#who wants to be my personal orange peeling assistant? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vynegar · 2 years

Text

vyn revisiting youth SR, part four

once again, i wish this card was voiced

same disclaimer and notes from part one.

youtube link to Sherry's Gaming Notes video of the card story

links to other parts: one two three

more tot translations here

do not repost

[PART FOUR]

[15:00] Elementary school rooftop

Vyn took me to the rooftop of the school.

MC: What’s going on? Why did you need to bring me here?

Vyn: Don’t you have anything you want to ask me about, regarding Xiao Nan?

MC: ???

MC: You… So you already know…

Vyn: Before the story chain started, it was “written” all over your face.

MC: …

I leaned against the railing. Below us was a continuous stream of parents tugging their children along, and it made it even harder for my thoughts to leave Xiao Nan.

MC: Vyn… what do you make of Xiao Nan’s behavior? I feel like she and her mom are a bit too distant.

Vyn: Exactly. That’s why I pulled Li Xiangsi outside of the classroom to talk. Her answer was pretty much what I predicted.

Vyn: Li Xiangsi just returned to Stellis City from a position overseas. There’s been a lot of work that needs to be transferred, and as a result, she’s been negligent in caring for Xiao Nan.

Vyn: Xiao Nan’s language fundamentals aren’t good, and that in addition to her quiet personality make it very hard for her to integrate into her class. The other kids even see her as “abnormal”…

Vyn: With no way to communicate with her peers, and no way to obtain love and care from her mother, over time Xiao Nan has become silent.

Vyn: When Li Xiangsi noticed that Xiao Nan was unusual, Xiao Nan had already given up communicating with her.

MC: How… could this happen?

Vyn: MC… Not every child is able to get the appropriate care during their childhood.

Vyn: There are many people in this world who are alone from beginning to end.

Vyn quietly sighed the two sentences. His gaze fell as he looked toward the distance.

Another gust of wind blew by, carrying along the autumn leaves. The glare of the sun wavered at our feet, and even Vyn’s eyes seemed to flow with reflected sunlight.

MC: …

Vyn: But the most pressing matter right now is still helping Xiao Nan and Li Xiangsi be able to communicate normally.

Vyn: I plan to use the psychological game to let the two of them say what’s on their mind.

Vyn: So if it’s possible, I hope you can help me.

MC: (But I’m not a professional psychiatric assistant, how much can I even help Vyn?)

As I hesitated, I subconsciously remembered the last scene I saw when leaving the classroom.

Xiao Nan was still sitting in her seat with an already-peeled orange in front of her. Li Xiangsi had turned towards her, speaking to her.

When I thought about how she always looked disconnected from the noise around her, Vyn’s words from just now surged in my mind again.

MC: …

I took a deep breath, and in my heart the decision gradually became clear.

MC: I understand. However, I have one more question.

MC: Is Xiao Nan… really willing to play a psychological game with her mom?

Vyn: She is certain to express resistance. I’ve already told Li Xiangsi, that I hope she will set aside her apprehensions and use this game to tell Xiao Nan her thoughts.

Vyn: As for Xiao Nan, I will do whatever I can to guide her to speaking. This way, the communication difficulties between the two might be alleviated.

Vyn: …When language and behavior are combined, it brings about a power that was previously unimagined.

[16:59] Elementary Classroom

The break between classes ended. After we sat back down, Vyn softly pushed the dollhouse so that it was closer to Xiao Nan.

Xiao Nan was still quite guarded, her body recoiling slightly.

MC: Xiao Nan, just now Mr. Richter… Mr. Ric-ric was saying, he wanted to hear you tell a story.

Just as I was going to continue encouraging Xiao Nan, I thought I heard a sound of quiet laughter from Vyn next to me.

MC: (What, I’m just calling him the teacher, what’s so funny…)

While no one was paying attention, I nudged Vyn with my elbow under the cover of the desk.

If we abandoned our real identities, right now we were just like a pair of students making small, secretive movements in the classroom.

Vyn: Just like Miss MC said, can give it another try?

Xiao Nan remained motionless, and this time Li Xiangsi began to speak.

Li Xiangsi: Xiao Nan, do you have anything you want to say to me? You can tell us everything.

Li Xiangsi: Did you not want to come back to the country with me, or not want to make friends in your class –

Xiao Nan: …

Her daughter’s silence made Li Xiangsi even more anxious. She seemed to have forgotten that this was a classroom, and poured out all of her worries.

Li Xiangsi: You aren’t willing to speak with your classmates, I can help you! We can practice language, go to school activities…

Li Xiangsi: Even if it’s just a one-word reply… just tell me. Did something happen? What’s going on with you?

Nobody responded. In the noisy classroom, only our group was unusually quiet.

Li Xiangsi returned the dollhouse part to Vyn. Her expression was weary, as if her words just now had exhausted all of her energy.

Li Xiangsi: Dr. Richter, maybe you guys should be the ones to play with Xiao Nan. I did what you said, I said everything I wanted to say, but she still won’t…

Li Xiangsi’s hand was suspended in midair. As the seconds ticked by, Vyn still didn’t take the dollhouse part from her.

Vyn: Ms. Li, please take another look at the part I gave you. Then tell me, what is it?

Li Xiangsi blinked in slight confusion and looked at her palm again.

Li Xiangsi: A bench?

Vyn: Tell me, where are benches usually placed? Or asked another way… where in Stellis Elementary can you find benches?

Li Xiangsi looked outside the window, and, hesitating, placed the small bench in the garden on the dollhouse’s first level.

Vyn: Every day at noon, when sunlight shines on the bench, a little girl comes over to sit on it…

Vyn: I recall there should be a figurine here. Who hid her?

He deliberated increased the confusion in his tone. Xiao Nan seemed to move slightly, tightly curling both of her fists.

MC: (It looks like Xiao Nan has something in her hand… the figurine?)

I remembered when Vyn and I were previously playing the game, Xiao Nan was always quietly playing with the figurine she was holding.

MC: (Is Vyn hinting for Xiao Nan to bring it out?)

MC: I think I saw a cute figurine on the table just now. If she were able to sit on the bench under the sunlight, I bet it would feel great to her.

The clock behind us continued ticking. We held our breath, all out attention fixed on waiting for Xiao Nan to open her hands and place the figurine onto the table.

Xiao Nan: Doesn’t want to go to class… She would rather, be with the flowers.

Hearing Xiao Nan speak, Li Xiangsi beside us immediately wanted to ask more questions, but Vyn stopped her with a glance.

Vyn: Instead of blindly guessing at reasons, it’s better to use action and personally search for the answers you want.

Vyn: Words aren’t the only way to express your true thoughts… please don’t forget that.

Li Xiangsi stared at the dollhouse for a while, then picked up a miniature flower pot with a rose in it and placed it beside the figurine.

Li Xiangsi: The little girl… sat in the garden. In there, there was a flower that was able to speak…

Li Xiangsi: She said to the little girl, “You’ve come here by yourself again.”

Xiao Nan tightly bit her bottom lip, and seemed to have fallen into silence again. Li Xiangsi’s hand began to shake, but she didn’t take back the small rose.

Li Xiangsi: “Do you want to play with me? We flowers are plants that are great at listening. No matter when, we’ll be here…”

Xiao Nan: …!

Xiao Nan seemed to have never imagined that her mother would say something like that. For the first time today, she raised her head and watched Li Xiangsi.

Xiao Nan: Please, can you… come back to the classroom with me…?

Xiao Nan: The teacher, arranging homework… I wrote flowers, really pretty. But I couldn’t write it well, everyone didn’t understand me…

Xiao Nan: If they could see the pretty flowers… they would understand.

Li Xiangsi: !!!

Li Xiangsi covered her mouth as if suddenly realizing something. She turned her head slightly and quickly wiped the corner of her eye with her hand.

Li Xiangsi: You must have a lot of things you want to tell me… but I always say I need to go back to the office, I’ll listen later…

She murmured to herself as if in self-blame, and also as if pleading for her daughter’s forgiveness.

Finally she took a deep breath, smoothed out her hair, and gave Xiao Nan a teary-eyed smile.

Li Xiangsi: I understand… No, the flower smiled and said, “I understand.”

Li Xiangsi: “Let me go to the classroom with you. This time, I’ll really listen to you, and protect you as you overcome difficulties.”

Xiao Nan nodded softly.

MC: …

In that moment, I wasn’t quite certain whether the conversation before us was part of the story chain, or belonged only to the mother and daughter’s communication.

Next to me, I heard Vyn let out a quiet sigh in relief. I knew that from now on, they didn’t need any more of our guidance.

As long as the story continued, the love that had once been neglected would be remembered again… the communication between people wouldn’t stop.

[END PART FOUR]

#Tears of Themis #vyn richter #tot vyn #mo yi #tot translation

26 notes · View notes

egcdeath · 3 years

Text

strangers again

summary: “hiiii sweetie!! can i request a steve x reader where he left yn for peggy. but he always felt guilty and missed yn. he would always stare at her pic. when he came back he bumped into yn while she was dropping a kid to daycare. and steve realized it was his son. kinda sad but fluff at the end pls!!!! and oh i super love your works!!! tysm 🌼🥺💕”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: decent angst, brief mention of a depressive episode, abandonment, somewhat unrealistic behavior

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: i really hope that this lives up to your expectations but it is a little cheesy. i’d also like to warn that i have not interacted with a child in several years, so.. sorry. (there’s also a lot of exposition so double sorry if that’s not your thing!)

You’d never forget the moment Steve left to return the stones, with the promise to be back in only a matter of moments.

Maybe your definition of a matter of moments was different from his.

You seemed to be the only one without a clue of what Steve truly planned to do, with Bucky only telling you after the matter that Steve was leaving for the past and for Peggy, and probably not coming back.

After finding out, something deep within you broke. You could barely leave your bed for days, you struggled to eat, sleep, even drink water. Every task that used to seem like muscle memory, began to feel like it carried the weight of the world behind it. Every hobby that you once enjoyed becoming empty and bleak.

You constantly felt inadequate. How could you love someone so much, and be told you were loved so much while always being second to someone else?

The simple sentiment of it had left you feeling miserable, and sick to your stomach. Literally. Nearly every morning, and occasionally if you smelled something too strong, you found the contents of your stomach emptied.

You attempted to ignore it at first. Meshed with every other unpleasant symptom you were going through, you’d figured that it was just one more bullet point on the list of things that had been plaguing you. But when your friends insisted that you go check up with your doctor, you had a hard time saying no.

Once you received the results from your blood test, you were completely taken aback by the fact that you were pregnant. You couldn't believe that you hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy earlier.

Yet, after a long and hard period of pondering, you managed to surprise yourself once again after you realized you wanted to keep it.

After all, that could be the only piece of Steve you had left.

----

You began to tell yourself that Steve was dead. That was somehow less painful than the idea that he left you for someone that he barely knew, yet had fallen so hard for nearly 70 years ago. You refused to let yourself fall for anyone else romantically, now that you were aware that anyone had the capacity to leave you at any time, no matter how deep you perceived your relationship to be.

You guarded your heart, and made sure to only let in those that you knew you could trust for a fact. For the remainder of your pregnancy, only your closest family members and friends stood by your side.

About 8 months later, you brought a small, but healthy infant into the world. From that moment on, you promised yourself to become the best version of yourself that you could be. No dwelling on the past, and no yearning for what could’ve been. Your only duty now was to provide the best life possible for your offspring.

So you did.

----

You stood in the kitchen, peeling an orange for your son before he bounded into the room. You turned and gave him a big grin, and he grinned back to you.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself?” You asked him excitedly, receiving a nod in return before he ran up to your leg, and hugged it.

“I did, Mommy!” He looked up at you with his soulful eyes, and you couldn’t help but to feel bombarded with emotion.

Even at the tender age of five, Grant seemed to become a bit more like his father every day. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the sound of his giggle. To the average onlooker, he came across as the same as any other child, but to you, your son was the splitting image of Steve.

“Good work, little man. Now go sit at the table so mommy can finish breakfast, okay?” He didn’t even bother confirming with you before more or less sprinting to the table. You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if your son had obtained all of that energy and speed from his father as well.

Breakfast was over almost as soon as it started, and before you knew it, you were warming up your car after you’d assisted Grant with brushing his teeth.

You were in an oddly nostalgic mood that day, playing music from a time period before you’d even imagined bringing another life into the world. You glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched your son happily bop his head to the beat. You thought in passing about how much of a gift he truly was.

After arriving at his school, you hopped out of the car and over to the furthest seat in the back, where he’d insisted on sitting that day.

“You ready, big guy?” You questioned while reaching out to grab him from the car seat.

“Born ready,” he agreed. You chuckled and shook your head fondly at that while getting him out of the car.

“Who taught you that?”

Grant shrugged, “I came up with it myself.”

“I’m sure. Can you hold my hand while we’re out please?” You reached out for him, and he gladly obliged.

You soon became distracted by a large man across the street, his built figure and light blonde hair making you recall the father of your child. You gave Grant’s hand a light squeeze and continued to approach the door, not being able to help yourself, and glancing over at the man one last time.

Except this time was different. Your eyes locked with the blonde man outside of the coffee shop across the street unexpectedly. Where you once thought casually to yourself that it looked like Steve, you now had confirmation that it was in fact the man who you’d fallen in love with, and found yourself pregnant by.

You audibly gasped, receiving a bit of a questioning look from your child. Your heart dropped as a metric ton of emotions hit you all at once, anger, sadness, confusion. Everything you told yourself you needed to repress, had suddenly come back to you all at once.

Even from a distance, you swore you could see his eyes flit from you to Grant, and the next thing you knew, he was approaching your direction. Looking for an easy out, and a distraction from your rather observant child, you quickly caused a misdirection.

“Grant, is that Stacey over on the playground? You should totally go show her that new version of tag that you were telling me about!”

Your son, ever the speedster, booked it towards the playground, and you let out a sigh of relief. Although, the relief didn’t last long, as just moments later, Steve was almost all the way up to you. As you turned to try to escape, you felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N?” He asked, almost timidly.

You weren’t even sure what to say. In fact, you didn’t feel like you had control of your own body at this point. “Steve? I-“ You ran a hand through your hair and bit the inside of your lip. “You need to go.” The pain that was rushing through you was too much for you to bare, especially considering the man who caused the hurt had suddenly decided to reappear in your life after giving you a world of self doubt and abandonment issues.

Steve seemed hurt by your statement, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand to even look at his face. “Please, Y/N, let me explain,” he begged.

“No, Steve. You don’t get that luxury. You left me for someone else, and I guess you got to live a nice, long life with her. You don’t get to just show back up in my life when you get bored, okay? I can’t afford to play those types of games anymore. Now if you’d let me go-“ You attempted to get to your car, but Steve side stepped you.

“It wasn’t like that. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Just fucking leave! You have no idea what this has all been like for me. You had your opportunity to leave, and you gladly took it. Stay the fuck out of my life, and the hell away from my son.” You grabbed the handle of your car door and got in, reeling as you watched a dejected Steve walk away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rested your head against the steering wheel. You were feeling way too many emotions to pinpoint exactly how you felt, but you knew that this couldn’t be good.

——

You put a brave face on for your son that day, picking him up from school in a daze, and only half listening to whatever it was that he was telling you.

You felt bad for only being able to nod along to whatever he was saying, and did he just ask you if he could get a dog? Did you just say yes?

You felt like a stranger watching yourself from the outside in. The ghost of the person you’d developed into over the years watching the past version of yourself slip right back into your body, and take over your daily routine through the next few days of your life.

You had an obscene amount of anger that soon dissolved into a deep sadness, and that sadness shorty developed into a morbid curiosity.

You spent an unreasonable, and certainly unhealthy amount of time searching your old lover’s name on tabloid websites and social media, just to see if he’d given a statement on his whereabouts, or a statement about anything at all.

After about day three of your minor internet stalking, you’d had an epiphany while sitting in your office.

You still have Steve’s number saved on your phone.

That was, of course, if it hadn’t changed between now and the years that he’d been off living in the past.

Something about knowing that you were just one text away from him made your heart race with a mixture of nerves and interest. Just one impulsive decision, and you could change the whole trajectory of the rest of your life.

If you got back in contact with Steve, you might not ever be willing to leave him. You refused to make that mistake again.

Until you did.

After reading Grant his nightly bedtime story, then wrapping him tightly in his little bed, you’d decided to treat yourself to a glass of Chardonnay.

It’d been a weird past couple of days. Your time traveling ex had randomly appeared back into your life, your coworkers seemed to get on your nerves a little more every moment you were around them, and Grant had a temper tantrum in the grocery store that afternoon over a chocolate bar, which gained judging stares from customers, and may have made you feel the slightest bit inadequate.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you filled your glass again, because two glasses can’t hurt, and again, since I kinda deserve this extra one, don’t I? The next thing you knew, the bottle was empty, and you were texting Steve for the first time in years.

Y: Is this Steve?

You watched as three white dots hovered on your screen for a moment, disappeared, then came back once again.

S: Is this Y/N?

Y: Yes.

Y: We should tlak

Y: *talk

S: I agree.

Y: So lets

Y: talk

S: I don’t think this is a conversation for texts.

Y: Then call me???????????????????

S: We should talk in person.

Y: Im not gonna do that sober

S: You’re not sober?

Y: do you think id text u sober u big fuckni asshole

S: I guess you’re right

S: So are we gonna talk?

Y: no ur gonna meet me at b cup cafe tomorrow at 10

S: AM or PM?

Y: AM I’m off

S: Are you sure you want to do this?

Y: Say yes before i change my mind

S: I’ll see you there

Y: Bye babydaddy

S: ????

You promptly deleted the messages, tossed your phone somewhere on the sofa, and sunk into the seat. Even in your not-completely-sober state, you already felt the all too familiar sense regret. You dragged the blanket that hung over the top of the sofa over your exhausted body, and closed your eyes, wishing that this was somehow all a dream.

----

It was not all just a dream.

You woke up with dried drool on your chin, and a deep pit of bad feelings and regret in your chest. Of course, you ignored the bad feelings and got ready, business as usual. You successfully dropped Grant off at school with little complications, and found yourself perking up a bit more.

Yet, something still felt slightly off. You reached into the passenger seat for your phone, and as you looked down on it, saw the familiar notification of a calendar event.

10:00 AM b cup coff w Steeb

You groaned out loud at this. There was no obligation for you to go meet with him, but perhaps going and talking to Steve would bring you some sort of closure. Maybe then you could move on with your life, get with a nice guy who would mean it when he tells you he won't leave you, who loves Grant like he’s his own biological offspring, and to take care of the both of you through thick and thin.

You gladly daydreamed of this fantasy man while driving to the shop, but you couldn’t help but to see Steve’s face doing all of the aforementioned things. Before you even fell pregnant, that’s what you’d truly wanted with Steve. To be a family. To have your definition of home be with your people, rather than a place.

Entering the coffee shop, you briefly ordered your drink before looking around and find Steve sitting alone in a booth, mindlessly stirring around the liquid in his cup.

Timidly, you approached the booth, before setting your purse down and sitting across from him.

“You... you came?” He looked up to you with almost watery eyes.

“Of course I did,” you tried to hold yourself back from mentioning something about following through on your word. You wanted this to be as civil as possible. To build bridges rather than burn them.

“I just didn’t expect to see you in person again. And, you know, you were running a little late,” he added.

“Well, you try waking a five year old up and getting him ready for school every day,” you expelled a humorless chuckle to deflect from the slight agitation you were feeling.

“While you’re hungover?” Steve asked with a bit of a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood.

“While you’re hungover,” You confirmed, genuinely laughing now. It felt good, natural even. You’d kind of forgotten just how pleasant things used to be with Steve.

“Did you mean it last night?” he interrupted the laughter with a serious look.

“I honestly cannot remember anything I said last night. Elaborate, please?”

“That he’s mine. Your son.” He watched you silently nod, then began to speak again, “Wow, I just didn’t realize… How did that happen?” He looked down into his drink nervously.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to recall the exact details, but when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much...” You trailed off, and looked up as a barista called a butchered version of your name.

You were glad to have an excuse to get up and leave for a moment. Adrenaline was racing through your body, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure before you erupted into tears, or had some sort of angry outburst.

Bringing your cup back to the booth, you sat down and took a sip of the scalding drink, “Where did we leave off?”

“I believe you were giving me the birds and the bees?”

“Right! Well, I think you know the rest. I’ll tell you more about Grant later. Right now, I want to know why you left and suddenly decided to come back.” You genuinely felt proud of your delivery. This was the moment you’d practiced in front of the mirror for years, and you didn’t even butcher it.

Steve shook his head and looked into his drink once again. It was so hard to look at you, let alone make eye contact with you, when he knew that he’d been the one to give you an ocean of grief. Yet, he was somewhat intrigued by hearing that his son’s name was his middle name.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Steve began.

“Good thing we have time,” you crossed your arms as you spoke.

“Well, waking up in a whole new time period isn’t exactly the easiest thing ever. You and me both know I missed it there, and it’s always been more than just nostalgia for me. I truly believed that I belonged back there.”

Of course, you had an idea of this, but hearing Steve confirm what you’d already thought made your insides twist.

“But I was so wrong. More than anything, I guess I was in love with a romanticized version of the past. Of Peggy.”

Hearing her name, especially from Steve, made you bristle. You wanted to interrupt him at this point, but it wouldn’t do you or him any good to become hostile while he explained himself.

“By the time I realized, it was too late. I figured you’d already moved on and found someone else to take care of you, and the world, this world, didn’t really need me anymore. But something possessed me to come back.”

“So you’re telling me that if you stopped being an idiot that just assumes things, we could’ve worked this out before? That you could’ve been an active participant in your son’s life?”

“I guess that’s a good way to interpret that story. I know I haven’t been in his life, but is there any way that I can still meet him?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. He’s just like,” you sighed a bit to yourself. “He’s like a carbon copy of you. Especially his personality, but like, down to his mannerisms. I always struggled to understand how he could be so much like his dad, and never even had met him. You’ll love him.”

“Even if I didn't like him, I’d still love him.”

“How do you still manage to be such a cheeseball all the damn time? You think you’d be able to make it to dinner tonight?”

----

At exactly 6:30 on the dot, your doorbell rang, and before you even had the chance to think about opening it, Grant already was at the door, and opening it. You cringed on the inside, and made a mental note to have another conversation about stranger danger with him.

“Do I know you? Who are you?” you heard your child question from the other room as you set down the last of the plates in your dining room.

“I’m Steve, your mom’s friend... and…” Steve nearly spilled the beans to his son, but didn’t want to cause any more damage than he’d already done. “Her friend.”

“That’s so cool! I have friends too, like Nick, and Stacey, and,” you’d rushed up to the door and wiped your brow, internally hoping that you hadn’t just smudged the makeup you’d put on for the occasion.

“Hi, Steve, come on in,” You beckoned him in, and pulled Grant to the side, quietly scolding him before leading Steve into the dining room. “Grant! This is the last time I’m telling you about opening doors, okay?” He nodded obediently, then followed you and Steve.

“Can I sit next to your friend, Mommy?”

“Is that alright with you, Steve?”

“More than fine.”

Grant sat down next to him, and scooted a bit closer than necessary, while you sat across from the two of them.

“I have to in… enter a gate you now. Because Mommy never brings any over her friends over. I didn’t know she had any friends.”

You blushed a bit at this, at your son’s overdramatic behavior, and his admission that you’d become a bit of a loner.

“Go ahead, pal,” Steve chuckled heartily.

“When did you meet my mom?”

“Before you were even born.”

“Wow! That’s a long time. You’re really old. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“I’ve heard T-Rexes are pretty cool.”

“Have you met any?”

You nearly spat out your drink at this. If only your son had known.

“Nope, never. Have you?”

“Hmm, not yet. But they’re my favorite dino too. Now your ‘gating is over.”

You couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter at the bizarre exchange, but you were glad that your son and Steve were getting along so well.

