#About every ten to twenty minutes I’m doubled over with laughter over something this guy wrote | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

softomi · 4 years ago

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Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen.

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

“I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #osamu #suna #atsumu

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ktheist · 4 years ago

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title. “it’s armani, not polyester.” | m

pairings. ceo!jimin x secretary!reader x ex-boyfriend!director!jeongguk

inspired by. conan grey’s heather.

genre. e2f - f2l , office romance, sugar daddy-baby-esque.

words. 10.6k

warnings. explicit content (obviously). mentions of alcohol use.

concept. a retelling of conan grey’s heather in its future days.

story time.

“that’s your ex?” wendy blinks once before proceeding to openly ogle the - as per jennie’s excited text - ‘tall and handsome as hell cutie’ who’s in the middle of speaking to irene who seems to be sporting a larger-than-her-daily smile as her body moves as she nods and laughs and nods again, “i mean - i was expecting some hobo looking guy with spectacles bigger than his head and snot running down his face.”

with a cringe, you shoot her a much needed side eye, “okay first off - ew,” throwing your gaze back at jeongguk, “second off, we only dated for like three months before everyone started sleeping with everybody.”

“like orgies and shits?” this time, it’s her turn to cringe.

“no,” you roll your eyes, “i mean we had our first fight, he slept with my best friend so i slept with his brother who was dating that best friend.”

“oh,” you can almost feel the way her eyes shift from you ex to you as you continue to type on the computer, “guess no more family dinners.”

“it gets better,” you feel a creep up your face as you turn to meet her wide eyed gaze, “me and his brother got into the same college and we decided to stay friends and now his mom knows me as taehyung’s best friend instead of her second child’s ex-girlfriend.”

by the end of it, wendy’s jaw is quite literally on the floor, missing her chance to greet the cutie who’s obviously led here by irene. standing up, you fix the man who seems to have turned into ice, “thank you, irene, i’ll take it from here,” without even missing a beat you give jeongguk a once over, admitting his worth of the nickname he’ll soon forth be known as in the office, “mr. jeon, mr. park is thrilled to meet you.”

jimin didn’t exactly say that - he only yawned when you briefed him about the interview with the possible new tech guy before dozing off in the passenger seat for the rest of the ride.

“you work here?” thawed from his initial shock, jeongguk hurriedly tries to catch up to you when he sees you walking towards the double doors of your boss’ office which is just twenty feet away.

“oh no, i just deliver pizza and happen to know where the ceo’s office is,” and that marks your second eyeroll for the day to which jeongguk’s lips tuck into a blatant sneer.

before he even finished his “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed”, you’re already knocking twice on the door before strutting into the room where jimin’s face lights up at the sight of you before returning to its unsmiling state when his eyes lands on something over your shoulder.

“mr. park, mr. jeon is here for the interview for the management information systems director position,” you hand him the ipad with jeongguk’s resume opened and ready for inspection.

jeongguk pretends not to see your feigned smile as you pass him but before you manage to exit the room, a voice stops you, “oh, miss ____, do you mind telling irene to make me an extra strong coffee?”

“i can make that, mr. park,” you announce, eyebrows threatening to weave themselves together at the peculiar order.

jimin only chuckles, “miss ____, you and i’s definition of extra strong is vastly different,” but before you can debunk it, he’s already complementing his insult with a praise, “you make the nicest chamomile tea though.”

all while jeon jeongguk stands in the middle of the way yet he’s the last thing you see and probably the last thing jimin notices.

“that’s fair,” with a nod and an amused smile, you leave through the door, knowing full well jeongguk is more than able to distinguish between what’s a facade and what’s not.

and he may very well be the first to call bullshit on your too respectful interactions with your boss.

jeongguk gets the position. naturally, he would - he graduated at the top of his class, became valedictorian, dished out an inspiring speech to which taehyung showed you a video of when you were having your trimonthly meet up a year a ago.

he was a cutie with brains and brawn. his department sucked him in as their new director and colleague in no time. the news of the new tall and handsome as hell cutie who apparently looks better than most people in suit has spread to every other department with wendy and irene liasing between the rumors - considering the fact that they take the ‘first interaction’ privilege.

perks of being part of jimin’s secretary trio, you suppose.

the aforementioned man peeks up at you with a smirk, his leather black salvator snaking up the side of your black mesh pantyhose as you stand in front of him and just until five seconds ago, were briefing him about his meeting with the representative of the manufacturing company for the new chip.

“miss jisoo will be here in two hours and she’ll be discussing the direct materials cost, direct labor cost and manufacturing overhead - that’s where i’ll need you to pay attention because maque it is known for their concrete bargains but exceptional product outcome.” you inform.

“mr. park,” his eyes snap to yours, “my eyes are up here.”

you’re not sure what he sees, but it may or may not have something to do with your unyielding force but flirtatious tone - either way, he lets out a surrendered chuckle.

“i got it - bargain, get the cheapest overall cost but the best production,” he says before guiding your hand that’s under his chin to his mouth, taking your pinky finger between his pearly whites.

“good, call me if you need anything else,” you nod in approval, lips curling into a satisfied smile before summoning your hand back to your side.

the sound of your heels reverberate against the walls as you make your way to the doors but before you manage to step one foot out, he’s calling out for you, “____,” voice unsettlingly calm but his words couldn’t have been any more overbearing, “i expect the same amount of dedication for your... other line of work.”

you would have let that smile tuck into a knowing smirk, would have given him something to look forward to - enough to keep him on his toes for the rest of the day but not enough to be a distraction to his tasks. if not for the sight of a flock of wavy black hair and darkest brown eyes.

“mr. jeon,” your voice may have rose a pitch higher but you’ve managed to school it into a pleasant smile, “how may i help you?”

jeongguk’s eyebrows falter just the slightest bit as a flash of confusion mixed with suspicion crosses his face before he plainly says, “i have something to discuss with the ceo about my work.”

“i’m not sure how things work at your previous company but you need to schedule a meeting with mr. park before anything else but i’ll be glad to navigate you through your scope of duty since mr. park will redirect me to you anyway,” you say simply, noticing how the man’s eyes flit towards the tinted grey glass with three horizontal parallel line down the middle where one can distortedly see jimin’s body turned towards the glass the way it had been when you last saw him.

clearly, he’s watching this unfold through the same see through space.

“it’ll just take a sec - i promise,” jeongguk sounds halfway annoyed with your insistence.

when he takes a step to the side, you take another to the same side, “mr. jeon, this kind of behavior - and on your first day, at that - isn’t something you need on your record and i didn’t make that policy, it was mr. park,” with a the slightest tilt of your head, you let the smile turn into a snide one, “and since you’ve been going around chatting with your new coworkers, you should know a thing or two about how seriously mr. park values one’s descipline during work.”

he shoots you one last pondering look, tongue forming a gentle protrusion in his left cheek like he’d unconsciously do when he’s debating to do the opposite of what he’s told by first agreeing and then finding another way to get what he wants.

“fine,” his shoulder line jolts as he shrugs, hands shoved into his pocket as a strand of hair falls over his forehead, “i need a list of names of the people in my department as well as the last twenty year’s worth of projects held by the company.”

the smile you have on threatens to split into a disgruntled sneer at his ridiculous demand. ten years is the maximum amount of time someone would take to review and understand the workings of the company. fifteen is a stretch because there’s a chance of a change of policy. but a record of the past ten years means you’ll have to do some digging in the storage room since not all files were digitalized and being the new director of the IT department, jeon jeongguk is not oblivious to that very fact.

“i’ll have them on your desk by thursday,” you announce and he reiterates, “i need them by tomorrow.”

and that’s the last straw for you - letting out a sound between a scoff and a snide laughter, you place your hand on your hip, “huh, are you crazy?”

“i mean, as the new director, i need to learn the ropes of the company asap, no? don’t tell me you can’t even do that?” a smile creeps up jeongguk’s face, one that mimics that of a predator who’s caught his prey walking straight into his trap, “and all that talk about discipline.”

the contemptuous chuckle at the end is what boils the blood in your veins and before you know it, you’re spouting out words that you instantaneously regret as soon as they come out.

“of course, i’ll have them on your desk by tomorrow.”

“achoo!”

you curse underneath your breath as you sniffle from the remnants of the sneeze. fourty-three minutes in and you’re already on your nth sneezing fit. index finger flitting across the labels on the box, it takes you three nose scrunching and five boxes down the shelf to find a light blue label with ‘1998′ written next to a ‘september’.

well, that’s the second month of the year 1998 that you’ve managed to locate. the process repeats itself for a good twelve more minutes before you hear the screech of the in-need-of-oiling door and the echo of footsteps against the quiet walls before a tall, black haired figure steps into your periphery.

he’s looking as fresh and crisp as the tie hanging around his neck while you’re pretty sure your updo hair is halfway to giving out to gravity with how you’ve been moving boxes of files around.

