lot gentler? Its almost as if he's concerned for your well-being — almost as if he's worried and relieved you're finally awake. But his face remains unreadable, devoid of emotion. "You've been asleep for quite some time, but your temperature seemed persistent. Hange said as long as the rag is frequently changed then you should be better. How are you feeling?"

Does that mean he's been changing the rag? He said it should 'changed frequently' —

You arch your back when the ache in your bones come back stronger than ever. You whine in pain and drown back into the mattress.

"I don't feel too well," You croak, swallowing dryly.

"Do you need water?"

You can only nod.

Mr. Ackerman swiftly reaches for the glass of water that sits on the bedside table. You try and sit up , your bones feel like chalk as it grates against each other. You try to take it from him, but he raises his free hand to stop you. “Let me,” is all he says to you before bringing it up to your lips.

Baffled, you still drink it.

Your thoughts are still too foggy to draft a single thought. But all you is know your heart’s drumming in your chest and your breath is hitched in your throat for an entirely different reason that’s far from your cold.

You sigh in relief after a few gulps, muttering a ‘thank you’.

“Mr. Ackerman, you said that I’ve been asleep for quite some time,” You recount, looking at him puzzled, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.” He replies flatly, as if he's not bothered by it at all.

“Excuse me?”

Mr. Ackerman hums as he falls back into his chair grabbing the book beside him before opening it up to the page he left off.

“You needn’t worry,” He eases without looking up to meet your eyes, as unbothered by the worry screaming in your eyes. “I’ve already written a letter to your mother the moment you fell asleep and informed her of your current state.”

“And what did she say of it?”

“She deeply apologizes for overstaying your welcome, but is pleased to know you’re in good hands.” Mr. Ackerman turns to the next page before he crosses his legs. His eyes flicker up to look at you to find irritation seeping out of your through eyes narrowed at an empty space on the floor, chewing on the inside of your cheek “I assured her that **you are in good hands, Miss Blouse.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologize again for the umpteenth time as you stressfully run your fingers through your hair. “My mother must’ve planned this in hopes that I may grow closer to you.”

Mr. Ackerman cocks his brow at you, “Are you blaming your mother for your cold? Shouldn’t you be blaming the weather, or that you rode on horseback on a rainy day?”

"I cannot blame my mother for my cold or the weather, but I can blame her for scheming along with it." You sigh, leaning your head back onto the pillow, "My mother is an opportunist, so she must've seen the rain clouds as her 'moment to grasp'. She was adamant that I take horseback and not that carriage. My mother is many things, but most importantly, she's a scheming woman."

Much to your surprise, Mr. Ackerman smirks at your words. He smirks.

He licks his thumb before turning the page of his book, his eyes ghosting over the words without much intention to actually read.

"What are you doing?" You ask, twisting to face him, your hand tucking beneath the side of your face.

"I'm reading." He isn't.

"Here?"

"Would you rather I not keep you company?" His grey eyes blink away from the page and up at you. "Isn't this the whole point of your visit, to get o know each other?"

"W—Well, yes, but I didn't think you'd take our proposition quite literally." You voice falls soft at the end of your sentence and you feel yourself shrink in embarrassment.

"How else are we to make them believe we've formed an attachment?"

"Oh, well—"

"Is my company a bother?"

You shake your head. "Is mine?"

Mr. Ackerman chuckles and if it weren't for the whirling of your brain, you would've caught it. "Merely tolerable, really. You best get some rest, Miss. Blouse."

When you awaken again, it’s a little later in the afternoon and the sun is harshly bleeding through the glass window and casting over your face.

The first thing you notice is not the freshly changed rag resting over your forehead, but the empty chair that Mr. Ackerman sat himself earlier. You pout and you feel a little disappointed.

Disappointed?

What?

You prop yourself up on your elbows, drawing a sigh of relief. The smell of fresh sheets permeate your lungs and your tilt your head back before tilting it back up again.

Through your hooded gaze, your eyes scan through the room. You finally appreciate just how beautifully decorated it is. Shades of complimentary greens canvas the room and soft golds accent the room here and there. It’s ingrained in the walls and on the doors, and coloring the the bed posts, too.

With nimble fingers, you peel the covers off and a wave of cool air washes over your body.The floor is just as cold when your feet meet the carpet. You shuffle around the room, nosing through things but never really touching anything. You're too scared you might accidentally break something.

But the thirst of your curiosity has yet to be quenched, so you find yourself straying out the room, trotting down the hall and twirling around the space gleefully.

The estate is something written in the books. If it wasn't for the dreary, unsettling air hanging over you as thick as fog, the feeling would be magical.

Too busy to play make believe in your head, you find yourself too far off the path. Everything looks the same, and you eyes widen in panic.

Think, think, think, you chant inwardly, twisting your head around for something familiar.

Panic rises from your chest and lodges into your throat, and the last thing you need is to fall onto Mr. Ackerman's bad side.

But before your knees can shake in such unnerving trepidation, faint whispers echoing down the hall and towards you pull you from your thoughts. The voice are so faint and low, you nearly mistaken it to be elves.

You listen intently and follow the source, passing through a few more paintings and doors to lead you to a fragment of light bouncing off the wall and onto a door left ajar. You come to an immediate standstill when you recognize the voice — it's Mr. Ackerman.

Every inch of you tells you to turn around and walk away, but you aren't your mother's daughter for nothing. So the greater part of you belonging to her tugs you close, stealing a peak through the little gap as you hold your breath.

"When did you hear of this?" Mr. Ackerman's voice is gravelly, laced in annoyance. You hear him sharply huff followed by the sound of a hand slamming against the table, causing you to jolt in place. "How long have you known?"

"Not long," The unfamiliar, gruff voice says, and Levi grumbles. "Be thankful I'm telling you now and not waiting any longer. How could I with all your dallying? Since when have you taken any interest in marriage?"

"I haven't." He clips, tone dry. "The point is —"

"The point is, he's back and the last thing you need to do is wasting your time in courting a woman. Honestly, Levi, since when have you been so reckless?"

"Erwin," Mr. Ackerman grits, "my personal affairs have nothing to do with you. Who I choose to spend my time with has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me!" Mr. Smith seethes, yelling in a whispers. "If you cannot do your job, then how can I trust you? Do you not remember the reason why we're here?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"It seems that you are," Your eyes widen at Mr. Smith's counter, "she's slept here for two days, and you for two days, you've watched over her instead of doing what I've instructed you to do."

"She was sick." Mr. Ackerman argues flatly.

"Hange is a doctor for a reason."

"And I don't trust them for a reason."

You can only assume it's Mr. Smith who sighs dejectedly and clicking his tongue agitation. It only further piques your interest, and you wish it doesn't. But you can't help it, hearing that Mr. Ackerman stayed by your side while you rested made your cheeks burn and you can't help but grin to yourself, completely overjoyed.

You mentally kick yourself for being so much like your mother.

"You cannot hold that burden with you forever." Mr. Smith sighs.

"Whatever," Is the weak counter Mr. Ackerman spits back. "I'll take care of it tonight — the one of Governor Pixy's."

"Be sure to make yourself like an artificial night when you do." Mr. Smith commands, his voice smooth and stern. "You mustn't be caught."

"When have I ever been?"

You quickly leave, sprinting down the hall the moment you hear a chair grating against the floor.

Your heart drums in your chest and you breath tremulously. You heard something you shouldn't have even if it was only in incoherent pieces. Truly, it could be anything, but with the rumors circulating around him, it shouldn't be so surprising.

So why is it?

You find yourself in a more familiar part of the estate and you breathe out in relief.

You’re about to head back into your room when you stumble past a room, catching a glance of a grand piano standing tall from the corner of your eye. You retract your steps and turn your head to get a better look, your lips falling into an 'o' when you do.

She's beautiful, you think.

It’s an alluring, glossy ebony piano — one Sasha finds herself drooling over to play on whenever she sees one. She'll hate you so much when you tell her about it.

Against your better judgement, with all the bells warily ringing for you not to, you walk over to the piano, your hand shadowing over the wood. You take a seat before the keyboard just to take a good look at her. You have no intention to play her, really. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't for the life of you.

Your eyes flicker to the fall board of the piano and find a name engraved in gold.

"Petra," you whisper. "It's very nice to meet you. You're very beautiful, aren't you?"

"What the hell are you doing?" You shoot up from the chair and snap your head up to find Mr. Ackerman fuming at you. His eyes dark with rage and his jaw screwed shut, gritting at you. "I asked you a question."

"I— I didn't touch anything." You peep. You feel incredibly small underneath his scrutinizing gaze. You wish the ground would swallow you up right then and there. "I, I really didn't—"

"Get the fuck away from her." Mr. Ackerman speaks lowly, his voice quietly trembling, but you can't hear it.

Even if you hadn’t done anything wrong, you feel as if you’ve been caught red handed. Fear buzzes in your head and fogs up any line of thought.

"I'm sorry?"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE PIANO!" He bellows, his eyes as fiery as his anger, causing you to stumble back and nearly trip up on your feet. "Who the fuck do you think you are, wandering into places you have no business? Is this what you shitty farm people are like? You get a chance to walk into a place thrice the size of your home and they think they could just parade around?!"

"I—I didn't mean to —"

"You and your family are fucking disgusting."

There are many things you're willing to put up with. You don't mind if someone were to come after you and call you out, but coming after your family is completely different. So your kindness and the very last bit of your patience snaps like a twig.

"I would imagine you're the disgusting one." Your voice is still small, but you’re building up to your confidence, peeling your eyes away from the patterned carpet to stare daggers right back at Mr. Ackerman who stills completely.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll admit I've overstepped and I deeply apologize for that," You begin, your voice no longer wavering in fear, "but how dare you? My family’s been nothing but kind to you."

"I think you've mistaken that I fucking care."

"I've heard many things about you, too many, for that matter. Yet I never labelled as anything as derogatory as what you've called me." You draw out a sharp breath, closing your eyes for a moment to steady you heart before continuing, "I think its disgusting, I think, that such a man as yourself, who've I've heard has been through hell and back, would think so lowly of people that's no different than him."

You never dared to listen to the rumors or any of the gossip. Even when your mother would try to entertain any of it, you’d stop listening or leave the room if you could. But if Mr. Ackerman was willing to aim for such a low blow, you couldn't think of a reason why you shouldn't do the same.

"I think you’re 'fucking disgusting' for forgetting where you came from."

Mr. Ackerman clenches his jaw and balls his fits tight til his knuckles paint white. He's ready to fire bullets into your self-esteem, but before Mr. Ackerman can even utter a syllable, a servant appears behind him, clearing his throat to cut of the momentum.

"Apologies for the intrusion," The servant says, his tone monotonous and dry, "but it Miss Blouse's brother is here to collect her."

You widen your eyes at the servant, and your expression softens.

“Reiner’s here?” You voice is small again.

“Yes, Miss.”

"Perfect." Mr. Ackerman huffs, his whole body still tense. "Get the fuck out."

You snap your gaze back to Mr. Ackerman, sneering, "Gladly."

tag list. @castellandiangelo @astronomyturtle @regalillegal @oshuncheyenne @drapetomaniaac @whalerus @hinaamaya @ggsmashgg @kyosugi92 @daikushiji @acker-baby @lundabean @moonxochu @melodiamore @unlikelyfestivalshepherdhuman @osmosly @halparkebitch @leashaoki @bonkybabe @myeg1993 @chikenbitches @subtlepjiminie @mangobee

138 notes · View notes

fallen-in-dreams · 3 years

Text

Rumours

Also on AO3. Pairing: Gaara/Sakura. Summary: Sakura overhears a spicy rumour about her relationship with Gaara and their friendship will never be the same again. GaaSaku. Canonish. Prompt: Week 1: Dating. Rated: T. Words: 4,433. Status: Complete.

Author note: My first of the weekly prompts for the tumblr GaaSaku Events. *Cross your fingers that I can do all of the ones I'm trying to finish.* Enjoy. ^_^

Warnings/tags: Just some mild angst and mentions of ShikaTema.

This is for the 2021 GaaSaku Event @gaasaku-fanfests. I seem to be posting for events late or barely on time this year. Sorry. :)

.:.

“Sometimes your heart sees what your eyes can’t.”

It was supposed to be just another harmless outing. Sakura often took Gaara with her when she went shopping for presents. He was so hopeless at remembering birthdays and holidays like Christmas that she was doing him a favour by dragging him around with her.

And picking out gifts from both of them.

She hadn’t really thought there was anything wrong with that. Or that anyone would read more into it than it really was. Of course, the Kazekage spending time with a foreign kunoichi would get everyone’s attention, but like all exciting new things it would get old, and they’d soon move onto other things.

This was why, all these months on from their first public shopping outing, Sakura was still brushing off the curious glances as she pulled Gaara along, by the sleeve of his work robes. Twelve months she’d been in Suna. Six were spent aiding in a joint training of medical personnel as a part of a healing exchange program to further relations, and then eight weeks as the head of the hospital because Gaara was adamant nobody was doing it better. The last four months had been her lazy months, which consisted of her usual physical training regimen but also acting like a tourist and dragging Gaara along for the ride. So just what she’d been doing before, minus the teaching and hospital visits. Sakura had already achieved what she’d set out to do in this mission, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind to cut her time here short.

And she was finally used to being a constant source of scrutiny for the people of Wind. So here she was, for the second time this week, dragging Gaara out of his office on the rare occasion that he didn’t have either a shit load of paperwork or overdue training of his own to do.

The retailer looked up at them as they stepped into her shop, then smiled and bowed lightly.

“Welcome, Lord Kazekage. Haruno-san.”

“Kitana-san,” Sakura addressed her quickly before tugging on Gaara. He obediently followed and as usual, she did not notice the knowing smile of the elderly woman as she led the redhead around. Her eyes perused the rows of trinkets instead. They were supposed to be getting an engagement present for Temari and Shikamaru. It had been three weeks since the date for their party had been announced and nothing seemed to be good enough.

“Maybe we should get them each a present,” she thought out loud. “What do you think, Gaara?”

His eyes widened slightly. “One from each of us?”

“No, I mean one each from both of us.” He still looked confused. “A total of two presents,” she added, and he nodded. She didn’t remark on how he had stiffened and then relaxed at her words. Gaara was just weird like that.

“Ino got them a weird sex toy,” she said, rubbing her cheek with her finger as Gaara’s face turned pink. “Uh, and I think Hinata said she wanted to get her some wind scrolls.” Her friends’ letters had been all over the place. Everyone was excited that Temari and Shikamaru had finally gotten official and were moving their relationship forward.

“I…uh.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which was actually more of a nervous habit for him these days. “Well… we can do better.”

She giggled and locked arms with him. “Of course. I was thinking,” she said as they moved through the shop slowly. “Temari’s always gotta pretend to be this tough, warrior woman. But I’ve smelled the candles coming from her room. I was thinking of bath salts, but it isn’t a good gift for Shikamaru. But that was before this whole individual gift idea.”

Gaara thought that Shikamaru could use a decent salt bath. They could use it together. The idea of it made him blush and he pointedly avoided eye contact with Sakura as she babbled on about clothes accessories. Apparently, Shikamaru had once confessed to her that he thought belts were interesting.

“Maybe bath salts and candles.” Gaara said, interrupted her gushing about the embroidery on a handmade belt. “His & Hers style.”

Sakura squeezed his arm affectionately. “Brilliant idea.”

She pulled him along gently, not needing to tug too hard because he was fine with following her lead. This shop was mostly popular among young women and older couples. Their wares ranged from scented candles to antique dolls and handmade clothes.

“What do you think about this one?” Sakura asked, taking a strange bust off a shelf. Maybe his mind just went to stationery too quickly, but it just looked like an oversized paper weight to him.

“No good?” She asked when Gaara didn’t respond. He sighed and she tossed it aside. “Okay, next odd little smelly thing.”

He let out a light chuckle at that. Gaara pointed out a few more ideas and they half-heartedly argued over them. They picked up a few bath salts anyway, since Sakura was interested in some for herself, before leaving the story without a present for his sister and future brother-in-law.

“We’ll just have to keep looking,” Sakura said, nodding to herself as they made their way through the crowds of the downtown market. She was oblivious to the interested stares and giggling children.

Truth be told, Gaara was fine with letting Sakura make the decision for him. He hadn’t had to worry about choosing gifts for almost a year and he was happy with that. Growing up with no childhood had ensured he had little experience in the matter, but she was a good teacher when it came to social situations.

They agreed their last chance for a good gift would be the ninja resource store on the edge of the market. Such a place would normally not be in the civilian district, but the proprietors were very good at preventing civilians from buying shinobi utensils. Gaara bought an ornate spear from them two years ago that had been imported from the Land of Iron. He’d started collecting special weapons and suggested to Sakura that they have something ordered in.

It would solve the problem and save time. Not that he wasn’t enjoying himself. Gaara looked forward to these outings more than he was willing to admit out loud.

“Geez.” She hip-butted him. “You’re full of great suggestions today.”

Sakura watched as he blushed and mumbled about looking for something for himself in the shop and as he wandered away, this gave her the perfect time to sneak away. She knew full well he was collecting unique weapons and had one in mind for him. It wasn’t a gift for any special occasion, and she didn’t bother guying things for his siblings unless it was for something in particular, but Sakura couldn’t help herself with Gaara. Her friendship with him was on another level compared with Kankuro and Temari.

When it came to birthdays, Christmas, or just her wanting him to have something special, she’d long ago stopped agonising over the “what does one even buy a kage who doesn’t seem to want anything?” question. Personal gifts that showed she knew him were always well-received. He still had the katana shaped candlestick ornament that she’d bought him for his birthday, sitting in his study. Temari said he never lit it up, which to anyone who knew him, meant he loved it. It would never get used and therefore last.

Sakura kept one eye on where Gaara was in the shop at all times, and the other on the aisle of antique weapons as she perused. That was how she ended up standing in an aisle listening to two gossiping kunoichi. She’d just been minding her own business, looking over a row of ornamental kunai, when the voices carried over to her from the other side of the shelf she was leaning toward.

When she heard her own name being uttered, Sakura peered through the gaps in the shelf. They were a couple of chunin and either had below average sensory skills and didn’t notice her or didn’t care that she was eavesdropping. Sakura didn’t recognise them, so they definitely weren’t a part of the medical units she’d trained, nor did they frequent the hospital. They were also both staring off in the direction that Sakura knew Gaara to be.

The blonde giggled. "Lord Kazekage dotes on Sakura-san, it’s so cute! They just have to be dating!"

The brunette nodded. “Of course. But why haven’t they announced it?”

“Because they’re shy, silly.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m serious. Minamo said everyone’s talking about it.”