The rest of dinner went pretty similarly, with Grant bantering with Steve, and Steve indulging him. You could tell that the relationship between the two of them was something that came both naturally and easily. You couldn’t help but to grin as Grant began to ramble about how cool Steve was, and how he swore he was better friends with Steve than you were.

“Mommy, isn’t Steve the best? You guys should totally get married so he can have dinner with us every day!” he swooned. “He even kinda looks like me, right?!”

That’s why you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.

“Grant, Steve is… He’s your dad,” you said quietly.

Grant nodded, then slurped up a noodle, “That’s why he’s so cool! He gets it from me, right Mom?”

“That sounds right to me,” You glanced up at Steve, and noticed his surprised expression. You mouthed something along the lines to ‘He’ll process it later,’ and waved a dismissive hand, before going in for another bite of food.

----

After putting Grant to bed, You and Steve stood at your kitchen sink, bumping elbows occasionally as the two of you silently worked together to wash and dry dishes.

The domesticity and familiarity of the action brought you an obscene amount of comfort. You remembered how you once believed that this is what your future would look like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve beginning to talk.

“Doesn’t this remind you of life after the first snap?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of. You’re not off the hook yet, by the way. You still have plenty of explaining and proving you’ve changed to do.” You set the last cup in the cupboard, then dried your hands off.

“I know, I know,” Steve began.

“We don’t even know if you’re ready for fatherhood. But right now, I kinda don’t care. I really just want you to kiss me.” You reached up to Steve’s cheek, and he pulled you in for a soft and chaste kiss.

You’d never felt more at home.

——

me with this fic:

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #angst #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #request

372 notes · View notes

hannie-dul-set · 3 years

Text

US, AGAIN | four.

SUMMARY. they say history repeats itself, but you’d like to disagree. you had to disagree. history changes, even if you had to force it. but when all your attempts to twist fate were met by nothing but the flashing recurrences of the past, what were you supposed to do?

or, wherein you try everything in your power to have nothing to do with na jaemin, but na jaemin wants nothing but you.

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader GENRE. college! au, historical! au, soulmate! au, past lives, forbidden love stuff, reincarnation, romance, drama, humor, angst, fluff, looots of flashbacks, this is an entire kdrama, very loosely inspired by the webtoon “see you in my 19th life” WARNINGS. (for this chapter only) swearing, night terrors, hospital mentions, passing out, the works hgdhjasf WORD COUNT. 5.1k

NOTE. I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG <///3 but life is life thank god we only have to go through this once unlike our dearest mc HJGASDJSF anyway!! lots of jaemin fluff here!! you’ll want to punch him in the face!! hope u enjoy <3

CHAPTER FOUR: why the sun sets and rises

(Running.

Through the winding branches that cut into the air, the silver lake, the jagged ground, the clouds in the wind at each and every shallow pant, you were running—

A gunshot.

—running until your legs gave away.)

You woke up in a cold sweat.

God.

Looking around, you noticed that it was far too early for you to be awake— the hazy light that barely slipped through the thin curtains, the desolate silence that seemed to have consumed your room whole, and the bedside digital clock down below you that said 6:21AM in big bold letters, indicating that you should be fast asleep especially after staying up at ungodly hours in the morning finishing up an assignment. But even after burying your head in between two of your pillows, you couldn’t even suffocate yourself into unconsciousness.

You groaned and jumped off of the top bunk.

When your feet landed on the floor, you had expected to see Seungah’s ghost of a face lying sideways on the bottom bunk, but all that met you was a small, neon orange sticky note laying soundly on her smoothed out pillow. ‘Had to leave early to the diner! Eat the breakfast I made you or else xoxo’, it said. You sighed.

There was no point mulling over the past when you had an entire future to take care of.

“Oh my gosh.”

Hong Nabi was in shock with what she saw when she arrived at the benches by the garden to work on your group assignment today. It was shocking to the point that she dropped all her binders and papers onto the pavement.

You sighed, sliding out of your seat to help her. She spared you a few, quick glances as the both of you were slouched on the floor, and he couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip in worry. The Y/N that was usually so cool, so put together, and so unbothered looked like she was casket ready. That, or ready to star in a Tim Burton animation.

“Is it Halloween today..?”

“Let’s just get this thing started,” you groaned, finally finished cleaning things up and you were now back onto your seat. Nabi sat right in front of you, organizing her now jumbled up material. She wanted to ask if you were okay— but would that be offensive considering that you were very clearly not? Still, she opened her mouth to speak, but was scared into silence when you suddenly cursed out loud. “Since when did this become a paired project? Where the hell are they?”

Nabi pressed her lips together, looking around. “I’m not sure.”

You still had around two weeks more until the presentation, but that didn’t mean that they could slack off as much as they wanted. In a fit, you grabbed your phone from your sling bag, exasperatedly tapping on the fragile screen that Nabi was almost sure that you were going to break it, but before you managed to burst a vein, an incoming sound of noises and laughter approached your ears.

Boys will be boys, but you weren’t having any of that shit.

“Yah,” the moment Jeno, Renjun, and Donghyuck showed up at your table as if nothing was wrong, you decided to smack the nearest head with a rolled up sheet of stapled paper. “Didn’t we agree to start at nine?”

“Yah,” Donghyuck snatched the weapon from you, his other hand focused on caressing the spot on his head that you’d just every so gently smacked. “Don’t you ‘yah yah’ me, missy. Did you forget that you’re younger than us?”

If only he knew.

“Is that so? You should grow a sense of responsibility, then. It doesn’t take fifty fucking years.”

With that, you let out a huff and swung your laptop open.

The rest of the people occupying the table exchanged concerned glances as they shuffled to find seats of their own. They haven’t known you for long, but this type of temperament from you was arguably out of the ordinary. Even when Donghyuck would strike a chord too dangerously, you wouldn’t snap at him— today, you weren’t your usual self, and they all mutually agreed in silence that they were going to tread carefully if they still wanted their heads attached to their necks.

When the sounds of your fingers clicking against the keyboard stopped, they felt their hearts stopping, as well.

You looked up from the laptop screen, proceeding to look around, closed your eyes, and then breathed out. “Where’s Jaemin?”

At that moment they all flipped their phones open, scrolling, clicking, and typing before they can taste any more of your unraveled temper. You had to admit, you were feeling a little guilty for being such a bitch. A part of it was yes, sleep deprivation, shitty nightmares, and a whole truck load of stress can really take a toll on your sanity, but the other part was voluntary.

Jeno looked up, the first person who managed to pinpoint Jaemin’s whereabouts. “He just texted. He says he’s running— oh, there he is.”

There he was indeed, a couple of feet away from where you all were. Once you confirmed that he wasn’t absent, you turned back to continue working, but the rest of them continued to stare at Jaemin, who was barely hanging onto his dear life, sweating and panting. And as they all watched the poor boy breathlessly running towards the table, they all thought of the same thing with one mind, heart, and soul.

Na Jaemin was a dead man.

He pulled up right in front of you, hunched over breathless with his hands on his knees. He stood up and promptly apologized. “Ahh, so sorry for being late. I had to stop by somewhere and there was traffic. I’m really—”

“I didn’t ask about your personal business,” you hummed, not even looking at him. Everyone, not only Jaemin, flinched at your explicit coldness. “Did you get the files that we need?”

He looked at you. You weren’t looking at him, but you knew he was looking at you.

“...Yeah. Hold on.”

As if the mood wasn’t already shit earlier, it actually turned into absolute horse crap after Jaemin arrived. It wasn’t his fault, really, but circumstance after circumstance didn’t exactly paint the prettiest picture of him. When the clock finally struck eleven in the morning, everyone except you all released a synchronous sigh. “We’re done today, right?” Renjun asked, and you responded with a quick nod, noticeably a lot more mellow than earlier.

Nabi stood up and started fixing her things. “I’ll send everything later to you tonight, Y/N,” she smiled at you.

“Yeah, sure,”’ you hummed, nodding. “Thank you.”

The four boys froze. Why were you being nice to her? Of course, their complaints were verbalized into nothing more than silent whines, groans, and grumbles that easily flew above your ears, Jaemin being a lot more quiet about voicing his complaints than the rest despite taking most of your attacks.

Still, even if you were being particularly thorny to him, he thought it would be a good idea to speak out just as you were about to leave. “Do the both of you have any classes after this? We were planning on getting lunch together,” he said. “Would you like to join? My treat.”

You looked at him. There was a polite smile on your face. Evidently forced.

“No, thanks.”

Donghyuck let out a genuine gasp.

“Did she just—” he stammered, switching his sight back and forth from Jaemin to you. “Did she just turn down a free meal offer?”

“She did,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as he continued to gawk at you. You picked up your heavy bag from the bench seat. “I gotta get going. Have fun, you guys.”

And you let them just like that, with five pairs of eyes trained at the back of your head until they finally lost sight of you.

For someone like you, the bulletin boards at the bus stops were like a gold mine. A gold mine of part-time jobs just waiting to be filled. There were flyers haphazardly plastered onto the board, all in different colors and different fonts. You bit a chunk off of the granola bar that served as your lunch for today, eyes meticulously scanning the available offers, a few flyers already wedged in between your armpit.

“Hair salon assistant— can’t do that. Diner waitress— a hard maybe. Already have a restaurant job pending, my shifts might clash. Library assistant? Alright, I need to check it out further, though. What about a movie— oh!— oh my god, you scared me.”

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

Sooah suddenly appeared beside you, looking up as she clutched her backpack straps. You let out a sigh of relief upon the realization that it was just her.

“Fancy seeing you here, cadet,” you hummed, folding the neatly folding the few flyers that you had and shoving into your sling bag along with the emptied granola bar wrapper. “Are your classes over?”

“Mhm! I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up.”

“Aren’t you honored to spend time with me as you wait?”

You let out a chuckle, sitting down on the wooden seat, patting down the empty spot beside you, and Sooah happily hopped to sit down right away. Peeling off one of the flyers stuck onto the board, you decided to fold it— once, twice, countless more times until the flat, square piece of paper was now shaped into a lotus flower. Sooah beamed in amazement.

“Y/N,” she started, and you dropped the little paper flower onto her tiny hands. She placed it on her lap before looking up to you, large eyes hinted with curiosity. “The story you told us last time— was it a true story?”

You suddenly felt a chill in the air.

“...Why do you ask?”

“Oh, well,” she mused. “My mommy is a Korean Literature teacher at my school, but she teaches a grade above me. Sometimes, I’d go through her stuff to read some stories that I haven’t read in my class, and the other day—”

Uh oh.

After living for twelve whole lifetimes and currently going through your thirteenth, there was always this feeling that haunted you all throughout, a feeling that you were all too familiar with. It was gnawing, grinding, and chewing up the bottom most part of your gut. A warning sign for something bad to come.

You were definitely feeling that right now.

“—I found the same story as the one you told us, big sis.”

Yep. It was never wrong, and it never will be. You bit down your bottom lip.

“And I found something interesting!” oh, how much more must anxiety drown you, but Sooah seemed so excited that you didn’t have the heart to stop her. You raised a brow, urging her, and she smiled brightly. “You said you don’t remember the girl’s name, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Y/N! She has the same name as you!”

Of fucking course.

“The last name is different, though—” she added as an afterthought. “She was Song Y/N, and you’re not. Still. Isn’t it really cool?”

Not cool at all. You wanted to scream, maybe cry a little and lose a generous chunk of your mind, because as far as you knew, there had never been an instance where you had heard of this story being shared to the public— to an entire class, nonetheless. It shouldn’t matter, right? It wasn’t your life anymore. Just an old, tragic tale passed on from mothers to their children as a bedtime story.

But somehow, it made you feel vulnerable.

How many more people knew about this?

“But, sis. You’re kind of a dummy, though. How could you forget someone’s name when it’s the same as yours?”

Sooah questioned, tilting her head, but it eventually washed pon her that you weren’t looking all too well. You had your lips splayed into an evident frown, worry creasing your forehead, which she could not at all get. Were you okay?

“Did you finish reading all of it?”

You asked after a bout of silence. Sooah shook her head in response. “No, not yet,” she huffed. “My mom caught me making a mess out of her things and scolded me.”

That’s good, you thought. At least she didn’t make it to the end— that would only complicate things. After a second of deliberation, you figured that this would be the best move if you played your cards right.

“Sooah,” you started. “Do you think your mom will let me borrow that story?”

The next day, your classes were all condensed into the afternoon— a deliberate decision to allow yourself to recharge in bed for the entire first half of the day.

But right now it was eight in the morning, yet you were already busying yourself inside the campus.

No, you didn’t have a group meeting today, neither did you have any prior commitments needed to be accomplished here in school, but you figured after not having a single fucking blink of sleep last night thanks to Sooah’s revelations yesterday, you might as well head to school early to apply for the part-time job at the library. Only one problem— where was the library?

It was eight in the morning. You had been here since seven-thirty. Not a single bookshelf in sight. You opted to just give up and mold yourself into the floor because you couldn’t even ask anyone for directions because no one was there.

Well. Almost no one.

You had just passed by a single living soul earlier as you were trudging around the bottom floor like a zombie, but you completely missed him. Na Jaemin caught your disheveled figure marching through the hallways earlier, evidently lost, as he left the faculty office with a steaming hot cup of coffee in his hands. He immediately brightened upon seeing you— as if his bloodstream was directly charged with caffeine, but he didn’t come around to approaching you until now. He couldn’t get the timing.

Even now, as he discreetly tailed behind you without your knowledge, he didn’t know when was the appropriate time to give you a simple ‘hello’. He pressed his lips together, taking in a sharp breath through his nose, and decided screw it— you wouldn’t even be happy to see him no matter the timing.

He picked up his pace and sounded from right behind you.

“Morning, group leader.”

You stopped, swiveling your heels around, and he was met with your grimacing face.

As expected. He gave you a blinding smile.

“How are you?”

“My morning is shit, thank you very much,” you spat. “Even more now, after seeing you.”

Ouch.

Jaemin knew that you weren’t exactly fond of him, and he’d spent too many hours wondering why. Maybe you just disliked him without bearing much of a reason. Some people were like that, but he didn’t hold it against you. He still pressed on with a smile.

And it irritated you.

(You believed that it was irritation, or made yourself believe. Yeah, let’s go with irritation.)

“Now, what do you want?” you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one leg as you looked at him with exasperation. “You’re definitely not here to ask me about our assignment, right? I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I might as well say it to your face for your own good.”

You roughly shoved a finger to his chest, mustering up not a glare— but a plain look of disinterest.

“I don’t like you.”

Jaemin simply looked at you.

“You don’t like me.”

“No matter what you try to do, that won’t ever—wait, what? What the fuck?” you had to double take, expression suddenly morphing into a comical confusion, which Jaemin found cute, but of course he couldn’t say that out loud. He settled with the same smile as earlier, which you found a little more irritating as much as it was conflicting this time around. Within a second of silence, you felt heat slowly rising and you felt it slowly getting to your head. “You’re just gonna take that...as that?”

He let out a hum, shrugging. “I can’t dictate how you feel, can I?”

You gawked at him.

“You’re not even gonna ask why? Not even gonna protest?”

“Do you want me to?” he leaned forward, face a little closer to yours, smile a little more irritating than before, the heat growing a little more prominent than ever, your grasp on your consciousness becoming a little more hard to hold than earlier. You felt yourself getting caught in a stammer. “I would, if you want me to.”

Fuck this shit and fuck it completely.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business,” you stormed off before you could find yourself getting caught inside a heatwave, breathing out long, fervent breaths to calm yourself down, the dizzying heat slowly getting to your head making you woozy. It would be a bad idea to even turn around and look at him. “I’d appreciate it if you don't follow me.”

Jaemin frowned when he saw your back yet again. He felt like this was the only thing he’d seen from you— your back perpetually facing him without any hope of you even turning around to spare him a quick glance, but he didn’t want to go against your wishes. He wasn’t planning on following you. But when you suddenly collapse on the floor a few feet away from him—

Thud.

—what else was he supposed to do?

(“Your Highness.”

It was without question that he’d answer your call sparing not even a second to waste with those gentle eyes of his, and this time was no different. The only difference being the quirk of his lips— pursed, pouting. He stepped away from the bush of azaleas, and stepped closer to you.

“I thought I told you not to call me that anymore,” he huffed, languidly dropping beside you on the stone bench, taking your hands into his with an earnest glimmer. “Say it. I want to hear you. Please?”

It was impolite to laugh at the prince— a punishable crime by itself. You were fortunate that he liked you enough.

“Your Highness,” you hummed. His shoulders drooped down, visibly dampening, but he shook his head with a newfound resolve and instead lended all of his attention to you, instead. “It is without saying that the very breath you take is incomparable to any person on this land—”

Your gaze darted upwards, looking at him.

“—but why do you choose to come see me everyday in the garden? Even when I am not around?”

He was still for a moment, fazed and the littlest bit taken aback, but not a second too long for you to spare any worry. A newfound smile playing on his lips, he lifted up your hands that he was holding, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“Why does the sun rise in the east and set in the west every single day?”

He looked at you, continuing.

“Just because it was made that way.”)

“Daegang.”

The whisper that you sounded in your state of unconsciousness caught Jaemin’s ears as he carried you to a vacant room inside the campus hospital. He looked down at you, your voice as clear as day despite the hoarseness of it, peeling himself away from your closed eyes, lashes fluttering above your cheeks before he could stumble over his own feet.

When he gently dropped you on to the bed, the mattress sinking underneath your weight, his windpipes nearly closed, a choking noise escaping the moment he felt you tug him down by the sleeve of his shirt, but he maintained his composure. He dropped your sling bag onto the bedside table, taking notice on the colorful piece of paper peeking out of the bag’s zipper mouth, a huff of a smile when he closed it up. Even you can be a little disordered, sometimes, he wondered in amusement as he gazed down on you.

Jaemin let out a huff of breath, dropping down the chair placed beside your bed, and he pulled out his phone to send a few messages here and there. An hour passed. He noticed you stirring underneath the sheets.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

Maybe you were, maybe you weren’t. You couldn’t tell if the blurred out silhouette of the face you have grown to both hate and love was a mere figment of your memories, or if he was actually real. There was the temptation brought about by your disorientation— to stretch your arm out to his face just to make sure, but you were lucky that your flimsy consciousness came at just the right time before you were to do anything regretful.

“Ugh.”

“You’ve been out for over an hour. Maybe you should just skip your remaining classes today,” at that point you were sure he was real. Na Jaemin had worry laced all over his voice, expression, and posture. It wasn’t a sight welcome to your peace of mind when you had just woken up after passing the fuck out. “What happened? Did you not get enough sleep? Did you skip breakfast? I asked Jeno to buy some food just in case you wake up and I’m not here, but you were unconscious for longer than I expected.”

“I’m fine, I’ll just—”

A regretful action. You tried to stand up, but all that happened was you falling pathetically back onto the bed.

“...”

“Don’t push yourself, Y/N,” Jaemin sighed, tucking you back in and placing a hand on your forehead, and by god you could hear the alarm bells ringing in your ears. “I checked earlier. It doesn’t seem like you have a fever. Oh? You’re starting to heat up, maybe you actually do—”

“I don’t!”

Was it possible to voluntarily pass out?

You threw the blanket over your head.

It was fortunate that he didn’t decide to press on, and instead he just left you alone underneath your makeshift tent to calm the sudden blazing of your face. Did he know that you were embarrassed? Oh god, did he know that it was because of him? Not that it was, of course, but it wasn’t unlikely for him to assume that he was the cause of your sudden temperature rise. It would be much better for him to believe that you did have a fever. Fuck, you should have just told him that you were sick.

“Knock knock,” outside of your blanket shield, you felt something lightly pressed at the side of your head, prompting you to peek outside, just enough for your eyes to be exposed. When you turned around, you were met by a box of Orion Choco Pie, just one of the few snacks that he had brought for you. “Here, have this. Eat.”

You blankly stared at the red box.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Leave it. I’ll eat once you leave.”

“No can do, missy,” Jaemin clicked his tongue, and without your consent, grabbed your nearest hand and opened it into a palm, placing the far too large box on top of it. “I have to make sure that you actually finish it.”

He was resilient.

Much like someone else, you grumbled, opening the packaging and stealing one of the cakes nestled inside. He had a satisfied smile on his face— almost like a proud parent watching his four year old daughter writing her name for the first time. You wanted to throw the damned snack to his face, but voted against the act and took a bite from it instead. “Fine. But for your information, I might have passed out because I barely got any sleep last night, so stop wasting your worries.”

“That doesn’t make things any better,” he said. “How am I supposed to stop worrying after hearing that? You should take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“I’m not buying it. I have to make sure that you’re getting enough sleep every day.”

“What the fuck? Do you think you’re my mom, or something?”

“No, what the hell? Don’t make things weird,” He grimaced, looking at you in disbelief. Holy fuck. You nearly broke out into a fit, if you were being honest. Na Jaemin who was usually all smiley and kind was looking at you with an expression that you were sure his facial muscles didn’t even have the knowledge to conjure. His next words were nothing more than a low grumble. “How can she think I want to be her mom when I like her? Jeez.”

The choco pie that you’d been eating threatened to climb back up your throat.

“Wh— What the fuck?”

“What?” Jaemin replied naively. “One more time? Should I repeat it? Y/N, I like—”

“Okay, okay, I got it the first time, please—!”

Dear lord, he was going to be the death of you. You took in a long, sharp, painful breath.

“I get it.”

Jaemin looked at you with a small smile. He didn’t seem like he was going to continue teasing, so you quickly scared down the remaining chocolate snake inside the box so that you could slip away from him as soon as possible. That wasn’t the best idea, though, because the choco pie almost ended up going down the wrong throat and the guy was sure to freak out over it. Luckily you managed to get away with forcing it down and having Jaemin only looking at you with a minimal amount of concern.

It was time to get the fuck out of here.

“Thank you for the food, Jaemin, but I need to get going,” he didn’t even get the chance to say anything, but you were already on your feet, ready to set out to the door. You looked back at his frozen stature before reaching out for the door handle. “I’ll pay you back some other time.”

You bowed politely. Jaemin had only gotten back to his senses once he’d realized that he couldn’t see your face anymore, only the back of your head— a sight that he’s used to seeing, a reminder of where he stood. He scrambled to his feet and took off after you.

“Wait, you should drink water first! And take these with you! Y/N—”

Shit. He didn’t want you to leave yet. Not when he’s finally had a proper conversation with you. The two of you were already out in the hallway, the glimpse of light from the heavily clouded sky leaking through the windows and coloring the white walls and floor with an out of place brightness and at one point the light stuck on you. It was difficult to match your pace— staying not too far behind, not right beside you, never ahead of you. He swallowed.

Jaemin felt bad about pulling this, but he couldn’t think of any other way to make you stay.

“Daegang.”

You froze on the spot.

There was a heavy weight anchoring Jaemin’s conscience, falling even heavier as you slowly turned around to face him. It fell to the bottom of his stomach the moment he caught your expression.

“How—” you stammered. “Where did you get that name?”

He pressed his lips together tightly, a considerable distance between the both of you as he averted his eyes. “You muttered it earlier while I was carrying you.”

“C—carrying?”

How else would he have hauled you over to the campus hospital? But an obvious fact such as that was still enough to dumb your IQ a couple of notches down. You would have been fine if he didn’t mention it and leave you in your blissful ignorance, but he just had to drill the existence of that fact that you were in his fucking arms when you had sworn to be a piece of shit to him.

The heat was rising to your head again just like earlier.

“Ah.”

You heard Jaemin utter a sound from a few steps in front of you— a light grumble, you’d assumed, but you weren’t entirely sure— and it was at that moment that you’d realized how freaking awkward the distance between the both of you was. Were you social distancing?

His hollow sigh and evident pout threw all of those meager thoughts out the window.

“Is he the reason why I can’t get close to you?

What the hell does he mean?

“An ex you can’t over?”