“so what are we looking for?” jeongguk begins unnervingly calmly.

but you’re not one to turn down a hand, “anything blue with a label of 1990 up till 2010 - oh and they come in months.”

instead of complaining or at least making his displeasure known, the man simply starts searching the shelves five feet apart from you.

and so it goes, your file searching journey with your ex slash newly appointed coworker. multiple scenarios rushed through your head when you first heard jimin’s excellent review after jeongguk left. the elder man had been typing away on his mac when you’d come to pick up the empty mugs of coffee when he’d passingly say, “you know, there’s something about him that the other candidates lack - where’d you find this guy?”

but you never thought that being stuck in the files room alone would ever come up with this outcome-

“i heard you were the one who recommended me,” that voice of his is as sweet as the first drop of nectar but instead of the boyish tint, it’s tinged with a taste of wine and masculinity.

it’s familiar yet foreign all at once.

“then you must know all three secretaries were required to pick someone to recommend the job for,” with that, you twirl on your heels, a partially full box in your hand as you strut towards the desk where its blue shaded comrades awaits.

“so i’ve been told,” and that’s how you know jeongguk’s initial casual nature was just a facade to conceal his guilt-ridden conscience, “why didn’t you tell me? you didn’t even sign your name in the email - you never mentioned anything -”

“it’s nothing personal, guk,” you cut him off, back on him you pretend to rummage through each individual file of the recent box you’d found, “we needed a new IT director and you fit the criteria but if i gave out any indication that i was the one who reached out to you, your decisions might be affected by that - even just the slightest bit and that’s the last thing i want,” you say simply, “not to mention we pay better - so you get it, right?”

when you twirl around to face him, arms crossed over you chest, ass leaned up against the desk whilst your left knee slants to rest over its right counterpart, you finally meet the man’s curious doe eyes. they’re marred with the signs of life but still as exuberant and beautiful as the first day he stopped you in the hallway. his smiles are more expensive now and he doesn’t shyly look down before talking to you but he’s still the same high school heartthrob you’d had the fattest crush on.

and that’s the thing about high school and the matters of the heart - they’re meant to stay in the past as a fond yet foolish reminder of the things you would do when you were 16.

“i can’t have my guy prancing around the office like an uncivilized raccoon and ji- mr. park is extremely particular about time,” you sigh, throwing your gaze to your blood red soles if only because you can’t hold his gaze longer than this, “trust me, i don’t do things to inconvenience you just because i should have some kind of personal vendetta against you - i don’t.”

“wonder why i have been getting the opposite vibe from you ever since i came,” his shoulder line jolts slightly as he shrugs, eyes rolling but the tiniest smile on his face tells you that it’s all a good natured jest.

“i’m sorry - every time i look at you, it feels like i went back to being that high school girl who lashed out at everyone and everything,” it’s the way his eyes sparkle like stars at your words that drives you to quickly add, “my therapist told me to take a step back every time i feel like saying something mean to you because it’s just my own defense mechanism - i’m still working on it.”

“oh,” is all he says before a blanket of silence wraps around the both of you. it goes on for the longest moment with jeongguk’s unfocused yet heavy gaze on you.

he does that - staring off at something when he’s processing information and knowing his ex-girlfriend who he cheated on now goes to therapy, isn’t something one hears everyday.

“well, let’s get these,” you light tap the box on your left, “to your office - i’ll have the intern pick the rest later.”

“oh-” almost as though snapped from a daze, jeongguk blinks. one. twice. until he’s rushing to your side to get at least two boxes, one piled on top of the other, in each arm while you choose to only carry two.

when he finally finds his words, the first thing he says it -“you don’t have to get me all 20 years of record - 10 is enough and if you walk me through how things work, i’d be really grateful.”

you scoff, a smile on your lips before he mimics yours, “are you like, concerned about me cause i told you i’m seeing therapist -”

“me? concerned? about you?” his body moves along with his eye roll but his tone lacks the sarcasm he’s intending, “not in a thousand years.”

jeongguk is concerned. he tips toes around you like you’re the thinly veiled ice over a lake of emotions. as though one wrong move and you’ll break. and that’s how you know you’re not the only one who’s changed and grown with the years you spent apart.

the jeon jeongguk you knew couldn’t care less if you’d fallen into the darkest depth of your ruins - only because you’d hurt him just as much.

though you haven’t got to the point of having lunch together like wendy and irene and the entire team from his department had, you’ve had moments in between coming back from lunch with jimin and just before lunch hour is up where you’re in the pantry with ice cream in your hand and your phone in the other.

while you’re sure no one would be coming around this time of the day, jeon jeongguk finds away to surprise you with his sudden appearance. strutting in as if he doesn’t notice you, picking up the instant coffee packet only to place one newly stirred coffee cup between you and him as he sips his own that he made with the one he’s apparently gifting you.

“why?” you narrow your eyes at him, suspicion filling every inch of your curled lips.

“oh you know,” his shoulder line shrugs and you realize he’s grown a few inches taller because his shoulder fully past your head, “cause i heard you like your coffees with cream too.”

“how do i know it’s not poisoned?” still dubious, you keep your eyes on him like a hawk - nothing can get past you, not even a nervous gulp.

but instead, he throws his head back, sighing, “___, you literally saw me make them.”

“i don’t know, you’re acting kinda sus, guk,” you insist, phone screen long dead as you take one last bite of the ice cream before tossing the stick into the trashcan.

“sus? me?” his free hand comes flying up to his chest as he looks at you in disbelief.

“give me yours,” you finally announce, hand struck out with your palm facing upwards.

“whatever, idiot,” he shakes his head still, despite failing to hide the tiniest smile that begins to tuck on the corners of his lips before placing the cup he’s been holding on your awaiting hand.

“yay,” you grin, delighted before taking one long sip and breathing out in satisfaction, “i live another day.”

and so it goes, the light banters between moments in time. luckily for you, jeongguk is all round charmer that makes anyone and everyone - men, women and non-bonarys alike - who’s talking to him smile from ear to ear from something he says. possibly a compliment, possibly an agreement to what the other party was saying.

nobody suspected that either of you knew each other prior to this and that’s one less office rumor to look out for. you offer to help jeongguk settle in, murmuring names of the people who greets him so that he’d greet back with their informed name, seeing their faces light up a bit more at the realization that their new boss’s recognition.

“aren’t you with park 24/7? how do you know everyone in this company?” he asks one fine morning after you both got to his desk.

“i’d say it’s talent but i basically had to memorize them overnight right after i joined,” you shrug, “it wasn’t easy but you realize the difference it makes in everyone’s performance when they think their boss knows who they are.”

“so that’s the kind of person park is,” jeongguk nods whilst clicking on the ‘transfer files’ option on the screen of his computer.

“mr. park isn’t like the devil boss from hell - he’s just really self-disciplined,” you correct.

“if he was then why did he make you memorize the names of his employees?” he shoots you a look, one that says ‘you know i’m right’ to which you only roll your eyes.

“the same reason why he needs three secretaries to do his bidding - he’s too busy,” you shoot him a ‘no, you’re not’ look before sticking out your hand after the files are finish being transferred.

“how come i only get one?” his eyebrows knit together in a mixture of dissatisfaction and confusion as he places the usb drive into your hand, not quite showing any signs to take his own hand off just yet.

“maybe ‘cause you’re not that important?” you shoot him a similar ‘you know i’m right’ kind of manner and before he can even say anything, you’re curling your hand over the drive before twirling on your heels.

“ouch, you know that kinda hurts,” a voice comes up behind you and almost like a tidal wave, your apology comes in a second too soon, “really? sorry, i went too far-”

before you can even finish your words, you’re left rooted in your spot. a few feet away from the glass encased room where most of the executives and their secretaries are seen stepping in.

it’s the chuckle that reverberates against your eardrums that washes away your initial guilt like sand on shore, “you’re so-” jeongguk pauses, staring at you with eyes you can’t quite decipher and a flash of emotion you have never seen him make, “you’re so soft, you know that?”

“that wasn’t funny, jeongguk,” you fix him a hard stare, arms crossing over your chest.

“sorry - what i meant is,” and that’s the thing about the two of you - ever since you’d admitted your faults, jeongguk has followed your lead to apologize first. pride seems to be the last thing standing between the two of you at the moment - and it’s times like these, where you’re willing to listen and he’s willing to explain, that you think you might just escape that dark dwelling you call your past.

“miss ___,” a familiar voice drums in your ears, a hand on your lower back pulling your attention from the man in front of you to the attractive devil that’s on your side. the infernal spark in those dark eyes of his disappears as soon as he turns to - “jeongguk, i take it miss ____ has been a great help with the presentation you’re about to show us?”

“yes,” the aforementioned man nods, a look of unadulterated confidence making its way to his face as it replaced the lingering stare where jimin’s arm disappeared behind you, “i couldn’t have finished it this fast without ___.”

at jeongguk’s words, jimin lets a smile slip onto his strong features, making him look less like the unapproachable man he’s known for, “i’m looking forward to it.”

it’s only after jeongguk is walking a few steps ahead towards the open doors of the meeting room and jimin’s hand has long left your body, does the man murmur under his breath, “i’ve received applications for jeongguk’s secretary position, do you mind looking through them for me? though... i left them at my place - if you could come up with me to pick them later after work, it’d be great.”

“really?” you quickly say, before realizing it’d come off too excited for a request of overtime so you clear your throat, looking around the vicinity to see if anyone noticed, “i mean, yes, i can do that - i can drop by for a few minutes.”