“He’s probably still innocent I bet.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. It was so weird to hear people claiming she had a romantic relationship with Gaara while discussing whether or not he had sexual experience. But it was just a couple of awe struck chunin (and the claim of some random friend of theirs). She decided to turn away but stilled at the next line out of the blonde’s mouth.

“Maybe Sakura-san took his v-card,” the girl snickered, much to the appreciation of the other chunin. “Can you just imagine?”

Sakura flushed from head to toe, struggling to hold her composure. She didn’t want to imagine that. Her heart might just explode. Sure, Gaara was… attractive. But would she have sex with him? He was her friend. They’d never been anything other than friends.

Not that I would want more, she told herself, holding a hand to her chest.

“I bet he’d be a tender lover,” the other girl said, sighing deeply. “Haruno-san is so lucky.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the blonde said, a devious look on her face. “I think Lord Gaara’s hit the jackpot too. Sakura-san has all that medical knowledge about the body. Imagine what she could do with it.”

“Like what?”

“Get his blood pumping. Warm him up. You know,” the blonde waggled her eyebrows and they both giggled. “She’d have him hard in no time!”

They giggled again and the brunette snorted before covering her mouth, mortified at herself.

Sakura stood there like a stunned mullet as they turned away from watching Gaara and started giggling and whispering among themselves. What the hell had she just heard?

“Sakura.”

She spun on the spot, startled. She hadn’t noticed his approaching chakra, engrossed in the conversation she was overhearing. Sakura turned beet red. He looked concerned when she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. When he made to move toward her, Sakura went into panic mode, charging at him and grabbing his arm. She ushered Gaara away, hoping he hadn’t heard any of that conversation. Knowing him, he wouldn’t even realise what they were talking about.

Gaara leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I found something special for you” and Sakura let out an involuntary sound she’d never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

Am I okay?

Two random chunin had just inserted mental images of her having sex with Gaara into her head. She was not okay. But she nodded anyway, not wanting to explain why her heart was now thumping. Blood rushing to her head. His hand fell to the small of her back. The warmth of his touch had never been more prominent than it was right now as he added a slight pressure to steer her toward the front counter. He wasn’t pushing her. Gaara never pushed her. He was always kind to her. It was so stimulating when he did that.

Feelings she’d kept buried for almost twelve months started bubbling to the surface and Sakura wasn’t prepared for the onslaught. How could she have forgotten this? Suddenly, she remembered the first time his touch had affected her. They’d known each other for years and two weeks into her long-term mission to Suna, she’d been lonely and exhausted when quite suddenly, Sakura realised those warm and fuzzies she’d been feeling were directed at a certain Kazekage. Her twenty-first birthday had come and gone, and she didn’t have any life goals other than revolutionising the medical world. It was a great goal. Professionally.

But after an innocent comment from Hinata about her love life, her birthday had gone from celebrations of “I have my whole life ahead of me” to morose “I’m going to die alone” thoughts, which were reflected in her spending the rest of the night drunk and being shadowed by Ino who was worried she might bring down a building or two, in her destructive angst.

Gaara continued to watch her as she worked through her mental problems but said nothing. He didn’t need to tell her he was concerned. It was written all over his face. It was just another thing she loved about him.

“Let me take you home,” he said. That deep voice of his made her shiver. Sakura felt her body flush again when she heard giggling behind her. (Were those girls following them now?) There was no way they hadn’t heard that.

After a few moments, he started rubbing her back in what he obviously thought was a soothing manner and she blinked heavily at him. Right. She needed to get out of here.

She cleared her throat. “Sure,” she said, her voice a little strained. Out of habit, she wrapped her arm around his. He was a lifeline as she tried to sort out her dysfunctional thoughts. The chunin girls’ conversation had opened a can of worms and she didn’t know how to put them back in.

Sakura glanced backwards in time to catch the women whispering behind their hands and staring at her and Gaara unabashedly. When had her outings with Gaara started such salacious rumours?

And more importantly: why did these people think they were dating?

.:.

“Gimme a screaming orgasm!”

Kankuro took the seat next to Sakura as she made her order to the bartender and chuckled.

“You might want to tone that drink down a little,” Kankuro said with a wink. “Gaara might get jealous.”

“Ugh!” Sakura groaned. “Not you too!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

She pointed a finger at him. “You all are talking about me behind my back. Starting rumours and talking about my sex.”

Kankuro snorted. “Your what?”

“I’m a joke, Kankuro-chan.”

“Please don’t call me that.” He grimaced.

She sighed. “What are you doing here?”

Kankuro waved a hand at the bartender. “Another screaming orgasm, please.”

Sakura snorted. “You’re getting more than I am, then.”

He chuckled. “Never delved into the local cuisine since you got here?”

Well, there was this one guy she danced and flirted with the first weekend after she started this mission, but her burgeoning feelings for the Kazekage wouldn’t let her do anything more. She wasn’t a slut and she appreciated that Gaara wasn’t one of those guys that slept around and used their testosterone to excuse it, either. So, she’d been able to settle into routine with him. Friends who gravitated toward each other. Friends who had dinner with each other (alone) quite often. Friends who decided important decisions together instead of alone. Friends who rarely had eyes for anyone else. Friends who didn’t have lives outside of each other...

She groaned and dropped her head on the bar. The awareness of her situation was painful. She wished she could go back to being oblivious. Because it was clear now that Sakura had been accidentally dating Gaara for almost twelve months. Did he know? Or was he as oblivious as her? Everyone had noticed apparently, according to two chunin and their friend. Did Kankuro and Temari know.

“I’m secretly but not secretly dating Gaara,” she mumbled. “And I didn’t know.”

Apparently, even though her face was pressed into the bar, Kankuro had heard her.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.”

Sakura groaned again. “We’re not dating!”

“Uh-huh.” He clearly didn’t believe her. “Going back and forth then. You’re in denial.”

“Why are you here?” He didn’t respond and Sakura lifted her head up slowly. “Kankuro?”

“He’s lonely,” he said, staring into his drink thoughtfully. “I know everyone thinks Gaara’s put together and doesn’t need anything more in life than family and friends. But I know that under that oblivious and calm exterior that he’s a romantic at heart. He wants what you two have. But he just doesn’t know how to go about getting it.”

She frowned at him. His seriousness was giving her a bad feeling. Everything had come together so quickly, and she wasn’t even sure what to do with her feelings yet, let alone whatever Gaara might be feeling.

“He’s a bit clueless.”

That was an understatement. Sakura used to think he wasn’t clueless, since he often said things with such confidence that she believed he was more aware than he let on. But then moments like that day in the shop with the chunin girls and Gaara seemed completely oblivious to what was going on. She had no idea what to think of him anymore.

It was why she’d been ignoring him. She couldn’t handle the idea that he might actually return her feelings. She was a coward.

Kankuro put his drink down and patted her on the back. “Just… don’t hurt him, okay?”

Right. Easier said than done.

.:.

There were many things Gaara was good at. And so many things he sucked at.

He was proficient with multiple types of weapons and political nuances. But in matters of the heart, he found that he still hadn’t learned anything. He had no idea why Sakura was avoiding him and why his siblings were being more careful about how they talk to him. It felt like it had been back when he housed Shukaku and went on rampages.

The knock on his door startled him and Gaara debated ignoring that chakra signature out of spite but gave in and called her in.

“Gaara?”

He looked up and the slight drop in her smile told him that she’d seen the hurt in his eyes. She’d been avoiding him, and they both knew it.

“I need to tell you something.”

Gaara swallowed heavily and braced himself. Her contract in Suna had only a few weeks left but since the particulars of the mission had already been fulfilled, she was free to leave at any time, if she wanted to. This made his hear race. More than anything he didn’t want her to go. He enjoyed her company and valued her friendship. What he truly wanted from her was more than that and it had taken him months of going along with her intrusion into his life for him to realise what that “more than that” meant for him.

Gaara wanted to date her. He wanted to be doing all the things with her that Temari did with Shikamaru and that Kankuro was currently trying to do with Matsuri. And for that to happen, she had to stay in Suna.

Temari and Shikamaru are dating and he’s still living in Konoha, he begrudgingly reminded himself.

But he didn’t care.

Gaara sat back in his office chair as Sakura closed the door behind herself and shuffled her feet, twiddling her thumbs. She was nervous. And worried about his reaction. He attempted to smile and shift his body language to put her at ease. It seemed to work and before he knew it, she was approaching him with a sad smile and sitting down across the table from him.

“Gaara…”

“Does this have something to do with why you’ve been avoiding me?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I, uh… found out something. And kind of overreacted to it, got drunk, and took it out on Kankuro.”

Gaara couldn’t help the snort that accompanied a chuckle. “Story of my life.”

She smiled a little wider now. “It does seem easy to do that.”

“Did you hit him?”

“A little. In the training grounds,” she added quickly. “He’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

She went back to twiddling her thumbs.

“You wanted to tell me something.”

Sakura nodded. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just come right out and say it. The whole village thinks we’re dating.” She paused to see his reaction, but he just stared, stone faced at her. “And uh… we kind of have been.”

“All the outings and joint gift giving.” Not to mention how he treated her so preciously in public.

Sakura frowned. There was no question in his voice, just his usual factual tone. He wasn’t surprised. “You knew?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Why… why didn’t you say anything?”

He blinked heavily and lowered his gaze to the table. Parchments were lined neatly across it as he rarely let them fall out of place. The only matter in his life that Gaara let get messy were his relationships. They were inherently messy, so he had no problem dealing with them as such. Which was why he was so anal about everything else.

“Gaara?”

Gaara didn't seem to want to explain himself.

He didn’t want to deny or confirm that he may or may not be dating the Fifth Hokage's protégé, to the public. He let the rumours spread and did nothing to quell them. Gaara had even played up to them which he’d known was wrong but couldn’t help himself. There was no way that admitting this to Sakura would go well for him. Perhaps he could inform her over time, but right now the realisation of what had been going on was too raw for her.

And she could see his hesitation for what it was. Avoidance of setting the record straight. Sakura frowned. Was it because of appearances? Or something more personal? It could be embarrassment. She knew he’d grown up with little human contact, none of which would’ve prepared him for adult relationships. It left him in the lurch for so many important social interactions.

But why wouldn’t he want to fix this? It would look bad for the village if the Kazekage was pretending to date someone. Especially since she was going home in a few weeks. Her heart clenched at that, and she had to close her eyes to stop herself from losing control. Sakura had only just allowed herself to remember and acknowledge that she’d developed feelings for Gaara months ago, she didn’t want to break down in front of him now.

Why didn’t he tell me?

What was he playing at?

Maybe it was because he liked her? Sakura felt her skin flush at that. No. It was probably pride or indolence. Likely, he didn’t fully understand the ramifications.

“He’s a bit clueless.”

Had Kankuro meant that romantically? Or sexually? Or perhaps socially? She bit her bottom lip as Gaara turned his head away. The skin along his neck was tinged pink and his face looked slightly flushed.

All of the above, then.

Maybe he really was too embarrassed to push back at the rumours. Gossip was a poison though. In order to successfully rebuke it, you had to do so fast. And with the truth, not silence or denial on their own. Sakura knew this from experience back when she was still listening to Ino’s ramblings about Sasuke. This rumour had run its full course and nothing short of a very public breakup would get them out of it.

“Is it…” he started slowly, breaking her out of her thoughts. Gaara looked up to catch her gaze. “Is it really so bad?”

Is the idea of us really so horrible?

She heard that unsaid question loud and clear.

Sakura stood up and circled the table to stand in front of him as he swivelled on his chair to face her. “No.”

Gaara smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You want this?” She asked.

This was the moment of truth. He could lie and revert their relationship to the way it was before, except with them being more conscious about not appearing to be a couple. Or he could take a hold of her and ask for the one thing that had been plaguing him for months. He swallowed heavily and she watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. Was it weird to be turned on by that?

“Yes,” he said huskily.

Desperately, yes.

She didn’t react for a moment, just scanning his face. He held his breath, waiting. Then Sakura leant forward, closing her eyes as his widened. But he didn’t pull away as she pressed her lips to his gently. His hands went to her hips as she rested hers on the arms of his chair, caging him in.

Gaara deepened the kiss, making her gasp and then plundered her mouth. He’d never done this before, that much was obvious to her. So, she took control, slowing their pace and sucking on his lips gently when he tried to hasten her. Sakura fell into his lap, her hands tugging at his hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist. As she straddled him, she lost herself to the feel of his body beneath hers and Sakura moaned.

The sound broke their reverie and the Kazekage bit her lip. Without pulling out of their kiss, he sent his sand out to lock the door and knocked everything from his desk with no concern for their wellbeing. Fuck caring about that right now.

Sakura grinned into their kiss as he pushed her back onto the table. This had been the right choice after all.

.:.

Sometime later, Sakura emerged from the Kazekage's office to find his siblings nearby, like they’d been waiting to find out the result of her talk with Gaara. She knew she needed to reprimand them, but she was too happy right now to care.

Kankuro raised an eyebrow at her. She looked dishevelled. Like someone had snogged the crap out of her. He fought to keep himself from grinning like an idiot.

“Sakura?”

She cleared her throat and stared down at him. “You’ll be interested to know that Gaara is no longer clueless.”

Temari groaned as the Leaf kunoichi sauntered out of hallway. Kankuro waited until Sakura was out of earshot and gave his sister a shit eating grin then stuck his hand out expectantly.

“I won,” he said.

She scoffed. “No, you didn’t.”

“Hey! I said they’d end up dating!”

Temari shook her head and took a sip of her drink to hide her smirk, then said, “you said they’d sleep together within an hour of resolving this. They clearly just made out.”

“Temari!” Kankuro pouted.

“Not paying up,” she sung, before following Sakura’s lead and sauntering off.

He huffed. Siblings were evil.

.:.

#GaaSaku #gaasaku-fanfests #2021 GaaSaku Events #Dating #fanfiction #my fanfiction

37 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

innocence - 24

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: i took three weeks to post, i am very sorry but i’ll now be posting the holiday chapters i was supposed to but i got lost in eating mince pies. hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

- Bucky, what are you doing? - Y/N smirked as she returned from set, still dressed in a scandalous dress covered by a beige rain coat. Small droplets of water covered the beige waterproof fabric which rolled onto the ground as she made her way further into the small flat.

Bucky was sat in bed, looking at a pile of clothing thrown next to an open old military green rucksack by his feet. A few worn out brown leathered tags we attached to one of the handles and had she been wearing her glasses, she could’ve probably guessed what it was written on them. The brown haired man rose his head at the mention of his name, eyes widening at what she was wearing. He was used to seeing her in tight, revealing dresses but this dress was something else and he wondered how she could walk with such a skin tight garment.

- I’m just deciding what to pack. - he shrugged, trying to forget about the dress his girlfriend was wearing.

- Just pack warm. - she sat next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder, an immediate smile extending in her limps. - Mum said it might snow. Can you imagine, a white Christmas?

- Did they give you a bad time on set?

A bad time? A bad time was an understatement. She had gotten an earful from everyone who passed by her that day from her manager to her personal assistant to even Mr. Hayworth who just screamed about how stupid she was. Even half the cast was upset, not enjoying the publicity it would bring to the movie and while she would normally end up crying in her trailer, Chuck ensured to follow her around to make sure she was alright. Yet, none of it matter. It was the last day of shooting before she got to go home to her parents and forget about the mess she had willingly created. It was only a day before she could spend the holidays with someone who chose her and kept choosing her for the first time. It really didn’t matter if she had a bad time, things were starting to look up for her.

- Other than the stripper dress? Not as bad. - she giggled. Bucky looked at her, trying to peak through the coat. - I was thinking ... maybe we should have a nice long bath together? I’ll light some candles, get some nice wine from the shop down the street.

- You little vixen, I still have to go see my sister. If I take a bath with you I will end up staying much more time than I should. - Bucky kissed the side of her face. - Did you wear that dress just to tempt me?

- I would never. It is not my fault you cannot control yourself.

- That dress is staying until I come back, though.

- I want to come. - she got up from the bed, pulling the dress from her body and grabbing her white jumper and pair of jeans from the wardrobe. - You’re meeting my family, it’s only fair I meet yours.

- I’ve told you already, princess. We don’t wanna poke the media, they’ll bite us back with no mercy. I don’t want people hurting you because of me.

- You can’t sneak me into a care home? My, my, Mr. Barnes, I thought you could get anyone into anywhere. Your CV said so.

- Are you doubting my abilities, princess? - he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closing to him before starting to tickle her sides. - It��ll be boring to you, my princess. Just stay here, put back that tight little dress and I’ll make it worth your time.

- No way. I’m meeting your sister.

- No baby pictures, Y/N.

- I would never. - she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hard felt yet soft kiss. - Only childhood stories.

Bucky rolled his eyes, handing her the jacket and hat as they made their way onto a taxi. Bucky visited his sister a lot but he’d never mentioned Y/N. Not that he didn’t want to, of course he did. In all honesty, he could speak about his girl for as long as someone allowed him. However, Y/N was still a public personality and he wouldn’t want to let something out that she wasn’t comfortable with people knowing. Besides, he knew how much his sister still adored to gossip and he wouldn’t want to possibly hurt Y/N or be the cause.

She, on the other hand, was excited. She knew Steve and Steve was the oldest of Bucky’s friends but she never thought she would get to meet someone from his family or that he’d even want to introduce her to someone from his family. After all, he was a war hero and Y/N was an actress from a small town in London who everyone seemed to despise at the moment.

The man drove them up to small complex building of what seemed to be newly built flats. Bucky was the first one off the taxi, running up to her side so he could open the door. It always left her feeling like a school girl; the pageantry, it is. She never believed she would find someone and the fact someone rushed to go and open the door for her and held his hand out.

- Anything you’d like to confess before I ask your sister? - Y/N teased, hugging him side eyes as he led her to the entrance.

- Do not believe what she says, I did not date too many girls.

- Steve disagrees with that.

- How would you know what Steve agrees or disagrees with?

- I called him to wish him happy holidays.

- I didn’t know you and Steve were friendly.

- Don’t be jealous, love. I’m not stealing your best friend. - Y/N pinched his cheek playfully as the two of them stopped in front of a wooden door with the number 35 in gold numbers pinned to it.

Bucky knocked on the door, announcing himself before holding Y/N once again close to him. He went through his mind, wondering if there was anything Rebecca could tell which would upset her. Sure, he used to be a bit of a womaniser in his youth but Y/N knew that. He hadn’t gotten anyone pregnant, he hadn’t proposed and ran off, he was off the hook. Still, he didn’t like the idea of Becca telling Y/N about his past quests.