You broke into a coughing fit. Jaemin instantly ran over to you in panic, patting your back to help appease the violent coughs, but in reality he wasn’t of any help at all because his palm was barely touching you. “Holy fuck”—cough—“oh god. I guess— I guess you can say that...?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled from behind you. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It must be a sensitive topic.”

“If you knew that it was touchy then why bring it up in the first place,” you shot him a glare, looking back, but it was less threatening and more questioning. You couldn’t bring yourself to get mad at him at this point. He stood there in blatant guilt, his expression, stature, and demeanor without any intention of hiding it all. This was why you couldn’t get mad at him. Jaemin was transparent.

You weren’t sure if it was just his nature or if it had something to do with you.

You wouldn’t know what to do if it was the latter.

His lips finally parted after a moment of silence to answer you— even if you hadn’t expected an answer in the first place.

“I didn’t know how else to make you talk to me a little longer.”

You didn’t know what to do, at all.

Jaemin’s cheeks were stained with a shade of pink and fuck— you could see in his eyes that were looking at you, trying not to look at you, that he was bearing all the sleeves of his heart to you without an ounce of regret, but a euphemism of the bright red color that he was trying to hide.

God.

Why did you have to meet him in this life?

“Why?” you voiced, quiet. “Why do you like me so much? You don’t even know me that well, and I’m not even in any way nice to you.”

He didn’t answer.

“So, why?”

For a moment, Jaemin kept quiet, as if waiting for the pink to fade from his cheeks before doing anything, but it never did. Even when his lips stretched into a closed smile, his eyes crinkling and showing the stars that weren’t in the sky, he was still tinged with that soft, powdery color.

He didn’t wait. He didn’t wait for you to speak when he left— when he left right after saying two words that stretched inside your mind until the sun set in the west and the skies turned pink.

“Just because.”

TAGLIST. @danishmiilk @wownajaemin @kkakkdugi @jccv @bat-shark-repellant @kiri-ah @huanginjoon @sehunniepot @lvingjaem @hiddenzen @lanadreamie @w0nni3wrld @dnyls @doderyscoffee @seungstarss @patchi-chi @marklexleaf @thorscrown @mieohmy @lvoejimin @viastro @dejvns @junglewoos @pewpewpwe00 @unknown5tar @chezzontop @leejunini @lixseu @yunoyeol @42hyuck @keemburley @sungchannel @charm-art @eyyyyyyyow @nshitae @lolibaaae @colpen @juyeo-eon @deliciouslyyellow @nct-writers @czennienet @neowritingsnet @kpopscape

#NCT-WRITERS #cznnet #neowritingsnet #kpopscape #nct x reader #na jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #jaemin scenarios #nct angst #nct fluff #na jaemin fluff #na jaemin angst #nct dream fluff #fic: us again

116 notes · View notes

shintorikhazumi · 3 years

Text

Trope (4): Orange

A/N: This was written for @vhalesa wee! The trope for this one is when a person who can literally do anything can’t do the simplest task. Uh... Perfectly Capable person can’t do supposedly basic task.

Sorry for the lack of updates/ writing lately. Been busy. Very. I need sleep. School hard, MayaKuro wonderful.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

It was a menial task, something that required so little effort, and even less skill.

-That was how it was supposed to be.

Maya could just feel how her ears burned as she tried to keep a passive expression on her face while her nails slowly took on an orange tint as she continually tried (and failed) to open a single, simple... orange.

She could just hear Claudine hold back her giggles, actually feeling bad for Maya and her pride for once. It only made her feel even more ashamed.

She should just outright laugh if she wanted to!

Maya grumbled, pushing her nails into the skin, and cursed aloud (a surprise that rendered Karen speechless as she stared at Maya with wide eyes) when a small amount of juice squirted into her eye.

Maya grit her teeth, muttering her angry woes into her hands as she covered her face, unable to open her eyes.

Just as she lamented her terrible luck, she felt strong, gentle arms help her up, guiding her to walk across the room to where Maya found out to be the sink.

She heard the faucet twist, releasing a steady stream of water into the basin. Soon, careful hands assisted her in bringing water to her eyes to rinse them, relieving her of the burning feeling.

As the discomfort soon waned, Maya blinked away the few remaining tears, sighing happily as they were swiped away by the soft pads of Claudine's thumbs.

She knew it could only be her. Her scent, her touch, her gentleness were far too familiar for Maya not to figure it out.

"I told you you should have just let me do it for you."

Even her teasing tone of voice.

"I can peel oranges myself, Ma Claudine." Maya whined, wiping her face dry with the towel handed to her.

She was greeted with a smirk, and she scrunched her brows in annoyance, sighing as she unwillingly admitted defeat.

"But maybe... today can be an exception." She relented.

Claudine gave her a happy giggle, one that sent butterflies through her stomach.

She watched as the girl placed a piece of orange between her lips before leaning in close, daring Maya to take it.

"Really?"

Claudine simply shrugged.

Maya didn't think she could be teased like this, but maybe she was just weak to Claudine.

But two could play at that game.

Taking the other end of the orange between her lips, she pushed forward, leading their tangy little kiss, and leaving Claudine flustered and breathless.

At least she won again.

Grinning, Maya closed in once more, brushing her nose against Claudine.

"Shall we have another? Ma Claudine?"

She loved the way Claudine huffed and rolled her eyes in annoyance, but nodded nonetheless.

"You insufferable-"

"NO BEING GAY IN MY CHRISTIAN KITCHEN!"

The pair burst into a fit of laughter at the sound of Junna's frustrated voice.

Maybe they should do this some other time.

"I mean it!"

Taking Claudine's hand, Maya led her back to the living room, plucking a fresh orange from the counter they passed by. Winking at Claudine, she handed the fruit, sharing a small laugh with her girlfriend as they settled down with the rest of their friends.

"Keep it SFW too." Junna warned, to which both shrugged.

"Okay~"

#mykr #mayakuro #revue starlight #shoujo kageki revue starlight #tendou maya #saijou claudine #fanfic

23 notes · View notes

ererokii · 4 years

Text

Once More || Shouto Todoroki

Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki x Fem! Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, Todoroki is a douchebag, suggestive themes

Word Count: 6686

Synopsis: Pro Hero Shouto needs to approve his hero ratings and by doing so, he helps a local daycare of the brink of being shut down.

Taglist (message to be added): @shoutodoki @shoutosteakettle @saltie @pixxiesdust @fryingpanitachi @sugacookiies @kingtamakimurder

➺ Note: This is for the @bnhabookclub‘s bingo event! The prompt is Snobby x Humble. Thank you Ze and Gabs for betaing 🥰. Part 2 here

Bingo Masterlist

Being the son of the number one hero had its perks. Sometimes. Not all the time. The only bad thing was being recognized by the paparazzi in a crowd easier. Shouto would say it got real annoying quick. The young hero, who recently graduated from Yuuei, went to work for his father’s agency. Of course, he didn’t want to do that, since he was still in his rebellious ways against Endeavor. As much as the media thought it was something cute, father and son working together in the same agency, it wasn’t like that on the inside. The only reason Endeavor wanted Shouto to work with him was to boost up his hero ratings simply. Shouto knew this was the reason from the beginning. Since then, he left the Endeavor agency and went on his own to create a successful agency. This was four years ago.

At the age of 22, Shouto’s agency was one of the best in all of Japan, if not the best agency. Being successful at such a young age was something that took over his mind. He started with nothing but ash and dirt and turned it into something glorious and robust. His hard work paid off, and that sent his ego soaring off the earth. Everyone would be talking about him, and no one else. Why wouldn’t they? He was rich, smart, and extremely handsome.

After graduating, Shouto cut off all ties with his former classmates, being told by his father that they were nothing more than distractions keeping him from reaching his goal. The only two he kept in touch were Midoriya and Bakugou because they were always working with each other on missions. He had no choice but to maintain ties with them.

Part of being in the spotlight was being there for the public. Not just by saving them. By doing greetings and signings, occasional galas to raise money for those that need it most, or even visiting schools. Of course, everyone needs to see the heroes doing good deeds. There can’t be headlines saying, ‘Pro Hero Shouto is a heartless bastard! He doesn’t care for the public at all!’ That was the last thing Shouto wanted. He liked the positive attention on his agency. It made him feel powerful.

At the moment, Shouto was busy with his paperwork, as usual. Typically he would have had one of his newer sidekicks to do this for him since he usually was working, but this was an exception. A sigh of annoyance left his lips as he clicked his pen rapidly, staring straight at the wooden door that separated him from everyone else. His foot tapped on the floor, his leg bouncing up and down. The clock ticked with each second that passed, the precious time going over his head that made him stay locked with his inner demons.

He blew a strand of hair out of his face that was too stubborn to stay in place. He watched it move with the air before falling back where it was in the beginning. He mindlessly brushed his bangs out of his face, slicking them back for a second before letting go, the tuft of hair falling back on his forehead. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the shorter hairs stand up. Since he started brand new, he changed his look, mostly his hair. He kept his hair on the top the same, long on top but short in the back, giving him a modern-day undercut.

A knock to the door broke him from his reverie, causing him to jolt faintly in surprise. “Who is it?”

“Shouto, it’s me! I’m here to discuss this month’s funding!” The voice of his assistant rang from the other side of the door, coming out muffled.

Shouto clicked his tongue in annoyance and sat up properly, clicking the pen in boredom. “Come in.”

The door's hinges squeaked as it swung open, as a male came in with a binder stacked with information.

“What the hell is all of that?”

“Uh, some more paperwork and requirements for the funding!”

Shouto groaned and let his head hit against the black cushion of his work chair. “If it can’t be helped. Just get straight to the point. What’s in it for this month?”

His assistant started talking about the preparations. A small daycare that was not too far from his agency needed help staying open. Their teacher desperately needed materials for her class as she called it, but was too empty-handed to get the job done.

“A bunch of kids huh,” Shouto mumbled, running his hand through his hair. “And why couldn’t Deku get this one instead? I mean, I’m sure I could have gotten something better besides this.”

“Deku wanted this one, but his assistant told him that he already did a daycare last month and needed to do something different. Ground Zero… wasn’t a good candidate, so now here we are with you. I already scheduled you to visit the daycare in about a week.”

Shouto stared up at the ceiling, his hands scrunching up the fabric of his navy pants from his hero costume. He didn’t know a single thing about kids, considering he didn’t have the most beautiful childhood. What was he supposed to do when a nasty crying child comes up to him? Give him a high five and send him off again like nothing happened?

“This is plain stupid.”

“Well, it’s meant to make you look good in the public eye! Sure, you might not like it, but it’s for the ratings. Plus ya know…” he trailed off, sliding the binder in front of Shouto. “It’ll make you a better person.”

Shouto snapped his head quickly to face him, his heterochromatic eyes narrowed. “And what makes you say that? Am I not a good person?”

His assistant smiled faintly and turned on his heel, marching for the door. “You’ll find out when the time comes, Shouto.” His hand turned the knob, opening the door as he walked out, the door shutting behind him

Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed for a second while cracking his knuckles. “I’ll find out, huh… alright.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

As expected, Shouto arrived at the daycare, a scowl written on his lips. As he exited his vehicle, he slammed the driver's door behind him, causing the car to shake from the force he exerted.

He took one glance at the daycare and made a face of annoyance. “Only for this month, and that’s it,” he whispered to himself, letting one foot lead in front of the other. As he walked to the entrance, he took notice of the details. The once white paint was now peeling off the walls, the smiley faces of the painted kids were now fading away, the colors disappearing. The only thing that seemed to be alive in the vicinity was the grass he was walking on and the flowers' pots. The tall blades of green stood proud and active, dancing along with the cool breeze that sent shivers down Shouto’s body. The flowers in the once brown pots held their beauty as if it was the only thing they could hold onto. The mixtures of reds, oranges, and yellows filled his eyesight. Their petals blossomed that showed off their extravagant colors to the world, a small pleased smile making its way onto his face. “At least these are the only things alive in this forsaken place.”

He lifted his hand, clenching into a fist as his knuckles collided with the door three times. Shouto took a step back, waiting for the sitter on the other side to open the door. A quiet sigh escaped his being as he rolled his head to one side, feeling the stretch in his neck. “Better not be some old lady, I swear.”

The locks being turned from the other side made him fix his posture. “W-wait! Don’t open the paint bottle, Himarie!!” The woman's voice came from the other side before the door swung open.

A woman with a bright smile greeted him, already knowing about his arrival. Her face was covered in small splotches of different color paint, her once white apron a mess. He noticed her yellow dress underneath the cover, a pattern of sunflowers.

“S-Shouto!” you chirped in excitement, holding your hand out for him to shake. “It’s an honor to have you here!”

He stared at your hand for a few seconds before sticking his out, shaking your hand with a firm grip. “Of course,” he said before taking his hand back and dropping his arm back by his side.

Your smile seemed to brighten, if possible. Opening the door more for him, you ushered him inside. “Please come in!”

Internally he groaned as he walked inside, looking around the place. It was pretty colorful inside. After all, it was meant for kids younger than five.

“Sorry for the mess!” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment. “They just finished playing with their toys.”

“Miss Y/N! The paint spilled!” A young boy with red eyes and brown hair stared up at you, tugging on your yellow dress. He noticed a male standing in front of him and gasped, pointing a finger. “S-Shouto!” he yelled in shock, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“S-Shouto?!” a unison of voices spoke up from the room on the side where the other kids were doing their crafts. The sound of feet hitting the rug filled his ears as a group of young children filled his eyesight, their eyes full of amazement.

“My mommy loves you!”

“You’re my favorite hero!”

“Can you sneeze out fire from your left side?!”

“Himarie!” you snap at the girl for her question. “Please, children, behave yourself! Keep those questions for later!” you sighed at their ridiculous questions as you reached behind your back, untying your apron's knot. “Did you guys clean up your mess?”

The sudden silence swept over the room. That was your answer.

“Go clean up the room, or you can’t ask Shouto any questions.”

That seemed to grab their attention. The children scattered out of the room, yells and sweet giggles coming from them.

“Ah, sorry about that. You know how kids can sometimes be.”

Shouto kept his hardened stare on their childish antics. “Yeah. Sure.”

You awkwardly stood there, clasping your hands together that created a small noise. “Well…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say next. It seemed that he didn’t want to be here.

He didn’t. He had better things to do. He had an improving agency to work on, to stay the best out of everyone in Japan. Not here babysitting a bunch of dirty, messy kids. No matter how hard he tried persuading Deku to take this instead of him, he would reply with the same response.

“No, Shouto. I think you need this more out of everyone. Not even Kacchan needs this.”

He could have laughed, thinking about it now out of all places. The more he thought about it, the more amused he grew.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” you started, your words kicking him out of his head as your eyes staring intently into his dazed heterochromia ones.

“When I got the phone call saying a pro-hero was going to come, I thought Deku would come instead of you.”

“Trust me. I wanted him to come instead.”

Your smile faltered. You didn’t think he would be like this. Ground Zero sure, he’s a different story but not Shouto.

“Oh. You’re one of those then.”

“One of those what?”

You shook your head. Maybe he was just having a bad day? Yeah, that had to be it.

“Nothing. I’m sure the kids are finished and are waiting for you now.”

With that, you walked to the other room where the children were, all surprisingly sitting quiet and still as they waited for the pro hero to come in. Despite being kids, they still held their manners.

Shouto watched you go and groaned softly, mumbling a hard dammit underneath his breath as he followed you. Each child kept their gaze on the older man in front of them.

“Now. Does anyone have any appropriate questions for Shouto?”

One small girl raised her hand. You raised an eyebrow in question. “Himarie? Is this a real question or not?”

“It is!” she gasped and leaned forward, placing her small hands on top of her knees that she was sitting on, “H-how did you become rich?!”

Shouto’s lip curled into a smirk as he pointed an index finger to his head. “Obviously, by working hard, but despite that, it’s all in here—your mind. You need to have the mentality of the best. Without that, you’re nothing. You have to do whatever it takes to be at the top. Not everyone stays up there with you. Some aren’t even worthy of being in the same rank as you. That’s when cutting ties come in. You have to cut those that will be distractions, no matter the cost.”

Pleased with his answer, she leaned back and whispered something to her friend beside her on how cool his response was and wanted to be just like him. You, on the other hand, stared at him like he was crazy. Your hands twitched by your side as you replayed his answer over and over again in your mind. What kind of adult gives that response to a child?

“Uh… was that an appropriate answer, Shouto?”

“Course it was. If it weren’t true, I wouldn’t have answered. They need to hear it from the real deal,” he pointed to himself. “If they hear it from someone lower than myself, then it loses its meaning. After all, it doesn’t get any better than me,” he said proudly, a smug look on that handsome face. If you were alone with him, you probably would've slapped the shit out of him to knock some sense into that dense brain of his.

Not being able to form any words, you quickly regain your composure. “Does anyone else have questions?”

More hands shot up quickly. You could already feel the weight of today’s outcome resting on your shoulders. Oh yeah, today was going to be a long day.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

“Bye, Hiko! See you tomorrow, honey!” you waved out for a little boy as he waved back before pointing at the male beside you, telling his father how cool Pro-Hero Shouto was today.

Shouto watched the interaction with a bitter taste in his mouth. He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he crossed his arms over his torso. “So, let’s get the arrangement ready.”

“Arrangement?” you asked, confused about what he meant.

“From keeping this place from shutting down. Ya know, the main reason for the cry of help.”

“Oh yeah,” you mumbled and motioned back inside. “We can talk about the details inside. Is that fine with you, Shouto?”

“Whatever, I don’t care. Just go in. I’m tired of seeing this bad paint job.”

Before you could retort back, he already walked back inside.

“Fucking asshole,” you muttered and followed him, shutting the door behind you.

He was already seated on the couch, his legs open in a man spread as if he was showing off. His hands were placed on his thighs, his leg bouncing up and down.

You watched his leg bounce for a split second before shaking your head, patting your cheek as you sat across from him, crossing one leg over the other. “Okay well as your assistant told yo-”

“I don’t remember,” he interrupted you, his head lolling to rest his cheek against his shoulder, eyeing you up and down.

“I'm- I’m sorry?” you breathed out, your fingers jumbling up the bottom of your dress.

He sighed and rubbed his temple in a slow circle. “I said, I. Don’t. Remember,” he said slowly, reiterating his point.

“No, no, I heard you the first time,” you leaned back into the couch, rubbing your arm up and down slowly. “Wow, okay. Well, what you should have remembered,” you began, his eyes narrowing at your choice of words. “That this daycare is on the brink of being shut down. Plus, I require materials, and I’m empty-handed.”

“Why don’t their parents pay for it then?”

“Because it goes to the funders. And the funders, guess what? Don’t give a shit anymore!” you gasped in fake surprise, slapping your hands onto your thighs to prove your point. “And that’s why I need your help, Shouto.”

“Why not just do some small fundraising on the side? Like a bake sale or something.”

“I have, and it works for maybe a month before the money's all gone. It can only go for so long...and I love these kids,” you whispered the last part quietly, almost too softly, but he caught on the last second.

For a moment, he felt his pride wash away as he watched you quietly. In all of his life, he couldn’t remember someone willing to do anything just to save something for him or anyone around him. His father couldn’t do that. His mom was out of the picture most of the time, and his siblings moved on with their own lives. Yet he couldn’t pinpoint his current emotion digging into the cave he built many years ago and trying to pull him back to shore.

“How bout this then.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a small smirk growing on his face.

“I’m listening.”

“How about you go on a date with me? Then I’ll help. You’re pretty, very pretty, in fact, and I would love to take you out. Fair exchange, right? Seems good in my book.”

Already knowing you’ll say yes, he didn’t need to push it any further. Shouto always got what Shouto wanted. His head was so far up his ass he didn’t see the frown forming on your lips, his vision clouded with something else.

“No.”

Shouto’s eyes widened as he snapped his head upward. “You- I’m sorry, what? What did you say?”

“I said, no,” you repeated, your arms crossing over your chest. “What kind of a deal is that? You want to go down that road?”

Shouto continued to stare at you, his mouth parted open for words that didn’t come out. He was still in complete shock. Rejected. Denied. You said no.

You said no to Todoroki Shouto.

“W-why did you say no? Why didn’t you say yes?” he questioned, his nails digging into his pants, almost feeling it on his skin.

“I can already tell, your head is so far up your ass that you can’t see the real problem at hand. Look, if you don’t want to help, I’ll just do it myself. I don’t know if you know, but that’s a pretty dick move,” you snapped, standing up abruptly. “Now excuse me, I have to close up so please see yourself out.”

Still stuck in his little world, he scrambled off the couch and followed you. You didn’t want to date him. Many women and men would be begging to be in your position. They would have called you stupid for your answer. He remembered the number of times he attended the hero ratings, and his fans would beg for a night with him. All the time, he said no because, in his eyes, they weren’t worthy enough. No one was worthy enough to be with him. No one was on his level, however, you were.

When you first opened the door, he felt the air knocked out from his lungs. You were captivating. Perfect even. He noticed the loving gaze you had in your eyes when talking to those children. It was something he longed for. Something he wished he could have had as a young child. Now, as a successful adult, he didn’t understand why you rejected him. Shouto knew how handsome he was. Many reporters told him that on the daily. On top of that, his agency was the best in all of Japan.

So then why did you say no?

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Since then, Shouto’s visits to your daycare became a regular thing. He would force his sidekicks to do the awful paperwork so he could visit you instead. Like the day before, he came again, carrying two drinks, one for you and him. Sometimes both of you would stand in the courtyard and watch the kids run around and enjoy themselves. Words weren’t spoken between you most of the time, but you enjoyed it when they were. It was like he had a new sudden change of perspective.

The kids, of course, loved it. Every time he left, they begged for you to call him and make him come by repeatedly. The days he didn’t visit weren’t the same. The energy was much lower, the kids not wanting to participate in the activities you had for them. It got to the point where you had to put him on speaker and had him talk to them, saying that if they didn’t listen to you, he wouldn’t bring treats for them on his next visit. Let’s just say they got their treats.

On Shouto’s end of the deal, he did as he promised. Money started piling up for the daycare center. The first order of business he did was remodeling it. The old chipped paint outside was replaced with fresher color, giving it new life. He ordered dozens of different flowers to decorate the courtyard and the front, which were bland until the colorful additions. That part wasn’t needed, it was the good in him deciding you required it.

Better materials were bought with the funding he did. Sometimes it might have been a bit too much. From time to time, you forced him to stop buying things because you were running short on storage.

“And?”

“W-well, there’s no more room for those in the closet, so stop bringing!”

“..okay and? If that’s the problem, then we’ll build something bigger for you and the kids.”

“Huh?!”

With the amount of time you spent with him, the more times you caught yourself slipping. There were times as you watched him lift someone to climb a tree or hold them in the air as they ‘flew,’ which made you think about how he would be as an actual dad. He was great with the kids, no doubt about that, but the more you thought, the more you wondered how it would be if you got in a relationship with him.

Was he kind? Was he still snobby and thought he was the best? Or was that all an act? Did he care for those around him?

As you thought about him by yourself, the heat in your cheeks was a slow sign that you were catching feelings. It was something you weren’t proud of, but it was there. He made your heart beat faster when he stood beside you, your shoulders brushing against each other or the subtle hand to hand touches when he took something from your arms to hold instead. Small touches turned into small kisses on the cheek, to something bigger.

The first time you and Shouto entangled in his sheets, it felt wrong on so many levels. He was intoxicating. He was a predator luring in his prey, reading to pounce when you were least expecting it. It was something you shouldn’t be doing. It was so wrong. Yet you couldn’t find yourself stopping. Waking up in his arms was an ongoing thing for as long as you could remember. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t catch any feelings for the bi-colored man, but of course, your brain and heart had a mind of their own.

Shouto, on the other hand, had what he wanted. He knew you would snap soon, coming to your senses. Having you underneath him, calling for his name and his name only made him swell with pride. He was an irresistible man, and he knew how to use his charms, for better or worse. He lured you in with gifts (which you were grateful for each but refused whenever he brought something new for you), affection, and attention. What kind of girl didn’t want that?