“perfect,” his eyes disappears into crescents as the corners of his lips tuck higher before you part ways - him taking the seat at the end of the oval table while you head over to the computers connected to the projector, shoving the drive you’ve had trapped in your hand into its port.

“i’ve heard some things,” jimin’s honey voice is barely the subject of your conscience as you watch his lithe fingers working around the buckle of his belt until one end hangs loose before he pulls on the other, the sound of leather against fabric cutting the air like knife.

after jeongguk’s presentation which was met with praises and positive responses by the board, jimin had easily approved of the proposed updates on the - as the first would call it - a tad bit out dated data base. when the wendy, irene and the rest of his team was about to head out for dinner to celebrate their well earned success, you’d belatedly told them that you couldn’t make it because you had to drive jimin home.

seeing as it was a norm for the head secretary to also take on the role of the ceo’s chauffer, nobody questioned it.

nobody but the latest addition to the company.

jeongguk looked like he wanted to say something, stared at you a little longer as you fixed him and the rest of your leaving coworkers a ‘have fun, guys!’ kind of wave. but you suppose that could wait.

“i didn’t think you’d be one to pay attention to rumors,” you manage to say, swallowing heavily as you tear your gaze from jimin’s apt hands that are looping the belt into its buckle.

“this one’s a little bit interesting,” the chuckle he lets out is sinfully innocent compared to the way he slips the looped belt through your head and pulls on it, forcing the leather material to envelop your neck like a collar, “something about you and jeon having a special relationship.”

“that’s-” the words gets stuck in your throat when your heart leaps up at the slightest tuck on your neck, almost as if he’s saying to ‘choose your words carefully, dove.’

“it’s a matter of the distant past,” you say, sending a grateful prayer to the gods for allowing your voice to sound unbothered.

“didn’t seem like what the rumors are saying,” his breath fans your face as he whispers against your ear - you have to clench your fists together to stop the shivers from wracking through your body, “but that’s alright - at the end of the day, it’s my name you’re screaming.”

a moan escapes your mouth when a pair of plump lips press against yours. sparks in your veins and passion in your heart. before you know it, you’re blindly grasping onto the zipper of of jimin’s trousers, salivating at the thought of a part of him you know too well.

“please, daddy, let me suck your dick,” you plea, eyebrows knitting together with a sort of yearning and frustration from how achingly patient the striking blonde man in front of you is.

if it were up to him, you’d be soaking up the carpeted floor with your arousal throughout the night and he’d still manage to edge you on until you’re begging to come.

but that’s the thing, either way, you’re going to be begging for him. and you’d learned earlier on that you gain less from holding onto your pride than holding onto jimin’s dick.

with your mouth, that is.

it’s the morning after that - that you curse yourself for not putting any restraints to your carnal desires. in your defense though, begging and pleading jimin to push you to your limits seemed like an irresistible option at the time. that is, until you’re digging out what clothes you have in the drawer in your allocated room only to find most of them catering to the neck-to-just-above-the-cleavage-reveal kind of look.

so you opt for scarves - the bruises aren’t bad but the first days are always the hardest. and jimin notices the way you’re craning your neck from side to side as you keep your eyes trained on the red light that’s about to turn green anytime soon.

“does it hurt?” the saccharine sweet voice drips with honeyed concern whilst his hand goes to massage the back of your neck.

you hum in appreciation, “that feels good.”

“maybe i should’ve been gentler,” the tinge of remorse in his voice doesn’t go past you.

“that’s not even where it hurts most,” you giggle, feeling the familiar tingle in between your legs but you manage to push it to the back of your mind as you say, “but you know i like it when you’re rough.”

jimin only laughs, head shaking at your blatant confession. and so the mini massage session continues until the car starts rolling into motion. you go on with your morning routine of reminding him of the list of things he’ll have to do and people to meet for the day.

it’s only after you’ve parked the car and turning off the ignition that your phone dings with a notification of a ‘you received 50, 000 dollars from park jimin’.

squealing, you hop out of the car, heels click clacking against the concrete as you mini run towards the blond who’d slipped out of the car a second earlier.

“thank you, daddy!” you grin, hands wrapping around his arm as he chuckles softly, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

“i booked you a session at lotus nirvana for the weekend,” he says a minute later as you stand in front of the elevator.

“oh my god,” you gasp, jaw hitting the floor, “the lotus? really?”

“and you can bring a plus one,” he boops your nose with his index finger, making you scrunch it because of the ticklish feeling it leaves.

“you’re the best!” you stand on your tip toes, placing a kiss on his cheekbone just before the elevator stops one level below the ceo and chairman’s parking level, revealing none other than jeongguk in a dashing cobalt blue louis vouitton suit.

you’ve managed to detach yourself from the now-unsmiling ceo who shoots the newcomer a brief smile as a greeting when jeongguk takes longer to look between you and his boss before finally stepping in.

“morning,” you greet with a wave, hoping to brush off the elephant in the room.

the man echoes back your words but nothing else - at least until you reach the 19th floor where jimin turns to you, hands in his pocket, “miss ___ i need to discuss something with you in my office,” just before you’re about to point out the sunken eyes in the younger man’s appearance.

“yes, mr. park,” you say in a heartbeat, before mouthing a ‘catch you later’ to the brunette.

in the next few days, you’ve opt for a variety of scarves to match your outfit. but more importantly, to hide the darkening bruises around your neck as you style your hair to hide what the scarves can’t.

it’s times like these that you keep your distance from people, choosing to stay in front of the computer unless jimin calls for you. whether to ask for if you’re up for having lunch with him, to inquire about the meeting he has or simply to just say “i miss your chamomile tea.”

at that, you can’t help but let the giggle break through your iron wall of a facade, “that’s what you called me for?”

the man’s eyes flit to the right for the briefest second, as though in search for a better answer which he finds none of before meeting your own, “yep, that’s what i called you for.”

“you’re so cute, daddy,” you gush, before placing you ipad down on the desk, hands coming up to frame around jimin’s cheeks as they turn round from the smile that slips onto his face, “i’ll make some for you tonight!” but then your shoulder line falls, eyebrows coming together, “wait - i have dinner with jeongguk tonight.”

“you mean jeon?” he raises an amused eyebrow to which you nod, hands falling away from his cheeks.

“i’ve been avoiding him these past few days and i think he’s getting a little suspicious about us spending so much time together - he thinks you’re... forcing me to do things,” you sigh - just this morning, the black haired cutie caught you in the middle of your way to your desk, pulling you to the side with a set of concerned eyebrows knitted together, “are you okay?”

you took a moment, eyes roaming around the vicinity as though it’d help spot the reason to this abrupt intervention before looking back at him, smiling cluelessly “...yeah, i’m fine.”

he let go of your arm to push his soft tresses which seemed to be missing its usual slick gelled look today, “the ladies have been saying park tends to work you to the bones every few times a month - like right now, and that’s a normal thing here?”

and because it wasn’t the kind of question you got asked often - people just accepted and were even glad that it wasn’t them that jimin was calling to his office every hour throughout the day, you had to take a moment to ponder on your answer “...yeah, it’s normal.”

“and you don’t care?” jeongguk’s blinked, mortified.

“i mean, that’s my livelihood right there so...” and you shrugged.

“i don’t know, i don’t like him,” his shoulder line tensed as he turned his body towards the wall sized window, eyes casted towards the neighboring skyscrapers.

“why?” was all you said - you’d understand intimidating. strict. unapproachable to describe the words jimin is, but no one’s ever confessed to outright disliking the man. but then again, you are the closest person to jimin in the company, no employee would risk getting fired because they blurted out their dissatisfaction towards their ceo to his head secretary.

“there’s just something about him that rubs me the wrong way,” instead of shrugging like what 17-year old jeongguk would have done, this older version of him didn’t even stutter.

you suppose one’s confidence and sense of reasoning - even though there wasn’t any particular reason for him to dislike jimin-

“...something about a ceo calling his head secretary ‘miss’ while he casually address everyone else by their name but never really talk to anyone beyond business matters while nobody’s has a single bad thing to say about him,” when jeongguk’s obsidian eyes fell on you, it was as though the background faded and you found yourself trapped in a glass cage - unable to run away from the truth he seemed to possess, “especially the person he’s overworking the most.”

“well,” there’s this habit that you do - laughing in the face of crisis and this was damn well a crisis because, “if you feel that way then you feel that way.”

“is there something you want to tell me?” he pressed on, speaking under his breath, “if you need help, you can always come to me.”

and that was when the laughter broke into a fit and you’re holding your stomach and his shoulder with your other hand, “jeongguk - i’m fine, really,” there was a tremble in his eyes as self doubt crept up his conscience, which meant whatever you were doing was working, “listen, how bout we go for dinner tonight with wendy and irene? i’m late but i wanna hear how your first staff dinner went.”

you managed to escape jeongguk right after his ‘...yeah, sure’ before mrs. yoo came up to you to ask about the arrangements of the seating for the upcoming corporate dinner. it’s in five months but preparations must be made in advance.

“if he’s starting to notice that means i’m not the only whose got his eyes on you,” the sweet honeyed voice pulls you out of your memories, almond shaped eyes staring at you with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

and for some reason, you felt the need to clarify where you stand and where jeongguk stands, “we were kids when we started dating - we know better now that both of us clash like two magnets on the opposite poles if we go beyond what friends are.”