Y/N waited patiently until someone held the door. The first thing she noticed were her eyes, the same as Bucky’s and she could recognise them anywhere. The woman had perfectly styled grey hair and a smile on her lips as she recognised her brother.

- Who is this lovely girl, Buck? You didn’t tell me you’d bring company, I would’ve gotten some biscuits.

- This is Y/N, she’s my girlfriend.

- Steve told me you were seeing someone, I just didn’t think she’d be this pretty. Come in, come in. - Becca grabbed Y/N away from Bucky leading her to the living room. - What you wanted is in the bedroom, Buck.

- Behave. - Bucky told his sister before he went into the bedroom to look for what he had come in from.

- I have some photos I think you’d love to see, darlin’. - she pointed the couch for Y/N to sit in before waddling to the big mahogany bookcase. She had a huge collection of books from old classics to new contemporary masterpieces which Y/N would love to read someday. The house itself was cozy, way more comfortable than other care homes she’d seen but she guessed Bucky would’ve only allowed for the best for his little sister. - It’s been ages since I’ve seen one of Bucky’s girlfriends. Not that he used to bring them home, but I used to sneak in and take a peak. You’re definitely the prettiest of all of them.

- Thank you. - Y/N couldn’t help but feel her cheeks heat up.

- Ah, there it is. - she dropped a photo album on Y/N’s lap. - My father gave my mother a photo camera and she went crazy with it. Too many photos. However, when Bucky was born, it was a special occasion. Dad used to say she wanted a professional photo taken with her Jamie.

She pointed at a photo of an woman probably in her early 20s holding a baby wrapped in several blankets, accompanied by a man who Bucky resembled very much. Her fingers traced the face of the baby, a little smile forming on her lips. It was nice to see him like that, normal. No mentions of the Winter Soldier, no pain, none of her constant drama due to her profession.

- He was the eldest of four and despite what my mother would say, he was always the favourite. The only boy. He got away with whatever he wanted.

- Bucky has three siblings?

- Three sisters. Some of them didn’t survive. It was war. - her voice softened with sadness as she turned the page for a photo that Y/N wasn’t expecting to see. The same woman from before, his mother, was hugging a shirtless Bucky who had some boxing gloves on. Her face contorted into curiosity as Bucky exited the room and leaned against the couch, standing next to the two women.

- What are you two ladies looking at? - Bucky kissed Y/N’s head, putting his hand on her shoulder.

- I think Y/N is very curious about your welterweight boxing past.

- You did boxing?

- Princess, I was a three-time YMCA Welterweight boxing champion. - Bucky closed the album before any of the photos of him with some of the ladies he used to hang around with showed up. - Becca, we should get going. We have an early flight tomorrow.

- You need to bring her more often. - Rebecca got up from the couch to accompany them to the door. - Did you find what you were looking for?

- Yes, Beccs. Thank you so much for keeping it all these years.

- Pretty sure mum would come back to haunt me if I hadn’t. Have fun meeting the parents. - she kissed Bucky’s cheek allowing for the two of them to leave. Bucky immediately wrapped his chunky knitted scarf, something his grandma had knitted for him ages ago, around Y/N’s neck, pulling her to his side.

He couldn’t truly remember a time where he was this happy, so full of need to continue living. She really brought him to this sort of weird normality where his past didn’t seem to affect him or at least not as strongly as it usually did. The two walked into grey skies, it was probably going to rain but none of them cared, walking side by side like those couples on Christmas songs.

- A boxing champion?

- Knock it off, princess. - Bucky helped her into the taxi, telling the driver his address before fastening his seat belt. - It was a long time ago.

- Do you miss her? - she questioned, leaning her head against his shoulder, watching the horizons run through in blurs. - Your mother. Rebecca said you were the favourite.

- Rebecca is always saying that. - he scoffed. - I do miss her. She was a swell lady, always caring about us, not complaining whenever she had to travel around because of my father. She was the best mother someone could’ve asked for. She would’ve liked you.

- You think so?

- I know so. Dad would’ve liked you too so would aunt Ida. Of course there’s still my nephews and nieces and their kids, but they don’t really want to speak with me ... - she didn’t need to ask why, she could see it in his eyes why and it made her sad. It made her sad to think of his family not wanting to be with him, specially during the holidays. - But I’ve had Rebecca and Steve for all these years. They’re my family and now I have you.

- Well, I can’t promise my family will like you but they’ll definitely found the fact I have a boyfriend amusing.

- You mean to tell me I don’t have any ex boyfriends I’ll have to fight once we get to London?

- That’s just unfair, Bucky. You’re a three-time boxing champion.

- You’ll never let that one go will you?

- Nope. Dating a three-time boxing champion is a new identity I can get used to.

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

163 notes · View notes

merrock · 2 years

Photo

SOME GOALS & CHANGES FOR 2022.

In my last post before we jump into Finland (hooray!), and then move fully into the new year upon our return, I wanted to go over some things that we have changed and some goals that we have for the group.

I am also asking at this time that no new characters be brought in until after the trip so that everyone’s focus can be on Finland and the trip ahead; reception for new characters has been a little low, and we want everyone to be able to improve on this with full force once we return to Merrock! If there is someone you are interested in picking up upon trip end, you can reserve them.

We have made some changes to the rules, which you can check out and read any time, but let’s dive in to the important stuff:

EVENTS & PARTIES -- this year, we will be having fewer events and parties, but are aiming to have them last for longer periods of time (ex. three or four days versus one night). Hopefully, this allows time for more people to get involved. There will still be a few one night or one day only things, mostly promoted through the Times!

BUT GIVE 'EM A LIKE -- coming up with events, finding the photos, putting together the ideas... it takes a lot of time and effort from me. So please, please when we post the invites and the actual event posts, give them a like. Whether you are online for them or not, it's just a good feeling to know it's acknowledged. It has been very discouraging to see event posts get ignored or only a handful of likes.

ALSO, PLAN SOME YOURSELF, IF YOU WANT -- if you're up for it, I have our entire calendar pretty much planned out for the year ahead, as far as what we (as admins) are planning on doing. Which means you can plan whatever events and parties you might want to throw on any open day, just contact us. If you don’t want to throw any parties, you can always suggest them to us!

CHANGES TO THE TIMES -- for the time being, I'm going to hold off on gossip and confessions, since there haven't been a lot coming in. So we'll be focusing on the Merrock Times being a news and media source more than anything! However, if you have ideas on how to make the Times better, please let us know! We’d love to get others involved.

WATCH MAIN -- please be sure you check main frequently. Tags are not always the most reliable, and we want to make sure you don’t miss anything. Read mod posts, check for updates, give a glance at the Benefactor & the Times, and absolutely make sure you are following new accounts right away!

SOME STARTER NOTES -- as we go along, it’s normal and expected for people to make second, third, fourth, etc. starters on characters, and you should absolutely reply to those! If you are doing starters, be sure you are able to reply back to them in a timely fashion, and are replying back to everything that you get. We also want to reiterate how important it is that everyone reply to new characters. Just because the player is not new doesn’t mean the character isn’t!

ACTIVITY ALL AROUND -- remember that every little bit counts when it comes to activity, whether you're doing them all in one day, or three replies before bed, it makes a big difference and keeps dash from sitting empty. We really need you guys to remember that without activity, a group has nothing -- we can’t operate a group without having active characters.

BE INCLUSIVE -- both IC and OOC, be sure that you are including and loving on everyone in the group! See an OOC post? Give someone a comment. Haven't plotted with someone in a while? Reach out to say hey. Sometimes people prefer to develop naturally, which means it's important to put the same effort into dash as you might be plotting behind the scenes with others.

We have a good thing going here! But of course, we know there are ways we can improve the group, and we need a little help with that. We still have an eventual goal of opening up to outside applications when we feel ready, but we do need to fix some things, first. As long as we feel we are being respected as an admin team, the group is being taken seriously, and you want to be here, we’ll be here having a good time!

Once you have read this post, please give it a like! xx

#merrockadmin

8 notes · View notes

pitubea1910 · 3 years

Text

Happy to oblige

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Featuring: Avengers + Harry Styles (random, I know)

Word count: 7k

Warnings: some swearing

Tags: -

Request: -

Notes: it’s been ages but I’m finally posting something again! Hope you like it :)

Masterlist

You were in love with your best friend and he had no idea. Cliché, right? Yes, you couldn’t deny it, but it was still frustrating and heartbreaking at the same time.

You and Bucky were inseparable since you two met. It turned out that you were the only person -besides Steve- who could keep him calm and, as a matter of a fact, he helped you get over the loss of your family during a terrorist attack that you couldn’t prevent.

After that day, he showed up at your room every day to check on you. He never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to. If you wanted to spend the day in bed, he could crawl in with you. If you wanted to cry, he could be your shoulder; if you wanted to scream, he would listen; if you needed to punch someone, he would be your adversary. It didn’t matter what you needed: he would give it to you.

It was kind of impossible not to fall for him, even if it was only one-sided. You had never told him how you felt, so you didn’t really know how he felt about you. However, Steve and Nat kept on insisting that he loved you back. You never believed them. It was easier that way. And, eventually, you got used to those feelings, they became a part of you and you learned to live with them while having him as a friend.

“You seriously aren’t going to tell him”, Natasha said when she watched you hug Bucky goodbye. He was leaving with Steve and Sam for a meeting with Tony and wouldn’t be back until later that night.

“How many times do we have to talk about it?” You said, stealing a few popcorns from her bowl.

“As many times as it takes you to tell him you love him”, she replied.

“Well, get comfortable then. I’m not telling him”, you shrugged.

“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met”, she sighed. “He loves you too! You could be living your perfect love story, having mind blowing sex every day and yet, you chose-”

“Friendship, Nat”, you interrupted her. “I chose friendship. Also, you don’t know if he loves me”, you added.

“Of course I do”, she said. “He told Steve.”

You were about to throw a popcorn in your mouth but stopped mid-way. You looked at her, not sure you had truly heard what she had just said.

“Excuse me?” You asked.

“Yeah”, she shrugged with a small smile. You narrowed your eyes at her.

Natasha was a great friend, but she was also really good at deceiving and you knew she would do anything in order to get you two together. Even lying about this.

“Don’t give me that look!” She said. “I promise I’m not lying. He told Steve at Clint’s birthday party. You were flirting with that guy from the bio team-”

“He was the one flirting with me!”

“Whatever. Bucky was drunk and got jealous, so he spilled the beans to Steve and I happened to be close enough to listen to him”, she shrugged.

“Clint’s party was weeks ago! Why didn’t you tell me?” You frowned.

“I thought he would tell you, to be honest. I never thought he would be so slow”, she said with a roll of her eyes. “Too much for a super soldier, huh? Take down terrorists, put himself in the middle of a battlefield, but sharing his feelings it’s too much.”

“Natasha, this is not funny”, you warned her. “If you’re lying…”

“I’m not!” She exclaimed. “Anyway, it’s not like you can say anything. If you did, you would have to admit that I told you and they would know I had been eavesdropping and I would look like a major gossip.”

“And your reputation is way more important than your friend’s happiness?” You asked.

“Five minutes ago you were refusing to come clean, so don’t try and make me feel bad”, she said.

You looked at her for a few seconds before grabbing another handful of popcorn and getting out of the living room. Was she saying the truth or was everything a trap to make you confess your feelings to Bucky? Her story seemed too real to be a lie, and you remembered Bucky’s strange behaviour during Clint’s party. Back then, you thought he was just drunk, but maybe he was really jealous.

You had to find out the truth without exposing Nat. Although you had no idea how to do it.

That night, you came back downstairs after spending the afternoon in your room trying to come up with a way of discovering if Bucky truly had feelings for you. You didn’t have a proper plan, but you had a few ideas. What you didn’t expect was that it would be Tony the one to give you the perfect plan without even knowing it.

“Is everyone back?” You asked Natasha, who was still on the couch, now reading a magazine.

“Yeah, they came back a while ago. Steve is making dinner”, she said.

“Oh God”, you mumbled. “Are you ordering pizza, then?”

“Yeah, I have the order ready on my phone. Check it out in case you want to add anything”, she said.

You took a seat next to Nat and took her phone, doing as she had said. To be honest, Steve was one of the best people you had ever met, but he was a complete disaster in the kitchen. He knew it, but he kept on trying. And failing. So it was always good to have a backup plan whenever he decided to make dinner.

“And Bucky is talking to Tony, by the way”, Natasha commented. You glanced at her but made no comment.

“Bullshit, Stark. I’m not doing it!” You heard an angry Bucky saying.

When you looked up from Nat’s phone, you saw him coming up from Tony’s lab, with a smirking Tony closely following. You sighed and looked at Nat, who just shook her head. It was common knowledge that Tony enjoyed messing with Bucky, so you barely paid attention to their little quarrels anymore.

“C’mon, it’s not a bit of a deal. We will all do it”, Tony said. This time, you were curious.

“Do what?” You asked from your spot on the couch.

“We have been invited to a premiere”, Tony shrugged.

“That’s cool!” You smiled.

“What?” Bucky frowned.

“What’s wrong about a premiere?” Natasha asked.

“Interviews”, you finally said with a chuckle. “It’s impossible for us to make an appearance in such a public event and not get interviewed. And someone here”, you looked at Bucky, “hates cameras, mics and interviews.”

“Plus, it’s not even for a good movie”, Bucky mumbled.

“Dunkirk premiere in London”, Tony shrugged. “Nolan called and invited us.”

“You’re friends with Christopher Nolan?” You asked shocked.

“Oh please. I’m his daughter’s godfather”, Tony said.

“Well, I’m in”, you immediately said.

“Of course you are”, Steve said coming out of the kitchen. “Harry Styles is on that movie so he’ll be at the premiere”, he winked.

“I never mentioned him”, you smiled widely.

“Who’s that?” Bucky frowned.

“Oh boy…” Natasha said in a whisper.

“(Y/N)’s celebrity crush”, Steve quickly said. “Nat, can you please order pizza? I burned the chicken.”

“On its way”, Natasha said taking her phone and placing the order.

“So, you’re in?” Tony asked.

“Of course!” You said with a huge smile. “I mean… the trailer looks amazing and I love London.”

“Yeah…, London”, Natasha mumbled.

You smiled to yourself but decided not to say anything else, especially since you felt Bucky staring at you which made you feel nervous and, for the first time, you allowed yourself to think that Natasha had told you the truth.

During the following days, there were still several fights about the premiere. Most of them between Bucky and someone else. For some reason, he still refused to go, which was stupid. Eventually, it just became exhausting to keep on listening to same excuses over and over again

“Bucky, no one is forcing you to come, for god’s sake!” You finally said the night before you all were travelling to London.

You were having dinner all together, as usual, and Bucky was complaining to Steve about how he didn’t like being in public, cameras, dressing up and all that ‘Hollywood shit’. You had had enough of him by now and you just wanted to have a nice dinner. Yet, everyone was surprised to hear you snap at him.

“Excuse me?” He asked frowned.

“You’ve been complaining for the whole fucking week, like a child who’s been forced to go to his great aunt’s birthday”, you said, everyone looking at you. “We are all excited about this trip, about having a distraction, about not being superheroes for just one. Fucking. Day. So if you don’t want to come just because someone might want to interview you, if you think it is so annoying, so shallow, just stay here!”

No one said a word after you finished talking, not even Bucky who usually had a reply for everything. You huffed and looked at your plate, just to find out that you had lost your appetite. Throwing one last glare at Bucky, you excused yourself and got up from the table, claiming you still had so clothes to pack.

You didn’t understand what had got into Bucky. Yeah, you knew he wasn’t comfortable around cameras, that he didn’t like being in the spotlight, but he never complained so much about it, so you didn’t get what was so annoying about this particular situation. Whatever it was, it was getting on your nerves. But no one was going to spoil this experience. Not even your stupid, whinny, alleged best friend.

“Hey…”

A while later, when you had finally finished packing, there was a knock on your door and Nat’s head popped in.

“Can I come in?” She asked and you nodded, sitting up on your bed and putting your phone down. “You okay? That was quite unexpected down there.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry”, you shrugged. “I just got tired of his whinning.”

“Still, you had never snapped like that before”, she said, taking a seat on your bed.

“Yes, I have”, you laughed.

“Not at him”, she pointed out.

You opened your mouth to reply, but maybe she was right, so you just shrugged and looked down.

“I don’t know, it just annoyed me”, you finally said. “I’m so excited about this trip, going to London, the premiere, everything, and it felt like he was kind of ruining it with all his complaining. I don’t even know why he’s acting like that.”

“I think I may know”, Nat said with a small smile.

“Enlighten me, please”, you sighed.

“He’s jealous”, she simply said. You raised an eyebrow, not knowing what she was talking about. “The day after Tony told us about the premiere, I found Bucky doing some research on Harry Styles.”

“What?” You asked even more confused.

“Steve mentioned him, remember? That he will be at the premiere and that you have a crush on him”, she explained.

“So what? I have a crush on half of Hollywood”, you laughed. That was true. You were such a fangirl.

“Yeah, but you haven’t met half of Hollywood”, she shrugged.

“Nat, that doesn’t make any sense”, you said. “Why would he be jealous of someone I haven’t even met and someone I don’t even know if I will meet.”

“Oh, you will meet him”, Nat nodded. “I’ll make sure of that, don’t worry.” You laughed but said nothing, since you knew she could really make that happen. “And he’s jealous because he is in love with you. I already told you.

“Okay, I’m not having that conversation again”, you said. “I’m going to sleep, we have an early morning and a long flight tomorrow. So goodnight.”

“Are you kicking me out?” She asked, acting offended.

“Yes, Black Widow. Get out of my room and close the door on your way out”, you said, kicking her back gently.

“You know I’m the only one standing between you and a marriage with Harry Styles, right?” She said getting up from your bed.

“Yeah, you and a billion of other girls. Go!”

Next day you and Steve were the first ones to be ready and were already waiting by the mini van that would take you to the airport, where Tony’s private jet was waiting for you. As usual, everyone else was running late, which was extremely annoying to Steve. It was annoying for you too, but you had got used to it.

“They are waiting for us. We were supposed to be at the plane 10 minutes ago”, he said.

“We could just go and leave them here”, you shrugged. “That would teach them something.”

“As tempting as that sounds…” Steve said, making you laugh.

Finally, you heard people coming down the stairs, so you took your things from the floor, glad that you would be on your way. Wanda and Natasha were the first ones to show up, apologising over and over again and coming up with lame excuses that you had heard a million times before. To your surprise, Bucky was just behind them.

You hadn’t talked to him since last night, when you snapped at him, but you had seriously thought that he would stay behind, sulking. And yet, there he was, carrying a travel bag over his shoulder and looking as he had to go to war again.