You apparently. You cared for the simple things. The diamond necklace didn’t do justice to the bouquet of roses that you loved with all your heart. Each gift you received, you always smile. But you never received a gift with open arms. Your responses were always… so different than what he expected. He expected you to be crying with joy, glad he bought you the latest wear or anything expensive. Not rejecting him and telling him he could use his money for something more useful. Money bought him fame. Money bought him power. Wealth made him who he was.

He was a hero after all, and you were a mere care sitter. The both of you were in two completely different worlds, worlds that could never collide. The rich colliding with the not-so-rich. Something rare in the hero world. The thought of you fooling around with each other brought excitement to the table. It got to the point where you stopped showing up. With the sudden change of behavior, the questioning began on his behalf. Why did you stop showing up? Were you uninterested in him now?

“I can’t keep doing this, Shouto.”

“I know you can’t Y/N. Why can’t you? Don’t you think I deserve a reason, princess?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“Oh, you aren’t now? Guess you can kiss that daycare goodbye then.”

“Why are you such an asshole?!” you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders as you shook him with urgency. “Is this some sort of game to you?! Can’t you see it?! I fucking like you, you fucking prick! Your head is swelled up with this complex that you can’t see anything else but yourself! You carry a mirror at all times and just stare in your reflection!”

“Y/N-”

“No! I’m talking! You shut your fucking mouth because it’s my turn to talk!”

“I like you.”

“You cause so mu- Wait, what?”

“I said. I. Like. You.”

“Y-you… you like me?” you squeaked, your hands slowly loosening their grip on his body, embarrassment flooding through your veins.

“Well, that’s what I just said, no?”

Ever since that encounter with him, you went on many private dates, preferably the ones where you stayed the night as he would cook soba for you, the one thing he seems to eat.

The media caught sight of you leaving his place at odd times in the morning, the headlines always saying the same thing.

Fling or Thing?! Random woman spotted leaving Pro Hero Shouto’s house!

Every time you read the news online, your first reaction was to tell Shouto about it. His response was always the same. “Don’t worry about it. I love you, alright? The media will eat up anything. Don’t let it get to your head.” How could you not? Your face was plastered on every social site known to man.

A swarm of paparazzi surrounded both of you as you were spotted getting coffee. An angry scowl was plastered on his usually calm exterior. His arm was draped around your shoulder protectively, holding you closer to his tense body.

“Shouto, who is this woman?! Is she a one-time thing?!”

“Shouto, is she like the last?! Another once more?!”

“Is she a hero?! Who is she?! Give us answers!”

“Keep your head down,” he muttered into your ear, pushing past them with force as he desperately tried getting both of you out of there. His hand palmed the small of your back, his car in sight. With all the craziness happening, your hand clutched the white t-shirt he was wearing, the material clumped between your fingers.

A cameraman got in your face, the flashing lights temporarily blinding you as you got swallowed by the fame. “Who are you?! Are you dating?! Are you like the last girl?!”

“Hey!” Shouto yelled, shooting a hand in front of the camera, his hands gripping the lens as frost started to swallow it whole. “Ever heard of personal space?! Because I don’t think you have!” His shoulders heaved up and down with his pants, his eyes blinded by red hot anger. “Get out of here.”

“Hey man, I’m just doing my job!”

“Does it look like I fucking care?! Get the fuck away!” he stood up, his chest puffing out slightly as he got in the male’s face, glaring into his eyes.

“Shouto,” you whispered, your hand reaching out to wrap around his wrist. “P-people are watching. We should leave.”

Placing a hand on the paparazzi’s shoulder, Shouto leaned in closer with his lips, ghosting his ear. “Remember. I could ruin your whole career if I wanted to. Who will the public believe more? Some mere shitty cameraman, or one of the most loved Pro-Heroes to ever exist? Not one to brag but..” he trailed off, his fingers digging into the man’s shoulders, causing a groan of pain to leave his lips.

“I always get what I want. No matter what.”

Pushing himself away, Shouto turned sharply on his heel and engulfed your smaller hand in his larger one. His pace was fast due to his long legs, causing you to jog slightly from behind. From the back, you could hear the faint growls and whispers coming from Shouto’s angry self. Blinded by anger, his grip on your hand tightened by the second.

“S-Shouto, you’re hurting me!”

Coming to his senses, his eyes widened in realization as he let go of your hand. You immediately brought it to your chest, rubbing the pain to soothe it.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips, lingering them on your knuckles. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s okay… I can see why you get upset over it…”

Noticing your change in demeanor, he peered down at you, staring at you through his lashes. “What’s wrong?”

Deciding it was now or never, you sighed softly as you looked up at him. “One of them back there asked if I was like ‘the last girl’. What does that mean?”

He pursed his lips, licking the lower. “That’s something you don’t have to worry about. It was years ago. My high school years. I practically forgot about it.”

“A-are you sure?” you stuttered, hesitating to push it any further. “It seems pretty big if they keep bringing it up.”

“I said no.” he snapped, regretting his tone of voice when he noticed your taken aback look. “Look… I rather not talk about it, okay? Let’s go get the rest of the supplies, okay?”

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded as you reached for his hand, entwining your fingers.

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

It’s been months since the fateful day Pro-Hero Shouto arrived at your center. It was safe to say the funders suddenly started caring. You had your suspicions about why they did, but decided to steer clear from it. Ads were displayed everywhere. Each week more parents signed up their kids. You even got resumes for prospecting employees. Shouto was a pain in the ass, but you were thankful nonetheless.

A pair of twins were last. Shouto was off from patrol today and decided to help around the hectic place. He was currently playing hero with a young boy as you sat down under a sakura tree, his twin sister sitting in front of you as she begged for you to braid her hair.

You hummed softly, twisting and moving the locks of hair as gently as you could, afraid of hurting her.

“Miss Y/N?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Are you and Shouto getting married?”

“Huh?!” A surprised noise left your lips, your cheeks darkening at her innocent question. Marriage was way out of the question. You and Shouto have only been dating for 7. You were nowhere near ready.

“W-what makes you think that?!”

“Well, in the stories, the princess meets her prince, and they get married! Isn’t Shouto your prince?”

“Ah...” you laughed nervously as you brushed off the jitters. “Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t.” You glanced up and found Shouto already staring at you, a grim look in his eyes. You frowned as you tilted your head slightly, your mouth forming the words, ‘are you okay?’

He turned around, his back to you as he waved at an upcoming parent, which he assumed was their father.

“Akia, your dad is here!”

The little girl in front of you sprang up from the ground, her hair now in a loose flowy braid. “Thank you, Miss Y/N! I love it!”

A loving smile made its way on your lips as you caressed her cheek with the back of your hand gently. “Good, I’m glad. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!” She quickly wrapped her small arms around your legs before letting go just as quickly. Her short legs moved as she ran to Shouto, jumping up to hit his high five.

“Bye-bye, ShouShou!”

“Bye, guys. See you soon.”

After watching the two leave, Shouto walked past you, bumping his shoulder with yours. You stumbled slightly as you regained your balance. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you acting like that?”

“This is always how I act.”

“No..” you trailed off, following him inside the central area. “Are you sure there isn’t anything bothering you?”

“Actually.” He stopped moving, his shoulders tensed up with his hands balled into fists by his side. You stopped moving as well, noticing the small flame appearing on his left side.

“Shou-”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said. Shut. Up.” he sneered, turning around to face you, his intense stare heating up by the second.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this again?” you snapped, your own hands balled into fists. “Why are you acting like the dick you were when we first met?”

“When we first met? What makes you think I changed? Don’t be stupid,” he laughed before going serious once more. “I haven’t changed. I think the one that changed is you. You live in this little world where you think everyone will help you succeed.”

“Me? I’m the one who does that shit? Ever looked in your fucking mirror? If anyone is stuck in their world, it’s you!”

“Haven’t you noticed something, sweetheart” he whispered, advancing towards you. He backed you up into a corner, his hand placing beside your head with your smaller body under his. “Notice how more and more people are talking about me?” his lips grazed your ear shell, his tongue peeking out to trace the shape. “It’s all thanks to you.”

Realization dawned on you. You always read the news, whether it is related to you or not. News was scattered across Japan as on goers took photos of the pro hero in a relaxed nature, something no one ever saw. It was a rare sight. Each hero had their gentle side, and they finally saw his. He was one of the best, but he was also the best in everything he did.

“To… to me?” you whispered. A smirk formed on his lips as his finger curled underneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Just you, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down as his lips ghosted yours, his hot breath fanning your face. “Now I’m all Japan talks about. You got what you wanted, and I got what I wanted.”

You gritted your teeth as you pushed him off of your body rather abruptly. “Shut up. That’s not true.”

“Oh? Is it not? How much longer are you going to deny it? When are you going to learn Y/N? I’m Shouto! One or if not the greatest hero out there! I always get what I want. You were nothing but a stepping stool. Thanks to you, my ratings skyrocketed. Just what I wanted. I should thank my assistant for this opportunity because god, if Deku took this and advanced before me, I don’t know what I would do.”

Tears welled up on your lower lashes as you desperately wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. He was right. You were gullible to think someone of his ranking would like you, someone way lower than him.

“You’re a sick fucking person, you know that?” you spoke through choked sobs. “I thought you were changing. You don’t care about anyone. You rather see those around you to die than save them. How can you call yourself a hero if you can’t even feel for the public? You are the worst hero ever.” You kept your chin up with tears flowing effortlessly. “I should have known how you were when we first met. God, do you even have any humanity?!” you suddenly yelled, walking up to him with your finger jabbing into his chest.

“You think you’re a fucking hero?! You're a goddamn villain! You don’t even care about kids! People like you make me sick!”

You didn’t care if you sounded hysterical. You didn’t care about anything but letting out your feelings. Your boyfriend– ex-boyfriend used you for his gain. You couldn’t describe how you felt. All these months, all i love you’s, gifts, dates were nothing but a mere lie. Oh, what a story you had for your grandkids.

“I never want to see your stupid face anywhere near this place, or anyone! Everyone deserves to know the truth. Pro-Hero Shouto, a fake! A fraud! But because I’m nowhere like you,” you whispered, grabbing him by his shirt's collar. “I cared about your selfish ass. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your career. I know you worked hard for it.”

You walked forward with him in his grasp, leading him to the door. “That girl? I did my research. It turns out you pulled a stunt like this before. Guess I’m not the only one to be fooled by the famous Shouto Todoroki, huh?” you spat, your lips dripping with venom as you stopped by the door. “Shouto Todoroki strikes again, once more,” you grunted, letting go of him.

“Y/N.”

“Y/LN. Not like you’ll need that anyway. Do me a favor. You can do that, right?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Get the fuck away from me.” Your hand placed on the wood, slamming the door shut in his face. You panted softly, your tense form relaxing slowly. You stifled a sob as your fist hit the door, your forehead coming forward to hit the cold wood. You got played. And he didn’t even care. He would probably brush it off and walk into his office, pretending nothing happened. Shouto was a beautiful curse. One that you wished that you didn’t make a deal with. The next time you saw him in public, you wouldn’t acknowledge him. Now, he was simply a stranger. A ghost that didn’t deserve your time.

Shouto, on the other side of the door, stayed still, not able to comprehend what to do.

No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He loves you, and this wasn’t supposed to happen. He loves you, Shouto is in love with you. He wanted to help you with the kids. He loved seeing you at ease when one of the children complimented you that day because of your clothing or hair. He loves seeing the small blush dusting your cheeks as you woke up beside him, memories of the night before flooding it.

Oh. But he was heartless.

Shouto Todoroki was a smart, handsome, successful man. He knew his way around people, tricking them for his success. He was relentless. He was cunning. He was manipulative. His award-winning smile had those around him swooning. His selfishness got the best of him. Who could blame him, though? He worked hours through his sweat and tears to be where he was currently, at the top with no competition. He was the best.

And the best always got what they wanted.

#bnhabookclub #shouto todoroki #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #myheroacademia #bokonoheroacademia #xreader #reader insert #my fic #fic #bingo event

246 notes · View notes

carelessannie · 3 years

Text

maybe it goes like this: steve builds his pack (part 3)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Read on A03

Read the Tony courts Peter wip

Stuckony (focus), Stony, Winteriron, Stucky

A finale to the sweet, slightly angsty backstory in three parts (ending in Stuckony).

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Dirty dancing, Steve’s got a grip on Tony’s balls

Maybe it goes like this:

Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.

This is the lie he tells himself as he sees a sweet, intimate pack sharing a day out in the city, and later, a young, familial pack with a few pups eating ice cream in the park.

He can vaguely remember his parents buying him ice cream— or maybe he had snuck ice cream out of the kitchen— and eating that alone once. He doesn’t let himself dwell on that for too long.

And being a part of a familial pack by association hasn’t been the worst. He knows worse.

It wasn’t even that his pack growing up had been that bad. Maybe a little emotionally detached, sure, but he’s old enough now to recognize it wasn’t his pack that made the mistake— it was him.

He’s the one who decided to leave after graduating college, convinced that at the mature age of eighteen that he could conquer the world by himself.

Good job, Tony. Where has that left you?

Tony smiles, remembering his dad’s words: Your mistakes are outweighed by your effort to correct them; the damage done is outweighed by your success.

From that day until his dad’s death two years later, his dad was one of his best friends.

Wow, that’s sad.

He’s thankful that his dad followed his own mantra, making up for decades of indifference with calculated companionship and counsel in the last years he had with his family.

Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.

Tony used to tell his dad everything: all of his ideas, dreams and hopes for the company. Everything, that is, except his desire for a pack. And his dad, in turn, made sure he was prepared to take over Stark Industries, and had transferred his personal assistant, Pepper Potts, to Tony once he could no longer work in the office.

After his dad’s death, things took a while to get better. He eventually reconnected with Rhodey, his college roommate from MIT. The Air Force Colonel hadn’t been in his Ado-pack out of college, thank merciful god, but they were roommates for a few years and Rhodey had always treated him like a younger brother.

He understands now why his friend was out of touch for so long— his military career took precedence until he accepted a position in New York, working in intelligence. He’s proud of Rhodey, honestly, but had always felt abandoned by his friend. And Tony was also a little bit disappointed when the older man refused to form a pack with him.

“Tony, be realistic,” Rhodey had planted his hands on his hips, giving a twenty-three year old Tony his best disappointed Colonel look, “we aren’t compatible. It would never work.”

It was a repeat argument between them, and had only escalated since Rhodey started dating Pepper a few months earlier.

It wasn’t a secret that Tony was jealous.

“I am being realistic! We’re together all the time, and it would be so easy for you guys to move into my place,” he was desperate, hoping for something he could never have.

Rhodey had sighed, “Dammit Tones. You know I don’t think this is a good idea…” but Tony had jumped on his friend’s hesitation, and eventually convinced the young mates to move in with him.

Two years later, they’re still living with him in his penthouse.

Tony feels alone, sure, but living platonically with a young familial pack is better than living by himself. Or, god forbid it, with a toxic intimate pack.

He shudders as he tightens his tie, taking a long look in the mirror, shaking off the last of his thoughts. Tonight’s a good night.

His suit is tailored perfectly— accentuating his waist and shoulders, lengthening his legs in expensive slacks, and completed with his favorite burgundy tie and gold cufflinks. Damn he looks good. With a wink he’s through the door, heading to the garage and grabbing his wallet off the counter.

He takes the Lambo, because why not and shows up only fifteen minutes late, tossing his keys to the valet and skipping up the stairs to the Met.

A few people try to talk to him on the way in, and he gives away a couple smiles, weaving through the crowd to find his friends and making his way up to the Great Hall and Balcony.

“Tony!” a familiar voice calls across the Hall, and Tony spins to find the happy couple heading his way.

“Rhodey! Pep! What a crazy party, congratulations,” he pulls both of them into a hug, giving Pepper a brief kiss on the cheek, and then, at Rhodey’s pouty-face, swooping in and giving him one too.

Pepper giggles, squeezing her fiancée’s cheek when he recoils in disgust, “Thank you, Tony. And thank you, again, for pulling the strings necessary to get this place— it’s absolutely breathtaking.”

“Hey, it was no problem,” Tony deflects, forcing his smile a little wider, “they set up the sculpture court, right? Pep, I know you’re gonna love that—”

Rhodey’s smile is back, and he laughs, clapping Tony on the shoulder, “Yeah, Tones, they gave us the tour when we got here, it’s great.”

“Good, good, that’s… good.” Tony awkwardly pauses, and his friends exchange a look, Pepper winking — which is terrifying— before smiling secretly.

Both of them turn, and Rhodey motions behind him, “Hey, I’ve gotta find someone. You’ll stay put?” he gives a pointed look to Tony, disappearing before he can respond.

Pepper shakes her head affectionately, grabbing Tony’s hand as he tries to escape. He whines a bit, turning his best innocent eyes on her, “But Pep, I haven’t even had a drink yet. And he wants me to meet people.”

“Hush. You trust us, right?”

Unfortunately, yes.

“Ah, great,” Rhodey comes up to them, towing someone else. Okay, understatement. Towing a large, hunk of a man behind him, filling out his Army blues like they were designed with his body in mind. He’s young— baby faced and adorable— completely out of his depth, probably. His smile actually looks genuine, because Tony can easily see the confusion breaking through his perfectly clear complexion.

Damn, Tony wants a bite.

“Tony, I’d like you to meet my friend, Captain Steve Rogers,” Steve puts forward his hand, and Tony grasps it as Rhodey continues, “... and Steve, this is Tony Stark, my best man.”

Steve looks appropriately stunned. He places his left hand right over top of where they are still joined, and meets Tony’s gaze with a small nod, “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure.”

If Tony wasn’t so sure this man was the most dominant piece of military Alpha in the room, he’d ask the good Captain to get on his knees. And beg. Fuck. As it stands, he’s never felt this enamored and respected in an initial meeting— damn, this man knows how to make a first impression.

“Tony, please,” he corrects, smirking into Steve’s beautiful face, “and the pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”

He waits for Steve to release their hands, but all he gets is a similar smirk in return. The larger man squeezes where their hands are joined, brushing his thumb over Tony’s knuckles, and leans in to murmur, “You can call me Captain all night long.”

He releases Tony from the magnetic hold on his hand, and Tony is slightly embarrassed to feel his face heat up, and clears his throat. It’s been years since someone could fluster him like this, and this man has been able to do it in seconds. Before Tony can respond, Steve adds, a little louder for the public ear, “—but just stick with Steve for now.”

“Alright, Steve— how do you know…” and as Tony goes to bring Rhodey and Pepper back into the conversation, he realizes that the couple has left without a word. Tricky bastards.

Steve doesn’t seem phased, though, and answers the question as if Tony had even bothered to finish it,

“I met Jim a year ago during my summer post in Taiwan— both of us were stationed there, doing a few months of consulting for specialized ops, and were fast friends. I swear, Jim was my only buddy over there, and he’s one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met,” the smile that follows his words is soft and remembering, “how about you, Tony?”

“Rhodey and I were roommates at MIT— he’s always been my big brother, and both him and Pep live with me now—”

“Oh,” Steve interrupts, “I didn’t realize you were pack, I just assumed—”

“No, definitely not,” Tony stops him, laughing to help lighten the sensitive subject, “I don’t have a pack. But if we were compatible, I think the two of them would be it for me. It just… it doesn’t work for us,”

Steve shakes his head, a serious expression falling over his features, “No, I get it, that’s personal— I shouldn’t have brought it up. Please, can I— can I grab you a drink?”

Tony resists the urge to reach out and grab his arm, to reassure Steve that there’s no harm done, but instead agrees, “Sure, yes— uh… why don’t you surprise me?”

The flirty, light smile is back, and Steve easily agrees, leaving Tony to find the open bar. He’s thankful for the time to process, easily dismissing a few guests who try to start a conversation with him.

How could Rhodey have kept this guy hidden for so long? Tony barely got a whiff of him, almost getting enough scent to determine compatibility, but not quite. How old is this guy, anyway? And Army? What is Rhodey thinking?

“Here ya go,” Steve’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and he jumps a bit, turning to see the Captain holding two glasses and wearing an unsure smile,

“Damn, Steve— warn a guy?” and he grins playfully, thankful to see Steve laugh along. Tony makes a grab for the glasses, and Steve pulls them out of his reach, laughing even harder, before handing Tony the low tumbler with dark amber liquid and a single orange peel garnishing the top.

Tony peers back up at Steve, “Old Fashioned? With—” he takes a sip.

“Bourbon,” Steve answers before Tony can, and sweet lord, this man has good taste.

Swirling the drink gently, Tony hums and closes his eyes at the taste. Just like his dad used to make.

“I’m glad you like it,” the low voice adds to the moment, and for just one second, Tony allows himself to get lost in the fantasy of drinking sweet Bourbon in his den, with a strong, blonde man by his side.

He opens his eyes to reality, “It’s perfect, Steve,” earning him a satisfied hum in return, “now tell me, what are you drinking this evening?”

“Oh, well—” Steve looks a little hesitant, holding up his larger glass for inspection, “it’s called a Tom Collins.”

“A craving for something sour, Captain?” Tony takes a step closer, sipping his drink slowly.

Steve licks his lips, “I like a good balance,” he takes a long drink of his gin, “and the orange is my favorite part.”

Tony watches his mouth move, admiring his full bottom lip as it’s tugged back by his teeth, breathing in the faint scent of Coffee and Thunderstorms, “You know what,” Tony dips his head forward, peering up at Steve through his lashes, “the orange is my favorite part as well.”

There’s a sharp clink clink clink sound, and the moment is broken between them as attention is called back to the engagement. Tony realizes, regrettably, that he’s supposed to be up front, and gives Steve one last desperate look before leaving to address the crowd.

After the party, he searches for Steve. He asks Pepper, and then Rhodey— both of whom haven’t seen Steve since their introduction earlier.

“Sorry, Tones, but if you want to see him—”

“No, no,” Tony dismisses the suggestion, “it doesn’t— don’t worry about it, it’s— I’m okay, I’m fine, alright? All good.”

Rhodey tries to protest, but Tony just ignores him, kissing Pepper goodbye as he makes a hasty retreat out of the museum. If he can get home first, maybe they won’t ask him to talk about his feelings.

---

Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.

It’s been exactly a year since Pepper and Rhodey moved out, and Stark Industries has never been stronger.

Probably because every spare moment he has is poured right back into his company.

Every. Spare. Moment.

Which is probably why Tony’s late for his best friend’s wedding.

It had been a rough night— Rhodey had insisted on staying up late to bar hop, and their small bachelor party had torn up the most cutting edge and expensive bars all throughout New York City. The downside, unfortunately, is that coming back home at 4 AM— drunk and somehow already hungover— leads to the absolute worst morning a twenty-seven year old could ask for.

So honestly, it’s not Tony’s fault that he shows up a half hour late, barely dressed in his tux, and sunglasses practically taped to his face.

His saving grace ends up being Rhodey. Again.

An assistant meets him at the door, ushering him into the dressing rooms, and tugging off his tux as he moves. He’s handed a cup with a vague order to drink, and the sunglasses are unceremoniously tugged from his face. He struggles a bit under the attention, but after a few minutes of the world’s worst smoothie, blinding light, pressing, steaming, ironing, shaving, and makeup application that will not be mentioned again— Tony is shoved into a larger room with the rest of the bridal party.

Before he can even begin to apologize, Rhodey is stepping forward,

“Tony, this is the least I owe you, brother.”

The statement alone almost has Tony in tears, and he closes the distance to pull Rhodey into a tight hug, whispering, “My body will never forgive you, Rhodey-bear.”

And the wedding goes on without a hitch from there. Pepper, as it turns out, had told Tony to arrive an hour before he even needed to be there— fully expecting him to arrive late. Because of this, he’s sober and aware when his best friends walk down the aisle. It’s a moment to remember.

Pepper looks like a queen— the Beta wears a perfectly tailored trumpet gown, trimmed with delicate lace and a scalloped neckline. Her mate cries— hell, Tony cries.