“you know i have the utmost respect for you,” butterflies set flight in your stomach when jimin guides your right hand to his lips.

the place you end up going to is called han chu where it’s most famous for its variety of chicken-based cuisine which happens to be irene’s boyfriend’s family’s long standing business. it’d been packed with people, mostly those who’d got off work like yourselves but apparently, they have a different room for adhoc visitors who popped up out of nowhere.

“irene’s taking a long time at the washroom,” wendy announces, a small, jealous pout on her lips as she sticks her chopsticks into the rice bowl before you and jeongguk exchange a knowing look with each other.

since her boyfriend works here, you’re pretty sure that everyone in the room knows irene, in fact, did not go to the washroom. and wendy isn’t too secretive about her want for a man she can call her own to which, two bottles of soju later, she slams her glass against the table and confesses, “i’m so lonely, i want a boyfriend!”

by then, irene’s already back and chiding the younger woman about how she needs to stop drinking so much because apparently, at jeongguk’s congratutional dinner, she was that coworker that drank herself silly and might or might have not blurted out something about jeongguk’s exceptional proportions in front of the entire IT department.

“___! you’re single, right?” the way jeongguk’s hand seems to be take longer to pick up one of those spicy-sweet chicken even though he was gobbling them up like there was no tomorrow just five seconds ago, doesn’t go unnoticed by you, “let’s go to a mixer! i’ll text my friend to include our names for one this weekend.”

this time, the way jeongguk’s visibly tensed shoulder line is no coincidence.

“i’m good, thanks,” you chuckle, patting the woman’s shoulder.

irene on the other hand, looks increasingly worried about her fellow coworker as time passes. it’s when wendy starts to gulp down the soju straight from the bottle that you step in, swiping it out of her hands and placing it back down on the table.

“alright, that’s enough for tonight, let’s get you home” at that, you shoot irene a signal with your eyes, counting a short ‘1,2,3′ before you both hoist her up to her feet, directing her arm over your shoulder while irene does the same with the other one.

“i’ll get the car - you ladies wait at the front of the restaurant ” jeongguk announces, just as you step out of the room.

“thanks, guk,” you fix him an appreciative smile, grateful for not having to drag the half-conscious woman’s body all the way to the parking lot.

“you know, he’s been staring at you the whole night,” a voice giggles - and seeing how wendy can barely even open her eyes, that could only mean that it’s the only other woman that’s holding her up that also decided to let out such absurd statement.

“that’s cause i was sitting next to wendy - who by the way, isn’t exactly a quiet drinker,” you roll your eyes, before a separately realization hits you- “you didn’t drink.”

“well, i can’t really at the moment,” the brunette’s voice takes a gentler turn as you watch her free hand clasp her stomach.

“oh my god,” jaws on the ground, you’re not sure if you’re even blinking, “you’re pregnant? how long far along are you?”

“a month, me and jae were discussing how we’re gonna tell our families,” she meets your wide eyed gaze half-heartedly, “and if i’m going to continue working after i give birth.”

“either way i’m so happy for you,” you reach out your free hand that’s not wrapped around wendy’s waist to which the elder woman accepts, squeezing your hand just hard enough for you to feel her fears and excitement and overflowing joy flow through you, “you and jaebum are gonna be the best parents.”

“i never really said it but you helped me a lot when i just started,” the tears in her eyes makes them look like sparkling stars in the midnight sky, “and you’ve always been so supportive - seriously, ___, thank you.”

“stop,” you squeak in between holding your breath and holding back your tears, “i’m gonna cry.”

“if you cry, i’ll cry,” irene is already pulling her hand away and fanning her face, glimmering eyes turned to the sky.

it’s a moment later that a car rolls to a stop in front of the two of you. the window rolling down, revealing an extremely concerned jeongguk, “what happened?”

the “it’s a girl thing” comes a few moments later, particularly after you slipped into the passenger’s seat next to him while irene sits at the back with wendy’s head in her lap.

by the time you reach wendy’s apartment building, irene announces that she’s staying over at the first. if only to look after the drunken woman and make sure she’s okay.

“are you sure?” you ask to which she nods, murmuring something about how wendy couldn’t survive without her hungover soup if she didn’t stay and make it.

wendy manages to sober up and walk with irene holding her hand. and with the way she’s slow-waving at you, you take it as your cue to leave too.

“call me if you need anything, okay?” is the last thing you say before the two of them step through the clear glass door.

the rest of the ride is filled with silence, save for the faint sound of low volumed music in the background.

that is, until one of you decides to break it with a kind of heartwarming concern you thought already left his mind, “so are you okay?” he peeks at you from the corner of his eyes, as if to check if the tears were still there, “you were crying just now.”

you can’t help but laugh, “don’t worry - they were tears of joy.”

“oh?” only then does he allow the smile to tuck on the corner of his lips, “what about?”

“i don’t know if i can say it,” you feel your own lips curling, “not my story to tell.”

“okay,” he nods, “as long as you’re okay.”

and so the silence returns but this time, it’s no where suffocating or makes you want to hop out of a moving car just to get away from the man you thought you could never stand to be alone with five months ago.

at first, you told yourself that it was for the good of the company - that you didn’t need to be friends, civility was enough. but then you had that talk in the storage room - both equally tensed but both grown out of their youthful impatience into someone who was willing to listen and learn.

and you realized that you work well together - too well, in fact, that jeongguk’s own secretary would come to you even after four months of working with him, just to ask you if he’d prefer his coffees black or with cream.

but you suppose it was because this was her first job after graduating - you were used to taking notes of the littlest of things jeongguk did because that was what worked best for jimin. that, minus the already known facts about jeon jeongguk that you’d gathered during your two years of knowing him and three months of dating him.

and it’s almost as though the plants and the stars align, as the car comes to a stop in front of your apartment building and as he pulls the brake before turning his upper half towards you, “i had a great time tonight.”

“me too, guk, and thanks for driving irene, wendy and me home - you’ve become quite the gentleman,” you chuckle to which the corners of his lips upturns, while his eyes casts itself down to his hands before they meet yours again.

“it was the right thing to do,” but then you can’t escape his eyes - those obsidian eyes that seem to reach through the windows of your soul effortlessly.

“well,” the smile may have been forced but it’s still comes from the heart, “i better go in.”

“yeah - yeah you should,” he nods and you thought you’re just imagining things - irene’s initial observation might or might not have gotten to you.

but just as you’re about to open the door, hand on the handle, jeongguk speaks again, “i was hoping,” at that, you turn to him, “you and me,” you can only hope he can’t hear the sound of your pumping heart, “we could try again, you know?”

you’d like to believe that you’ve gone past that part of your life where you hurt and you hurt others back - the ones that tried to help you, pull you out of that darkened cocoon that you grew so accustomed to.

like to believe that it took a bit more nudging for you to break through the cocoon and that was okay - everyone needed a little bit of help at some point of their life. yours happened to be when you were sixteen hitting seventeen. and even now, you still need help to fly - to let your wings flutter through the wind without breaking and hitting the hard cold ground.

but all of a sudden, you find yourself that same cocoon you thought you abandoned with the ugliest dark brown and maroon walls - the color of the school mascot that seemed to be the symbol of the baseball team’s undefeated victory throughout the year. and all because taehyung’s brother, jeongguk just joined the team.

and you were just one of the many girls who had her eyes on the ace. except your best friend was dating the captain so you sometimes joined her as she watched him practice. until jeongguk noticed you. until he lift you up and broke you down.

“jeongguk,” you say, heart erratically clawing against your chest - obsidian is the color of jeongguk’s eyes as he waited for your answer with bated breath, a rap song is playing in the background, smooth is the material of the handle of the door under your fingertips, marc jacobs is the perfume that faintly wafts from jeongguk’s collar and sweet is the taste of peach soju you had, “i think it’s best to maintain a professional working relationship instead.”

almost as though being pulled from a trance, jeongguk recoils, eyes blinking once before he blurts out a “yeah,” then, a moment later, “yeah, that’s probably the best - sorry for-”

“it’s fine,” you shrug.

“-making everything awkward.” he finally stops.

“i’ll see you on monday,” you say - not so sure if it’s the right thing to say, but jeongguk nods, echoing your words, “yeah - see you monday.”

and with that, you slip out of the car, heels clicking against the ground as you tread towards the door without looking back.

monday turns to tuesday and then tuesday turns to an abundant of weeks. your interactions ceased to a strictly professional, work-based relationship. jeongguk talks to you only when he needs clarifying where his own secretary can’t give him an answer.

you go to him when his secretary is doing a job that requires her to go mia for the day. wendy and irene are well aware of the sudden shift in your dynamics but if you’d gladly told them jeongguk was your ex-boyfriend then you gladly told them what you told jeongguk that night.

your only regret was taking away their own friendship with jeongguk. none of them went out for dinner with him because they were torn between their loyalty to their colleague-turned-friend and the boss whom they were halfway to befriending if not for your complicating the whole thing up.