“Where’s the rest?” Steve asked.

“Tony was just talking on the phone with the pilot, telling him we would be there in 30 minutes.” Steve huffed, obviously annoyed. “I know”, Natasha chuckled.

“Clint and Bruce called last night”, Wanda said. “They can’t make it. Clint’s wife has the flu and Bruce can’t leave the lab right now. They’re working on some healing serum.”

“Oh and Thor will meet us there”, Natasha added. “He sent a message and said he will be using the Bifrost. Parker has homework and we couldn’t contact anyone else.”

“Good”, Steve nodded.

“I’m going to the groceries store down the street to get some snacks. See you in a moment”, Wanda said.

“I’m coming with you”, Steve said. “I’m sick of waiting.”

“Me too! I want to get some magazines”, Natasha said.

You asked Steve to get you some of your favourite candy and soda. Although you knew you would have plenty on the plane, it was a long flight. The three of them left, leaving you and Bucky alone and in silence.

“So you decided to come?” You finally asked.

“I’ve never been to a premiere before, so”, he shrugged. “A new experience I guess”, he added.

“You could’ve started with that instead of whining about it for the whole week”, you said.

“Sorry about that”, he sighed. “I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone. I was being a jerk.”

“You think?” You said with irony and looked at him. He actually looked sorry, so you sighed and smiled a little. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

Bucky’s face lit up with a smile, obviously glad that you weren’t mad at him anymore. It was one of the few things he couldn’t stand: the thought of not having you in his life. For the first time in a few days, he came close to you and pulled you in for a hug, kissing your head in the process.

Everyone knew that Bucky wasn’t the hugging type, but you had always been the exception. He loved having you in his arms, cuddling with you, hugging you. It made him feel safe, home, and he had been through hell the last few days without your contact.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Tony said rushing downstairs. “The pilot said we have a really small window of time if we want to leave before noon. Where’s everyone?”

“They went to get some snacks. They said they would be waiting in the van”, you explained.

“Perfect, let’s go then. You can go back to your cuddling on the plane. You can even have a private room”, he said rushing into the elevator.

You rolled your eyes, but followed him anyway. You were used to his comments, even if they still made blush every single time.

***

Lights, cameras, excitement, screams, noise. Those were the words to describe the moment you got out of the car at Leicester Square. The place was completely packed, surrounded by screaming fans, reporters, photographers or just curious people who happen to go by the Square on that fine summer afternoon.

The red carpet followed all the way from where the cars were arriving, to the doors of the Odeon theatre, creating a path where you could see the actors, producers and anyone who had been invited coming up and down, saying their hellos to those they knew or stopping for photos and interviews. It was exciting.

Since you had been the first one to get into the car, you were the last one to get out of it and stand next to Wanda and Natasha. Steve, Bucky, Tony and Thor came in the following car. However, at the sight of you, there was a raise in the volume of the screams. It looked like your presence was a complete surprise for everyone.

“Should we go on?” You asked.

“Let’s wait for the rest”, Natasha said, smiling at some girls screaming her name.

You were aware of people knowing who you were, you knew you were on the news many times and you had seen some fan accounts about yourself. But you had never been exposed like this and you had to say that the energy was exhilarating.

“Get ready for the screams”, Wanda said when the guys’ car pull over behind you

You three took a step aside, so they could come out comfortably and waited. The reaction when Steve first came out of the car was out of this world. You could literally feel the ground beneath your feet shaking a little bit. And it only escalated when Thor, Bucky and, finally, Tony followed the Captain.

“Wow”, Steve said coming closer to you with a small smile.

“I know”, you chuckled looking around before focusing on Bucky, who was a bit stiff but looked at handsome as ever.

Since you had been running late, you hadn’t had the time to see him before leaving but he was… hot. He was wearing a pair of black trousers, a black open blazer revealing a white shirt that fit him perfectly. He had let Tony’s stylist to get his hair ready, giving it a ‘just woke up’ look that really suited him.

“Hey there”, you said coming closer to him. He looked down at you and gave you a forced smile. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better”, he admitted. “But I’ll be okay.”

“Call my name if you need me”, you said, squeezing his hand gently before turning around.

“(Y/N)!” You heard him calling. You turned around, confused. “I need you”, he said with a small childish smile.

“Idiot”, you said with a small smile. “I think you can make it through the carpet without me”, you winked.

Bucky looked at you walking away, holding onto Wanda’s arm as you stopped for your first interview. He couldn’t help smiling as he took in how good you looked. You were wearing a long white jumpsuit that hugged your body perfectly and brought out the tan that you had got over the days of summer you had spent at the beach just last week. Its back was open, which –for Bucky- made you look even better.

Above all, you were happy and it was obvious. You couldn’t stop smiling, laughing, charming everyone, especially Bucky.

“You’re drooling, soldier”, Thor said, taking Bucky out of his trance.

“What?” He asked.

“She looks stunning indeed”, Thor nodded. “I would make a move before anyone else does.”

The God of Thunder patted his back and was on his way. Maybe he was right. But he wouldn’t even know what to say if he gathered the courage to talk to you. For the time being, all he could do was move along the carpet and hope this all was over soon.

It wasn’t like you were the biggest fan of interviews, but you were good at them. You knew how to avoid personal questions and how not to give much information about anything. You were charming, polite and kind with everyone, laughing at their jokes and making your own. Summing up: you knew how to make people love you.

“Thank you for your time, enjoy the movie!” The reporter from The Guardian said.

“Thank you, have a nice evening”, you said back and turned around to talk to Wanda, but she was busy talking to some guy you had never seen.

“You’re a natural”, Natasha said, walking up to you when she finished taking some photos.

“Tony gave me some tips”, you shrugged. “I just did the opposite of what he told me.”

Natasha laughed out loud, but before she had the time to say anything, the screaming grew even louder. You both looked at the beginning of the carpet, where a black Mercedes had just stopped and a black haired boy had come out. He was talking to a really big guy so he wasn’t facing your way, but you knew who he was immediately.

“Pinch me”, you mumbled to Natasha.

“What?” She asked confused and looked at you. “Oh…”

Harry Styles had just turned around and was walking towards the carpet, followed by who probably was his bodyguard. You had been a One Direction fan for years and had had a crush on this person since the beginning. You had even been to some of their concerts –both in the band and as a solo artist-, but you had never had him so close before.

“Are you blushing?” Natasha laughed when she looked at you.

“What? No, I’m not!” You said, placing your hands on your cheeks. “Am I?”

“Either that or you used too much blush”, she said with a smile.

“Shut up”, you said. “Let’s just keep going before we look like idiots.”

“We?”

“Can you just be a bit more supportive?” You said. Just then, Wanda was back with you.

“Now I know why you have a crush on him”, she said with a smile. “He’s hot.”

“Shut up! Both of you”, you said and walked away from them before they continued teasing you.

For the next half hour of the premiere you were completely unfocused. So much that you decided to talk with as less reporters as possible, convinced that you would look like a fool if you did. Every few minutes, the volume of the screaming would go up, meaning that some other actor of the movie had made an appearance. You truly thought you would faint when you saw Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy together.

“Enjoying yourself?” Steve asked when he caught you alone after you were taking some photos.

“Pretty much, yeah”, you nodded. “You?”

“Yeah”, he said looking around. “We don’t get to do this often, so it’s a nice change.”

“(Y/N), Captain! Can we please get some photos?” A reporter said.

“Duty calls” you said with a smile as Steve placed a hand around your waist, to pose for the cameras.

“Finally, I find you!”

You turned around and suddenly felt your hands all sweaty when you saw Natasha coming up to you, followed by Wanda and –of course- Harry. You glared at her, having no idea what she was doing.

“There’s someone here who wants to meet you”, your alleged friend said with a huge smile.

“Hello there”, Harry said with a charming smile.

You had heard his voice and his accents on videos before but you swore it was even deeper than ever before. You took a deep breath and looked briefly at your friends, who slowly stepped away with small smirks on their faces.

“Hi”, you said, a smile appearing on your lips. “Really nice to meet you.”

“Likewise”, he said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Turns out that Nolan is friends with Tony Stark so…”, you shrugged.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to meet you for ages, so I’m glad he invited you all”, the singer said.

“You wanted to meet me? Why?” You laughed.

“You’re kidding me?” He smiled. “You’re an Avenger!”

You laughed a little and nodded to yourself. You guessed he had a point. You had been crushing on him for ages, but you had never thought of the possibility of him actually knowing who you were. And now that he was right there, in front of you, admitting to be your fan, you had no idea what to do.

Just like Bucky.

He had been watching the whole interaction from afar and he could feel his blood on fire. The only reason Bucky had decided to join the trip, was that he needed to see this guy. Your celebrity crush who you were laughing with. He clenched his fists and looked at all the cameras pointing at you two. Of course. You looked great together. You were both young, good looking, obviously charming. He had been around long enough to know that the public would pair you up immediately.

“You shouldn’t stare”, Steve said, coming to his side.

“I’m not”, Bucky mumbled.

“If it was possible, there would be a hole on that guy’s face”, Steve laughed. “They’re just talking. Calm down.”

“I’m calmed”, Bucky said. Steve sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What?”

“Do you realise that you have no right to be like this, don’t you?”

“Why not? Am I supposed to be okay with a British good looking guy just… charming her away from me?”

“No”, Steve replied. “But you have never told her how you feel, so she’s free to do whatever she wants.”

“You’re the one who never shuts up about her feelings for me”, Bucky said.

“So? You’ve never made a move, do you really expect her to wait forever?” Steve asked. “They’re just talking though”, he added with a shrug before walking away.

“Yeah… just talking”, Bucky sighed.

As much as he hated to admit it, Steve was right. Bucky couldn’t claim you anything. You didn’t even know how he felt about you, how he wanted more than just a friendship, how your smile would make his heart skip a beat and how not being able to kiss you was physically painful. And he hated himself for taking him so long to realise it. What if you were ready to move on?

“C’mon, this is your debut movie and you’ve worked with Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy! Those are goals”, you said with a smile.

“You literally save lives for a living”, Harry replied and, to be honest, there was nothing you could say about that.

“I guess we’re both pretty awesome”, you said, making him laugh.

Just then, a man with a clipboard approached Harry from behind and said something in his ear. Harry nodded and looked at you.

“I have to go. They’re going to introduce the cast and everything”, he explained.

“Of course! Go”, you said with a nod.

“Talk to you later? We’ll have an after party, you should all come”, he said. You smiled and nodded. “Perfect. Here…” he gave you his phone. “Put your number in and I’ll text you.”

Without actually believing what was happening, you did as he told you and gave his phone back. He winked and left quickly towards the end of the carpet, where a stage had been set.

“Enjoying yourself?” You turned around to find Bucky behind you.

“Absolutely”, you smiled widely. “Although I’m freaking out.”

“Yeah, I saw you talking to that guy you like”, he said, looking at Harry who had just got to the stage.

There was something about his tone that you didn’t like. It was like he was accusing you of something, which you didn’t appreciate. He had no right to do so.

“If you have something to say, just say it”, you said crossing your arms over your chest.

“It just looks like you’re getting plenty of attention, that’s all”, he shrugged casually. Although you knew him well enough to know there was nothing casual about how he was behaving.

“Not from the only one that would matter”, you said and turned around without giving him a chance to think about what you had said.

Bucky kept his eyes on you while you walked away, trying to understand what you had just said and what it meant. Were you talking about him? Was he the one who mattered or was his mind playing games? He had no idea. All he knew was that you were upset with him and he knew he had been acting like a jerk for quite some time now.

Maybe Steve was right. Maybe you were tired of waiting. Maybe you were moving on.

***

Bucky’s attitude really pushed your buttons so much that you decided to keep your distance during the rest of the evening. He had been a total jerk since the moment Tony told you all about the premiere. You thought that the change of scenario would change his mind and he would relax. Obviously, you had been wrong.

The movie was everything you expected and more. It kept you on edge the whole time. The whole crew had done an outstanding job. It was definitely one of the best movies you had watched lately. And the whole situation of being one of the first people to watch it, only made it more special.

Before you could suggest going to the after party that Harry had mentioned –and already texted you about it-, Nolan himself invited you. So the moment the movie finished, you went on your way. It wasn’t far from Leicester Square, but it was still safer to go in the cars so no one would know where you were going and could have some privacy.

“So? Did you like it?”

Just when you walked into the party, Harry approached you, taking you by surprise.

“I loved it!” You said smiling widely. “And you were amazing”, you added.

“Thank you”, he nodded. “I’m proud of it, to be honest.”

“You really should be”, you said, biting your lip a little.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked, pointing at the bar at the end of the place.

“Please!”

Bucky observed the two of you walking towards the bar. He sighed and walked down the few steps that were next to the door. He was feeling more and more like an idiot since you walked away from him at the premiere, and he was still thinking about what you had said.

“You okay?” Natasha asked, showing up with a drink in her hand and another one for him.

“Thanks”, he said, taking the glass from her. “I’m okay, just…”, he sighed and pointed at you and Harry, who were talking and laughing at the bar.

“Oh…” Natasha smirked and looked at Bucky. “She’s having fun, don’t you think?”

“Why did you introduce them?” Bucky asked, turning away from the bar, so he could get that image out of his mind.

“She wanted to meet him but would have never introduced herself”, she said. “I just helped a little.”

“Thanks for nothing, then”, Bucky said.

“If you like her, go and tell her”, she said. “But don’t expect her to wait around forever when you have never made a move to let her know how you feel.”

“And how does she feel? Am I supposed to just jump into the swimming pool without knowing if there’s water?” Bucky asked.

“If you still don’t know that the pool is overflowing, then you’re even blinder than I thought you were”, Natasha said.

Bucky sighed and ran a hand over his head. Why did it have to be so complicated?

“What would you do?” He finally asked. As much as he hated asking for advice, he was completely lost.

“Me? I would go across the room and kiss her”, she simply said. “But given she’s busy talking to someone and also mad at you, I wouldn’t advice it.”

“Then?”

“I would talk to her and tell her how I feel”, she said. “Not as dramatic as a surprise kiss, but still honest and useful.”

Bucky sighed and turned slightly to look at you two again. When he didn’t see you, he started looking around like crazy. Where were you?

***

“I really was starving”, you said as you and Harry walked down the street with a burger each.

“Why didn’t you eat anything before the premiere?” He asked before taking a bite from his burger.

“It was the cinema. I thought we would get popcorns, to be honest”, you admitted, making him laugh so hard he almost choked. “Don’t laugh!” You said, although you were laughing as well.

“You’re adorable”, he said, making you blush a little.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go indoors?” You asked once again. You didn’t want him to be on every page tomorrow, especially because of you.

“Don’t worry about it”, he said. “I’m having a good time.”

“Me too”, you admitted. Then, you felt your phone vibrating into your purse. “Give me a second.”

Harry took your burger so you could get your phone out. It surprised you to see Bucky’s name on the screen. Your first impulse was to pick it up, but then you remembered that you were still mad at him and decided to decline the call. You turned your phone off, shoved it back into your purse and took your burger back from Harry.

“Everything okay?” He asked concerned.

“It was Bucky just being annoying”, you said.

“I kind of saw how he kept on looking at you”, he said. You looked at him surprised.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Let’s say he has a really deathly glare”, he said with a chuckle. “If looks could kill, I would be ten feet under by now.”

“What? No”, you laughed.

“Trust me, I know what I saw”, Harry said. “He likes you.”

You frowned but said nothing about it. It was one thing having Natasha telling you about Bucky’s feelings. But if even Harry, a person who had zero contact with any of you, who knew nothing of you or Bucky, had seen that… then maybe Natasha never lied and Bucky did have feelings for you.

That thought would have filled you with joy at any other moment. But thinking about it now, it only made you angry and frustrated. Why did he have to be such an idiot if he had feelings for you? Why couldn’t he just make a move? Or where you supposed to just take a leap of faith?

“Sorry. I said too much”, Harry said after a moments of silence.

“No, no”, you quickly said. “Everything’s okay. It’s just…” you sighed.

“Do you have feelings for him?” He asked. You laughed bitterly. “What?”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. My celebrity crush since I was 17”, you said. This time, Harry laughed quietly.

“Don’t worry”, he said. “I knew you were out of my league since I saw you and now I understand why.”

“Me? Out of your league?” You asked shocked and he nodded.

“There’s no competition if you already love someone else, don’t you think?” He asked with a smile.

“Am I that obvious?” You said defeated.

“I’m observant”, he shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t get him”, you said. “We’ve been best friends for ages and I’ve loved him all along without saying anything. I got used to idea of just being his friend and the second I mention someone else, someone who I hadn’t even met yet, and he starts acting like a total jerk. If he have feelings for me, why doesn’t he just say so?”

“Sadly, sometimes we have to see those we love walk away in order to know how much we care”, Harry said. “I think you should talk to him.”

“And say what? That I know he has feelings for me because my crush suspects it?” You asked sarcastically.

“Well… that’s an option”, he said, making you laugh. “But I would just be honest and tell him how I feel.”

You sighed but didn’t reply. You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation with Harry Styles, the guy you had admired most in your entire life, the guy you had fantasied about meeting a thousand times. And there he was, giving you romantic advice on how to talk to your best friend. Life was nuts.

***

Bucky was going nuts. The moment he had walked around the party twice, not finding you anywhere, he had stepped outside to call you. And he got sent to voicemail. Over and over again. You didn’t just hang up on him, you had also turned your phone off. He was fuming.

Without saying a word to anyone, he took a taxi and went back to the hotel where you were staying. At some point, you had to come back, and he would be waiting for you just at your door. While he waited, he tried to call you at least five times without any success, he was filling your voicemail with nonsense but he didn’t care.

“I swear it, (Y/N), if you don’t pick up the damn phone”, he said on the phone, “I will-“

“You will what?” Your voice said behind him.

He turned around to find you standing there, as beautiful as ever, with the card of your room in your hand, and looking at him with a deadly look in your eyes.

“Where have you been? Where did you go?” He asked, putting his phone down and ignoring your question.

“Last time I checked, you’re not my father, so I don’t have to explain myself to you”, you said, walking to your door.

“You were with him, right? That British singer”, he said while you opened the door.

“So what if I was?” You asked walking in. You considered slamming the door shut, but you knew him well enough to know that he had no problem breaking in, so you just left the door open for him.

“You just met him”, he said, walking in behind you and closing the door.

“What does that even mean?” You asked, throwing the purse on your bed and turning to face him. “Yes, I left with him to have dinner, so what?”

“Something could have happened”, he said with a shrug.

“Something like what? He could have kissed me?” You asked. You could see him flinching at the word. “What’s the problem, James?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. You would only call him James when you were really mad at him.