And a few hours later, he’s sitting alone at the open bar, swishing his drink and thoughtfully picking at the orange slice at the bottom of the glass. He knows he’s one of the only people avoiding the dance floor, but can’t find it in himself to join the party. Instead, he nurses his glass and silently watches his friends dance and laugh together.

“Tom Collins?”

Tony turns to the voice coming from his left, and is greeted with ice-blue eyes, the sharpest jaw known to man, and a filthy pair of lips.

“Tony, but close.”

“Tony—” his name sounds like sin coming from this man’s mouth, “wanna dance, sugar?”

“I really shouldn’t—”

“— c’mon, sweetheart. You’ve spent enough time with this drink, don’tcha think?”

His glass is stolen by this tempting man, who sets it down with a sweet smile and stands to his feet. He extends a hand, and Tony hesitates. He really shouldn’t— it’s been a long day, and he’s not exactly sober. Plus, Pepper might kill him if he makes a scene.

He takes the man’s hand, “Just one song, got it?” and all he gets is a wicked grin in response before he’s pulled off towards the dance floor.

The song playing is low— thrumming and hot. Most of the younger packs have already checked in for the night, saving their pups from the close grind of desperate bodies, scents mingling in Desire and Arousal. It takes only one sweep of the crowd to notice Pepper and Rhodey in the center, leading their guests in a sinful dance— magnetic and dangerous.

The man from the bar stops at the outer rim of the circle, pausing for a moment to strip off his tie and suit jacket. His eyes sweep over Tony’s appearance, and he steps closer, breath tickling the nape of his neck as he asks, “May I?”

Speechless, Tony nods. He’s surrounded with sweet Oranges and creamy Milk Chocolate as the Omega gently loosens his tie, pulling it over his head and folding it onto the table before slipping his hands up Tony’s shoulders, pushing underneath his jacket, and tracing his arms until the jacket falls, forgotten.

Chest to chest, the Omega looks up through his eyelashes, “Dance with me, Beta.”

Pulled closer to the center of the crowd of moving bodies, Tony keeps the man pressed against his side, then shifts to face him. He’s only an inch taller than this Omega, but the similar height works to their advantage as Tony grabs his hips, starting a slow grind that has the man in front of him clutching at his neck, his hair, and breathing out a sigh.

“Like that, baby?” Tony growls, digging his fingers into the Omega’s hips as they move together, foreheads touching, enjoying the friction and small sounds coming from his partner.

“Don’t stop, please,” Oh, begging sounds divine coming from this younger man’s lips. Tony wants to do absolutely wicked things to this guy.

They move together, the Omega shifting to follow his rhythm and relaxing under Tony’s hold as he moves his right hand higher, scratching his nails along the gentle arch of the man's back, as his left hand moves lower to firmly grip his ass. He squeezes, and the sweet Omega moans Tony into his neck.

“I’ll give you what you need, baby.”

“B— bucky,”

“Bucky?”

He gets a smile in return, along with a particularly dirty move of his hips, “My name is—”

“Bucky?”

A third voice breaks the spell, and Bucky sighs, stopping their dance and putting a bit of space between their bodies— which does absolutely nothing to hide their shared arousal.

“Whaddaya want, Stevie?”

Tony looks over his shoulder to see a hulking, blonde and horrifyingly familiar Alpha standing behind them— arms crossed and a face that screams unamused.

“I wanna know why my mate is putting on a show with—” he finally looks at Tony, and his expression blooms with shock and recognition, “— Mr. Stark. Of fucking course.”

“Language.”

“— shut up Bucky, of course you’d happen to find him of all people…”

“Well,” Bucky starts to defend, “you wouldn’t make a move, so I thought I’d get things started.”

Now Tony’s confused, “Wait, hold up,” he looks between the two men as they glare at each other, “did you… are you trying to get with me?”

The couple turns and looks at Tony like he’s an idiot, Steve gesturing at where he’s still hard in his pants, “You didn’t get that from the reenactment of Dirty Dancing a few minutes ago?”

Bucky lets out a sharp laugh, cutting through the tension, and Steve’s face practically melts at the sight and scent of HappyAmusedOmega. Tony bets his face is doing something similar as he shakes his head in protest, “You guys are really serious? Can we— can we talk somewhere… more private?”

Definitely the wrong thing to say, because Bucky practically cackles in glee, “Darlin’ you can do anything to me in private,” and Steve reaches over to smack him on the shoulder,

“Slow, Bucky,” and he earns an eye roll from his mate, “Tony, let me see your phone.”

Right now, Tony feels like putty in his hands, which is probably why he gives over his unlocked phone without a word. Bucky slings his arm around Tony’s waist, and he notices that the crowd has thinned out, music slower and without the charge from before. Steve types a few things before handing the phone back,

“I put in our numbers— Tony, if you want to see us again, for dinner or even just coffee, please text us,” Steve squeezes his shoulder, and then moves his hand to cup Tony’s elbow, pulling him— and Bucky, by consequence— in closer,

“Tony, I need you to know: you are not obliged to see us again, even though we come on a little strong. You are— we are—”

“You’re all he could talk about tonight, Tony,” Bucky cuts in, turning Tony to look into his eyes, “and maybe you’ve never given him a second thought, but he met ya last year and has been dyin’ to see ya again—”

“— Bucky—” Steve warns,

“No, sorry Alpha, but it needs to be said. Tony, I have a feelin’ the three of us are damn compatible, and it would be a waste not to try. Give us a chance, yeah?” and the silence that follows is paired with twin expressions, eager and hopeful.

“Guys, I…” Tony is tired of being alone. He’s tired of denying what he really wants.

“... I’ll text you soon, okay?”

At the startled look from Steve and whispered oh, okay Tony from Bucky, he flees. He’s a perfect Cinderella alright— too afraid of honest confessions to stick around long.

But maybe he’ll keep his promise.

---

It takes a week for Tony to text them, and he does it as a group message. Both mates seem relieved to hear from him, and set up a date for that weekend, insisting that they pick him up and pay.

It takes two weeks after that, and three more dates, for Tony to realize that they want to formally court him.

A month after they start courting Tony, he asks about their intentions.

“I’ve gotta wonder, guys— are you really that serious about building a permanent pack? Or is this just a seasonal pack for you guys while you’re getting out of the Army?”

Bucky looks hurt by this, but it’s Steve who spells it out.

“I know we’re young, Tony. I mean— you’re not even thirty, Buck is twenty-one and I’m just twenty-two. Look, I know I’m really young to be a pack Alpha. Neither of us have experience leading a pack, but… it’s been something we’ve wanted for a while. It’s the reason Buck and I haven’t bonded yet, and it’s a dream of ours to have an intimate pack to start a family with.”

He’s stunned by Steve’s words. His pack growing up definitely wasn’t intimate, and after his horrible Ado-pack, he had completely dismissed the idea of ever having something like that again. But now.

“Tony, darlin’,” Bucky reaches forward to take Tony’s hands, “I think we have something really special, here. It could take years to build our pack, but Steve is pretty sure six is our magic number. Don’t ask me why. And also,” he hesitates, looking down at his hands, "I’ve gotta tell ya somethin’ important. Two things, actually.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Tony asks, concerned, as Steve gives Bucky a nod of encouragement.

“Well, first of all,” Bucky looks back into Tony’s eyes as he continues, "Steve and I are compatible by memory. Like— when we first scented each other, a few years ago, we had a scent memory. We— we haven’t bonded because of the pack, but we will. And second,” he pauses a moment, “I’m not pack omega.”

“You’re… not?”

“No, I— I’m not a submissive, Tony. I’m Vers and swing submissive for Steve most days. But I can’t fully submit for a pack, and this means there will be a fully submissive Omega who mates with us. And gets— gets to—”

Steve cups his mate’s cheek, “Baby,”

“No, it’s. It’s fine, Stevie, I—” Bucky tries to pull out of Steve’s hold, but the tears are already falling as he rubs them away, “— I just can’t. I can’t give you pups.”

Oh. Oh. Tony did not know that.

Bucky is tucked under Steve’s arm as the Alpha continues to explain, “When we bond as a pack, if we decide to bond, it’s very likely that only the submissive pack Omega will pup for the pack Alpha. It was— hard, you know? Realizing that Buck and I can’t have a family—”

At this, Bucky buries his face in his hands and lets out a single sob,

“— but we’re willing to give that up if it means having the perfect pack, okay?”

Tony is shocked. He guesses it makes sense that the pack Alpha and Omega would be biologically directed to mate together. It seems unfair, though, that a scent compatible, soulmate pair wouldn’t be able to start a family. But—

“What about other bonded members?”

Both men look up at Tony in confusion, “What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“I mean, what if two other packmates decided to mate. Is there a chance they would pup?”

Bucky still looks confused, but Steve’s face lights up in understanding,

“You mean, what if we all bonded— would you and Bucky be able to get pregnant?”

“Wait, is it possible?” the hope in Bucky’s eyes is devastating as he looks between Alpha and Beta, gripping onto Steve’s arm with fresh tears shining on his cheeks, “could I still have pups?”

“It’s possible, Buck, but I have no idea.”

Bucky ignores Steve’s response and stands from his seat, moving quickly to Tony and straddling his lap, throwing his arms around the Beta’s neck. Tony steadies him with arms around his waist, and rocks them gently as Bucky starts to cry into his neck.

After a few minutes, Steve looking at them with overwhelming affection, Bucky’s tears run out and he sniffles into Tony’s neck, “Thank you, my Beta.”

“For what?”

The Omega pulls away, pushing Tony’s hair out of his face as his smile widens,

“Giving me hope.”

---

In May, Bucky finally graduates from West Point, and decides to work in engineering in the city. Steve has been working with Rhodey in “intelligence” for a year, and Tony finally feels happy.

They spend most of their time at Steve and Bucky’s apartment in Red Hook. Tony doesn’t mind the drive, and absolutely hates being alone in his penthouse— plus, he’s come to actually like Brooklyn. And if he spends his free time searching for the perfect spot to build a house, no one has to know.

And it works fine for now, because Steve still insists on taking it slow— although if Bucky and Tony had it their way, the three of them would already be mated. It sometimes feels like just the two of them are dating and Steve’s their chaperone, drawing boundary lines of, “Hey, clothes stay on, boys,” and, “Bucky, get off Tony’s lap, I swear to god.”

So Tony corners Steve.

Or more accurately, Steve is fixing them dinner and Tony pins him to the counter from behind, grinding up into his ass and growling.

He feels Steve stiffen beneath him, and Tony laces their fingers together where Steve’s are resting on the counter, nibbling on the back of his neck inches from his bonding spot.

“What’re you doin’ Tony.” it’s barely a question, and Tony just tightens his grip and bucks his hips forward, letting Steve feel his arousal.

Steve growls in response and turns in his arms, breaking Tony’s hold. He looks into the Alpha’s eyes, blazing red, and Steve slowly prowls forward, backing Tony into the fridge. His arms come up to frame Tony’s face as his back hits, forcing eye contact and baring his teeth in a predatory smile.

One of his hands reaches lower, gripping Tony and causing the Beta to groan at the friction, “Is there something you want, baby?” Tony shakes his head, losing the confidence from earlier, but Steve continues, “you need to use your words, Tony. I can’t help ya if you don’t tell me what you need.”

Ooo, Tony’s blood burns with the challenge, and he rocks forward into Steve’s grip, his own hands reaching forward to hold onto the Alpha’s shoulders. Steve presses in closer, and Tony licks a small stripe up his throat, stopping centimeters from his ear, “I need you, Alpha. Why can’t I have you?”

“Oh, Tony,” Steve chuckles, releasing his grip and sliding both hands around to cup Tony’s ass, pulling them closer until their fronts are pressed together, betraying Steve’s obvious interest, “you can have me all you want, baby. I just need something from you first.”

“Yes, Steve. Fucking anything.”

He’s pushed away, back hitting the fridge as Steve steps back, “Be ours. Promise it. Move in with us, and then we’ll mate.”

“Alpha,”

“Those are my terms, Beta,” Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, pushing him out of the kitchen and into the living room, “and until then, let me finish cooking and go keep Buck company, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, and turns back to his meal while Tony stands frozen in the doorway. He can see Bucky lounging on the couch, wrapped in soft blankets and pretending he hadn’t just heard their whole conversation. He sees the way Steve moves around the kitchen, natural and dominant in his home— caring and providing for his pack.

For my pack, Tony thinks to himself.

“I’m yours.”

Both sets of eyes are on him, and Steve drops everything in his hands. He sees Bucky stand up from the couch.

Steve takes a step towards him, “W— what did you say?”

“I said— I’m yours. And you’re… you’re mine. My pack,” he looks into Steve’s eyes as the taller man steps into his space, “My Alpha.”

He hears a soft exhale, and feels Bucky grab his arm. Tony turns, “and My Omega.”

“My Beta,” Bucky breathes,

Steve kisses the Omega’s cheek, smiling wide, and pulls Tony into his arms,

“Ours.”

No, Tony doesn’t miss having a pack. But here— wrapped up in between his Alpha and Omega— he’s wanted, he’s safe, and he finally belongs.

#stuckony #stony #winteriron #getting together #stucky #steve x tony x bucky #d/s fic #slight nff #fanfic #completed #bucky barnes #steve rogers #tony stark #mood board #MiGLT #omegaverse

37 notes · View notes

xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

love you miles away [teddy jin x reader]

Summary: [Giftfic for a friend.] You're leaving for the holidays and require a big, strong man to help you lug your shit onto a train. Well, you suppose Teddy will do.

Genre: Romance, fluff

Date: December 25, 2020

-----

Snowflakes fall gently from the sky, illuminated by the setting sun and dripping orange skyline.

It was one of those nights where the cold bit into your skin just right.

A soft blanket of snow draped over the sleepy district of Yeongduengpo, tucking in it’s stony-faced homes and tinkering bell chime doors for a restful night.

You inhaled deeply, the chilly winter air cooling your skin and slowing your heartbeat. You could smell bits of the city when the breeze willed it, catching the tart scent of smog and cigarette smoke from wayward winds.

You turn away from the audacious city of Yeongdeungpo, it’s glimmering golden lights and sky-risen buildings growing stale to taste.

A train would be coming soon to whisk you away for the holidays, bringing you to a far more remote location and away from bustling pedestrians and honking streetcars.

“Come on, slowpoke! You’re going to make me late!”

A blond man trailed not too far behind you, arms and shoulders full of bags and luggage. He shoots you a look and you can’t help but laugh at his sorry state. After all, you might’ve given him the heavier bags.

“Hey! I’m going to make us late? What the hell is up with all this shit you packed? Are you going on vacation or moving to Australia?”

You leave him to fume with a giggle on your lips, much to Teddy’s distaste. You had needed some help moving some of your luggage today, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than the guy who acted tough but couldn’t say no to save his life.

“Hey, slow down!” He cried out behind you, faltering a bit when passerbys turned to watch at the commotion.

He jogs and catches up with you, hair gleaming in the city lights.

“So what are you even going into the countryside for?” Teddy asks, adjusting the bag across the expanse of his chest.

You look away, careful to avoid letting your eyes linger for too long.

“Well, ya know. Just the annual family visit.”

He looks skyward, letting out a whistle. “Damn. At least you get to travel a bit, this shithole is suffocating around the holiday season. Too many damn tourists.”

Just as he says this, a sign flickers to life above your heads. You peer up at the neon glow above and snicker, gesturing to Teddy.

“Hey look, thirty percent off Subreme leather bags. You can get this one to replace the one Gray trashed in the rain last time.”

Teddy flusters, blowing hair out of his eyes and snorting. “Ugh, seriously? You’re intolerable. I should just dump all your crap on the floor and go home.”

You poke fun at him a bit more because you know he won’t despite his huffiness.

You had met Teddy long before he broke things off with Phillip Kim. His violent reputation preceded him of course, so you were shocked to catch him outside of a pet store, ogling newborn kittens in the rain.

Though you remained friends through his more voracious phase, you had always tried to coax him out of street violence. Your requests fell on deaf ears before his belligerence and haughtiness were vanquished by Gray handing his ass to him. You hadn’t heard the details, but since then, Teddy had mellowed out nearly completely despite trouble seeming to follow him.

You sneak a look at Teddy. Despite his somewhat frail appearance, his arms bulged slightly under the weight of your bags. Of course it was no secret that lithe as he was, Teddy was definitely not scrawny. In the backdrop of the candied orange sky, his pale blond hair gave an almost divine glow. The snow settled upon it readily, as if nature herself were trying to take claim to the starlight he produced.

Teddy was far too good a person to succumb to carnage, you had always thought this. His brash and rowdy exterior was utilized to scare those he deemed needed scaring, but and oftentimes you looked upon his elegant features and gentle nature, wondering how someone as soft-hearted as Teddy could land such dire hits in a fight.

You clear your throat and divert your gaze as he returns your staring with a questioning look.

“So what are you doing this break?” You ask, peeking at your watch.

Fifteen minutes until the train arrives.

“Not much. Same as usual. Maybe laze around and wonder why my friends use me as a pack mule."

“Oh you—” You lean over and try to grab a bag from Teddy, but he twists away from you with a smirk. You can tell he wants to laugh at you from the way his dark blue eyes curve, practically feline in it’s nature.

“We’re nearly there, don’t try and take these from me now!”

You roll your eyes and listen to the rhythmic beat of your luggage wheels upon the concrete sidewalk, savoring this moment with the mischievous delinquent.

Both of you come across the stairs leading into the station and make your way up, Teddy assisting with hoisting bags over the gate, though not without his share of whining.

“Ah, geez. I’m gonna be fucking sore tomorrow. You better tip me for this service.”

“Oh hush up you big baby. Don’t make me toss your present out the window.”

Teddy begins to retort but bites his tongue when he hears about the present. He becomes reticent immediately, lips pursing and eyes busy reading departure times on the electronic billboards.

You shake your head and smile to yourself, not missing the blush dusting his cheeks. His tough façade couldn't fool you for a second, he would always be just a touch too shy. You recalled the times he asked your opinion on whether or not he had made new friends at Eungang, despite kicking ass beside them on multiple occasions.

You rub your hands together and blow warm air on them, condensation immediately catching on your fingers and chilling you even more.

“Come on, loser. We’ve got a train to catch.”

You grab his hand, still cold from the winter wind, and pull him along.

When you get to the platform, you find that the train has already been situated at the station, doors ajar and waiting for a few straggling passengers.

“Oh, shit. Teddy, my bags!”

You rush into the train and find an empty seat, dispensing your items into the overhead storage. Teddy follows close behind, dumping the remainder of your belongings on the train floor beside your seat, rolling his shoulders and enjoying his newfound freedom.

“Ah, that fuckin’ sucked.”

“Tell me about it.” You followed in suit, stretching out your back. “I’ve never heard so much whining in my entire life.”

Teddy sucked his teeth and reeled back, as if to punch you, then flicked your forehead instead.

“Ow! Teddy!”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll take all of this back outside.”

You rubbed at your head, thinking of all the ways to get back at the little punk until the intercom sounded static, then an announcement came on.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the train is now scheduled to depart. Please take your seats and keep all valuables by your persons. Thank you, and have a safe ride.”

Your eyes met Teddy’s and you almost thought he looked reluctant to leave for a second, then he sighed and began walking away.

“Thank god, I’ve had my fill for the day.”

Oh, the asshole.

You tailed him to the door of the train, “Teddy, your present!”

He stops just outside the door, situated on the platform.

“What? Oh, I nearly forgot.” He billows mist from his mouth as he speaks, lips pressed into a peculiar smile that ensured you he hadn’t forgotten for a second.

“Come here.” You wave him over, unveiling a wrapped gift from your pocket.

He scooches closer timidly, eyes searching for anything but you. “Thanks, I guess.”

You grin at his signature Teddy awkwardness. For every second he tried to hide how happy he was, you swore you’d strangle him in a hug.

When he’s finally close enough, you hold out the present to him. He reaches forward to accept it and that’s when you shift, pulling him closer and pressing his chapped lips on yours, warmed by the heating of the train.

His near-violet eyes widen, taking in your proximity, your hands on him, your lips on his own. Only when he begins to return the sentiment does the chime for the doors play, and you pull away just as the doors seal shut, chuckling when you notice his lips follow yours for a brief second.

You give him a cheeky grin from behind the door and point to his hands, still grasping the present.

“I’ll see you later” You mouth to him, then make a heart with your hands.

You expect him to fake a gag or even pretend to wipe his lips, but he reacts with nothing, only pressing his fingers to his mouth in disbelief.

You wave until the train pulls away, out of the station, and until you’re just a speck in the distance, the only thing warming Teddy being the heat still residing in his cheeks.

He looks down at the present and feels it crinkle in his grasp, tips of his fingers reddened from the cold. He looks around auspiciously for witnesses, and when he sees none, peels away at the paper carefully with agile hands, heartbeat still thrumming in his throat.

A pair of designer leather gloves sat inside, alongside a pink notecard.

“Something to keep you warm until I come back!”

You had signed off with little hearts and strange faces, a trademark of your strange personality that Teddy had come to endear.

“Sheesh,” Teddy huffs, holding the gloves to his pounding chest, already feeling hotter. “What a weirdo.”

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #teddy jin #teddy jin x reader #reader insert #fanfiction

64 notes · View notes

wackapedia · 3 years

Text

Lucky Star

Soulmate au! Yoongi x idol reader where corporations fuck things over as usual. slightly dystopian warnings: mentions of blood, murder but not so graphic, angst 1.7k You were leaning upright inside a containment in the middle of the ridiculously bright room of the facility. The rough material of medical scrubs rubbing against your skin while several wires and tubes are connected to your body. As the containment tilts to make you lie horizontally. "Commencing cryogenic stasis" The gentle robotic voice alerts. you close your eyes and remember the events of the past week. "ProtoGen Inc. has been the world's leading resource developer for modern technology. From Smartphones, Appliances, Transportation, and Medical Technology. ProtoGen is also partnering with Yong-Soon Farms to create Genetically-modified livestock, to fill the global supply. Today, ProtoGen takes on the entertainment industry as we launch the world's first Artificially-Enhanced girl group. Please welcome, Lucky Star!" The curtains rise to reveal three girls standing with perfect posture. The crowd jumbles to get a clear view, flashing their cameras boldly to the three girls. The camera flashes would blind a normal person, but the Lucky Star Girls were nowhere near normal. You and your groupmates bow simultaneously. "Hello! We are Lucky Star!"