“but you decided to keep your peace instead of the peace around you and i’m proud of you for choosing yourself first,” jimin had told you as he traced patterns on the dip of your back.

and you might or might not have cried and fell asleep in his arms that night before cancelling your appointment with your therapist with the next day and choosing to have it at the end of the month like you were supposed to. ever since then, your relationship hadn’t been all that physical.

“i think i need time for myself,” you’d told him in the middle of getting stuck in traffic with unmoving cars on either side of you, “but i also still want to see you.”

jimin who’d been staring out of the window mindlessly had turned to you - instead of asking you to repeat what you’d said because he barely caught it, he’d fixed you the warmest of smiles, “it’s been over a year, ___, didn’t it ever occur to you that i wanted more than just sex from this? from us?”

if there was something park jimin was, it was arcane. mysterious - just as you thought you figured out his wants and needs, he makes a 180 and surprised you in ways you never would have seen coming.

“doesn’t it bother you that i’m... this?” there was no word for it - for being yourself but also feeling like someone entirely different all at once.

“no, it doesn’t,” he’d look straight at you as he said it, “i know you probably don’t feel like it right now, but let’s go on a walk by the han river.”

and that was where you talked about your feelings and what you could and couldn’t give while you nibble on the fish shaped bun that was wafting with heavenly scent throughout your walk until you found the stall.

jimin still wanted to pay you for the times you’ll be spending together even though there won’t be sex invloved.

“we still have another few months of the contract, if i don’t pay you then i’d be breaching it,” he’d argued with crescent shaped eyes and the most beautiful smile.

“alright but i’m paying for dinner and lunches from now on,” and there was no changing your mind.

so it goes, you work in the day and leave with jimin for the night. he’d steal away your mac and you’d steal away his but for the most parts, you’d do work in the same room. he’d stop and stepped out only to bring you a cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows and you’d pay back with chamomile tea.

then came the annual dinner which marked five months since that night. he’s decked in a stylish cut black tux with a blue sheen reflected under the light. paired with a glass flute of white wine, he’d probably already won at least three hearts only an hour into the commencement of the dinner while your teeth clamor at the low temperature of the hall.

you’re halfway ready to curse yourself for foregoing your crop blazer in jimin’s car all because you remember been too warm in it - but that was last year and the air conditioning needed fixing - when something warm engulfs your open shoulders.

“jimin,” you blink, recalling the last man talking to a board member just a moment ago before you’d stepped out.

“you should’ve told me you were cold,” he chides and only then do you notice the lack of blazer on his vest-hugged body.

stealing a glance into light poured room, you briefly stand on your tip toes, hands wrapped around the man’s arm as you pull him down to meet your halfway.

“thank you, daddy,” with that, you step away, feeling the rush of heat on your cheeks and the thrill of adrenaline in your veins.

“you’re welcome, dove,” and as soon as he goes back inside, he’s swarmed with other guests who must have wondered where the star of the night went.

and you would have turned to the cityscape if not for the glint of light trapped in glass.

“jeongguk,” your voice is strained, so you clear your throat and put on a smile to cover it up, “how long have you been there?”

a scoff follows your inquiry, “you’re not 16 and a guy giving you his jacket doesn’t mean jack shit, ___.”

at the uncalled for response, you subconsciously tug on the center front of the blazer, “first off, it’s armani, not polyester,” you say, not missing the way his eyes twitching at the comparison - he used to lend you his jackets and sweaters back when you were dating, “and whatever i do with my personal life is none of your business - i don’t have to explain myself to you.”

another scoff hits the air as he steps out of the shadow and into the sliver of light that pours from the hall and onto the veranda, “so all that talk about maintaining a professional relationship were just excuses? because you couldn’t get over the past?”

“the p -” you almost choke on your words, “the past when you cheated on me with my best friend all because i said taehyung was in the right for getting mad at you over you ruining his only chance to get into one of the best theater school in the world?”

“it’s cause of you!” the fact that his voice rose doesn’t go unnoticed even to him as he looks around and only after making sure that nobody was listening, does he continue is a hushed but harsh tone, “i slept with heather because you pushed me to her. if i wanted someone to point out the many list of things i did ‘wrong’ i could’ve just went to my parents.”

you sigh, “that’s the problem, guk-”

“don’t call me that, you don’t get to call me that,” he shoot backs.

“jeongguk,” you rephrase, fingers fiddling with each other until you’ve hit the ten-second mark, “what we had was toxic. we needed so much work on our self-esteem and personal traumas but we turned to each other hoping the other could fix it and all we did was make it worse.”

“please, you were the one who was so insecure about heather - you think i don’t realize how you look at her? how you compare yourself to her when all she did was be your friend?” it takes everything in you not to flinch at his choice of words, “what personal trauma,” he laughs dryly.

“that’s what i’ve been working on but i’m not the only one flawed -your parents,” you say, choosing to ignore the first part of his retort, “them constantly paying more attention to your brother just because he was older and achieved a little bit more than you did. and everyone else who compared you to taehyung’s ‘legacy’. so you turn to the only girl who noticed you,” there’s a flash in his eyes, one that burns bright with anger - just like it did all those years ago.

but you pretend not to notice, “and i was so caught up with the idea of a boyfriend of my own - a guy that didn’t choose heather over me that i did everything i could to keep you. i was toxic to you because i agreed with everything you said, i put down others while i lifted you up but as soon as i tried to fix what i’d done,” you heave out a sigh, “one push - that’s all it takes for you to fall right out my arms and if that wasn’t enough i hurt you by sleeping with taehyung.”

the last thing you see is the boy the with maroon and brown jacket, staring right at you with eyes prickling with tears and face flushed pink but no words come out from his clamped mouth.

so you turn you back on him like you did five years ago. you turned your back on jeongguk and you don’t look back.

you find jimin somewhere amidst the crowd, conversing with a guest from your rival company.

“mr. park,” his eyes focus on your tight-lipped smile as soon as he sees it, you don’t even have to say another word when he excuses himself and you, not even sparing a glance at the guest before his hand finds itself on your waist, guiding you through the room and into the empty hallway since all the guests have arrived and jimin was supposed to deliver the opening speech before you took him away from it.

you barely remember the ride to his place and how he’d sat you down on his bed, kneeling right in front of you with eyes overflowing with concern.

smooth is jimin’s skin under your fingder pads when you touch his face. plump is his lips that you kiss and sweet is the taste of his mouth from the red wine you’d seen him down at the beginning of the event. the woody scent of bleu de chanel that you got him for his birthday last year is what fills your senses.

but they’re gone too soon.

“are you sure?” jimin’s eyes bore into yours, searching for something - something you can’t pinpoint.

“jimin, please, i-” and that’s all it takes for him to press his lips harder to yours, one hand groping your breast while the other pushes the weight of the jacket off your shoulders.

the room is silent.

save for the tapping sound of your fingers across the keyboard. that is, until another pair of hands capture them and brings them across your chest in a hug whilst you giggle at the ticklish sensation of deep violet strands brushing against your cheek, “let’s have dinner together tonight.”

at that, your mouth clamps shut, body recoiling to the side to meet a pair of almond eyes, “don’t you have dinner with chairman of samsung tonight?”

from the way jimin’s lips purse together into a pout, it seems like you hit the nail right on its head, “you quit being my secretary - you should let me lie to you and say i’m free so we can have some ‘us’ time.”

“nope,” you shake your head, breaking free from the man’s grasp before looking at him pointedly, “you’re not going to skip a meal with one of the most influential person in the world.”

“how’s the website going?” he attempts to change the topic, eyes focusing on the sequence of letters and numbers on the screen of your mac as if he understood what the codes say.

yet you humor him, “it’s going okay, though i can’t seem to figure out how to configure the servers.”

it’s been six months since you’ve quit the job. three since you permanently moved in with jimin and one since you’ve got the paperworks done to open up your own joined business with irene. she decided to follow your footsteps to quit even though wendy was basically clinging onto her legs when she came over to pick up her belongings with a growing belly and a sort of radiance on her face.

naturally, the position for co-secretary was opened and applications were flooding in, so much so wendy had to beg you to meet with her somewhere just to review them together.

“i don’t know how to read people,” she lamented, “i do the technical stuff and you do the mind games - by the way,” something flashed in her eyes as her voice lowered into a whisper, “how did you to it?”

she meant, the explosive and tea-worthy news of how you and jimin came to be.

nobody knew about you and him until much much later. when you were free to go out to dinners and social events together with your hand on his arm and him strutting in with a never-before-seen smile. more jaws dropped that afternoon than the money raised for the event.

jeongguk is still the director of the IT department - you left to keep your peace but you’d also hope to keep his. because that’s the thing about past loves and open wounds. they hurt and they bleed with just the right words as knives but it’s how you choose to treat them that heals you.

and though your way of healing is by tearing a piece of yourself over and over again until you grow a new, steeler part that doesn’t mean you loathe the parts you’ve chosen to cut off.

as such, you don’t hate jeongguk - you still want him to live life to his fullest potential. you still want him to thrive like a wilting flower after a rainstorm.

you just didn’t want to - can’t be part of that life.

“my father used to say, ‘if you find yourself in a dry spell of ideas’, take a break,” jimin’s voice is laced with a sort of playfulness as his eyes disappear behind crescent moons, “particularly in mauritius.”