“Did he? Kiss you?” He asked.

“What if he had?” You asked.

“Did he?”

You looked at him in the eye, feeling yourself getting angrier by the second. All you wanted was to scream in his face how much you loved him, that he was the only one you wanted to kiss, that you had spent the whole fucking night thinking about him and talking about him to someone else. Instead, you shook your head and sat down on your bed to take off your heels. Your feet were killing you.

“You haven’t replied”, he said.

“Neither have you”, you said.

“I asked first”, he shrugged. Without even thinking about it, you threw one of your shoes at him. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” You asked getting up, now barefoot. “What’s your problem? Why can’t you just be clear? Just say what the fuck you’re thinking instead of being a jerk!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, he said, looking away from you. Narrowing your eyes, you took a step closer.

“Do you love me?” You finally asked.

“You know I do”, he said, his heart beating faster.

“Don’t bullshit me, James. You know what I mean”, you said. “Are you in love with me?”

Bucky took a deep breath and closed his eyes, not answering your question. The words were burning in his throat, and yet he couldn’t say them out loud.

“Fucking hell, Bucky!” You almost yelled, pushing him away. “Can’t you even talk? Just say no, for fuck’s sake! I can take it, you know? It’s not that hard to be honest for once in your fucking life. If you’re not in love in with me, if you don’t love me, just leave me be! Stop being an asshole and let me kiss and like whoever I want!”

“I can’t”, he said.

“You can’t what? Stop being an asshole? I noticed, thank you”, you said.

“I can’t just leave you be!” He exclaimed, looking at you. “Because it kills me, okay? I’d rather go through a thousand battles and getting a billion injuries, traumas and brainwashes before seeing you with someone else, okay?”

You looked at each other in the loudest silence you had ever experienced.

“You…” he sighed. “You are everything to me, don’t you see? I’ve been miserable for the whole week and the only way I know how to handle it is being an asshole. And maybe I’m late, maybe I should’ve spoken sooner, maybe I should’ve gone across the room and kiss you in front of everyone, but I am here now and I’m saying it now.” He placed his hands on your cheeks. “I love you, (Y/N). I am in love with you. Hopelessly. I love you so much it drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

“And you have to be a jerk to show it? Couldn’t you just kiss me and get it over with?” You mumbled, looking into his blue eyes with tears in your eyes.

“You were kind of busy all night”, he said. “I’m a jerk, but I’m a polite jerk.”

You laughed a little and moved your hands to his chest, wondering if what he was saying was real and if it was just another one of your dreams.

“You could kiss me now”, you shrugged.

Bucky smiled a little and you bit your lip when he leaned over slightly, taking in your whole face before closing his eyes. Immediately, you felt his lips on yours and your mouth opened to receive him as he pulled you closer. The whole world around you disappeared and all you could feel and smell was Bucky. Nothing else mattered.

“I’m sorry it took me so long”, he whispered when you pulled away.

“You’re forgiven”, you smiled a little and rubbed his cheek. “By the way… he didn’t kiss me”, you said.

“Really?” He asked, sounding really surprised.

“Yeah”, you laughed. “We were just talking about you, to be honest”, you admitted.

“Wow…you really missed the chance of making out with your crush for me…” he teased. “You must really love me, huh?”

“Shut up”, you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss. And, for once, Bucky was happy to oblige.

80 notes · View notes

fagundescamila · 4 years

Text

Power Couple #6 (Severus Snape x Reader)

It took me too long to post this, I know! Sorry, but I was overloaded at work this last couple of weeks... As always, english is not my first language, so please be kind. Hope you all like it!

Tagzzz: @lizlil @misselsbells06 @mitchiesdungeon @sleepiesapphicxoxo @severuslovebot (if you asked to be tagged and weren't, it's just because I didn't find your blog - I'm basically an old lady when it comes to using the internet and stuff -, so send me a message if that's the case!)

"It was great!" Remus said with a wide smile as the last student left the Hall.

"Not bad at all, ahn?" Y/N confirmed, actually surprised by how smoothly the class went. "I have to confess I was a bit worried… I mean, a duel in front of a bunch of teenagers, what could possibly go wrong?” She asked sarcastically. "I don't know how you guys deal with it everyday…"

"One crisis a day." Severus said.

Y/N laughed and Remus gave a surprised chuckle. 'Now Snape is making jokes?', he thought, already planning on telling that to James and Sirius on the very next meeting.

"Y/N, are you free tonight?" Remus asked and tried not to theorize about Snape's reaction to his question. Remus could swear he saw Snape's eyes twitching.

"Well, it depends on what you're suggesting…" She teased.

"I'm suggesting you stay for dinner!" He said. "I'm sure Dumbledore would be ok with it and you get to enjoy Hogwarts a little longer."

"Sounds like a plan!" She said.

"Now tell me, you're relieved I didn't ask you out on a Hogsmead date, aren't you?" Remus joked, trying to find ways of proving Snape's interest on Y/N by measuring his discomfort or possible jealousy.

"I'm sure Tonks would kill us both before that thought even crossed your mind, but anyways… Are those still a thing, really? Hogsmeade dates?!" She asked in shock.

"You'd be surprised."

"Gezz, it was already tacky when I was a student!" She made a slightly disgusted face.

"Oh, come on! It was… Cute." Remus said.

"Cute?!" Y/N exclaimed. "No, Remus, sorry. It was never cute. It was cheesy."

"Cheesy? Y/N, it was romantic if you consider it's a teenager thing."

"Romantic?!" Her pitch was even higher. "Oh my god, Remus, you're hopeless. Come on, help me out here, Severus, I'm in a lack of words to describe what a horrible experience Hogsmeade dates are!" She turned to him. "Come on, there's cheesy, tacky, what else?"

"Pathetic?" He added.

"Wow, harsh! But we can use it, yes! Pathetic, Remus! There you go!"

"Oh, okay! I see it's pointless arguing with you two! You guys clearly did it wrong back in the days! You know what?" Remus smiled wickedly while thinking that he was about to make his friends proud. "It's friday night, you should probably go out and maybe this time really enjoy the Hogsmeade dates' possibilities. It would do you both good!"

Remus almost regretted implying what he just did the moment he said it. He could not only see Severus' eyes getting even darker, but he could also feel his rage in the thickness of the air.

Fortunately, it all dissipated in less than a second. Y/N laughed and softened the mood instantly.

"Okay, Remus! I'm pretty sure that if Severus and I were to go out on a date it wouldn't be at Hogsmeade!" She turned to Severus for confirmation. "I mean, we would go somewhere fancier, right?"

Severus' eyes went wide and he was speechless. Remus had to fight the urge to laugh, but he knew better than to laugh at Severus' disbelief.

Again, it was Y/N's chuckle that softened the mood. "Don't worry, you don't have to answer that, I was just kidding." She reassured him.

Severus' didn't have the time to react properly to any of the things that were said. He didn't have the time to agree with her about Hogsmeade dates' cheesiness, didn't have the time to scold at Remus when he had the courage to suggest that he and Y/N could go out together and also wasn't able to confirm that he would never ask her out on a date at such a childish place. Not that he would ever even consider asking her out… Well, maybe not a date, just a… meeting. And definitely not at Hogsmeade, but where? And how?

No, he was not considering that. And anyways, as told, he didn't have the time to do so. Just as he was thinking about the absurd of the situation, Dumbledore was arriving at the Hall, already setting the place for dinner and making sure the tables were back in place. The headmaster greeted the three of them with that smirk that always seemed to imply that he knew something was going on.

Dinner went on smoothly and right after that Y/N had the time to catch up with her former teachers at the staff room. They were all gathered in a lounge area she didn't even know existed. And it was odd to talk to them as an equal, she wasn't exactly used to them showing interest on her like that.

"So tell us, dear!" McGonagall asked. "How long have you been working at the Ministry?"

"Oh, I applied for a position as soon as I graduated. It was a position as Moody's assistant." She told.

"Were you that desperate for a job?" Remus teased.

"Well, it was the easiest way of becoming an auror, so yes…" She chuckled. "And it wasn't that bad, I did learn a few things by working with him!"

"I bet! All I heard today was the kids talking about how amazing the duel performance was!" McGonagall smiled. One could dare to say she was proud.

"It was nice, yes!" Y/N confirmed smiling. "I thought it would be a disaster, but fortunately, I was wrong. I was also sure I'd embarrass myself by miserably losing." The teachers chuckled.

"You're saying I embarrassed myself by miserably losing?" Snape asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, no! Definitely not!" Y/N smiled at him. "You lost graciously, actually! I wouldn't be able of such elegance if it was the other way around!" She was teasing, of course, and they were all laughing lightly at the interaction, but there was some percentage of that admiration that was real.

"Thank you." Severus said sarcastically.

"Anytime!" She smiled again. Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a knowing look. "Oh, I just remembered! Did you have the time to read those essays?"

"I did, yes." He confirmed.

"Yeah? What did you think?"

"There were some interesting points on most of them…" He started and then felt the glances from all the others at the staff room. Y/N, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice and was waiting to hear his remarks. "We can discuss this further at my office." He said and almost immediately regretted. "I mean, if you…"

"Absolutely!" She said excitedly, already getting up from her seat. Severus smiled discreetly and also got up to lead the way to his office.

Y/N said goodnight to the rest of the teachers and followed Severus. As they left, McGonagall sighed.

"They seem to get along so well..." She wandered on. "What a great couple they would be!"

"Right?" Remus laughed. "I wonder if they realize that… I don't mean to gossip, but Severus seemed pretty stunned by her this afternoon…"

"Do tell!" Flitwick chuckled. "That's something new!"

"I wonder if we should give them a little push…" McGonagall said smirking.

"I think we should all just wait and see…" Dumbledore said. "After all, they do seem to be doing just fine without our help… I believe we should just be patient."

"I just hope it doesn't take too long!" Remus added smiling.

#severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape #severus x reader #severus snape imagine #snape fanfiction #professor snape #snape #snape x you

188 notes · View notes

wangxianfics · 4 years

Note

Hiiiiiii!!!!!!! We all know that wwx is an oblivious gremlin when it comes to his feelings so have you ever come across any fics where he is aware of his feelings early on and isn’t as oblivious? It doesn’t matter what era or au or whatever! Thank you💙💙💙💙💙

Hi nonny!

Here goes our recs for “Not So Oblivious!WWX” :

This is a Love Song by brooklinegirl (20K, Explicit)

(Canon Divergence, Gusu School Days, Early!Wangxian, First Kiss, Feelings Realization, From the Beginning Onwards, Epic Romance)

Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan, from beginning to end.

❤️ vinegar jug by dandelion_san (5K, General)

(Time Travel, LWJ meets LWJ, Older!LWJ, Jealous!LWJ, Smitten!WWX, Humor)

Wei Wuxian gains a taste of first love for the future Lan Wangji, following him like an adoring puppy. The present Lan Wangji chugs vinegar and tries his best not to kill his future self, or Jiang Cheng.

@dandelion-san

❤️ Pigtail Pulling by protos_metazu_izon (3+K, General)

(Gusu School Days, Teen Wangxian, Fluff, Humor, Beautiful!WWX, POV LWJ)

“Tell me I’m beautiful, Lan er-gege!”

“You are well aware you are beautiful,” Lan Wangji says.

Wei Wuxian trips over Jiang Wanyin and sends both of them to the ground in a tangle of limbs and bruises.

@stopaskingme

❤️ Romeo, oh! Romeo. Whyfore art thou-WEI WUXIAN?!?! by mondengel (1K, General)

(Gusu School Days, Teen!Wangxian, PDA, Humor)

WangXian happens a lot sooner and Lan Qiren is suffering.

@mondengel

Spark and Kindling by longleggedgit (7K, Mature)

(Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Wangxian Evolution, Angst With a Happy Ending)

When they reached the water, Lan Wangji turned to face him, saying nothing.

“Oh, fine.” Wei Wuxian gave him an exasperated look—as if Lan Wangji were the unreasonable one—and kept walking, toward a stretch of boulders along a bend in the riverbank. “Will your delicate sensibilities remain unassaulted if I bathe over here?”

Lan Wangji merely waited. With a final eyeroll, Wei Wuxian disappeared around the bend, already untying his belt as he went.

“The Lan Clan is so prudish,” he said.

---

Moments in between that brought Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian together.

feed the fire in my soul by ShootMeDead (3+K, Mature)

(Canon Divergence, Gusu School Days, Secret Relationship, Secret Marriage)

Maybe, Wei Wuxian muses, he shouldn't have brought up Lan ancestors and traditions as references.

But Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian learns, flushes so prettily when he was annoyed, his voice trembles just the teeniest amount when he was passionate, his hands curls into fists as he exercised his vaunted self-control when Wei Wuxian was being particularly obnoxious. And Wei Wuxian wants.

Aka, the one where wangxian gets together in Cloud Recesses, and this changes everything.

@burningsoprettily

Free Falling Forever by ShootMeDead (4+K, Teen)

(Canon Divergence, Humor, Protective Siblings, Gusu School Days, Teen!Wangxian, JYL Ships It)

Lan Wangji is infamous in the cultivation world. Wei Wuxian is a fan of the Twin Jades of Lan.

They meet for the first time in Cloud Recesses.

Or, pigtail pulling + mooning = wangxian.

[EXCERPT]

A sound closely resembling a squeak comes from Wei Wuxian as Lan Wangji glances at him. A disciple at the back snorts quietly.

@burningsoprettily

Marital Prospects by Vamillepudding (19K, General)

(Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives, Romantic Comedy, Misunderstandings)

Jin Ling's birth is the happiest occasion of Jin Zixuan's life. But every gold spoon has some rust: Wei Wuxian has taken up residence too. However, Jin Zixuan has a fool-proof plan to get Wei Wuxian out of his life for good: he's going to find him a spouse. And he's got the perfect person in mind: Nie Mingjue.

Lan Wangji has resigned himself to losing the love of his life without saying a word.

@vamillepudding

to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (35K, Mature)

(Soulmates, Hanahaki Disease, Canon Divergence, Chronic Illness, Feelings Realization, LWJ says Fuck)

"Lan WangJi is not sure he can bear meeting with a matchmaker yet again, but at the same time, if he wasn’t going to care deeply about the person he was going to marry, he could just as well have settled for Wei Wuxian six years ago ." or, Lan WangJi goes to a Discussion Conference and his soulmate is there. His soulmate, whom he doesn't love.

I am lonely for you by protos_metazu_ison (11K, Teen)

(POV LWJ, Curses)

For as long as Lan Wangji has been alive, he has been ruled by the family curse. He knows he will doom the one he gives his heart to. It is the reason the only life he’s known is within the four walls of the Jingshi.

That is, until a stranger slings one leg over the wall; two jars of liquor dangling from his hand and calling out a tentative hello.

Modern AU

puzzle pieces by yuisaki (6+K, Teen)

(Modern AU, College AU, Roommates, Friends to Lovers, Seduction, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Getting Together, POV LWJ)

“Sorry, I, uh. Laundry day caught up to me before I could catch up with it. I saw this shirt left in the washer a few days ago, and—“ Wei Ying blinks up at Lan Zhan through dark eyelashes that he wants to kiss, maybe, and gives him an uncharacteristically hesitant smile. “Do you mind?”

I mind the fact that we are not married, Lan Zhan thinks.

Wei Ying keeps borrowing Lan Zhan’s clothes. It is only mildly driving him insane.

@yuisakii

felt this was by crowing (10K, Explicit)

(Modern AU, College AU, Friends With Benefits, Praise Kink, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together)

The dim light in the corridor isn't much better, Wei Ying can't see Lan Zhan's face at all. He forces himself to laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Lan Zhan! You can not misunderstand. I did have a teeny, tiny crush on you but that was just in the beginning."

Lan Zhan's voice is small, barely audible. "In the beginning?"

And then, louder, "Wei Ying…...had a crush on me? I thought - your brother often says things to rile people up."

Wei Ying wants to sink into the floor at his own foolish oversight. Of course, Lan - Gossip is forbidden - Zhan wouldn't take a drunk person, let alone Jiang Cheng at his word.

With a sigh, he readies to lie in the grave of his own making. "Aiya, Lan Zhan, have you even looked at yourself? You were mean and hot. Of course, I was into that."

[Lan Zhan and Wei Ying stumble their way into a relationship]

My Land Beneath Me by longleggedgit (30K, Explicit)

(Modern AU, Best Friends, Pining, Friends To Lovers)

Wei Wuxian gets expelled from college and sent abroad in shame after getting caught up in a scandal. Lan Zhan follows him.

❤️ Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (108K, Explicit)

(Modern AU, High School AU, Persuasion AU, Teen!Wangxian, Separation, Depression, Miscommunication, Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Emotional Roller Coaster, Angst With a Happy Ending)

Tempo Rubato: Italian; Stolen Time; The musical practice of diverging from the unrelenting and gradual rhythm for a short period of time in a piece, allowing for solo freedom.

Lan Wangji starts high school in perfect step with the rhythm of his uncle's expectations and his duty to his family.

He doesn't quite stay that way.

@spodumene

❤️ Only Fools Rush In by mrsronweasley (28K, Explicit)

(Modern AU, Woke Up Married, Drunken Confessions, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, What Happens in Vegas etc etc, Smut With Feelings)

Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying's eyes track down his body until… "Lan Zhan," he says quietly. "What is that on your finger?"

Lan Zhan frowns and looks down. "That," he says, then stops. Something cold trickles down the back of his neck. "That is a ring." His eyes automatically go to Wei Ying's left hand, where… "Wei Ying."

Wei Ying, being the brilliant man that he is, is already ahead of him. "Holy shit."

Lan Zhan clears his throat.

They are in Las Vegas. And now they have rings on their fingers.

There is only one explanation for this. One simple, idiotic, ridiculous explanation.

"We got fucking married?!"

also, check out our early!wangxian and notsooblivious!wwx tags for plenty other similar fics that didn’t make it to the list!

#Anonymous #ask #masterpost #notsooblivious!wwx #early!wangxian #teen!wangxian

64 notes · View notes

kbstories · 4 years

Text

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Post-Kamino Arc, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff and Recovery, The Boys Discovering Unbreakable Via Questionable Training Methods

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Content warning for nightmares and generally traumatic experiences (both only mentioned). Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Three days into U.A.’s new dorms, Bakugou hasn’t crossed Kirishima’s path a single time.

Don’t fuss, Kirishima had reminded himself that first night, crimson eyes following Bakugou as he slinks off to the elevators. Hands in his pockets, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, his typical slouch executed to perfection – the same as always yet achingly out of place against the buzzing excitement of the dozen and a half heroes-to-be at his back.