---------- "'ProtoGen Inc., debuts world's first AI-Enhanced girl group' whatever the fuck that means," Taehyung reads the headline of an article as he scrolls through his pad, slurping his soggy cereal. "Are they aliens?" Jungkook asks, peeling his third hard-boiled egg for the day. "I'm pretty sure we haven't discovered alien life yet, Kook..." Jimin sighs from the kitchen. "That's what they want you to think!" Namjoon continues to read the article, squinting over Taehyung's shoulder while unknowingly spilling his orange juice down the younger's Gucci trousers as Jimin talks Jungkook out of the thought of meeting aliens in the near future. This was the scene that greets Yoongi as he descends the stairs. "What's going on?" He asks, heading straight to the coffee machine. "Aliens!" Jungkook enthusiastically answers. Too enthusiastic at 8am. "That AI girl group just debuted." Namjoon fills in. "Called Lucky Star". "Okay, what does that have to do with aliens?" "Nothing! Jungkook here was just being imaginative!" Jimin continues to buzz with Jungkook talking over him. Yoongi sighs as he finishes preparing his coffee and heads back upstairs to his home office. "Whatever." He mutters, leaving them to continue reading the article and discuss alien life. "Local K-Pop fans continue to protest for the girls' human rights despite- AHH HYUNG! YOUR JUICE!!" Taehyung finally realizes the coldness seeping through his thigh, seeing a large orange stain on his outfit. ---------- Immediately after your first live performance in a music awards show, you meet other idol groups queueing up for the stage. A girl you know as Jennie glares at Yue who glares back at her with hostility. You were escorted to your private dressing rooms where the CEO of ProtoGen himself waited. "How did we do, chief?" May, the main dancer asks as soon as she enters. "It was good..." Chairman Han answers, putting down the tablet after scrolling through the articles about Lucky Star. "But not good enough." "Excuse me? You programmed us to perfection and you think we weren't good enough?" Yue, the leader and the most developed speaks up. Her android programming allowed her to quickly learn from her surroundings, allowing her to have some form of a freewill. "Leave us." Chairman Han addresses the group of wardrobe and makeup assistants, leaving you three with him and the programming director of the Lucky Star project. The door opens just as you caught a glance of the group of men marching toward the backstage. One of them stops and makes eye contact with you, his cat-like eyes freezes you in place and the familiar mark on top of his wrist causes your heart to skip a beat. And then the door shuts again. A robotic freewill is considered as a paradoxical flaw in programming. A resultant factor of several integral aspects that can not be substituted without compromising the quality of the output. You learned this during your time at the facility at a young age, picking up IT jargon while they infused the enhancement serum into your system. Contrary to what most believe, the Lucky Star girls are actually part human. May was human, farmed and fertilized in a test tube. Yue was the least human. You witnessed how she was constructed in the facility for over 20 years. She was considered as the most developed among all humanoid robots in existence. You were a normal human, born 25 years ago, injected with all sorts of chemical enhancements, but still human enough to don a soulmate mark on the top side of your wrist. You are witnessing how technologically advanced Yue is when she sharply talks back to Chairman Han who was verbally abusing her about her lack of energy during the performance. "You were created to entertain, and yet here you are, presenting a mediocre performance, shaming my company in a pitiful excuse of a performance!" The chairman's heavy hand lands on Yue's artificially manufactured cheek. There was an awkward silence before Yue pushes the chairman against the mirrored wall of the dressing room, cracking it against the Chairman's skull. The programming director moves to stop her but his efforts are futile when Yue drives the narrow edge of a contour brush through the chairman's head. Blood stains Yue's glittery costume. ---------------- Hoseok animatedly reviews their performance as he leads the group to their assigned dressing rooms. Jin laughs at how Jimin almost slipped at the stage. All seven of them are halted in their steps when a crowd of paramedics gather at one of the dressing rooms. "What happened?" Namjoon asks a personnel of ProtoGen Medical as a mortuary trolley gets dragged out of the room. "Oh my god did someone die?" Jungkook loudly questions, earning him a 'Shut up' from his hyungs. Namjoon gets ignored by the personnel as they were escorted away from the crime scene. Yoongi clearly remembers seeing you in the room minutes before their performance and wonders if you're okay. "ProtoGen Ceo Han Sung-Hoon dies of Heart Attack" Jimin reads the headline of an online article the morning after the music awards. "We all know that's not what happened." Taehyung replies. "We shouldn't speculate..." Namjoon comments. "Big Hit warned us not to get involved." "What? We were the only ones who saw the medics last night!" Yoongi answers, scrolling through the pictures from last night's event, trying to spot anything peculiar. He pauses at the group photo of that AI-enhanced girl group, his eyes zero-ing in on a familiar mark on your wrist. "Which is why they asked us not to get involved." Namjoon stresses again. "We wont get involved if they tell us what happened!" Jungkook states. Just then, their manager walks up to the dining area, overhearing the maknae's sentiments. "Sit down. I'll tell you what happened." The manager declares, causing all seven to settle down. ------------ "Commencing cryogenic stasis" The gentle robotic voice alerts. White smokes of gas fill the chamber, causing your eyes to water despite tightly shutting them. Your panicked heartbeat erratically rattles your chest, feeling the sense of claustrophobia despite being in the spacious chamber. ProtoGen has decided to put down the Lucky Star project after last night's event. Yue has been dismantled into particles the moment she arrived in a crate in the facility. Her programming became too much to control, causing her to go on a murder spree at the dressing room last night. She annihilated Chairman Han and May. Before she choked the air out of you, she asked you to join her in taking the fame and be the most popular artist. This was her only motivation as she was programmed to be an artist. You politely declined, explaining to her that you were not a humanoid like her, to which she did not understand. She tightens her grip on your neck before she was shut down by the programming director who eventually bled out and died. The ProtoGen staff immediately answered to the situation, cleared up the place and dealt with the media. You were brought to the facility to where the board of directors decided to have you placed in cryogenic freeze until they found a way to separate the flawed formula of the serum in your system. The glass window of the chamber fogs up. Your vision becomes blurry and the engine noises become muffled as you sink into cryo-stasis. and then it stops. The Cryo chamber tilts to an upright position but doesn't unlock. a group of people in labcoats enter the room, escorting a group of men who gather around you. One of them immediately positions himself directly in front of the glass window. ---------- "You have two minutes." Doctor Sharp lets all seven of them in the room. Yoongi immediately knocks on the closed chamber, desperate to see you awake. "Hey y/n.. Its me.." He shows you his soulmate mark through the fogged up glass. He notices a spark of recognition in your eyes, encouraging him to go on. "I'm sorry there's no way for me to get you out of here. But when you come out, I'll find you. I may have to take up another form in the next life, but you'll still be you. So I'll come find you, okay?" Yoongi stutters but continues to make the most out of his last minute, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry it had to end this way. But it isn't really the end..." "Your time is up. Please leave the room peacefully while you can." ---------- You look up to the man who you remember to be one of the idols from last night's event. He tries to tell you something but all you can hear is his muffled unintelligible voice through layers of metal and plexiglass. He shows you his soulmate mark which was identical to yours. You smile. He continues to talk with tears in his eyes and all you could do was to wander your eyes on his face, hoping to dream of him for the next 50 years of cryo-stasis. He is eventually escorted out of the room, and the chamber tilts back to continue the process. You peacefully close your eyes and inhale the sleeping gas as years of sleep take over you. ---------- "BTS Spotted leaving ProtoGen facility after Lucky Star project shutdown" Taehyung quietly reads the headline as Namjoon reads over his shoulder. "Such a shame Yoongi-hyung found and lost her in such a short time..." Namjoon sighs.

#yoongi x reader #fic #bts #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi angst

15 notes · View notes

highqueenofelfhame · 4 years

Text

haunted, one.

It was just after eight in the morning on the twenty-fourth of April that I found myself alone in the healer’s quarters. It marked my first solo day as a healer, seeing as the twins had taken the morning off after a late night of work. In truth, I was excited for the independence I had been granted - it showed that they had faith in me as a healer. Mornings were usually the most quiet, people mostly sending for headache tonics or contraceptives — nothing that I shouldn’t be able to handle on my own.

And then the chief advisor to the Crown Prince stumbled into the healing room. The Prince himself was half slumped and leaning heavily on the older man with sweat falling from his face like rain from clouds. I jumped to my feet from where I sat, the thundering of my heart like that of a thousand horses racing through the castle, hooves shattering the stone into spiderwebs that threatened to bring the whole palace down. Something was horribly wrong. I dropped into a quick curtsy anyway.

“The twins? Where are the twins?” Delalieu asked, the strain in his voice made obvious by the slight tremor shaking his words. I blanched and the blood ran from my head only to pool in my toes like liquid metal, completely rooting me to the ground where I stood.

“It’s just me this morning, I — they had a late night.” It seemed to dawn on both of us at the same time that I was the only option, the only hope. Sweat began to gather at my hairline, slipping down my temples in rivers and streams and rainstorms. I wiped my sweaty palms on my apron in an attempt to soothe my quaking hands, rushing to where the prince had collapsed on the bed face down. The shirt that was bone white from the front was blood red on the back. Had I taken it and twisted, I would have been able to make puddles on the floor.

I began rushing, moving as fast as the beat of my heart and started by cutting his shirt straight up the center and carefully peeling it away from wounds. Slash after slash after slash marked his back, fresh wounds over old scars that left the prince’s back entirely mangled. Some of the marks slipped over onto his sides, rose up onto the rounded nature of his shoulders. It didn’t take much inspection for me to know what had happened. Prince Warner had been whipped: his back so ravaged by leather that his skin had ripped open and wept blood.

I immediately grabbed the cart for lacerations and wheeled it to Warner’s bedside, pulling out a numbing serum and injecting it in several places to ease the pain, apologizing over and over for every little prick of the needle despite knowing it was the least of his worries. After a brief moment, his muscles relaxed and he let out a deep sigh as he turned to look at me. Red bloomed across my cheeks like roses in spring, his green eyes glassy and bloodshot while he watched my face. Beautiful. Prince Warner was breathtaking and inhumanly beautiful and I didn’t know how such a person could be real, how someone that looked like that could exist, that someone with such a perfectly smooth face could have a back made of maps of rivers and streams and lakes of blood.

With the prince on my table I was in no rush taking my time and being gentle. I glanced at the prince every so often to ensure that nothing I was doing was causing pain and every time his eyes were on me and every time my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. My nerves flickered like flame in the wind beneath my skin but somehow I managed to ease the shaking of my hands. I couldn’t relax my shoulders that were being pulled too taut or my jaw that was wired shut by the anxiety of the prince bloody and broken on the bed or the fact that he looked nowhere else but my scarlet face.

It wasn’t just the prince staring that had me unhinged. It was that someone had done this to him, someone had willingly whipped the nineteen year old boy that lay before me. Someone had beat him until his back resembled the pulp of a blood orange, his blood dripping dripping dripping onto the too-white sheets in stains that would never come out. It wouldn’t be something that I would be able to forget, it was burned and branded into my mind with red hot iron.

“What’s your name, love?” When he spoke I nearly jolted and dropped another blood soaked rag to the floor, shifting my eyes in his direction and bowing my head before speaking.

“Juliette, Your Highness,” I replied, cursing the way my voice quivered. Everyone knew how awful the prince was - it was the biggest reason that my anxiety constricted my chest so horribly, so tightly until I was taking the shortest breaths to keep my body oxygenated. Stories of Warner were whispered among staff like legends passed down through generations. Warner as a skilled soldier in war, Warner who never smiled or spoke to anyone. When he did speak to them, it was typically to bark out an order. I had only seen him around the palace once during my training, and it felt odd and foreign to see him so relaxed as he was now. But that was just the tonic at work because this boy was nothing like the man of reputation that so greatly proceeds him.

“Juliette,” he breathed, turning my name over on his tongue like fine wine. He said my name so softly, the way you might whisper to a lover whilst sharing a pillow before bed. The way he said it made it difficult to believe the stories, but I couldn’t exactly ignore them either.

Prince Warner was capable of -- and had done -- so many horrible, unspeakable things. These weren’t things that I could turn a blind eye to. It didn’t matter that he said my name like he might caress a lover. It didn’t matter that he was handsome, perfectly gorgeous in such a way that it didn’t feel right for a person to look like that. But pretty men with devastating faces were just that: devastating.

~*~

It took a handful of hours to get all the wounds clean and properly bandaged. When the twins came in mid-morning and insisted on taking over in the midst of the apologies, the prince had refused and said he wanted no one but me to tend to his injuries. As I finally finished doctoring the wounds, Delalieu helped me get Warner into a sitting position. He seemed to hate needing the help, his lips tugging down in a smile and his brows knitting together, but he was still and patient while I wrapped his torso with bandages. Delalieu helped him into a clean white shirt that he’d retrieved sometime while I worked and I watched carefully was the prince pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled.

“You really should stay here to rest,” I advised all too casually, so I slapped on, “Your Highness.” Warner’s lips twitched at the corners like he wanted to smile while his fingers buttoned up his shirt. It was an effort not to stare at his body that had been carved from marble. He was unfortunately perfect.

“I can’t do that, I'm afraid. I thank you for your assistance, Juliette. I’ll send for you when my bandages need changing.” Warner bowed his head before looking me in the eye again. God, they were so green, but a clear crystal kind of green. The green that matched the jade ring he wore on his pinky finger. “Could I get a pain tonic before I leave?” I merely nodded in response, turning to go to the cabinets where we kept the tonics but Sara was already there behind me, a clear bottle with a clear liquid in her hand. I thanked her and offered it to Warner, suppressing a shudder when his fingers brushed mine - and then he was off, downing the contents of the bottle while Delalieu spoke to him in hushed tones as they left the room.

~*~

“What’s bothering you?” Adam whispers against my palm, a growing frown on the lips that he presses against my skin. It takes me a moment to pull my focus from the pattern of my dress and to his eyes. Eyes that threaten to swallow me up in dark waters every time I look into them.

“I met Prince Warner today,” I finally admit, squishing the blueberry I hold between two fingers until the juice is running down my fingers. My lips are turned down as I wipe them on the skirts of my dress, anything to keep from looking at Adam. The more I look at him, the more I want to be honest and tell him what I know. But I also know that I can’t tell anyone about the Prince, why he was on my table, or why I would be sneaking to his chambers in a few hours time to doctor his back once again.

“What did he do to you?” Adam demanded, sitting up straight. We had been lounging against a large oak tree in the courtyard for a rare evening snack. My toes were buried in soft grass that Adam insisted on ripping from the earth to give his hands something to do. Adam was a soldier in the royal guard, always standing outside the gates to the palace or assisting the prince on trips out of town.

“What do you mean what did he do to me? He needed a cut bandaged. He was perfectly nice.” I didn’t know why I was defending him. Maybe because he had seemed to helpless and nothing like the ruthless ass that he was rumored to be. But Adam had witnessed his cruelty first hand, had seen him force swords through men’s hearts.

I’d seen a broken man in the hospital wing.

Maybe it wasn’t as easy to take the punishments that he doled out. It’s fleeting thought, and one that I regretted instantly. I want to heal people - I don’t want them to hurt. Nobody deserves to be whipped like an animal.

I am pulled from my reverie by shouting across the courtyard and am instantly on my feet and moving in their direction. One of the twins, I can’t tell which from the distance, is running toward me with her skirts in her hands. I hear more than see Adam jogging next to me, but as soon as Sara whispers that it’s the prince in my ear I’m bolting back toward the hospital wing.

I can’t be bothered to give any sort of farewell to Adam, my only thought is the memory of the ravaged back I had worked so tediously to mend this morning and the way that Warner had swayed on his feet as he stood.

“What’s happened? Where is - ” I am breathless with a heaving chest by the time I all but slide into the healing room. Gasping for air, I rest a hand on the stitch at my side that my lungs may have fallen out of somewhere down the hall. To my surprise, Prince Warner is leaning against the table he had bloodied this morning with crystal eyes skimming over a handmade journal of parchment that’s so crumpled I already know what it says. A quick dig through my pockets confirms it.

“I’m flattered that you’re so concerned with my safety, love, but you didn’t have to run.” A smile is tugging at his lips and I feel my heart flutter in my chest.

Maybe he was every bit the bastard they all said he was, after all.

please reblog this as i’m unsure who wants to be tagged in warnette.

#warnette #haunted #shatter me #destory me #unravel me #ignite me #imagine me #aaron warner #juliette ferrars #ella sommers #restore me #shatter me fanfic

156 notes · View notes

bugaboowritings · 4 years

Text

Date My Best Friend, You Dumb Cat - Superhero Accidental Reveal Fic

Alya Found Out Adrien's Secret and is MAd that He Isn't Doing His Homework

So... I had this piece in my head since I saw that old Instagram post about Alya and Adrien being partners for a school project and that comic about Adrien and Alya having an accidental Reveal when their glamour dropped.

May make this a series.. Also have this same thing but with Chloe - Check them out! ( 1 ) and ( 2 )

And then with Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien - ( 1 )

Two months, one week, three days, and seven hours since the new semester started.

Two months, one week, and twelve hours since Miss Bustier assigned the first group project.

Two months, one week, eleven hours, and forty minutes since Alya Césaire and Adrien Agreste were randomly selected to be partners.

Four minutes after that, Alya teased her best friend mercilessly if she wanted to trade partners.

Two years, six months, two weeks and twenty-three hours since Ladybug and Chat Noir first appeared in Paris.

Two years, six months, and three weeks since Alya met her best friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng on the first day of school in a new town.

Two seconds since she discovered Chat Noir’s identity.

Two years, six months, and two weeks since Marinette confessed to Alya about her crush on a certain blond she thought Marinette strongly disliked.

Seven seconds since she found out about Chat’s secret identity.

Two years and five months since Alya decided to investigate the real-life superheroes patrolling the city.

Eleven seconds since the mask and the magical spandex fully disintegrated off her skin.

What happened only moments ago played as if someone clicked freeze-frame on this point of Alya Césaire’s life as her miraculous glamour dropped.

Leaving Alya Césaire in the cold alley as Rena Rouge vanished into thin air. Ending the superhero illusion when her suit reached its five-minute limit.

The dazzled Lady-blogger watched the little coy Fox God of Illusion twist their expression in amusement. The corners of their mouth turned up in a sharp smile, playfully flicking their tongue at their user.

“Oh, this is going to be fun explaining to the Leader Lady.”

“You’re-! ADrienN!” Alya choked.

“How- OH MY GOD! You’re- Oh my god!!” She stuttered, barely grasping what was going on as she tripped over her words while the fatal conclusion hit her gut. Her stomach felt hot and twirled in knots. Her cold, clammy hands traveled to her curls, locking her fingers in her hair as she pulled strands away from her face. Not believing what she just witnessed.

Alya swore on this day that she went brain dead before her eyes widened and readjusted to the dark atmosphere. Without her mask, Alya was left without her magical night vision, forced to focus on the scene organically while her glasses slowly dipped off the bridge of her nose.

The gears clicked and ground in Alya Césaire’s observant mind, jumping faster to conclusions than a gun could fire a bullet into a clear sunny day. Pinning ideas and theories then shuffling around clues that could make this sound believable to herself. Even as she sat there, sitting in the middle of the alley-way trash bin, watching the aftermath of the Miraculous unfold.

GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course, she JUST HAD to make the grave mistake on dropping into the same alley that Chat Noir did.

AND OF COURSE!!-, she did it without thinking it through! Not while the adrenaline levels spiked up in the blood in her veins, giving her this deadly sense of invincibility. The same feeling that made her fearless when she leaped over buildings and dropped from heights that could kill her and her courage.

However, in the heat of the moment, there’s no time left to worry when her necklace gave an urgent beep. Alya remembered thinking that she had more time to spare, yet the second she blinked -her orange suit was already peeling off her body. Causing her to lose her footing in mid-air which led to one of the most ungracefully landings she has ever made. Drawing blood as she scraped her hands hitting the brick wall and almost breaking her neck if she hadn’t landed in the stuffed dumpster or pushed her feet under her weight to cushion her fall. Her sweatshirt returned back on her body and her hair was no longer crimson red, but tree bark brown with fading colored tips.

Then with a loud THUMP, BOOM, and CRASH, a commotion that surely woke up the surrounding neighborhood and scared off any stray cats in the area, the two heroes fell out of the sky and landed into their civilian selves.

Of course, Alya didn’t realize she wasn’t the only one that crash-landed in the alley until it was a second too late to do anything about it.

Untangling herself from the garbage-bins tagged with graffiti and unsettling stains, Alya puffed and huffed, holding her breath to trap the last bit of fresh air she had stored in her lungs. Only to gasp for air, not because of the grime and disgusting odors around her but she noticed the glow and gleam of green and black across from her.

Alya swore that she covered her eyes, for her sake and his- but she recognized that voice as it groaned. Along with those familiar orange shoes that kicked up and around, same with the sweats with a familiar logo stitched on the side.

The Gabriel Brand.

Gabriel Agreste.

THE Gabriel Agreste.

One of the top lines in fashion.

Practical clothing but at expensive prices.

A-And that! What he was wearing was part of a new street-wear! One only rumored to exist and if so- it wasn’t hitting the stores for a figure of a few months!! (Thank you, Marinette for your vast knowledge of fashion and launches and your endless rambles about them.)

Yet, how could-!? How could this sly cat have access to the brand or rumored collection!? How could this leather-wearing flirt have the cash to have anything with the Agreste brand on it?

Was he some sort of business partner? A loyal customer with benefits? Heir to a company that has ties with the Agreste? New money or old?!

No- that can’t be right. Gabriel wouldn’t just hand off his secret collection unless…Unless it was someone worth giving to.

It wasn’t until the infamous cat raised his head up in a moan that Alya Césaire, local Lady-blogger, saw his face, Chat Noir’s face, without the mask.

As ungracious this whole situation was, this seemed like the only right way to figure out the kitty’s identity.

All thanks to a series of unfortunate events and some bad luck.

Something totally on-brand for him.

The blond brushed his hair with the tips of his fingers before lightly rubbing the sore spot over his neck. Rocking his head back and forth and around to alleviate the stinging. His forehead wrinkled as he groaned once more, knitting his eyebrows together. All before opening his acid green eyes wide at the reporter when she released the breath she held in.

Adrien Agreste being this cocky superhero that swirled and twirled about the city- the same one that wore a bell and slick black leather- explained so little and left so many questions unanswered.

It did, however, explain the little details that she looked over when it came to Adrien Agreste. How he jumped into action when he heard the Akuma Alert, how he didn’t run for his life but quickly claim that he needed to go to the bathroom when a giant semi-monster or Akuma loomed over the city, how he seemed to be a true Ladybug Stan since the beginning it all- even when Paris was barely getting used with their new super-reality, how he checked with Alya after almost every blog post if she uploaded something during school hours, the quick comments and awkward praise given about his alter-ego when the Miraculous Duo came to be the topic again in the lunch table.

The Lady-blogger knew that Chat Noir playing offense when Darkblade came to claim Paris could be a clue, how Chat Noir knew where to take the students when evacuating the school after a nasty Akuma attack when he ‘supposedly’ never been there, and then how Chat Noir called everyone by their name when it was the first time her classmates even had the chance to see him in person and not on a news-recap.

Why Adrien had to miss the grand installment of the Miraculous Duo Statue in the park, but he never really missed it because he was THERE! Chat Noir was in her classroom and she didn’t even-!!

Alya gasped.

“Our project is due before 12!” Cupping her mouth before throwing her hands out to the blond. Yanking him out of the trash by the collar of his jacket.

“Why are you here and not finishing the first draft?!”

Adrien Agreste, still pressed up against the alley wall with his back supported by day-old trash, digested Alya’s words before rolling his eyes. A snarky reply slipped his mouth as he shifted his body into a more comfortable spot after getting squashed in the tight alleyway.

��An evil super villain possessed a child, Alya. I have priorities.”

“And our grade isn’t!”

Adrien tucked his legs under himself as a cat kwami popped out of his light blue jacket. Struggling to get on his feet from the buzz sensation in his legs after his fall, resting his hands on the dirty concrete before showing more of his superhero persona.

“Again priorities, Alya!” He uttered, ruffling his hair as he took their current situation in.

Stretching his arms as he stood up to his full height. His hair, messy and tangled, suede one side to the other as Adrien shook his head.

“I can’t leave my Lady alone when a crazed toddler is on the loose.”

----

Who would have guessed?

That the Cat with the dangerously charming grin was the same boy that can’t go out with his friends if work intervened or when his dad flatly said no to his face through a tablet held by his black-suited assistants. The guy that would merciless flirt with the red heroine (he still drinks respect women juice tho) was outside of the world of superheroes and villains, a guy that never went out on a proper date with anyone before.

God, this would surely make a great article.

Alya Césaire had uncovered one of the biggest secrets in Paris, all in a matter of some lucky seconds. Not because of her totally-awesome journalist skills, but all because of dumb luck.

Wait-.

She just lost her secret identity too.

--Ladybug is going to kill her.

Alya got sick and pale when she thought this situation over, not with her Lady Blogger brain, but with her superhero ego. Forgetting how her project was late or the fact if she didn’t return home quickly her family would worry if they didn’t find her in bed at this hour.

Ladybug is going to kill them.

No-... she gonna take away their miraculous FIRST so they then don’t have a chance to fight back and THEN kill them. Most likely after her speech about breaking the most important rule of being a superhero.

“Keeping your secret identity a secret.”

Alya groaned into her hands as the memory of Ladybug’s lectures and advanced fighting skills played in her head.

She is so dead.