“you did not book a plane to one of the most beautiful islands in world,” you can feel your cheeks hurting from the growing smile that creeps up your face, “did you?”

“our flight scheduled to leave at 2 in the afternoon tomorrow,” he sweeps you up into his arms like you weight nothing at all.

“jimin!” a yelp escapes your lips in between him twirling around and the background moving too fast whilst your arms find their way to his shoulder, “you know i can’t hide a whole ass romantic getaway from my mother! what am i going to tell her when her unemployed, supposedly single daughter starts missing our daily calls because i was too busy vacaying?”

“a month,” jimin adds, head bopping against yours - you’re not quite sure when he stopped twirling, “we’re staying there for a whole month.”

“oh my god,” at first, excitement flashes across your face, then worry follows a second later, “what about your schedule? it’s gonna get pushed back - the phone calls wendy’ll have to make!”

“lisa’s in charge of the phone calls,” he means the new addition to his line of secretaries.

“doesn’t make it okay to give her all the work!” you say, not quite as passionate about someone you’ve never met as he gently lowers you, arms still banded around your waist whilst your foreheads touch.

“after we come back, i’ll make arrangements so your parents could come here - so i could meet them,” he steals a kiss from your half-open mouth.

“you’re kidding, you’re gonna meet my parents?” you echo, halfway into believing that you’re hearing things if not for the way his recently dyed hair bounces as he nods.

“i need their blessings first, don’t i?” he says, chuckling.

“after banging their daughter into the bed every single night, you’re gonna need a whole lot of those,” you pat his hair, in a ‘good luck’ kind of manner - your father isn’t the most welcoming and your mother won’t be as pleased to hear the out-of-the-ordinary ways you fell in love.

a bout of chuckles later, he’s swiping you up in his arms again as he carries you towards the familiar hallway where your shared bedroom lies while you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“but daddy, it’s still morning,” you giggle.

“didn’t stop you from begging for my dick yesterday, did it?” the corner of his lips curve into a smirk.

note. story time (a short post where i talk about the background of the fic eg. why i decided to write it, the overall message of the fic etc.) is already up (queued along w the fic)!

i’m aware that armani is a brand and polyester is a clothing material so it technically can’t be compared together but in a deeper sense, armani’s material is more comfortable than polyester so it works (pls make it work) ahahahahahaha

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wisteriashouse · 4 years ago

Text

three pointer.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, romance, college!au

word count: 2453

remarks: for @kyojoroo who mentioned something about a college!au for kyojuro!! this is a bit of an ugly draft, but i just wanted to post it anyway (because i spent too much time on it) i hope you enjoy it!

“Great game!”

“Yeah, you were a beast on the court, captain!”

“That last shot was insane! We wouldn’t have won without you!”

“Thanks, everyone,” Kyoujurou laughs as he steps into the communal showers, peeling off his basketball jersey as he goes. After a whole after non of so called friendly matches against a rival college, Kyoujurou can’t wait to get into the showers to wash all the sweat and grime that has accumulated off his body. “We all did great today, not just me. It’s our victory.”

“Oh, stop it with the humility, Rengoku, it’s embarrassing to watch,” someone shoves his shoulder playfully from the back - Kyoujurou turns around to see Tengen grinning at him as he steps into the shower next to his, tossing his own jersey to the side. “I’ll eat my gym socks if the headhunters aren’t brawling over you at this year’s nationals. They’ll be like a bunch of piranhas trying to get a piece of that ass.”

Kyoujurou shakes his head, but there’s a pleased smile curling at the corners of his lips. “Let’s just focus on making it to the finals firsts,” he says with a quick laugh, stripping off his shorts and stepping into the shower. Cold water runs down his back, splashes over his face. He glances at the clock hanging on the wall.

Five minutes to eight.

He reaches for the soap just as one of his teammates starts asking around where the rest want to head to for dinner. There’s a smattering of replies from the team, consisting of answers ranging from Wendy’s to the sushi place down the street, punctuated by the sound of running water. Kyoujurou, however, does not answer, focusing his attention on rinsing his hair clean of any soap suds before he’s reaching for his towel to dry himself off.

Tengen, who’s in the shower next to him, notices how quickly he’s moving.

“What’s with the rush?” Tengen calls as Kyoujurou roughly dries his hair. “Are you that eager to head to dinner? Or,” his smile turns sly, “is it because of the cute waitress there who has the hots for you?”

“What? Don’t be stupid,” Kyoujurou reaches for his shirt, tugging it over his head and casting another glance at the clock. Eight o’ clock now. Damn, he’s late. “Besides, I’m not having dinner with you guys today. I have something else on.”

Tengen raises his eyebrows so fast Kyoujurou thinks that they might just fly off his forehead. “You have something else on?” He repeats, so loudly he might as well be trying to broadcast it to Mars. And to nobody’s surprise, least of all Kyoujurou’s, everyone in the showers is immediately aware of Kyoujurou’s dinner plans.

“Ehh? Captain, you’re not coming with us for dinner?”

“Yeah, we were gonna treat you and have some drinks after!”

“No, no, everyone, let him go,” Tengen’s eyes glint, and instantly Kyoujurou knows that his thoughts are ballooning far beyond the reaches of reality. “He’s definitely got himself a date, fucking finally-” Kyoujurou slaps a hand over Tengen’s mouth to shut him up before another word can leave him. The man might be one of his best friends, but god can he be annoying sometimes.

“I am going to dinner with a friend.” Kyoujurou emphasizes on the word ‘friend’. Tengen waggles his eyebrows very suggestively at him.

“A very… flamboyant type of friend?” He suggests, and Kyoujurou throws his towel at him. This, unfortunately, only serves to make Tengen all the more insufferable than he already is, the man dissolving into a bout of uncontrollable laughter. Kyoujurou groans.

“Stop it.” Sending one last look at the clock, he gathers up his things and shoves them into his backpack before pulling on his varsity jacket as fast as he can. “I’m meeting a very friend sort of friend for dinner, so don’t get any funny ideas. And stop it with the moaning noises,” he directs his last comment at Tengen, who’s still laughing at him. “I’ll see you guys for training tomorrow!”

As expected, a few shout goodbye in return while the rest hoot and holler for him to introduce them to his ‘special friend’ soon. With a quiet laugh and a shake of the head, Kyoujurou steps out of the sports hall, grateful for the cool evening air against his warm cheeks. Really, why do they feel the need to tease him like that?

He’s just about to take off at a light jog when his phone vibrates in the front pocket of his jeans.

Wincing around a slight smile, he hits ‘answer’ and raises the phone to his ear without a glance at the caller ID, the soles of the shoes slapping lightly against the pavement as he picks up a steady pace.

“Hey.” Kyojuro says. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too breathless.

“You’re late.”

“We went into overtime and the match ended late.” The lights are red when he reaches the crossroads, so he slows his pace and takes a moment to catch his breath. A car honks loudly opposite him. “Sorry about that.”

“Hmm.” A noncommittal noise, and then a pause. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Dinner?” He repeats. The lights turn green, and he begins to jog once more. “Uhh… a double cheeseburger set and a coke zero.” It’s difficult to run and talk at the same time, more so over the phone with his backpack jostling with every step he takes.

“Tempura side?”

A short bark of laughter leaves him. “You know me too well.” There’s a smile stubbornly clinging to his lips. He doesn’t want to get rid of it.

“You’re about as easy to read as a piece of paper.” A snort, then quieter, “I’ll be waiting for you at the diner.” Before Kyoujurou has the chance to say his own goodbye, the call hangs up on him. He holds the phone up, looks at it for a moment in amusement and laughs, before shoving his phone back into his pocket and quickening his pace, a new spring in his step.

You’re not a person who likes to be kept waiting.

>>>

The distance to the diner isn’t very far from the sports hall, so Kyoujurou takes only about ten minutes, at a light jog, to make it there. Slightly out of breath from the exertion, he takes a moment to catch his breath and collect himself, before he pushes open the door to the diner, eyes immediately searching the inside for-

You’re seated at one of the booths, dressed in a comfy oversized hoodie and idly scrolling through your phone as you wait for him, two trays of untouched food on the table in front of you. At the sight of you, his mood lifts instantly - you don’t seem to have noticed him yet, so he waits for a moment before he makes his way over to you, sliding into the seat opposite.

You look up from your phone, and Kyoujurou beams, shucking his bag to the side.

“Hey.”

You raise an eyebrow at his chipper attitude, glancing at the screen of your phone as you set it to the side. “You are,” your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek, “twenty minutes late.”

Kyojuro puts his palms flat on the table and bows his head sincerely. “I am very sorry,” he says, suitably chastened. “Please forgive me.” You look at him for a moment, then open your mouth to speak.

“Did you win?”

At that, the smile that Kyoujurou has been trying so hard to keep down inevitably breaks through. “Mmhmm,” he says, and he swears he catches a ghost of a smile touching your lips as well.

“Then I’ll let you off this time.” You push his tray towards him, condensation gathering on the outside of his drink. You’ve been waiting twenty minutes for him, after all.

“You could have started eating first, you know?” Kyoujurou says, slightly worried as he begins unwrapping his burger. “It’s not healthy to eat too late, and I know you skipped lunch for your project today.”