Under his breath, Kirishima muttered, “Give him space”, as he heaved boxes of manga, multiple sets of weights and his punching bag into his room before dedicating all his attention to stuffing a suitcase worth of brightly patterned shirts into the standard issue closet U.A. provided them with. He worked for hours and hours, unpacking and reminiscing and decorating until the room was satisfyingly his and the gel in his hair drooped with how sweaty he got.

It’s fine, he thought, pinning the last poster to the wall he shares with Bakugou. It hadn’t quite sunken in yet that they’re neighbors, now. Bakugou is antisocial on the best of days. He’s fine.

The thought of the white headband he’d lost had been fleeting at most, a lamenting little sting as he wiped his brow and saw his roots were starting to show. It came back full force as he stepped out to join the others in the common room and found an identical one hooked on his knob, the tag still attached.

Right. Kirishima gave the door to his right a soft look, firmly shut as it was. The tag was snapped off with ease and the headband was back where it belonged.

It goes on like that for a while. With the administration accommodating their move and the new term weeks away, Kirishima invests his free time into catching up on his gaming hangouts with Kaminari and the re-watch of Fullmetal Alchemist he started with Sero before everything went haywire. He helps Mina sort through the abundance of gossip flooding in with everyone’s mundane habits and routines suddenly much more apparent, and talks to classmates he hasn’t had the time to get to know all that well over shared breakfasts and class-wide movie marathons.

It’s like he gained a whole new family overnight – a notion that’s healing in and of itself, the rift that disastrous training camp tore into them scarring shut with every moment spent together.

(Still, Kirishima misses his moms and Riot something fierce. Their goodbye had featured a total sum of zero dry eyes between them; Kirishima’s face had been a blotchy red mess for hours afterwards.)

And then there’s Bakugou.

The guy is like a ghost, those first days, his absence felt as much as the odd trace of his presence he leaves behind. A mug drying next to the sink in the mornings; the thrum of guitar riffs and double-base beats muffled to indistinctness by the thick concrete between them; carpet-dulled footsteps down the hallway, that stomp familiar even without an intended audience for its passive-aggressiveness.

Little bits and pieces of evidence Kirishima takes note of and memorizes just for the sake of it. For the moments that’s not enough, he texts.

Best Bakubro 💣💥

baku my man (sent 13:05)

got too many dorayaki by accident, u want some? (sent 13:05)

(from the store) (but still pretty yum) (sent 13:05)

nah (received 13:11)

ok no probs ❤️ (sent 13:11)

One time, he couldn’t come up with a valid enough excuse and spent minutes agonizing over the empty text box only to type a short u good bro? that was answered with an equally short fine a while later.

Kirishima is very, very glad Bakugou has dropped the habit of leaving him on read. This way, his frayed nerves only have to withstand the background stress of what if he’s downplaying it that seems moderate in comparison to–

Yup, not thinking about Kamino again. Moving on.

“Is he like… okay?”, Sero asks him eventually, YUI’s Again playing as they wait for the episode to start. He’s lying belly-down on his bed, his laptop positioned in a way Kirishima can see the screen from his chosen spot in the hammock. “Not gonna lie, it’s a bit freaky how quiet it’s been. When he’s around at all, which isn’t much.”

Not moving on, then.

Kirishima doesn't need any clarification who is meant. Sero isn’t the first (or the last, most likely) to approach him about this; for once, even Midoriya has been beaten to the punch by Todoroki. It doesn't matter who it is, though, the answer is always the same:

“I don’t know.”

A little hushed because it’s the truth and a confession at the same time. The mild surprise on Sero’s face makes Kirishima look down in search for words, his hands wringing the pocket of his threadbare hoodie just to have something to do. Half the intro flickers by in silence.

“Baku isn’t exactly a people person, y’know?” Kirishima scoffs at himself. What an understatement. “He likes to do stuff his way and fight his own battles, lone wolf style. So, it’s been a bit, uh, stressful for him. To have everyone – and I mean everyone, heroes, police, the media, you name it – be in his business and then have all of us around all the time, too.”

That’s pretty much what he can say without outright speculating or infringing upon the things Bakugou told him in confidence. No matter how much Kirishima appreciates Sero as his friend, his lips are sealed unless Bakugou decides otherwise.

About two minutes into the episode, Sero hits the space bar. The screen pauses on a frame of ambiguously European-looking buildings.

“Okay, sorry, it’s just. How is Bakugou the one with the biggest cryptid energy in 1-A right now? Even Tokoyami emerges from the shadows sometimes and being a cryptid is like, his whole deal.”

Wrapped in humor as it is, Sero’s concern brings a smile to Kirishima’s lips. It’s good to know he – and Todoroki, and Midoriya – care, even when Bakugou is being elusive and hard to reach on purpose. It’s what makes all the difference, sometimes.

“Dunno, he’s a pretty complex guy once you give him a chance. Plus, I’m pretty sure he spends 90% of his time either training or studying or thinking about training and studying so it’s not like he’s not doing stuff. It just doesn’t really involve any of us.”

A thumb on his chin, Sero muses: “Not a cryptid but a closet nerd, huh? That… makes a lot of sense actually. I always thought he’s some kinda genius but I guess even geniuses have to work hard to get good.”

“Dude, he’s such a nerd”, Kirishima agrees with an enthusiastic grin. “Like, I’m pretty sure he wakes up with the sun and gets right to it. Being around him is so motivating, I wanna shoot for the stars and achieve my dreams simply because he’s doing it, too.”

“Okay, I get it. Blasty’s the best.”

Kirishima nods so hard the hammock moves with it; Sero snickers and shakes his head. His smile dims, then, more pensive than before.

“Listen, man. I know it’s over and done with and like, getting bent out of shape over what ifs is pointless but – I wish I’d been there.” Sero traces the borders of his laptop, a repetitive and thoughtless motion. “To help him, I mean. Watching him fight for his life on TV was really freaking miserable, I was shaking the whole time. To think you guys were there as well and how much worse it could’ve gone… How bad things are, even now… I don’t know. It’s haunting, honestly.”

It’s entirely silent, for a while. Kirishima’s mouth is dry, his eyes starting to burn with how quiet Sero’s voice got towards the end there.

“I’ve, um. I’ve had nightmares about it, actually.” Admitting it feels right, despite the heaviness that doesn’t belong in a room smelling of fresh paint and new beginnings. “I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say here. It’s all a blur anyways, I was freaking out until we got there and once we had him we just ran. But… We were there, hiding behind this wall with Midoriya doing his mumbling thing to figure out what the fuck to do. All for One was there, too.”

Just the memory makes Kirishima want to hurl. Images flash before his eyes, there and gone and seared into his retinas all the same. He looks at Sero, at eyes gone wide with worry.

“That guy’s presence… It felt like dying. I don’t know how else to describe it, it was like standing on a cliff knowing you’re about to lose balance and go splat and it wasn’t going away. Katsuki talked to him directly, fought villains outnumbered six-to-one with him right there.”

Somewhere in their periphery the laptop’s screen flickers to darkness. Kirishima takes a deep breath, mentally counting down on the exhale.

“I’m worried, too. I’m trying not to fuss because it makes Bakugou uncomfy when I do but it’s hard. He’s answering my texts, at least. And he, uh, didn’t mention all the embarrassing shit I sent him while he was gone. So, that’s something, I guess.”

That makes Sero’s brow perk up from a somber frown to vague curiosity. “Embarrassing shit?”

“Really embarrassing shit.” Kirishima’s face flushes so hard his cheeks practically glow with heat. “Full on you-might-be-dead-and-I-don’t-know-how-to-cope-with-that embarrassing. I was a total mess, dude.”

Sero breathes a sympathetic sort of noise. “Oh, that.” He reaches over to pat his head. “Yeah, you kind of were. It’s okay, though, Kiri. I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to be a mess when your best friend– Well, y’know.”

“Mmh”, Kirishima makes, his hands framing his own face in a bid to cool it down a bit. “I swear if he ever brings it up I’ll perish on the spot. Goodbye sweet world, it was nice knowing ya.”

“Pressing F hard for you, man.” Sero nods along solemnly. “Don’t worry, I’ll let Riot know you loved him.”

“Thanks, bro!”

They share a grin, not as bright as it could be. Given the state of the world, it’s a damn miracle it’s there at all. Kirishima sighs a little and juts his chin at the laptop.

“C’mon. Let’s watch the Elrics do cool alchemy stuff and/or cry about how depressing their life is.”

Sero finger-guns at him, “You got it”, as a line of tape goes for the touch pad and the freeze frame comes unstuck. The rest of the night is lost to the comforting nostalgia of a story they both know by heart.

Best Bakubro 💣💥

u ok? (sent 22:00)

yea (received 22:02)

oh!! ur awake (sent 22:02)

? (received 22:03)

hhhh isn’t it way past ur bedtime? (sent 22:03)

💦💦 (sent 22:03)

🖕 (received 22:11)

GASP (sent 22:11)

did you seriously just type out “gasp” (received 22:11)

uh yea??? this is an important moment (sent 22:12)

i’m so proud of u (sent 22:12)

fucking hell (received 22:12)

go to sleep already (received 22:14)

aaa ok (sent 22:14)

night nitro!! (sent 22:14)

🔪 (received 22:17)

❤️ (sent 22:17)

The alarm jolts Kirishima out of fitful sleep.

A hand searches the bedframe with clumsy pats, eyes squeezed in a bleary squint as the screen flashes to life in the dark. The notification reads Gym w/ B!!! besides a big, glowing 5:00.

Kirishima groans. It’s a critical hit to his still-recovering sleep deprivation, making his arms bend like limp noodles under his weight. He crashes back into bed and lets the void swallow him.

Knocking. Hard, incessant, escalating in volume and frequency until–

“Oi! Shark Teeth! Get up already!”

Kirishima is ripping the door open before he’s even aware he’s on his feet and awake enough to do so. A breathless “Bro!” fills the space the knocking occupied a moment before.

“About fucking time.”

In the shy light of a sun peeking over the horizon, the phantom of the 1-A dorm becomes solid and real in the shape of one grumpy-faced Bakugou Katsuki: a towel over his shoulder, a bottle of water hanging from two fingers by its handle, looking whole and rested and average amounts of ticked off and oh, Kirishima missed Bakugou.

Kirishima’s also staring. Which he realizes because Bakugou shuffles in place, gaze drifting to the side, a hand scratching his neck. “It’s Saturday”, he says a little awkwardly, offering nothing else to follow it up with.

Saturday. Gym day, which Kirishima’s phone remembered and Kirishima did, too, the night before when he’d wondered if that’s still a thing now that they moved together and Bakugou went into stealth mode and everything is constantly shifting under their feet.

Not everything. Most things, apparently not this one, this thing that’s been theirs since the start. Kirishima smiles, bright and relieved. He promises:

“Be right there. Two minutes!”

He runs because what if Bakugou changes his mind? What if he decides to go ahead without him, and Kirishima loses that glimpse only he gets, of Bakugou being in his element and relaxed and happy?

Then he’s back and Bakugou is still there, leaning against the wall and scrolling on his phone while he waits. A glance, lingering on the all-caps SWEATING print on his red tank top over neon aqua shorts – Kirishima flexes to show off his outfit properly. “Pretty rad, right?”

Bakugou blinks, slowly. The verbal jab Kirishima expects never comes. Instead, he gets a low, “You done or what?”

“Yeah, man! Let’s go.”

Maybe Bakugou missed him, too.

“Push it!”

Kirishima clenches his jaw, the serrated line of his teeth grinding to the point of pain. He pushes, skin pulling tight and muscles screaming as they bunch up and split apart in harsh ripples. His vision fractures into two, three distinct shards.

The blast engulfs him between one heartbeat and the next. Nitroglycerine-fueled flames lick over every inch of exposed skin, his arms and face and chest registering the heat before the pain, dull and frustratingly there.

It’s over in a flash. Bakugou wipes sweat off his chin with his arm, palms still smoldering. “And?”

“Still feelin’ it”, Kirishima rasps out. His quirk drops, leaves his body softer and aching; breathing is a bit of a challenge, inhales and exhales coming quick and hard. Arms crossed over his head, he lets out a groan, his voice dipping into a growl.

“I can go further! I know I can. It’s right there but I can’t. Quite. Grasp it. Urgh!”

“Fuck”, Bakugou mutters with feeling. Exactly, Kirishima thinks, fuming at himself. Fuck.

They’ve been at it for hours. Gym γ is in ruins, which is fine since Cementoss can fix it up in seconds once they’re done but still. By this point, Kirishima expects more progress than aggressive indoor renovation via explosions.

A hero’s Ultimate Move is supposed to be this grand, show-stopping technique to turn the tides and save the day. Finally, finally, they’re in the clear to develop their own. There’s an idea in Kirishima’s head, a concept he’s worked on for almost as long as his aesthetic as a hero. An extension there-of, in a sense.

It’s badass, it’s manly, it’s invincible–

It’s not this. Kirishima is starting to doubt he’ll ever get there.

“What’s wrong with me, man? Like, I see you coming and my quirk kicks up a notch ‘cause it’ll hurt if I don’t harden enough and then it just. Stops? Before it gets where I want it to be? Are explosions to the face not dangerous enough, or something?”

Bakugou is shaking out his hands and loosening his shoulders, a wince making his nose scrunch a little. “You’ve taken more of ‘em today than you could at the Festival”, he notes in that neutral tone he uses when he counters Kirishima’s whining with facts and logic. “Pretty sure any of the other extras would be dust by now, including that steel fucker.”

Kirishima appreciates the Bakugou-version of a pep talk, he really does, and he’s probably right (he usually is). But it’s not what he wants. He wants his Ultimate, and he wants it now.

And, eyeing Bakugou’s grenade bracers, he might know of one way to get there.

“Use those.”

“Hah?”

Kirishima pats one of the clunky devices, hand hardened just in case. Bakugou bares his teeth at him but doesn’t pull away. “These. Hit me with ‘em? Full blast.”

Bakugou’s expression sobers. Dead serious. “Don’t fuck with me. They’re not made for people.”

(And Midoriya is what, a house plant? Kirishima doesn’t voice that thought out loud. He has some sense of self-preservation, thank you very much.)

Besides, Bakugou didn’t say no. The possibility is there, if heavily guarded – and where there’s a chance, Kirishima will always at least try.

“Look, dude. For better or for worse I’m too used to anything else, and adrenaline alone is clearly not cutting it right now. I’m…” Kirishima laughs, a little embarrassed despite himself. “I remember what that explosion did to Ground β. Not gonna lie, it was pretty wild and I’m a bit, uh, scared. But I’m also ready. I can take it, I know I can.”

Bakugou is looking at him, intense in a different way, searching Kirishima’s face for… something. “You’re scared of me?”

What? Kirishima rewinds what he said in his head and oh no. He waves his hands in front of him, like he can physically wipe away the notion. “No. No, Katsuki, I’m scared of what I saw back then. You, I trust. With my life.”

Which is a sappy thing to say, even Kirishima will admit that, but it’s also true. Asking Bakugou to use the bracers on him is literally placing his life in his (very lethal) hands.

There is a line between sparring and actual combat, and while they’ve come close to it, have toed it and tested its give in pursuit of greater heights, they’ve never taken that leap. They’re back at it now, balancing on that edge, and Kirishima can guide Bakugou there but he won’t push him across because Bakugou is hesitating.

“Once I pull the pin, I can’t stop it”, Bakugou says, locking Kirishima’s eyes with own. “I can redirect the blast but it won’t stop.”

Kirishima nods. “I know.”

“They’re all the way full. It’s gonna be brutal.”

“I know”, he repeats, chest warm despite the tingle of nerves in his gut. “I can take it. I swear.”

Bakugou spits on the ground. “Fine. Fuck it. You better fucking push it this time or you’re literally dead.”

“Oof, did you have to put it that way?”

A cold look is all he gets. Kirishima stands a bit taller on instinct. No time to joke, got it. Bakugou rolls his neck and explosion-jumps a good twenty yards away before turning back towards him. His right bracer is checked over in brisk and efficient moves.

“Get ready. I’ll count down from five. On go, you go. Plus fucking ultra.”

Legs apart, knees locked, back in a straight line. The stance comes to Kirishima as easy as breathing, as does the rigid feeling of his quirk taking hold. He braces his arms, hands up with his fingers sharp and claw-like.

A grim smile. “Plus ultra”, Kirishima confirms.

The safety slides off with an audible click. The pin emerges, Bakugou’s index limp on the trigger. “Five.”

Inhale.

“Four.”

Kirishima knocks his hands together, the rock-like smack reassuringly familiar.

“Three.”

Exhale. His limbs go stiff, his skin having long lost feeling as the keratin in it grows solid. Tough. Bulletproof.

“Two.”

Harder. Harder. Like a mountain. Like granite. Like raw fucking diamonds. Harder than that.

“One.”

Inhale, inhale, inhale. Kirishima’s chest locks into place, his heart pumping away as his innermost remains unchanged and everything else goes rigid. Be strong. Be invincible–

“Go!”

A hiss, a spark, flames – the explosion roars to life and Kirishima roars back, sees it coming in a wave of light and destruction coming for him and only him. It’s not enough, more, more, but his quirk is buckling as it crashes into that wall inside him he can’t break–

“Push it, Kirishima! Push it, damn you!!”

He’s in Kamino, back to the wall and head full of death. Himself, dead, his classmates, dead, Bakugou, dead dead dead–

Never!

A second before impact and it fractures, splits apart. Time passes in slow motion as his vision bursts into a thousand unique and unknowable shades and–

Everything is so sharp, fragmented and crystalline and bright. The explosion hits, a kaleidoscope of red-yellow-orange that makes sense, somehow. Kirishima watches as it rolls over his hands and wrists and arms; it pushes against his chest like a gust of wind, playful, almost, like it could carry his weight if he leans into it, so he does.

One step. His body is heavy, so heavy, rumbling and grinding against itself at every point of contact – at his joints, between his fingers, along the knife’s edge of his teeth. Another step, again, again, moving through it like it’s the ocean lazily lapping at his legs in molten waves headed to shore.

It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. Kirishima doesn’t register it’s over until he catches a shouted “Eijirou!” and Bakugou is there, sliding to a stop right in front of him. There’s shock written all across his face.

“Holy shit.”

Maybe Kirishima died, after all? It’s hard to tell with him being head-to-toe numb – he is pretty sure that feeling in his chest is his heart beating like the wings of a caged hummingbird. His lungs are screaming for breath, actually, and Kirishima tries but breathing is not working right now, which is fine. He opens his mouth all the same.

“Did it work?”