Letting that fact sink in before taking in a big deep breath.

“It’s fine,” she can work with this. She can bounce back. She can just explain this to Ladybug without losing her chance at being a Miraculous Holder. It’s gonna be fine-

Parting her hands from her face to see Ch-Adrien pull out a little container of cheese for the black kwami nagging and floating by the blond’s head. The tiny god grinned as it nibbled (inhaled) on that snack as it hovered over his Chosen’s shoulder.

Alya screamed in her palms once more, making her peace on earth.

---

Alya thanked Adrien for the slice of cheese. Handing it to Trixx to get him ready for another transformation. The duo decided that it was better to wait it out for their Kwamis rather than try to walk home in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night.

Once Alya came over the shock of finding out Chat Noir’s identity, she bit her tongue before asking any questions. Taking in what was behind the mask, a good observation was key for a reporter since that can tell more than questions itself could.

His hair was different, it wasn’t the right length (when thinking of his magical alter-ego). Nor did it curl by his ears, but it still had that ‘swish’ and ‘fluff’ texture. His eyes were still that acid green color but seemed more on the light shade and looked more ‘natural’ and ‘safe’ compared to the huge, glowing cat eyes he had before. The same eyes that scared criminals in pit black or lit up a night sky. His face’s silhouette matched the pictures of the hero’s. His jaw was the perfect shape and his height was exactly the same, give or take the added milometers from his boots. Yet, it seemed so weird to see this.

There, Chat Noir peeled away left Adrien Agreste. Laying against the tagged-up walls and using the crunchy trash bags to break his fall and now as bean-bag chairs as he laughed at something his Kwami whispered.

“You’re Chat Noir.”

It was the first sentence she said without coughing or yelping. Scaring Adrien to just hear Alya speak in her stern tone, ruining the silence he thought they (unspokenly) agreed to keep. Nevertheless, Adrien should have known that the quiet could only last for a while before Alya recovered and spit questions with a blink of an eye.

It was too good to be true if he thought they could just forget about this and walk away.

The golden boy bit his bottom lip in what seems to be a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and a dash of amusement. Giving Alya a shy smile before shrugging his shoulders.

“Guess the cat is out of the bag,” Adrien, no, Chat Noir grinned.

The Lady-blogger had to stop the burning need to deck him so hard.

A thin, yet toothy smile appeared before losing it when Cha- Adrien’s kwami, a tiny grumpy cat-god with two white-ivory fangs that stood out in contrast with his deep purple fur, asked for more cheese before showing the rest of his sharp teeth in an attempt for a wide innocent smile.

It was terrifying.

“GOD!” Alya cried, rolling her eyes as her fox kwami fled to talk to Chat Noir, wait no, Adrien’s kwami. Still not over that her classmate was part of the Miraculous Duo. The reporter gasped for air even harder as she reached another conclusion.

“I knew it was you! AH! Ha! I knew it in the beginning!” Alya uttered, switching from frustrating sounds to a laugh that made Adrien question the report’s ability to handle and process all this before Alya pumped her fist up before cursing the universe out loud. Her painted nails rubbed circles on her temples while she munched on this memory in her own flashback.

“I-urgh! I knew! I knew you looked too much like Chat Noir, too much to call it ‘chance’. But no!- Marinette brushed me off. Telling me ‘That’s too good to be true!’- and now!” Tossing her hands out to the blond and his kwami.

The undeniable evidence that landed on her plate.

“Here you are! Both Chat Noir and Adri-“

A cold hand cupped on Alya’s mouth. Stopping her from shouting even louder or even finishing her sentence. Pushing her back to the old brick wall.

The Lady-blogger instinctively fought back, her hands reaching for the fingers over her mouth, but she stopped herself before she scratched the blond or bit his hand (or worse, spit in it).

“Alya,” Adrien hushed. “I know that you know this- but you can’t tell anyone about this. Living or dead- Not a soul, not in any journal entry, not on your blog or to Nino, ever. Not even to Marinette.”

Alya nodded at the sudden serious tone.

“Bad enough that Hawk Moth is still out there with his eye out for our heads. If you or I get akumatized it’s gonna be game over for Ladybug and Paris. You understand that, right?”

Alya shoved his hand away.

“First off, your hand smells like Camembert. Gross.”

“Second,” she sighed. Letting her fingers press against the creases of her forehead before sliding down to her cheek.

“. . .Does Ladybug know?”

Adrien’s fingers tugged on his hoodie string as he nibbled on his lips. His nose crinkled in dissatisfaction.

“We planned to reveal ourselves when Hawk Moth’s gone and defeated . . . “

“How noble.” Alya snorted.

Before Alya could ask anything else, Adrien beat her to the punch. His voice filled the air as cars in the background beeped at each other at the late ride home or to work.

“My turn with this interrogation.” Moving his face a little closer, Adrien Unaware-of-Boundaries-Because-He-Was-Locked-In-A-House-His-Whole-Life Agreste frowned.

“What do you mean by ‘I knew it” and how does Marinette think- wait, does she know that you’re Rena? Alya did you-”

Alya pushed Adrien a step off before rolling her eyes.

“Of course not!” She scoffed.

“I tell Mari everything, but - But Ladybug trusted me with the miraculous and I kept my secret and promise to her.” Twisting her leg in anxiousness before quickly commenting, “ Well it was a secret before THIS happened.”

----

~Study Session at the Library. Be here by 2

~Same table as always

Adrien clicked on the message, typing out a quick response and a time change. Sweeping his hair back, happy with what he wrote after rewriting twice and finally pressing send.

-2:15, but I’m still in the locker room. I’m there by 2:30, tops.

Alya hummed as she saw the little dots on Nino’s phone before disappearing again and then reappearing with a new message. Huffing through her nose before typing a response back.

~It’s due this week and we are out by 3:45.

Adrien pulled his clothes from his locker before hearing the soft buzz of his phone in his gym bag. Groaning in defeat before typing out a dull reply.

-K.

---

Peeling another sticky note to add to the right corner of the book, not before uncapping her thin felt-tipped marker as Marinette scribbled a slanted question. Looping her y’s and not paying attention to the clicks towards the table since it could just be Rose asking for another pen from Alya. However, a chair scraped across the wooden floor and a gym bag thumped on the ground which sent vibrations up the table. Making her jump, pulling back her hand before she accidentally drew a huge line down the page of her textbook.

“Thanks for organizing this session, Alya. I’m glad that we managed to meet up even with my schedule.”

Marinette continued to scribble in her sticky notes. Her handwriting got sloppier as she wrote faster. Her anxiousness escaped from her in her blush and in her quick penmanship. Exhaling sharply, catching Nino’s attention only to lose it as his dirt-colored eyes noticed his best friend. Tugging his headphones off his ears.

“Dude, nice to see you finally make it to one of our ‘nerd meetings’.”

“Hard with my Father and all my tutors back home. Are you gonna finally let me play Mega Strike on your phone or wait until your phone is at 5 percent like last time?”

“Adrien, it was one time!”

“SHH!” the librarian hushed. Quieting the boys and they slowly mellowed in their chairs. The librarian broke his stare and returned back to the paperwork on his desk. The boys broke their silence and the tension in the table as they couldn’t help the chuckles that came up their lips when they looked at each other. Bring back that light environment when the boys nudged each other playfully. Chuckling under their breath as Adrien set his pens and books out from his school bag.

Marinette tried her best to keep her eyes on her paper. She can’t be blushing and rambling like she always did. But God, this was gonna be so hard to do since old habits die hard. As hard as she gripped her pen while she carved the words on her notebook page. The music in her earbuds crashed with her emotions. The lofi beats weren’t calming her; it just made her feel like she was on the wrong station. Debating to switch her playlist to something quicker and louder to make her concentrate on her work and not on something more captivating. . .

WAIT,,, NO!!!! BAD MARINETTE! Don’t think that- he is just a friend!!

Pushing her earbuds in her ear deeper in hopes to drown out his laughter. Her finger swiped across stations and then deciding on to Jagged Stone’s new single. Killing the urge to stare at the model or steal looks at him, but surely looking at him couldn’t hurt-

GOD! WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS!?

They’re just friends. And “just friends” doesn’t mean that you should stare at each other’s eyes. “Just Friends” means just friends especially when one of the friends looks like a certain blond and is potentially dating someone else-

A pink pen rolled over her notebook.

Is that- a Ladybug pen?

Marinette tugged on the wires of her earbuds, letting them fall off her ears and pausing the first verse of Jagged’s song.

“Ah-could you guys pass me my supplies?”

Marinette’s blue eyes finally did the thing she prayed she wouldn’t do.

She looked up.

There, Adrien rushed to pick up his pens, pencils, markers, and highlighters as they rolled off the table. Nino was already crouching down, grabbing the ones that fell under his chair’s legs while Alya picked up the ones that came her way.

“I didn’t know they sold ladybug stationery?” The lady-blogger grinned, twirling the pen between her painted nails. Wiggling her eyebrows at the flustered blond who try to brush off her looks with an eye roll. Hoping that if he ignores the blush that came up his face, they won’t comment on it.

“It was in a pack, Alya.” Adrien bit his lip, reaching over to snatching the pen back from Alya. Only to miss her hand completely as she pulled back her arm in the last second. Teasing Adrien with the pen, holding it out of his grasp. Tossing it to Nino when his fingers reached a little too close to the pen. The boys rough-house a minute before earning themselves another scorning from the librarian.

Over the last two years of going to public school compared to the first day he tried to sneak through the front gates, Adrien Agreste would have died on the spot if he got scorned by an authority figure other than his caregiver, well ‘care’-givers, at Françoise Dupont High School - but with time, Adrien Agreste mellowed into the new role of Adrien, the student.

Just the student.

A different persona from the one that lived at home and bloom when entering school grounds. Adrien would say that he’s more care-free and open than before as he learned how to sneak out and what buttons to press when joking with his closest friends. Like how Nino always fell for the “What’s that?” trick- no matter what or how Kagami liked puns even if she frowned or how Marinette would shot a sarcastic remark if given the chance (so Adrien tried his best to set the joke to hear Mari’s slick comments which often ending with an innocent smile before walking away).

So it wasn’t unusual for Adrien to act like this, like a teenager and not some super famous model. Just a student who was currently blushing in embarrassment due to his Ladybug stationary.

“They’re nice.”

The study group turned to the peep in the corner. Marinette swiped her thumb over the magical ladybug clip on the pen.

It felt heavy and good in her hand, it had nice weigh to it. All with a slick design that didn’t seem cheesy or cheap. It’s hard to make polka-dots work nicely, but who would know right?

“I’m more of Chat Noir fan though.” A small smile slipped out as she spun the pen in her hand one last time. Her face softens as she thought about her partner and how cute it would be to have his cartoon face on sticky notes if it didn’t add to his ego. Marinette finally passed the pen to Adrien who unconsciously held out his hand when her hand went out to him.

“Cool,” Adrien answered. Not knowing what to say without giving himself away or boasting about the Miraculous Duo without sounding stiff or awkward.

That little moment was gone as a voice cleared the air.

“So you’re a cat stan now?”

-------

“I didn’t know you dig that type of leather, Mari?” Alya purred as she grinned a little too hard as her joke, causing her cheeks to squish the edge of her amber-colored iris. Narrowing her four eyes at her clueless friend.

“I’m not- why are you making it sound so weird?!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Marinette rolled her eyes before shaking her head. Quickly stepping down the stairs with the reporter on her heels. Blowing her bangs out of her eyes, reminding herself to trim them when she gets home or when she’s free by this weekend.

“And-stop looking at me like that, Alya!”

“I wasn-”

“I can feel your laser vision from here.”

“Okay, fine! I give, Mari. I can’t lie to you no more.” Throwing her arms around the designer’s neck and tugging her near. Marinette pulled her legs under her before she choked herself with Alya’s hold.

“The truth is- I’m setting you up with a superhero, but can’t unless I absolutely know that you’re into them.”

“. . . .what?”

-------

#alya cesaire #adrien agreste #rena rouge #chat noir #miraculous ladybug #ml Fic #my writings #My writing #my Fic #reveal #marinette dupain cheng #fluff #miraculous the tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml fics #superhero Reveal

20 notes · View notes

ikesenhell · 4 years

Text

Reunion

AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 3. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Thanks to @missjudge-me for commissioning this! As always, I’m calling @a-shout-to-the-void IEYASU out in my work.

---

Neither of them wanted to stop for the night, so they didn't. “It’s only, what, one day of straight driving?” He’d reasoned. She took over the Camaro and he snoozed in the passenger seat, lulled to sleep by ‘Journey of the Sorcerer’ by the Eagles humming under the droning road. Light streamed golden-orange through the windshield when he woke.

“Hey there, sleepy,” she murmured. “Want some coffee?”

Masamune grunted assent, stretching out. “Fuck, it used to be a lot easier to sleep in the car.”

“We all used to be a lot younger.”

That was true. Still road-tired, he lolled his head to the side and rested it on her arm. She was warm and solid, scented like spices, the warm fabric of her flannel cushioning his forehead. Unbidden, he wondered what it would be like to wake up to her every day.

Maryland was bright and sunny. They reached Ieyasu’s house around five a.m., a quaint, brick rancher in the outskirts of Baltimore. One very awake Mitsunari let them in (“I still haven’t recovered from jet lag and Tanzania’s time zone—hello!”) and they crashed in a heap on the plush grey couch. By noon, he woke to banging in the nearby kitchen.

“Mitsunari, I said put that away, not dump it on the tiles—”

“—I’m so sorry, let me clean it up—”

“No! I don’t trust you with the damn broom, go sit down or find a turnip field and bury yourself in it again, clearly you’re underripe—”

Just like old times. Masamune grunted and rolled off the couch. She still napped on the other end, buried in decorative pillows and a blanket. “‘Yasu?”

Sure enough, the blonde peered grumpily from the nearby kitchen, dustpan in hand. Against the canary yellow walls, his green eyes were piercing. “Great, now you’re up. Now I have to deal with two idiots staggering around my kitchen.”

“Great to see you again, too. What’s going on?”

Mitsunari sheepishly set a tin on the counter. “I spilled green tea everywhere.”

“That was my fault,” Ieyasu groused. “I’m the idiot who forgot about Mitsunari’s inability to hold things. I can’t believe I forgot. Two years, and I went forgetting. What a wonderful two years it was, too.”

Either the other man didn't get the hint, or he looked straight past Ieyasu’s barbed tongue to the affection deep below the surface. “It was fun, getting to write you and send you pictures. You kept me very up to date.”

Masamune crowed with laughter, making his way to the refrigerator to poke around. “Did he now?”

Ears flaming, Ieyasu ducked behind the counter and scraped the scattered leaves from the tile. “He’s the only one who knows where the hell to find half of the reference books I needed for medical school and where to pirate them—”

“I swear Mitsuhide knows how to do that.”

Ieyasu didn't respond. Instead he dumped the leaves into the garbage. “Well, are you gonna stand out there and run your mouth, or should we get a move on and go to the grocery store while she’s still asleep? I figured we’d need some stuff before the others get here.”

Peering over the doorway with a bottle of orange juice, Masamune frowned. “Others?”

“Well, yeah, dumbass. You really didn't think we weren’t gonna get the other guys down here for a visit, did you?”

“On such short notice?”

Ieyasu froze, eyes wide and searching, desperately avoiding Masamune’s gaze. “I mean—can’t—are you the only person allowed to make spur of the moment choices?”

But Masamune turned his eyes slowly over to Mitsunari, finally understanding. “I’m pretty sure the Kitten and I weren’t the catalyst for inviting the others over…”

“I—no.”

“Hey, Mitsun.” Masamune overrode the stuttering Ieyasu. “Was it your idea to come here?”

Mitsunari glanced up from his mug of tea. “No, Ieyasu kindly offered his house when he learned I was coming back.”

“Listen,” Ieyasu managed. “Listen, that disaster is our responsibility now. We can’t just pawn him off on the unsuspecting public.”

“Right.” Grinning, Masamune swigged from the bottle of orange juice (ignoring Ieyasu’s annoyance) and shunted it back into the refrigerator. “Well, if the old crew is getting back together tonight, you’re damn right. Let’s get to the store.”

---

She was awake when they all came back, laden down with (“Entirely too fucking many,” Ieyasu complained) groceries. Her hair was slick from the shower, cheeks shiny with moisture and flushed from recent sleep. Masamune switched all his bags to one arm and pulled her in by the waist.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.” He punctuated it with a kiss on her forehead.

“Let me live.” Swatting him away, she grinned. “And you’ll never guess who I just let in—”

“Masamune!”

“God,” Ieyasu deadpanned, hoisting his bags onto the countertop. “Just letting strangers into my house.”

Mitsuhide chuckled, stirring some thick, soupy concoction in a glass. Masamune dreaded what it might be. “I’m strange?”

“Yes. Is this a trick question?”

“Good to see you again, brother.” Masamune fist bumped the other man. He hadn’t changed; if anything, age only accented the weirdest parts of him. It seemed like every year, Mitsuhide got lankier and more ethereal, white eyelashes too long to be human.

“Ieyasu.” Nobunaga rounded the corner, holding aloft an opened container of protein powder. That explained the mysterious substance in Mitsuhide’s glass. “This stuff tastes like ass.”

Ieyasu rolled his eyes. “So you’ve tasted ass?”

Both Mitsuhide and Nobunaga cocked a mild brow. “Yes?”

“God damn, I didn't want to know—”

“It’s a popular request,” Mitsunari chimed in, shutting the garage door behind him. “It’s grown in popularity over the last—”

“What are we talking about?!” Hideyoshi emerged from the hall bathroom, wringing his wet hands and looking utterly alarmed.

“No!” Ieyasu cupped his hands over his ears and fled to the other side of the kitchen. “I don’t want to hear any more from anyone about eating ass!”

Time was kind to them. Nobunaga had grown into the imperious smile he’d always worn, eyes flashing sharp over a long nose. Hideyoshi still possessed all of his world-weary charm, the faintest crease between his eyebrows. “New York is treating you guys alright, huh?” Masamune asked, planting himself on a barstool.

“Of course,” Nobunaga laughed. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Dunno. Figured that Hideyoshi might have an aneurysm about the subway system by now.”

Apparently he’d hit a nerve. Hideyoshi strangled the air. “Why is the L train always down—?”

“Alright!” She swept in, clasping Hideyoshi’s hands in hers, grinning like the summer in full bloom. The effect was immediate; all the other men relaxed, lounging around the kitchen. How did she do that? Masamune knew she was talking (her mouth was moving), but the words floated away. Hideyoshi looked so soft in her grip. God, he hoped Hideyoshi didn't try anything with her.

Where the hell did that thought come from?

“Earth to Masa.” Ieyasu waved a hand. “Did you hear anything?”

“Nah. Wasn’t listening. What’s up?”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “I literally asked if you wanted to make burgers for the bonfire tonight.”

“Bonfire?” Mitsuhide smiled. “That sounds excellent.”

“No lighting anything on fire like last time,” Hideyoshi warned, his shoulders tensing again. “You almost burned down the house with Nobunaga inside!”

“I assure you, that wasn’t my fault. Would that you believed me.”

“Well who the fuck else was watching the fire—”

“If you two are gonna fight, I’m just gonna…” Masamune rolled up his sleeves and plucked her from the floor, flinging her over his shoulders. “Borrow the kitten as my personal assistant tonight. How about that?”

“We’ll get the firewood together then.” Nobunaga waved him off. “And let you two to it.”

Hideyoshi hovered still. “Do you need any help? I’m not a master chef or anything, but I can be a pair of hands.”

Masamune almost took him up on it. But then she pulled back her hair—a long, languid movement that showed the curve of her back—and he shook his head. “Nah. We’ll manage. You go do things about, like, fire safety.”

That was the magic sentence. Those hazel eyes went large, and Hideyoshi nodded, purpose renewed. “You’re right. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Just like that, the two of them were alone again. She tittered and slid the bag of golden potatoes to him. “Need these peeled, chef?”

“Nah. Just washed. Throw on some tunes, would you?”

Her grin should have warned him, but he still wasn’t prepared for Neon Trees to echo in the kitchen. Masamune grinned and slapped the ground beef onto the cutting board. “What a fucking throwback. Is that Habits?”

“Yeah!” She dumped all of the potatoes in the sink. “Do you remember dancing to this in the car?”

Did he ever. They used to take Hideyoshi’s hand-me-down mom van (the only car that would fit all of them) out to the Oda Family property on the river, parking it in the field and lounging on blow up mattresses they’d pooled for at Target. Everything played on those busted car speakers: Neon Trees, old Panic! At the Disco, Chevelle, Lady Gaga, Jay-Z, Radiohead, Foo Fighters. Mitsuhide tricked Mitsunari and her into jumping in the water one night, and she was so mad and wet that Masamune stripped off all his clothes and put them on her, riding home in his boxers.

“Yeah,” Masamune laughed. “I don’t think I ever got my pants back from you.”

“You got the pants back. I never gave you your hoodie back, though.”

“Shit, you’re right. Whatever happened to it?”

She hesitated over the sink, a funny, strangled smile on her mouth. “I turned it into a pillow.”

He froze. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Put it over a throw and tied the edges. I had it on my bed all the way through college.”

“Where is it now?”

She shrugged. After a long moment, she chuckled. “Would you judge me if I said I still had it?”

“No.” It wasn’t like him to stop, but he’d stopped, knife poised, a head of garlic ready for mincing and hands still. What did that mean? Savage pleasure surged in his stomach and he couldn’t place why. He’d always been protective of her. Right? Was that it? Just some misplaced neurons firing? “Not really, Kitten, no. I’m alright with that.” A beat. “It probably doesn’t fit me anymore anyway, you know? Might as well stay a pillow.”

Still she didn't look his way. Instead, she grabbed her phone and flipped on Caramelldansen, and he roared with laughter. “Hell!”

As a unit, they flung down their utensils and danced. Adult bodies were different, but the chemistry was the same. He abandoned his station and flung her into his arms, the water still rushing down the drain over the potatoes. She squealed.

“Could you guys not run up my water bill?” Ieyasu reemerged over the counter, knocking the faucet down. “If you’re gonna be distracted—”

“Sorry!” Her smile was infectious. “Let me just get back to those.”

His body cooled so quickly when she parted. Ieyasu hovered a moment longer, his green eyes boring into Masamune’s good one.

“What?” He asked, cracking half the cloves open with a practiced hand. Ieyasu shook his head.

“Nothing.”

#american dream #reunion #ikesen masamune #modern au #my writing #commission #roadtrip #ieyasuxmitsunari

38 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Help Me Rich Pt 2

@deepestfirefun Pt 2 :D

“In my defense, I had some of the wine you sent me.”

Richard could still be heard laughing through the line after having called, not a word just laughter so far. “You,” he cleared his throat, “If you were hoping to kick off the convention with a tsunami of press, well done.”

“You know I hate press, especially on romance.” You groaned stretching on your hotel bed mentally prepping for the day ahead knowing you would have to run into them eventually. “What am I going to do?! We share a building!”

Richard replied practically in a purr, “Have you heard from them?”

“No, I haven’t.”

He chuckled again, “Well Tom posted a wink and a shushing emoji in response to his questions and Henry posted, and I am quoting, ‘Aliens never tell.’ They have seen it, and no doubt they will want to talk about it. I’m sure they’re not mad, you did post you were tasting wine.”

In a huff you replied, “This is ridiculous. I should have hid my phone in my suitcase.” Making him chuckle again, “Oh,” you groaned out at the knock on the door, “My food, I gotta eat something so I can spend the day with everyone.”

“Love you, enjoy your day, they’ll be nice about it. Laugh it off at the worst.”

“Love you, enjoy your tea and hug your snuggle buddy for me Richie and go find an orange and give it a good peel for old times sake.” Again he chuckled and hung up the phone turning around to finish readying the breakfast he was prepping for his so called snuggle buddy. Pausing at a glimpse of the bag of oranges he’d yet to break into he peeled two of adding them to the tray he then carried back to bed glad to have talked to you after a night of tossing and turning.