You shrug off his concern, lazily stealing a fry from his tray before he can stop you (not that he would, even if he could). “Wanted to eat together.” Is all you say in form of an answer, before popping it into your mouth.

Kyoujurou blinks at you, then reaches over to put a few more fries on your tray. He really needs to work on hiding his smile.

“Have some more, then.”

The two of you eat in comfortable silence amidst the chatter and noise ongoing behind you. Occasionally, Kyoujurou pauses between bites to ask you about your day, how your tests went. Conversation swells and ebbs easily between the two of you, never awkward, and the silence is always comfortable.

He finishes his meal first, demolishing the entire tray of food in a few big bites that would make Godzilla proud. Calling for an ice cream (because he’s still hungry), Kyoujurou settles his head on his hands, content to watch you eat, but to his surprise, you’re the one who speaks up first with an unexpected question.

“So, nationals.” You say, slowly. “When are they?”

Kyoujurou pauses, then blinks up at you, unsure if he’s mistaken the word ‘finals’ for ‘nationals’. You’ve never showed an interest in any of his basketball matches before, due to your dislike of large crowds and excessive screaming - hence, almost every basketball game ever. As far as he remembers, you’ve never even been to a game since… well, ever. Still, you asked, so Kyoujurou will answer.

“They start next month.” Kyoujurou sits up, back a little more straight. “Why?”

Ignoring his question, you simply continue. “It’s a big deal for you, isn’t it?” You lift your burger and take a bite out of it. “Your future, and all that.”

Kyoujurou exhales a bit before he smiles again. “Yeah, it’s huge. All the headhunters from the professional teams will be watching. I can’t afford to show them anything but my best if I’m serious about becoming a professional athlete in the future.”

You make a face. “That sounds… awful, to be honest.” Kyoujurou laughs at that. Instead of taking another bite of your burger, you take a breath, set it to the side and look at Kyoujurou seriously. Confused by the sudden change in mood, Kyoujurou looks back at you, back straightening subconsciously and leaning forward more so that he can hear you better. “Since that’s the case, do you…” you pause for a second, seemingly hesitant, which really piques Kyoujurou’s interest. “Do you want me to-”

Kyoujurou never does find out what it is that you’re suggesting, because in the next second you’re interrupted by an ice cream being set down on the table between you. You, as usual, fall silent in the presence of an unexpected stranger, and Kyoujurou wants to groan. Talk about bad timing. It had seemed serious.

“Oh, it’s you again, captain.” Kyoujurou looks up to see the waitress smiling at him - she’s the one who usually serves his team when they stop by here for team dinners. He returns her smile politely. “It’s surprising to see you here with someone other than your team.”

“I had plans with a friend,” Kyoujurou gestures at you, not noticing the slight frown that tugs at your mouth. The waitress’ mouth forms a slight ‘o’ of realisation at the word ‘friend’, fidgeting with the serving tray in her hands before she speaks again.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your time with your friend here,” she says, suddenly, and her nervous tone gives Kyoujurou pause. Was Tengen right somehow? Did she really have a crush on him? “But you’re a sweet person and I think you’re really cute, so… if it’s alright… may I have your number to get to know you better?”

Kyoujurou blinks up at her, caught off guard by the sudden question - yet he finds his eyes instinctively straying to you. Your expression is neutral, both hands wrapped around his sundae as you begin digging into it, seemingly paying no attention at all to his business with the waitress.

Pressing his lips together, Kyoujurou turns back to the waitress, giving her a smile. “Thank you for your affection, I’m deeply honoured. However,” he pauses, making sure that his voice is carefully gentle before he continues, “I’m afraid that I already have someone else I am interested in. My deepest apologies.”

“Oh.” Her voice comes out tiny. Her eyes dart towards you, just for a moment, but once again you don’t seem to notice, attention still completely riveted on his ice cream. “No, no, it was my fault. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all!” Kyoujurou is quick to reassure her. “I think you’re a lovely woman, surely soon you will meet a partner worthy of you who returns your feelings.”

The waitress squeaks out a ‘thank you’ before she escapes into the kitchen, serving tray clutched to her chest. With that over, Kyoujurou turns back to you with an apology on his lips, only to be surprised to see that you’re staring at the kitchen door the waitress has just disappeared through.

“That happens often,” you comment lightly, taking another bite of his sundae. “You must be used to rejecting them by now. Did you come up with that excuse on your own?”

I’m afraid I already have someone else I am interested in.

Kyoujurou’s mouth opens, lips parting slightly and an answer hanging from the tip of his tongue, but before the words can escape him he closes his mouth firmly. He looks at you, watching as you swirl a fry in his ice cream before popping it into your mouth, before you look up at him expectantly. It is not in his nature to lie, so…

“You’ve finished all my ice cream,” he says, tone lighthearted. “I wanted dessert, you know.”

You glance at him, eyes narrowing slightly, but you don’t press the issue, looking down at his ice cream again. “I’ll buy you another one if you want.” You shrug. “Food always tastes better when stolen from someone else.”

Kyoujurou has to shake off a smile before he rises to his feet, hiking his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” Although the stroll is done so in comfortable silence, the topic of the waitress does not resurface, and Kyoujurou can’t help but feel just a hint disappointed. When you bid him goodbye at the door, your expression is just as unreadable as ever, and Kyoujurou does not know what to make of it.

He never manages to find out what it was that you wanted to talk about, either.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro #kyoujurou #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kny fanfic #kny #kny kyojuro

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years ago

Note

I give you a lot of angsty requests, so here, have a fluffy one!

Among Us: Through some glitch, a round generates with no impostors. For the first little while everyone is really on edge and trying to accuse each other, but they soon realize that nobody is dying and relax, although they're still very confused. Everybody does their tasks as normal, but instead of completing the last task, they all build a big pillow fort under the admin table and just take a rest for a little bit, hanging out and laughing over previous games and just being together without the tension of possible death and betrayal over their heads. Many stories are told, many "bodies" of friends knocked over in pillow fights are "reported", and many memories are made, before they finally decide to end the round! 💙

okay so this request was MEGA detailed so i didn’t get to every single part of it but i hope this is just as good lol

also bring on the angst I DARE YOU /lh

…

A weird feeling in his stomach, Etho presses the emergency meeting button, teleporting everybody to the table. Once everyone is assembled, Etho realises something strange.

“Okay, there’s been no deaths,” he says slowly.

“Wh- Seriously?!” Tango gasps. “That round lasted, like, twenty YEARS! Half the tasks have been done!”

Etho frowns. “Nobody’s seen anything suspicious, or…? No venting?”

Everybody shakes their heads.

“Okay… I guess we’ll skip, then. Everyone keep an eye out, though.”

When the meeting comes to an end, Etho trots after Tango as the latter heads towards weapons. “Hey, Tango? Does something seem a little off about this round to you?”

“Yeah. We’re a bunch of idiots who can barely play this game on a good day - except you, of course,” he adds, “but it’s definitely weird that we went that long without a single kill. The imposters must be really slow for some reason.”

Etho considers this. “Maybe. I’m not convinced.”

He leaves Tango’s side and peels off into navigation as Tango keeps going. After finishing his download, he goes back up and does his task in O2, before heading back to cafeteria to finish wires.

After this, he realises there still hasn’t been a body reported so he catches Astro as the latter enters cafeteria. “Hey, Astro. Can you hit the button for me?”

“Oh, sure.”

Astro presses the emergency meeting button, bringing everyone back to the table. Etho’s suspicions are confirmed when he sees that everybody is still alive.

“Okay, I’m sorry to call you back here, but we need to talk,” Etho says. “There’s something wrong with this round and we may have to abandon it.”

“What do you mean?” Skizz asks confusedly. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s been over three minutes and there’s been no kills or sabotages. I apologise if I’m not correct, but I just have a feeling that there’s something wrong. If you’re the imposter, please raise your hand now.”

Nobody moves.

“This isn’t a trick,” Etho adds. “I’m sorry if I’m ruining someone’s imposter round, but I’m genuinely a little concerned that the game has gone wrong.”

“I’ll support you on that,” says Tango. “Etho knows about this stuff. If he’s worried about the game glitching out, I’ll take that seriously. I’m not the imposter, but if anyone else is, I’d advocate coming forward just to make sure nothing’s wrong.”

After a moment, a chorus of murmurs comes from the others, all confirming that none of them are the imposter.

“Okay, so it seems the game has glitched and generated a round with no imposters somehow,” Etho says. “No need to panic; if we all finish our tasks and win the round, it should take us back to the lobby like normal.”

“But do we have to do that, though?” asks Impulse. “Tasks are almost done and there’s no imposters, so why don’t we just hang out a bit, without the threat of death?”

“I’m down for that,” says Endless unexpectedly. “I’ve always wanted to build a pillow fort in admin. The table looks perfect for it.”

“You mean out of pillows like these?” Joker holds up a pillow that he seemingly pulled from out of nowhere. “Hey, Skizz?”

Skizz turns. “What’s u-”

Joker whacks him in the face with the pillow.

“GAAAH!” Skizz shrieks, tripping over his own foot. “What the hell?!”

Clutching the pillow by its corner, Joker doubles over with laughter. “Oh my gosh, your FACE!”