His voice is this low rumble that he himself barely recognizes. It’s okay, Bakugou understands him. Bakugou laughs, in fact, a short, incredulous huff of air.

“Did it work?! Did it fucking–”

A gasp, like Bakugou realized in that exact moment it’s Kirishima in front of him. Then he grins, big and toothy and so excited it’s making Kirishima dizzy.

“Holy shit, it worked! You fucking survived! And you’re a dragon! Or something! You have claws and fucking fangs and– That’s so badass, what the fuck!”

“What?!”

“YEAH!”

Kirishima looks down at his hands – his claws, long as daggers and curved inwards. “Oh fuck. Is it cool? Dude, I can’t see myself! Is it cool?!”

“You’re a fucking dragon of course it’s fucking cool”, Bakugou yells at him in one breath. “Shit, wait. Wait, wait, where the fuck is my–”

He takes off his cloves and fumbles for his pockets, like fumbling is something Bakugou does. The world is still weirdly precise and crystal-like and starting to spin, uh oh, that can’t be good. Bakugou’s got his phone out and Kirishima smiles, a Pavlovian response to being in front of a camera, and his jaw creaks with the movement.

Creaking is not a noise a human body should do. Then again, surviving a blast like that is also something that should be impossible.

Holy shit indeed.

“I made it.” Kirishima continues to stare down at himself, at the jagged plains of his chest where he tore through his shirt. It doesn’t feel real but it is. “I’m alive. I got my Ultimate.”

Bakugou is back and closer than before, his face mere inches from Kirishima’s. “Fucking woah, dude. Not a single scratch. This is insane.” The grin is still there, his voice quieter and dripping with pride. “Did ya feel it at all? How’s your mobility? Is there a time limit to this or–”

It’s getting hard to focus, Bakugou’s words running into each other and flying right by without his brain processing any of it. His spiked vision is blotted out in places, increasingly stained in black ink dots.

“I think I’m… I’m about to pass out.”

“Wha– Drop it. Kiri, drop your quirk!”

I’m trying, he wants to tell him but there’s no air left to say it with. Kirishima goes to his knees an instance later, his stiffened body resisting the way he wants to fold forward. Sounds are muffled, the darkness closing in–

By impending unconsciousness or by command, it doesn’t really matter: Kirishima feels his quirk fade and his entire body soften. He’s falling over until he’s not, strong hands catching him around the shoulders. A moment later, a semi-gentle slap to his cheek reminds him that there’s something he should be doing.

Kirishima breathes.

It feels really good, even if it hurts, too. His chest is flexible enough to expand now but clearly not happy about it while his lungs lurch for every bit of oxygen they can get. Breathing is a lot of work, then, but it’s worth it. Kirishima has an Ultimate Move, and he knows how to turn it off. Kind of.

“Why didn’t you tell me you can’t fucking breathe in it?!”

“Ah”, Kirishima mumbles, in-between pathetic pants of air, “That would be… because… I didn’t know… I couldn’t… Wow, I’m so dizzy.”

Bakugou groans. “Yeah, it’s almost like you just nearly suffocated yourself to death. Sit your ass down, idiot.”

A flick to Kirishima’s cheek has him whining. Every inch of himself is prickling with oversensitivity, the polar opposite to how it felt to exist in that explosion.

Because he did that. That happened.

By now he’s aware he’s leaning on Bakugou, his legs wobbling even as he’s held steady until he can plant his butt on the floor. Bakugou doesn’t push him off after he sits right next to him, either; he nudges him aside to take off his bracers and his collar but otherwise, Kirishima is free to stay where he is.

Kirishima takes the invitation for what it is and lets himself rest against his shoulder, thoroughly exhausted. “It felt so cool”, he tells Bakugou once he can inhale without shaking out of his own skin.

“Like. My vision went nuts just before the blast hit, I think that’s when I activated it. Everything was all bright and, like, broken apart? Kind of like shards of glass or something, it sounds weird now but it made sense in that moment. I was standing in the explosion and it barely moved me.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows go all the way up. “Seriously? That shit usually levels a whole building.”

“Yeah! I walked a bit, too, so that’s what I’ll work on next. Breathing would be good as well, I guess. Just have to get used to, well, everything.”

Looking down at his naked arms and the red outline around his right wrist, Bakugou nods, pensive. “Were you scared?”

Kirishima winces. Still thinking about that, huh? He almost regrets mentioning it at all, even if it’s the truth and part of them. Their starting point, all those months ago.

“At first, yeah. And then it was gone. Like, I feel I can face down anything when I’m like that, y’know? I won’t break no matter what. It’s exactly I wanted.”

Kirishima’s laugh comes out wheezy. There’s a headache pounding away at his temples, his throat raw from yelling and everything else. “Unbreakable. That’s what I called it when I thought of it. And it’s reality now.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” A shake of Bakugou’s head. He digs out his phone again, flicking to the most recent entry in his camera roll. “Here. That’s how it looks like.”

What he sees wipes the smile off Kirishima’s face entirely. He gestures to the phone and Bakugou shrugs, dropping it in his hand. Kirishima holds it close to his face, almost cross-eyed with his need to drink in all the details. The red spikes of his hair. His eyes all intense and turned to stone. The teeth, holy hell. Layers and layers of armored skin shifting over each other like tectonic plates.

No wonder he sounded like rocks tumbling down the mountainside in that form.

Bakugou nudges his side. “Okay, spill. What’s the sad face for this time?”

“I don’t know.” Kirishima swallows. “It’s scary, isn’t it? I know why you got dragon from this and it is cool. It feels cool, too. But is it something people would feel safe around?”

“Uh, yeah?” The device is snatched back. “Civilians are morons and fickle as fuck but if this is standing between them and certain death, fuck yeah they’ll feel safe. Besides, you’re like Riot.”

“The dog or the hero?”

“Fucking both but I mean the dog. You’re like, stupid friendly and all”, a vague gesture to his face, “wholesome and shit, whoever doesn’t immediately get ‘hero’ from that is dumb as hell and deserves to die.”

“Okay, okay, I hear ya.” Kirishima chuckles, rubbing the back of his head under the praise. He hurries to say: “Well, minus the wishing-civilians-dead part.”

“Nope. They can definitely die.”

“Dude.”

Bakugou is grinning, though, knocking his phone against Kirishima’s forehead. “Get your head outta your ass already. That Ultimate is badass as fuck. We’re trying my AP shot on it, next time.”

“You mean the one that goes through concrete?”

“Ye-up, that’s the one. Now get off me, you’re all sweaty and gross.”

Kirishima oofs as he’s pushed to the ground. He stays there, for a minute or two. Staring up at the far ceiling and musing how okay things feel right now. Hoping that they’ll stay that way, for a little while at least.

Then Bakugou is standing over him, offering him a hand. “I’m not carrying you back, asshole. Get up.”

Kirishima groans as he’s pulled up. The tingling has firmly settled into soreness and it’s everywhere. Still, when Bakugou makes to let go, he holds on tighter.

“Bro, wait.”

A questioning glance.

“We gotta do the thing!”

The glance turns almost concerned, a silent have-you-finally-lost-your-marbles sort of look. “The… thing?”

“Yeah!” Kirishima imitates an explosion between their hands. “The sparking off thing!”

All confusion disappears. “Ah”, Bakugou says. Then he turns around and marches right out the gym.

“Baku, no! Don’t leave a bro hanging like that!”

(In the end, Kirishima gets his handshake. Bakugou complains about his ‘shitty ass puppy eyes’ being ‘effective as all fuck’ the whole way to the dorm.)

>>Chapter 7.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bnha fanfiction #i have so many thoughts on unbreakable yo #this fic is also on AO3!!#reblogs appreciated as always c:#my stuff

27 notes · View notes

ibijau · 4 years

Text

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Wangji gives friendship another try, and Lan Xichen has a pretty shitty day

warning for infidelity :D part of this chapter had been posted wayyyyy back (in fact, it was the very first thing I posted for this AU!) but it’s been touched up a lot

It is rare, this year, to find Nie Huaisang alone. So when Lan Wangji, one afternoon, sees the other boy walking alone in a garden with a stack of papers under his arm, he takes his chance and greets him.

"Lan gongzi! I was thinking you'd taken a dislike to me," Nie Huaisang replies with a half smile. "May I help you with something?"

A certain guilt makes its way in Lan Wangji's chest. He hasn't meant to avoid Nie Huaisang. If anything, he has wanted to check on the other boy for those past three months, at once still worried about his break down at the end of the previous year and quite stunned by the changes since his return. And he knows, of course, that Nie Huaisang would not have been opposed to a conversation, since the other boy often smiles at him when their eyes meet.

Lan Wangji would have been happy to pursue the budding friendship they started last year, but Nie Huaisang’s entourage made it difficult. It is good that Nie Huaisang is not so alone this year, but did he really need to be friends with Wei Wuxian, who is the most irritating, and annoying, and clever, and gorgeous, and disrespectful person Lan Wangji has ever met?

"I was wondering if Nie gongzi would like to have tea."

"Really? I'd love that!" Nie Huaisang exclaims with a large smile that quickly dims a little. "Ah, sorry, that was probably too loud. I've gotten bad habits with the others, but don't worry Lan gongzi, I can still be quiet as well. When would you like to do that?"

At the moment, Wei Wuxian is being punished for fighting with Jin Zixuan, while Jiang Wanyin is dutifully waiting for his father's arrival. Lan Wangji cannot be certain he'll get such a chance again. If he allows for this moment to pass, maybe when Nie Huaisang comes to have tea with him, Wei Wuxian will try to tag along. It would be absolutely awful. Lan Wangji doesn't want to have Wei Wuxian in his house, ever.

"If Nie gongzi is free now, I am as well."

The older boy considers that for a moment.

"I had plans for later, but nothing too important. It’s fine if I miss out on that or if I’m late, especially if it’s to have some time with Lan gongzi. Let me just go drop those in my cabin," Nie Huaisang requests, patting his pile of papers.

"Homework?"

Nie Huaisang grimaces at the very idea.

"No, I have been painting a bit. I'll just drop them and…"

"I would like to see them," Lan Wangji cuts him. "Bring them."

"Really ? Well, if Lan gongzi insists…"

Lan Wangji nods, and Nie Huaisang easily gives in. With this matter settled, the two of them head toward the house Lan Wangji shares with his brother and uncle. When they reach the door, Nie Huaisang hesitates, his easy smile faltering a bit.

"Is your brother likely to be there?"

"Brother is helping Uncle deal with sect business, since Uncle is expecting visitors. Neither of them are likely to come."

Nie Huaisang instantly relaxes at the news, which isn't a surprise. Lan Xichen has been complaining a great deal about the time he is forced to spend with Nie Huaisang, and how unpleasant it always is. Lan Wangji imagines the feeling is shared. It seems odd to him, because both his brother and Nie Huaisang are fine people with personalities mild enough that they’re easy to get along with. Still, if they’ve decided they can’t bear each other’s presence, it’s their problem, and he’s not getting involved in that.

That's why rather than to stay in the main room, as would probably be more proper, Lan Wangji prepares tea and then takes the other boy to his bedroom. That way, if Lan Xichen comes home, Nie Huaisang is less likely to have to deal with him. It also means that Nie Huaisang gets to see the painting he gifted Lan Wangji hanging on the wall.

He looks absolutely stunned to see it there.

"So you really displayed it?" he mumbles. "I thought your brother was poking fun at me because it's such a bad painting. I should have known better, it’s not like he has a sense of humour. Still, to put something so bad on the wall like this..."

"I like it," Lan Wangji protests. "Brother too likes it."

Nie Huaisang snorts and crosses his arms on his chest, tilting his head to glare at his painting.

"I doubt that. He hates everything about me."

"Brother likes how you paint," Lan Wangji objects, inviting Nie Huaisang to sit at his desk, the only table available.

Nie Huaisang sits down. He accepts the cup of tea offered to him and glances at it, but quickly puts it down on the table, lips pinched.

"Nie gongzi doesn't like this tea?"

"I don't like any Lan tea, I think. You people always make it too light, it's just warm water.” Nie Huaisang presses a hand against his mouth. “Ah, sorry, that's rude! I'm so sorry, I'll make an effort to be more like before."

"Like before?"

Nie Huaisang nods and drinks some tea with a forced smile.

"You like me quiet, right?" he asks. "I haven't had to be quiet in a while. I miss it a bit, actually. I like having friends, but it's so much effort sometimes, and it gets hard to keep up with people like Jiang-xiong and Wei-xiong. Thanks for the chance to… Ah, I probably speak too much as well?"

"You speak less than Wei Wuxian, so it is fine,” Lan Wangji replies, unwilling to admit that he minds chatter a little less these days. After that month of overlooking Wei Wuxian’s punishment, he’s had to get used to it.

"Well, that's not hard,” Nie Huisang chuckles. “He even talks in his sleep sometimes."

Against his better judgement, Lan Wangji finds that detail endearing. He adds it to the list of little things he keeps learning about Wei Wuxian, although he would rather die than confess such a list exists.

"It is fine that Nie gongzi speaks more now," Lan Wangji states. "Nie gongzi said last year he was one to follow demands and not make them, I'm glad this is changing."

"Oh, right, I never thanked you for that!” Nie Huaisang gasps, before breaking into a large smile. “But after what you said, I spoke with my brother when I went home, and he agreed to let me try different things. Lan gongzi, I'm very grateful for the kindness you showed me that day, and for your good advice. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Lan Wangji nods in acknowledgement.

In all honesty, and remembering the state Nie Huaisang was in after being told he failed his exams, Lan Wangji has some idea what the older boy might have done if not given some comfort and encouragement. Most of what he said was spoken out of fear that his brother might turn into a widower before even getting the chance to marry, and Lan Wangji was half certain that it was mostly nonsense but… if it helped Nie Huaisang, he’s glad.

“Since Nie gongzi no longer has to hide, will he show me his work?” Lan Wangji asks, glancing at the small pile of papers the other boy dropped on the floor.

“Only if you show me yours. Lan gongzi paints as well, right?”

Lan Wangji nods. He does, but only because it is what a young man of good birth must do. He doesn’t find in this the pleasure his brother and Nie Huaisang seem to take in it. Still, it is not unpleasant to have someone other than his brother appear excited about the prospect of seeing his work.

The day has been unpleasant so far for Lan Xichen, and he does not particularly expect it to improve. His uncle is in a terrible mood and making it felt around, all because of this business with Wei Wuxian, which is…

If Lan Xichen could allow himself to be honest, he’d say the entire matter is ridiculous. Wei Wuxian isn’t an easy student, but he’s far from being the worst they’ve had either. As for this argument with Jin Zixuan, the fault is divided between the two of them, so it’s unfair that one gets punished more harshly. Certainly Wei Wuxian has misbehaved here and there, but he’s clever, and if Lan Qiren had just found the right way to get through to him, things would have gone better.

Except his uncle isn't one to question his methods, and so Wei Wuxian must carry the blame alone. Much like last year when Nie Huaisang had to shoulder his failure alone, when surely, after how much effort the other Nie boys confirmed he put into studying, such bad results should have made any teacher question themselves.

It is an unpleasant day, and Lan Xichen feels so rebellious that he asked to be excused when sect leader Jiang and sect leader Jin arrived, for fear he might say something he shouldn't.

Leaving the adults to their gossips and complaining also means he is free to go inform his brother that Wei Wuxian will be leaving. This, too, Lan Xichen blames on his rebellious mood. He knows his uncle doesn't want Lan Wangji to have anything to do with Wei Wuxian, now that it is clear his upstanding nephew cannot influence the other boy and might instead be lead astray. Too bad for Lan Qiren. If there's finally someone who insistently wants to be Lan Wangji's friend, Lan Xichen wants to encourage that.

And so as soon as his uncle allows him to leave his side, Lan Xichen heads straight for home. At this hour, his brother is likely to be there, either meditating or practicing the guqin.

When he enters the house, the faint aroma of tea in the air confirms that Lan Wangji must be there. The main room is empty, so he must be in his bedroom, most likely meditating. Lan Xichen is sorry to disturb him, but hopefully Lan Wangji will be grateful to be given a chance to rush and say a few last words to Wei Wuxian.

As Lan Xichen walks toward his brother's room though, he is struck to hear voices coming from that direction. His brother is not one for guests and there is hardly anyone Lan Wangji is close enough to bring into not simply his house, but his bedroom.

This mystery is quickly lifted when Lan Xichen reaches the door to his brother's room and finds him sitting at his desk, Nie Huaisang at his side. The two younger boys have spread a large quantity of papers on the table before them, paintings by the looks of it, and are so busy chatting about them that they haven't noticed Lan Xichen.

It is so odd to see Nie Huaisang this relaxed. When Lan Xichen sees him in the distance with his friends, he is always jumping around, laughing and smiling and nearly as loud as Wei Wuxian. And of course during their weekly meetings, Nie Huaisang is sullen and closed off. Lan Xichen might be tempted to think that this is closer to how Nie Huaisang was last year, but even that would be inexact. Nie Huaisang never used to smile this much, and he always carried himself as if he were scared to take too much space. Nothing like this Nie Huaisang who is calm but clearly happy, and doesn't hesitate to reach across the table to take a painting.

"Oh this one is so good!"

Lan Wangji glances at the painting in question.

"Hm. It is brother's. He gave it to me to copy."

Nie Huaisang blushes slightly at the blunder. Lan Xichen expects him to drop the painting or make some disparaging comment, but instead the other boy inspects it carefully.

"Well, it figures,” Nie Huaisang sighs wistfully. “Your brother is a painter beyond compare… I could never even hope to paint with such controlled lines. Everything is just perfect, exactly as it should be… it must be amazing to be this good. I hope to be half as skilled someday."

Lan Xichen’s heart races at the unexpected compliment. Considering how Nie Huaisang speaks to him when he is present, he would have expected him to say much worse things about him in his absence. Even if he didn’t want to offend Lan Wangji by insulting his brother, it would have been easy to say something more neutral, or nothing at all.

“Huaisang could ask brother to teach him,” Lan Wangji suggests.

“No,” Nie Huaisang huffs with a bitter chuckle. “Your brother has made it very clear to me that he thinks I should give up on painting to focus on studying. He’d never do anything to encourage me on that path. And even without that, he hates me too much to ever want to spend more time with me.”

It stings that Nie Huaisang would believe that, when Lan Xichen has repeatedly asked to see his paintings, only to be denied each time. It stings also that Lan Wangji just nods along and drops the matter, grabbing instead a different painting to inspect it.

"This one is nice."

"You think?” Nie Huaisang pouts. “It could be better. I really like that view, but I can never do it justice."

"It is nice," Lan Wangji insists. "I like it."