Another rough patch on the back end of his digging to ready for the role he had in Uncle Vanya, one he knew that you could help to snap him out of this haze so he could give a happy first day of his partner’s new year after getting another year older. He tried to be peppy and not slip into his funks, and a not so subtle comment from his partner for the third time the day prior had alerted him he was being subtly urged to contact you. They were on the verge of being in love, if not already, at least the verge of stating it openly and honestly, but all the same Richard loved you and it was clear that relationship was there to stay and never a threat. Clearly a means of helping to keep the brooding giant even and steady through no matter what would come. And through a couple stolen moments speaking over the phone while Richard was getting out of the shower to ensure your calls weren’t missed they had started to see that you would click as well once you got to know one another better.

Rolling your eyes at the second time the senior actor on your left had interrupted an actor also on the panel for the crime show you had that episode arc on who had a history of doing this in previous seasons and in the press stop before this one. Next up on the line after the guy who didn’t get the answer he had hoped for was a young teenage girl asking, “My Question’s for Miss Pear,” you grinned while the female lead on the show named Jackie complicating things only for a moment until you said in the opening question they could call you by your last name. “I was wondering what your favorite part of filming the big dam blowing part of the finale?”

Already agitated by the prior interruption you could feel the actor shifting in his seat to take your answer and you planted your feet off the foot rest on your folding chair. “I think we can all agree there’s more depth-,” Out your hand went swatting the mic and its stand off the table dropping the man’s jaw and up you stood turning your name plate so he could read it. The girl’s lips clenched nearly on the verge of tears thinking her question was the reason you would storm out. From the corner of your vision you spotted Tom and Henry both on the balcony above watching the panel and your one handed lift of your chair you carried around the now silent table of actors through the buzz of the whispering audience and snap of pictures.

Down you trotted off the stage to the front of the line a few feet from the girl setting your chair down you sat on the back of planting a foot on the seat to help keep it steady through a grin you flashed to the girl holding out your hand ushering her away from the mic. Timidly she approached and while the actor’s mic was being fixed he had grabbed yours to say, “I was talking!”

To the girl ignoring him you adjusted your long sleeve shirt pooling over the lap of your jean shorts with a shift of the toes of your heeled boots to get them in a comfier position, softly you said, “Don’t you worry about him, we’re just gonna talk, you and me. Now, dam episode, you said favorite part?” She nodded and while the cast listened to the next question. Pictures kept flashing and the next person on line for you timidly stepped aside while the others until then all stole grinning glances your way while the little girl in the arms of her mother in the front row had stolen a moment to get a picture of her sitting on the seat by your leg then hurried back.

Four questions had passed and the actor spoke out again between questions, “Miss Pear, get back up here!”

At that you turned saying, “Bite me.”

Then turned back making the other actors and people closest to you laugh while he said, “You’re very lucky we already filmed your next arc, I doubt you’ll get-,”

In a reach of your hand to the next person in line you asked, “Could I borrow that?” He nodded and the teen took the mic off the stand and passed it to you and watched as you said to the actor, “Obviously you have no clue how this works. These people spend hours in line and can spend upwards of hundreds of dollars on tickets and merchandise to get a few minutes of time with people they admire and enjoy watching on tv and films. The least you could do is show them a modicum of respect by shutting up and learning your own name to answer to.”

He scoffed at you, “Excuse you, I won a golden-,”

“I don’t care, you are wasting everyone’s time, your name is on that little name plate. Now, shush.” A smirk his way and you passed the mic back only to have to reach back and tug his mic cord silencing him again only to have that actor, who had been interrupted twice now pick up his chair and join you. The silence of his not being able to hear the question kept him quiet and the line split up easing the wait with two more actors joining you soon enough in a growing form of protest against the actor somehow still getting a decent amount of questions while the dozens of others treasured the more intimate time with their favorites.

“She’s fantastic.” The words came in a sigh out of Henry’s mouth at the end of a stream of the same compliment being repeated over and over inside of his head.

Beside him Tom chuckled and patted his back saying lowly to keep the group a ways to their right out of the loop. “Well I’m certain you and Miss Fantastic will be able to bond tonight at supper.”

Henry like an excited puppy looked at Tom, “You asked her?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

“If she-,”

“She’s going to be hungry. Trust me. Plus it will be that much easier for you to get her number.”

Kal by Henry’s side gave a soft whine and Henry rubbed his head, “Come on buddy, let’s take you for a walk.” Earning a tail wag from the dog now up on all fours as the actor stole a lingering glance your way on his path to the patch of grass and tile designed courtyard other celebs with pets had walked theirs. While behind Tom turned himself and caught your upward gaze he returned with a finger wave you answered with a smirk at his miming eating dinner and tapped his finger to his watch. A tap on his shoulder however had him called away and he mouthed ‘tonight’ and followed the aid to his own table session.

The rest of the line you relaxed trying to focus on the people meeting you and not the man who had possibly asked you to eat later. Aimlessly down a set of stairs you strolled to make your way to a lounge until you had a cast photo session. One step at a time bringing you closer to relaxing until a sudden push on your shoulders had you laid back on the bottom steps with a quick shriek at your elbow colliding with the ground in your body’s try to curl protecting your head from impact.

In the midst of filming another video halfway across the vast hall filled with mingling celebs and assistants waiting for their next stops Henry smiled finishing off his thanks to the fans for coming out and waiting so long to meet with him and his fellow cast mates. A shriek however had his head turning and the thud that followed mingled with pained giggles from the body now underneath his dog. Open mouthed he turned to race over, “Kal!” beside his dog he gripped his collar and him under his belly taking notice of the hands smoothing over his fuzzy cheeks and legs tilted together between Kal’s back legs, “I am so sorry, he doesn’t usually-,”

The giggling mess of a person under the back stepping dog easing between his set apart legs had his voice cut of. Shaking your head you raised a hand to wipe a stray tear from the corner of your eye, “No, he just hasn’t seen me about in a while I suppose.”

Instantly his eyes snapped to the dribble of blood on the patch of skin below your rolled up sleeve, “You’re bleeding!”

Tilting your arm you nodded and said, “That would explain the sting. Yup. It’s just an elbow though.”

“Let’s get you patched up,” offering his hand to you that you laid your hand in and planted your feet to let him help you up again.

Again you giggled and from the pocket on his vest he pulled out the kerchief and pressed it to your skin, “Oh don’t do that, that looks expensive.”

In a half hearted glare he nodded his head, “Come on.” Into the crowd of approaching celebs and aids he spotted one of the staff at the center and asked, “Could you get a first aid kit, we’ll be in the bath.” Past her in her moment of shock at the location matching yours you followed the Brit guiding you to the family bath he eased the door open leading you inside along with Kal. Keeping hold of the kerchief he turned easing his arm around your back partly pressing you to his chest in a quick lift to sit you on the end of the changing counter linking up to the counter holding the sinks. A nip at your lip kept you from making a sound at his sudden embrace that ended just as quickly making you retract your hands from his sides.

Wide eyed a moment you looked over the face of the man now focused on reaching over his own arm to turn on the faucet and grab a paper towel. Kal’s head on your knee brought your free hand to stroke his head in your breath steadying in the wafting cloud of the mixture of Henry’s soap and cologne surely now seeping into your sweater. “Long day?”

You asked luring his bright eyes back to yours and triggering a hint of a grin across his lips in a weak chuckle, “Not particularly. I am sorry.”

You shook your head again as he raised your arm to wipe the blood away, “Been gone for months. Clearly he was just happy to see a familiar face. Not his fault I’m a danger on stairs.”

“Didn’t help his plopping on you.”

Swatting your other hand in the air you said, “Ah, not exactly a bad thing, being plopped on.” That had his eyes snapping up to yours again with brows inching up making you smirk as one of his loose curls dipped lower in the wrinkling of his forehead. “Careful, keep making that face and you’ll have a Clark Kent moment.”

His eyes narrowed above his curious smirk, “I don’t-,”

Pointing to his hair you said, “You have a rogue curl.”

That had a grin splitting across his face bashfully, “Ah, yes. They do that.”

“Oh trust me I know. You just have a poof. I got the whole works.”

Tearing his eyes from yours he looked to your arm again dabbing the small cut below your elbow that was turning pink sure to bruise later. “Is your other elbow injured? Or your head?”

“Head no,” lifting your other arm he brushed up your sleeve seeing another blood free scuff turning pink as well, “Used these to catch me.”

“It’s not bleeding at least.” A knock at the door sounded and he said, “Come in,” making you smirk to yourself and glance away a moment then look to the medic holding a full almost toolbox of supplies.

Fully gloved while Henry stepped aside she got to disinfecting your cut and scrapes and added a bandage to both she wrapped with ruffled blue tape to keep it in place. A full stream of questioning came along with an eye and head examination. All making Henry feel worse until you were helped down to finish a balance and equilibrium test before the medic stepped aside removing her gloves timidly glancing between you now showing her nerves at being alone with you both and having such famous people looking on through the propped open door. With an assistant taking his phone Henry grouped in beside you both smiling and holding Kal up on his hind legs while you showed off your bandages grinning widely in her blushing smile before the next photo with more celebs joining in on the picture for her on her own cell phone.

In a turn with Kal down again Henry folded the kerchief he had wet and rubbed together to get the stain out of into a couple paper towels as you winced lowering your sleeves to cover the bandages after accepting his phone for him. Looking back again to you he looked you over hearing his handler from the doorway saying, “Henry, your autograph session is up next.”

He nodded then looked to you again from his phone, “Did Tom ask you to dinner yet?”

“Not, necessarily. I mean he mimed food while I was at the fan meet from the balcony.”

“Good,” his fingers tapped on the screen of his phone pulling up a new text message and said, “For easing the meet up your number would help.”

Holding back an awkward giggle you looked down typing in your number then passed him back his phone, “Just try not to make it vague like ‘Assemble’ or a picture of a giant S or something. Addresses are helpful.”

Lowly he chuckled lowering his gaze to save your number after sending you the pictures making your pocket meow triggering a grin across his face, “We will pin down a place and let you know.”

“Sure thing Sugar Plum.” Looking down in his chuckle you rubbed Kal’s cheeks again, “Have fun Kal, stay fluffy.”

Taking hold of the leash Henry turned to join his handler for the long walk while you flexed your fingers at the lingering pain in your elbows and backside from the steps in your first step out to go head to the lounge. Digging into your pocket you brought out your phone and smirked saving the pictures and his number under your nickname for him. Already you noticed the pings from your social page asking if you were alright as word had rippled about your fall. A hasty message that you were intact but a bit sore after being hugged by a giant teddy bear was sent off and in the lounge you found a chair to settle into.

“Oh my goodness,” Henry groaned into his palms allowing his tea to seep some more while Tom settled in the chair across from him settling his own mug down on the table in his rental the pair were sharing.

Tom chuckled saying, “She seems fine. Her post says she’s a bit sore after a hug from a teddy bear, that’s half a point in your favor at least. Clearly no hard feelings.”

Henry lowered his hands, “She could have had a concussion. Busted her head open!”

“But she didn’t, used to falling, you said it yourself, and we’ve both been on the side of smashing our elbows a time or two.”

Henry rolled his eyes, “I just feel bad.”

“Of course, but you did patch her up. Got her number too, nicely done. Now, what do you feel like for dinner? Romantic like French or Italian, modern like sushi,”

“She’s posted before she doesn’t like sushi.”

Tom nodded, “Right. We could always go casual, like Chili’s.” His face lit up and Henry smirked as well.

“You are not going to stop till I go to one are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Henry inhaled then exhaled slowly and replied, “Chili’s it is.” Gaining a victorious wiggle from his friend making the pair chuckle.

“You will not regret it.”

“Oh yes I will. You’re lucky I’m not in the gym till Tuesday.”

Tom smirked and replied, “No doubt she will be glad for another cheat meal herself. Quite the bad influence to our routines.”

“What the hell is Chili’s?” you muttered and got to searching it online only to groan and hang your head, “Oh there is no lady like way to get through this meal.” Seeing the mouth watering massive burgers and steaks the casual bar and grill had to offer calling out to you.

Six came soon enough and in the cab that was called for you fidgeted with the sleeves on your sweater, grumbling internally that you hadn’t brought anything nicer while also knowing that you couldn’t dress fancy or you’d end up a mess. Out you climbed and patted your pockets ensuring you didn’t lose anything in the back seat after paying the driver. In closing the door you heard two doors open and from a parked suv the pair climbed out in somewhat stunning matching sets of jeans and t shirts, both clearly trying to enforce the casual part of the evening.

Grins spread and walking closer you heard Tom ask, “Ever been before?” You shook your head, “You will love it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Looking to Henry you said, “You look downright comfy. Hardly ever see you out of gym clothes or suits these days.”

Smirking at you he said, “Well, I do like to break them out every now and then.” Shifting as you did to head inside starting a string of gasps and whispered as to who walked in. A booth in the back was chosen for semi privacy they could offer and between the pair you almost had passed completely unnoticed until Henry’s arm was seen draping across your back as you climbed the pitiful three steps to the landing your area was going to be in. Lowly he said to you when you stole a glance back at him, “Just being safe.”

Shaking your head you looked forward again seeing a pair of ladies looking the pair of you over obviously critiquing the match you were assumed to be. Straight to the back the booth sat and between the pair you slid to your own cushion and flashed a grin to the waitress who passed you your menus. Glancing between the men she asked, “Would you like to start with drinks?”

Tom said, “I think a beer for me, not too certain on the brands though.”

He glanced to you both after her helping him to choose a good brand in her opinion then she barely glanced at you and you said, “Mango tea.” Henry looked at you and you said, “Tried peach before, wanted to try it.”

He asked, “Is that dried and shredded mango you add?”

Tom said, “No, syrup I think, it’s cold tea.”

That had Henry looking you over again and you said, “I need something cold to go with supper.”

From you to her he looked then said, “I’ll try a beer, and a peach tea for after.”

She nodded and said with a grin, “I will get those out for you, and take your time deciding.” Darting away to fetch the drinks for you.

Looking between the pair you said, “Looks like you guys made her week.”

Tom’s hand patted the table saying, “Oh psh, don’t worry about that, she’ll calm down and they’ll forget we’re here.”

You looked at him and said, “At least I’m in the middle so I won’t get leaned over.” Opening your menu.

Henry spoke next saying, “I doubt people would be that rude.”

Looking at him again you said, “Says the man portraying Superman. You picked me up with one arm, I am a magnet for rude, an attainable target.”

Tom, “We’ve shopped and people have recognized you before.”

You looked to him, “True, but I’m not exactly first name basis with the world just yet. Compared to you Hiddlekins.”

Smirking through a playful narrowed gaze he fired back, “It is not my fault I have an army.”

“Hiddlestoners, they’re addicted. You’re a drug.” Only deepening his smirk and making a blush prickle on his cheeks making you look to Henry, “We have to pick a cute name for your followers, they already have a Cavaliers, so can’t go off last name with you. Of course there’s Daddy to throw around but that’s terribly generic for those dimples of yours.” You said brushing your drooping bangs back behind your ear. Could call them Hens, but that’s not nearly good enough. I’ll think of something.”

Chuckling to himself he all but hummed back, “I don’t need an army.”

“He has an army you don’t need one.”

Henry asked you with a playfully stunned look, “Why don’t I get an army?”

“Because you get to have Jason Momoa in your league.”

Tom chuckled and Henry nodded, “Oh really? That’s nowhere near fair.”

“Have you seen his eyes, the man is gorgeous. Tom clearly is leading the Avengers since Marvel flubbed on Ronan, utterly misusing Lee Pace’s abilities for a tiny blip on their radar.”

Tom nodded, with lips pursed a moment, “They certainly could have done more.”

“Thank you,” you looked to Henry again, “See, DC has character personality but is sort of slumped as for actual meat to the film past explosions. My opinion Mr Kent is the most time they’ve spent on fluffing up an actual character of theirs. Haven’t seen Aquaman yet but I am pretty sure it’ll be stunning.”

Henry, “You haven’t seen Aquaman?”

“Not yet, it’s on my list. Have some catching up to do. Had a hectic couple years keeping me from watching my pile back at home.” That had the pair chuckling as you said, “No judging.” Looking down at the menu you had been ignoring, “Ooh, potato skins. Haven’t had those in ages.” Back to the pair you looked saying, “One rule, no salads. Please, I’m hungry and I cannot guarantee I will leave this place with my lady like appearance intact, don’t go outshining me on table manners.”

They chuckled again and Tom said, “I think I’ll try this chicken pasta dish. Guaranteed to splatter my beard.”

“There you go, welcome aboard.”

Henry looked over the menu and said, “Screw it, I’m having ribs.”

“Ooh, those sound good, but I’m more of a burger mood today.”

Henry smirked saying, “I’ll cut you off a bite.”

Tom said, “Same for mine, but it’ll cost you a chip.”

With a smirk you looked to the menu again the waitress came back with the tray of drinks she passed out and left your straw on the end of the table you looked at while Tom ordered deepening Henry’s smirk in his subtle slide of it from your left to your reach. Unwrapping the straw you named your bacon and bbq sauce burger with ample curly fries on the side easing the straw into your drink as Henry ordered his ribs then said, “And some potato skins for the appetizer.”

Eagerly she nodded and darted off again and you asked, “You sure you can eat all that with the ribs?”

Lifting his glass for a sip he said, “Didn’t wear my loose shirt for nothing.” Making you giggle to yourself.

Tom, “Breaking out the dad bod shirts for ultimate comfort.” Lifting his own glass.

“Good,” the pair pursed their lips a moment tasting the beer they compared to their favorites, “Unlike your drink choices. Should blend well with the meal no doubt.” Henry looked at you and you smirked, “Don’t forget, you said you wanted tea after that.”

“I’ll need it.” Taking a second sip.

A bite into your first potato skin Tom swallowed his first mouthful with a pleased hum in Henry’s first bite after trying some of the dips they had brought, “Jaqi, I have two sisters, he has four brothers, what about you?”

Covering your mouth with your free hand you said, “Eight brothers.” That had the pair looking you over and you added, “Quads twice then me. Can’t tell you how scared Dad was to see how much hell I would give them after all the boys.”

Tom, “No doubt an angel.” Around your next bite you giggled making him chuckle, “Or not.”

Your head tilted to the side as you chewed and Henry said, “Couldn’t have been that bad.”

Swallowing again you replied, “Hard to say. Depends how you look at it. I didn’t try to cause trouble, but then again, with my family kind of hard not to.”

Tom, “No doubt your parents wouldn’t say you were troublesome.”

“Mmm,” you said around another mouthful finishing off your slice covering your mouth until you swallowed, “Don’t remember Mum, and Dad was away often. Gramps, Gran and our aunt raised us up with her nine kids.”

Henry said around a mouthful, “Nine.”

You nodded and giggled claiming your next slice, “Nine, just like us. Dad was a quad, him and his three brothers have nine children each. Our own little collection of solar systems.”

Tom smirked, “I suppose that would make you Pluto.”

“Yup, my middle name.”

They both said, “No.” And you nodded with another giggle, Henry then asked, “What does your Dad do?”

“Rugby,”

His brows inched up and he said, “Not Jack Pear. You can’t be BullJack’s daughter, from the Jersey Reds? There are pictures of him and his little girl at the biggest matches.”

Again you giggled and covered your mouth, “Girls are good luck away. Boys got to go to the home games. Split us up on mini vacations with him through the seasons. Rest of the year we were in Oxfordshire.”

Tom, “What had you there?”

“Gramps taught at Oxford, our Aunt was part of their Dance department, something to do with paperwork for a while, but she got back into ballet after her kids were old enough for school. She tried to keep it to the summer and spring courses to keep them and us in order while her husband was off with West Ham.”

Tom, “The football team?”

You nodded, “They had to go opposites, him and Dad get way too competitive, so one picked rugby the other football and the last two went swimming and Judo. Course most of them are in the official ends of the spectrum now they’re older.”

Henry curiously asked, “What do your brothers do?”

“Um,” you said swallowing your next mouthful. “Two play football, one is in rugby, trying to get back home to the Reds, he’s doing well. Then two have a theater, plays not films, and the rest got into set designs and stunt work, we usually work together a lot. But they all played football and rugby, couple swam too in Uni.”

Tom, “What about you?”

“Played football. Wouldn’t let me play rugby.”

Henry, “You wanted to play rugby? I’m not saying you couldn’t I’m just stunned as for how that would work in the thick of it.”

“Well the girls teams either were too small or always filled with the coaches’ favorites. I used to train with my brothers in school and Dad in off seasons so it wasn’t unusual for me. Ended up on the boys football teams most of the time, even in Uni.”

Tom, “Where did you attend?”

“Oxford.” Making the pair cough, “Mainly Drama, but got a few grounding degrees, Gramps insisted. Dad was thrilled they let me on the team with my older brothers. Even got an offer for a pro team my final season.”

Henry, “Why didn’t you take it?”

“I got offered a role for a show. Still got bruised up, but my knees got a rest.”

Henry muttered, “Bet the lads loved that.”

Your head tilted again, “My ex certainly didn’t. Heard I had to make out with, oh what’s his name, that bloke from Kingsman. Not important, anyways, he didn’t take it too well.”

Tom asked with a protective tone, “He dumped you?”

You shook your head, “Nope, proposed.” Parting their lips, “Then I dumped him.”

Henry, “Didn’t do it romantically enough for you?”

“He called me Elizabeth.”

They both said, “Ooh,”

“What about you? Any jealous exes?”

The pair chuckled and Henry said, “Oh ya,” popping the last of his slice between his lips. “Liked to throw drinks.”

It all went swimmingly and with your burger you cut in half to aid in squeezing it so you could bite through the large burger. Mainly with his hands Henry ate, sucking the sauce off his fingers at your stolen glances his way upon finishing his first piece to lift his knife and fork. Carefully he cut you a piece stabbed it with his fork he passed to you making you smirk in finishing off your first half of your burger. “Mmm, so good.” You said passing the fork back making Tom reach over claiming the fork to slice you off a piece of his meat with a noodle stabbed he passed to you earning another pleased hum while he claimed a curly fry from your plate for himself as Henry did the same.

Steadily the plates were cleared and drinks then refills were emptied. Adorably Henry patted his pockets realizing he’d forgotten his wallet and you giggled saying, “Don’t worry Sugar Plum, I got you.” Making Tom smirk in his own pulling out a few bills for his portion while you covered for Henry and yourself adding to the generous tip.

Henry chuckled to himself and hummed out, “Must have left my cash in my other pants.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, “You deserve to be spoiled too big guy.”

He chuckled saying, “Don’t tempt me or I’ll order a cake to go.”

“Long as you don’t mind sharing.”

Tom, “Don’t start on desserts, I’ve been craving brownies all week.”

You nodded and said, “First thing back I’m buying you brownies.”

Tom shook his head, “What are we going to do with you, terrible influence.”

“Someone has to keep you eating or you’ll waste away.”

Back out again you strolled accepting their lift to your hotel their driver gladly added to the stops listed. Chatting the full way about your schedules for the week you discovered it would be another two weeks until you were together again at the apartment building. Tom had his same project to complete and Henry was excited to get back into training for a new one he wouldn’t share on just yet. Outside the hotel the car stopped and hugs with timid pecks on cheeks were traded. Henry stepped out to help you down to the curb. Resting his arm on the door of the suv he looked you over ignoring the creeping cameras and said, “Two weeks, I’ll spoil you for dinner. Something fancy.”

Playfully your eyes narrowed looking up at him, “Dress fancy?”

“Dress fancy.” He replied making you giggle through a grin triggering a faint blush across his cheeks.

“I can’t wait to see where you settle your hemline.” Making him shake his head in a chuckle to himself as you said to Tom, “Two weeks Hiddlekins, you, me, brownies.”

Tom, “Terrible influence,” he said to your back in your turn away to head inside.

Pt 3

#Henry Cavill x Reader OC #Richard Armitage #Tom Hiddleston

16 notes · View notes