"Really? You can have it if you want. Or… or if you'd like, I could paint something especially for you. As a thank you for your help."

"There is no need."

"There is much need,” Nie Huaisang grumbles. “You don't realise how much it changed for me. Ah! I know what to give you!” he exclaims, his smile turning devious. “I painted a portrait of Wei Wuxian a little while ago, do you want it?"

At this most cruel attack, Lan Wangji looks away. In doing so, his eyes fall on the door of his room, only to find Lan Xichen standing there. Lan Wangji appears a little uncomfortable at this intrusion, but nods at him to acknowledge his presence. This, of course, attracts Nie Huaisang’s attention.

The change is immediate. A moment ago, Nie Huaisang was relaxed and smiling easily, but as soon as he spots Lan Xichen he tenses and hurriedly grabs the paintings laid on the desk so he can hide them.

"I guess it’s getting late," he says stiffly. "I have other appointments today. I will go now."

"You don't need to," Lan Xichen sighs. "I was just here to tell my brother that..."

"Don't worry, I'm already gone," Nie Huaisang insists, dashing past Lan Xichen with a mess of papers held against his chest. "I know where the door is."

Before either brother can stop him, Nie Huaisang is already gone. Lan Xichen isn't exactly surprised that things turned out like this, but he feels somewhat guilty for interrupting this conversation when the other two seemed to be having fun. Indeed, Lan Wangji looks mildly annoyed at him.

"I just came here to give you some news regarding Wei Wuxian," Lan Xichen sighs. "I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible that uncle has decided to expel him."

"Jin Zixuan provoked him," Lan Wangji protests.

"I know, and I also think it's a little unfair, but uncle won't bulge. You know how he gets when he's sure he's right. At least you might have a chance to say goodbye, they're all discussing sect business now, and Wei Wuxian is in the courtyard for his penance."

It says a lot about Lan Wangji's distress that for once, he doesn't even try to deny his interest in Wei Wuxian. Instead he hurriedly tidies his desk so he can head outside. Eager to help, Lan Xichen gathers the remnants of their tea (Nie Huaisang’s cup is still full, he can't help but notice) and brings them back to the main room so the servants can wash everything. He is then quickly joined by Lan Wangji who holds a few sheets of paper and appears uncertain what to do with them.

“Nie gongzi forgot those,” he explains.

Lan Xichen glances at the papers. They can’t be what Nie Huaisang offered to give to his brother, they’re only studies (excellent studies; it seems Nie Huaisang’s skill has grown even greater since the rabbits) which means he must have simply missed them in his haste to go away. Judging by his expression, it’s clear Lan Wangji feels he should return those without delay, but also that he’d much rather go check on Wei Wuxian.

“Give them to me,” Lan Xichen asks. “I have nothing to do right now, I can drop by the Nie cabin.”

Lan Wangji all but shoves the studies into his hands and hurriedly leaves the house. When he’s gone, Lan Xichen allows himself to chuckle. His brother’s crush is really adorable. It’s a shame that Wei Wuxian is leaving so soon, these two might have gotten somewhere with a little more time. And if it had turned into something serious, Yunmeng Jiang isn’t a bad ally to have. Marrying Lan Wangji to a servant’s son isn’t ideal, but everyone knows how much Jiang Fengmian favours his ward, so they could have gotten a real alliance out of it. Perhaps if Lan Wangji gets a little bold and offers a correspondence to Wei Wuxian, if they get to meet again… Lan Xichen wouldn’t mind having a brother-in-law like that to shake up things in the Cloud Recesses.

That’s a consideration for later, though. First, Lan Xichen has his own fiancé to think of. He takes his time heading for the Nie cabin, feeling no hurry to face Nie Huaisang’s bad mood for the second time in a single day. A shame because these studies are so good that Lan Xichen can’t stop glancing at them as he walks, half certain that he can recognise the exact view of them mountains they depict, and he would love to talk about that. Still, he’s half hoping that his fiancé won’t have returned to the cabin directly, and that he can drop the studies to one of the other Nie disciples.

On a day like this, of course he shouldn’t have hoped to be lucky. As he gets close to the cabin, Lan Xichen sees Nie Huaisang in front of the door, having a conversation with a Lan disciple whose face is not visible from where he stands. Nie Huaisang does not seem particularly enthusiastic about the company, but still ends up following the other boy behind the cabin.

Lan Xichen goes after them. He tells himself that it is only because he needs to return the paintings, but there might be a hint of curiosity as well. The two boys are so taken by whatever they're planning that they don't even notice he's getting close behind them.

“I’m just saying you could have warned me,” he hears the Lan disciple complain when he’s almost caught up to them. “I waited a long time, I thought maybe something had happened.”

“Listen, if I wanted to be scolded, I’d go hang out with Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang retorts. “I got busy, that’s all. I’m barely in the mood at all, so count yourself lucky I’m not sending you away.”

The Lan disciple, whose face Lan Xichen still can’t see, shrugs. He then steps closer to Nie Huaisang who throws his arms around his neck as they lean closer to each other and…

Lan Xichen feels punched. His hand clenches on the paintings he’s holding, tight enough to probably rip the paper, but right now he can’t care about that because… because…

“What are you two doing?” he hisses.

It all goes very fast. Nie Huaisang pushes away the Lan disciple with enough force that the boy cries out and falls to the ground. The boy glances up and, realising who found them in this compromising situation, he scampers off hastily, trying to hide his face. Lan Xichen should stop him, because what just happened broke so many rules, enough that this boy could probably be sent away from Gusu Lan, but he’s too stunned to react.

Nie Huaisang remains where he is, looking rather annoyed as he crosses his arms and glares at his fiancé.

“Do you really have to ruin everything for me?” Nie Huaisang asks. “How annoying.”

“I don’t think you’re the one who should be upset,” Lan Xichen replies, rather more weakly than he would have liked. “I’m the one who caught my fiancé kissing someone else, aren’t I?”

Nie Huaisang smirks and shrugs in that cocky way he does now.

“And what are you going to do about it? Have the engagement cancelled?” he taunts.

“Is that why you did this?” Lan Xichen asks.

He knows that Nie Huaisang hates their engagement, far more than Lan Xichen himself does at this point. But he had assumed that Nie Huaisang understood how important the alliance between their sect is, how much Gusu Lan and Qinghe Nie need to count on each other. Every day that passes gives more proof that Qishan Wen is preparing for war, this alliance is so important, regardless of personal feelings, surely Nie Huaisang is clever enough to understand...

“I know we can’t avoid getting married,” Nie Huaisang retorts with another insolent shrug. “But we’re not married yet, and I know you don’t want me, so… can’t you at least let me have fun with someone who does?”

“Do you like him?”

Just saying the words hurts because suddenly, Lan Xichen realises that he might end up living the same life as his father, with a spouse who only reluctantly tolerates his company and would rather be anywhere else. He remembers how wistful his mother looked sometimes, especially toward the end. He doesn’t want to see that expression on Nie Huaisang. He certainly doesn’t want either the lonely life his father condemned himself to.

Nie Huaisang laughs to his face.

“You Lans, it’s always about love and all,” he mocks. “I don’t care about that. I just want to have a little fun with someone before I’m forced to be faithful to you. Kissing people’s nice, you know?”

Lan Xichen flinches. Nie Huaisang smirks, walking closer, leaning toward him, his head cocked to the side.

“Ah, but actually… I guess you wouldn’t know, right? Bet you’ve never kissed anyone, eh?” He steps closer still, slowly, like a wolf stalking its prey. “Lan gongzi… want me to be your first kiss? I’ll make it good, I swear.”

It’s a shameless proposition, one that Lan Xichen should immediately refuse. Instead, his eyes fall on Nie Huaisang’s lips and he aches to feel them against his, to hold the other boy close, to touch him, to...

Nie Huaisang laughs again.

“Right, of course not. Well, I can’t make you want me, can I?” he snickers. “Whatever. I’ll go now. But please, next time… don’t interrupt, okay? It’s rude to bother people when they’re having fun.”

He saunters away as if he doesn’t have a worry in the world. Lan Xichen watches him go, once more filled with hatred for this fiancé he didn’t choose.

It has to be hatred.

He refuses to give another name to the gnawing coldness inside his chest.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #ooof that was a hard one to write for some reason it just didn't want to happen!#but welp now lxc knows #and jzx is about to become free real estate

50 notes · View notes

d0llhousess · 4 years

Text

persistence

⇢ pairing: Hyou Fuwa x f!reader

⇢ requested?: yes

c-r-i-m-s-o-n-x requested: Um hi idk if request are still open cause i started online school i didn't wanna bug u if u are.but if not i was wonder if i could request Fuwa who alway trying to make reader going on a date with him but she always says no cause she trying to focus on her studies but soon she finally agrees and say 'fine only one date and you better impress me' and at the end the go on their date and at the end he walk her home. Also reader is one of the most pretties girls in the School. That all byeeeeeeeee

⇢ warnings/tags?: mild language, fluff , annoyance-->to friends---> to lovers

⇢ summary: It takes a lot to deter Fuwa, and frankly you don’t find yourself minding his persistence too much.

⇢ word count: approx 2.1k

⇢ a/n: Listen…..Fuwa???? I love him. He’s the certain brand of dumbass that just speaks to my SOUL. He’s just an immediate fav. I hope you enjoy this and like I really enjoyed writing this. ALSOO my request are still open and since I don’t get a lot of them at a time, they probably will never close! If they do I will be sure to make a post about it! Also this lowkey morphed into a oneshot because I couldn’t control myself.

⤆ Back to the Masterlist ~ crossposted on ao3 ⤇

“No,” You hissed out to the orange-haired boy that practically bounced into your vision. How someone had so much energy in the morning was beyond you. The boy had just asked you if you wanted to accompany him to a nearby cafe and needless to say you immediately declined the offer.

Frankly, you couldn’t even begin to understand why he would even ask you, of all people, out on a date.

The two of you weren’t friends. Hell, the only reason you knew his name was because you both just so happened to be in the same class. Besides, even if you wanted to go out on a date (which you didn’t), it wasn’t like you had the time to. No, most of your time was dedicated to burying your nose in the many books that helped you grasp the material of your studies--and don’t even get you started on how much cram school took up your time.

So there was a bit of an unspoken rule across the male population when it came to asking you out after you’d turned down the first couple of guys that confessed to you.

Sure, you heard the whispers of your classmates. It was hard to ignore them when you had a gossip for a best friend. So you knew that the guys would comment about how “hot” you were and “how it was such a shame that you couldn’t manage to look up from a book.”

Yet as long as the confessions stopped, you didn’t really care about the whispers that followed you. You were in high school to excel and hopefully get into a good university; dating would not help you with that.

You watched as confusion filtered across the boy’s face at your rejection before a small pout twisted onto his lips.

“Why not?”

You nearly snorted at his question. Why was he questioning you about it? Most guys would just nod and accept the rejection, but little did you know, Fuwa was not like most guys.

“Because,” You began, eyes rolling as you turn to face the front of the classroom, “We don’t know each other, and why would I go out with a guy I barely know?”

You expected him to accept your explanation, take the hint, and go back to his assigned seat, but to your surprise, he lets out an excited burst of soft laughter.

“So all I have to do is get to know you more?” Your head turned back to face the orange haired boy, and your eyes narrowed at his elated expression. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you’d accidentally agreed to a date. You found yourself shrugging. It wasn’t like he would actually put in effort to get to know you.

Boy how wrong you were.

For the next week, he somehow managed to make it to class before you did, even though you were sure the boy had never been on time to class before. He’d linger around you until the teacher entered and in those brief moments he would try to engage in a conversation with you.

The first couple of days you tried to ignore him, but you quickly learned that Fuwa was like a damned cat, meaning if he wanted your attention, he would get it no matter what. So eventually, you sort of gave in.

It wasn’t like he was completely terrible to talk to. Sure he was a bit scatterbrained, hopping between conversation topics at rapid pace, and was honestly a bit too full of himself, but he just had a way of phrasing most things that you didn’t mind his cockiness. Plus, he was insanely honest.

The boy literally had no filter, and since you were used to boys decorating their true intentions with pretty words, Fuwa’s candidness was a nice change.

Yet, Fuwa’s persistence didn’t just stop at the early morning talks.

No, he began to linger around as you waited for your afternoon program of cram school to begin. During this time, he’d be oddly dressed in his gym clothes rather than his baggy school uniform, but you couldn’t find yourself minding too much. He was sorta cute in his practice clothing.

These conversations only ended when an older student dressed in similar gym clothes dragged him away from you, and it was then you figured that Fuwa was part of some sort of sports club.

The following week you begin to look forward to these small conversations. Instead of turning on your heel to go the other direction once you spot a familiar head of bright orange hair in the hallway, you find yourself picking up your pace to meet him. Your heart begins to beat just a tad bit faster once you realize he actually lights up when you enter your shared classroom.

You don’t realize that you’ve developed a stupid crush, until your friend points out your flushed cheeks when she merely mentioned his name.

So, when he approaches you for your usual afternoon chat, a lazy grin on his face as he leaned against the wall, you don’t immediately scowl once he asks you to go to a cafe with him once again.

You’re quiet for a moment, head tilting as you stare him down. His grin doesn’t falter, in fact, he leans more into you, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. Blinking, you turn your head away from the boy and let your lips twist into a faux frown.

“Fine,” you breathed out, “You get one date.”

Yet before Fuwa can respond, you raise you hand to stop him, “You better make it count too, Neko”

The boy bristles at the nickname, but before he can even respond you’re walking into the classroom.

The weekend approaches in rapid succession and before you know it, you’re standing outside of the slightly busy cafe, fingers nervously tugging on the edge of your skirt as your eyes wandered around for the familiar sight of nearly neon orange hair. Yet, before you could do a full sweep of your surroundings, you feel the weight of someone’s arm resting on your shoulders.

Rolling your eyes, you shrug the arm off and turn your head, “What did I tell you about invading my personal space, Neko?” You questioned as your vision was immediately filled with the smirking face of Fuwa.

“You said some shit about not doing it,” He shot back, opposite hand waving in dismissal as he began to steer you into the cafe, “But I remember saying that I don’t like that stupid nickname you love to call me, so call us even.”

As you enter the cafe, you find yourself snorting at his reasoning, “That’s where you’re wrong. Everything I say goes, everything you say is merely a suggestion.”

In a blink, he’s invading your vision again, face so close to yours that you’re sure your nose is almost brushing his.

“Is that so, ______?” His voice is just a mere octave lower, but it still manages to send a slight shiver down your spine, and you find yourself unable to speak, so instead you just nod.

His sharp gaze lingers over your features, and you’re sure your heart jumps into your throat at the heat behind his eyes. Yet, in another blink, he’s back at your side, and chatting about what he’s getting to drink, leaving your mind scrambling to catch up with his words and a heavy breath escaping your lips.

The date goes almost heart-achingly well.

Honestly, you don’t know why you expected anything different. Within the first five minutes of the date, all your nerves dissipated and you fell into the comforting conversations that you came to expect with Fuwa. He asked you about your studies, even though you were sure he didn’t give two shits about the calculus assignment you’d just completed before you arrived at the cafe.

In return you ask him about his club activities (which you learned that he was somehow a starter for your school’s elite basketball team), and you couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged onto your lips as you let your gaze linger on his elated expression as he talked about the sport he clearly loved. Nor could you help the flush on your face as his eyes caught your lingering gaze.

In the end, as you found yourself walking beside Fuwa as he escorted you home (he insisted once he learned you lived nearby), you didn’t regret agreeing to the date, like you thought you would. Sure, you sort of liked Fuwa before you agreed, but you were still a bit hesitant about an actual date.

Yet, it was nice to hangout with someone without having the next assignment due date lingering in your mind.

It was even nicer that someone just so happened to be Fuwa.

As the pair of you approached the front door to your family home, you began to slow down your pace until the both of you came to a full stop. Licking your lips, you placed your hands in the pockets of your jacket as you looked at him.

“You have practice right after this, don’t you?” You questioned, not quite wanting the afternoon with him to end just yet.

“So you do listen to me?”

Your cheeks heated up, and you averted your gaze. “No,” you insisted, “You’re just so annoying that it’s hard to ignore the things that come out of your mouth.”

He chuckled, a sound that makes your heart speed up slightly, “Sure,” He goads, “But yeah, I’m actually kinda late.”

“Fuwa!” You scolded, and he just laughs at your scandalized tone.

“Next time let's go to an amusement park or something,” He responds, moving a bit closer to you, invading your personal space in a way that you only allow him to do. You laughed, head shaking because of course Fuwa assumed he would be getting a second date.

You smirked, eyes lifting up to meet his acute onyx gaze head on. “Nope,” You responded, “That’s like a fifth date sort of thing, let's do the arcade next.”

You watch as the boy slowly blinked at you before your words fully registered in his mind.

“Wait,” He began, cat-like grin widening even larger than it was before, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Wait,” You mocked, “You actually think?”

Your sardonic remark doesn’t deter him though. No, he’s still wearing that damned cheshire cat-like grin, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have a practice to get to?”

Your statement seems to snap him out of whatever gloating daze he’s in because he’s looking down at his phone at his hand, groaning at the time that reflected on the digital clock.

“Oh shit, yeah,” He grumbled, “Yohito is gonna murder me.”

“Well you better get to running, Neko.” You teased as you moved to walk to your front door, yet you were halted by Fuwa as he lightly grabbed your bicep.

“I’ll call you once I get out?”

You shook your head, smirk widening, “I won’t answer,” You shot back, causing Fuwa to just snort.

“Oh you will,” He insisted, and you raised an eyebrow at his boldness, yet before you can respond to him, you hear the distant noise of his phone beginning to vibrate. Your eyes glance down to his phone briefly before you meet his gaze again.

“Like I said, you better get to running, before you end up on the bench.”

Fuwa’s gaze lingers on you, promptly ignoring the vibration of his phone. You can tell that he doesn’t want to go. Hell, you didn’t want him to go, but you also didn’t want to listen to his whines if he got benched for the next game.

So, before you can even think too much about it, you lift your head and briefly brush your lips against his smooth cheek. With heating cheeks, you pull away from the stunned orange haired boy, and clear your throat.

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” You questioned, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as that damned smirk appeared back onto Fuwa’s lips.

“Definitely.” He responded before he waved goodbye, and took off to at least make it to practice with minimum punishment. Shaking your head, you enter your home, a light smile on your face as you find yourself looking forward to talking to the orange-haired boy later on.

Damn, what was happening to you?

#filled request #Ahiru no Sora #ahiru no sora x reader #hyou fuwa #hyou fuwa x reader #oneshot

19 notes · View notes