“Okay, that’s it. Imposter or no imposter, I’m gonna murder you.”

Skizz snatches the pillow out of Joker’s hand and swings it at him, but Joker dodges and takes off running down the hallway towards storage, giggling like a child. Unable to help a laugh of his own, Skizz pursues him.

“Where did he even get that?” snickers Tango.

“Same place I got mine,” Endless says, holding up an identical white pillow. “Medbay.”

Brody tries to hold in a laugh. “Endless, I’ll give you a high five if you hit Tango with that pillow right now.”

Endless considers this for a moment.

Tango gives him a warning look. “Don’t. Endless, I swear to-.”

He cuts himself off and ducks as Endless swings the pillow at him, but before he can do it again, Endless brings it back round and whacks him in the side of the head, causing him to let out a yelp.

Laughing uncontrollably, Brody holds up his hand for a high five, which Endless gleefully gives him. “I like this,” he says happily. “I feel cool.”

“Endless, you’re starting something you can’t finish,” Tango warns.

“Then you finish it,” says Impulse unexpectedly, appearing out of nowhere to hand Tango a pillow of his own.

A grin slowly spreads over Tango’s face.

Endless blinks. “Oh. I’m in trouble.”

On the other side of the room, Etho glances sharply over as he hears a THWACK sound and finds Tango and Endless whacking each other viciously with pillows. He chuckles to himself and continues looking through the game’s code.

After a while, Brody approaches him. “Hey Etho, we’re gonna go build a pillow fort in admin. You should come join us.”

“Thanks, but I gotta work through this code.”

“You can do that in the lobby later. C’mon, we’ve got a once-in-a-lifetime thing here. This glitch will probably never happen again. Let’s have some fun on this map while we have the chance.”

After a moment, Etho nods and lets Brody take him into admin, where Mrs Tango and Astro are already piling cushions in the middle of the room.

“Is this what we do when we think the game might’ve gone wrong?” Etho chuckles. “Build pillow forts?”

“I mean, we may as well,” Brody responds. “Right? What else can we do?”

“Finish our tasks and end the round.”

“Where’s the fun in that, though?” says Astro from the floor.

As Etho opens his mouth to respond, Joker bursts into the room and dives behind Etho, who spins round to find Skizz skidding to a halt outside admin. “Where is he?!” he snaps, panting heavily. “I’m gonna kill that idiot!”

“What’s going on?” Brody demands. “Who are you talking about?”

“JOKER! He said my mohawk looks like a dead bush!”

Relaxing, Brody rolls his eyes. “Oh no. How terrible. He’s a MONSTER. We’d better throw him out the airlock right now.”

“Sarcasm duly noted,” Skizz huffs. “Where IS Joker, anyway?”

Brody jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Hiding under the admin table.”

“Brodyyyyy!” comes Joker’s muffled voice.

Skizz walks into the room and takes note of the group of people setting up the pillows and blankets over the top of the admin table. “So what’s going on here? Boy scout sleepover?”

“Yup,” Astro responds with a grin. “Do you have a problem with that?”

After a moment, Skizz shakes his head. “Nope. Can I borrow a cushion to hit Joker in his stupid face?”

“No,” says Astro firmly.

“Can I suffocate him in a blanket?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Can you relax and stop being a stupid schoolteacher for ten seconds?”

“Not if it means letting you try to kill Joker.”

“C’mon, I’m not ACTUALLY gonna kill him,” complains Skizz. “There’s no imposters this round, remember.”

“Mhm.”

Within five minutes, everyone is huddled under the blanket fort over the admin table, using a rusty lantern as a light source. It’s fairly roomy inside the makeshift tent, but the ten people are still sitting fairly close together.

“So now what?” Brody asks after a while. “Are we gonna talk about something?”

“How about we discuss what kind of dead bush Skizz’s hair looks like?” Joker asks innocently.

Skizz responds to this by whacking Joker in the face with a pillow, knocking him over backwards.

“Oh, report the body!” Tango yelps with a grin. “Skizz did it! Skizz did it!”

This causes the whole group to laugh, even Etho. After many rounds of chaos and suspicion, it’s nice to be able to joke around and relax a bit.

“How does it feel, huh?” Skizz smirks. “How does it feel to be hit with a taste of your own PILLOW?”

“Honestly, I deserved that.”

“Yeah you did.”

Joker yanks Skizz down next to him, grinning. “Shut up.”

A short pause follows this.

“This is the only round we’re gonna get like this, isn’t it?” asks Evil.

Etho nods. “Should be. Why?”

“Dunno. It just feels nice to just hang out with you all as a group and be happy. I love you guys so much.”

“I hate you,” Endless murmurs. “I hate you all.”

Immediately, the two people on either side of him grab him in a simultaneous hug. “Well too bad, cuz we love you,” Astro responds with a smile. “Grumpiness and all.”

A low groan comes from Endless, but everyone can see the hint of a smile on his face.

Etho sits back against the wall and gazes around at his friends. Mrs Tango is resting her head on Tango’s shoulder. Astro and Evil are still hugging and teasing Endless. Brody and Impulse are quietly chuckling together about something. Joker and Skizz have fallen asleep with the tops of their heads touching.

Even though Etho isn’t with anyone in particular at this moment, he still feels connected to his friends. He’s alone but he’s not lonely. And that’s a rare thing for him.

This group really is his family.

#friday night stabby #impulsesv #tangotek #skizzleman #theendless #brodyman #evilnotion #astrozoan #mrstango #etho #misterjoker #vaunna’s requests

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 4 years ago

Text

Magicam Live

Vil’s guest is a pest. Contains coarse language, people being catty bitches, and more telling than showing.

You want more, check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag. If you liked it, let me know!

~*~*~*~

Transcript of Last Week's Magicam Live From *schoenheit_official

Vil: Hello my dearest fans! As promised, I will be showing off my newest capsule makeup collection, to be released this Monday exclusively at Feathersweep Cosmetics. However, due to high demand, instead of simply demonstrating on myself, I thought I would show that anyone could be half as beautiful as me with these!

[He holds a hand out to the side.]

V: Please welcome my fellow student at Night's Raven College, Yuu.

Yuu: Yo.

[A girl with short, dark hair and tired eyes sits down beside him. Spotty and plump, with a notable double chin. She's notably underdressed, compared to Vil.]

Y: I am she. I'm *donegotisekaid, if you haven't seen yet. Full of genuine memes from another universe, as well as me figuring this place out, and pictures of my not-cat.

V: She's simply been begging me for a makeover!

Y: He asked me if I'd do it, actually.

[Vil stops and takes a deep breath, clearly irritated.]

V: Yes, well. You've prepared?

Y: I scrubbed my face real good and managed to leave most of my pimples alone, if that's what you mean.

[Vil sighs]

V: As much as you're capable of, clearly. We'll start with the primer.

Y: [with a smile] Didn't you already give me one on how to act in this?

[Vil pinched the bridge of his nose, regret pouring from every cell in his body.]

V: Just lie back and be quiet until I'm done with you.

[Yuu looks at the camera, but says nothing. There's an audible snicker from behind the camera.]

[There are a few quiet minutes where Vil prepares her face, before selecting a foundation.]

V: So, is there a reason you don't wear makeup? You could look quite nice with it.

Y: Few reasons. It's a lot of effort, and I tire easily. I don't really like the feel of it on my face, and I tend to touch my face a lot anyways, so it doesn't last. It's a lot of money, and I break out very easily.

V: I can see that. Don't you use face wash?

Y: You should have seen me when I did use it! Much worse.

V: Ugh. I'll give you something later. And none of these have a good tone for you.

Y: Just pick the closest! I'll end up wrecking it by a few hours from now anyways.

[Vil rolled his eyes.]

V: Rook, any questions from the chat?

[A familiar accented voice from offscreen]

Rook: *stellargems wants to know how Yuu found herself at NRC.

Y: Transdimensional bullshit. I'm here until we figure out how I can get home. It's not bad, I don't miss it much.

V: Yuu even has her own dorm so she doesn't have to bother anyone.

Y: Not that it stops me.

V: [sotto voce] Don't we all know.

Y: If they kept you in a building with four usable rooms total and no electricity, you'd be out and about too. At least the ghosts there are really nice and help me out.

V: Do you kiss these ones too, or was that a one time thing?

Y: If I hadn't kissed her we'd be down a student and you and half the people I hang out with would be paralyzed, so don't make fun.

[Vil stops to regard the camera.]

V: To clarify, there was an incident with a ghost princess causing a lot of trouble at the school a few months ago. Yuu decided to kiss her to fix everything, because she's both stupid and deeply strange.

Y: It was really fun until I started dying.

V: All her blood was on the outside. It was disgusting.

Y: It did work though!

V: Keep telling yourself that, you didn't kiss the one you really wanted to.

[Yuu gives him the finger, and Vil shoves her hand down.]

R: *vilpleasefathermychildren asks-

[Yuu sputters with laughter. Vil just winks at the camera with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.]

R: They want to know if there'll be a coupon code for the new release.

V: There will! It'll be released via the official fanclub email Sunday night.

Y: It'll be a whole three percent off and you have to pay to access it.

V: Stop that.

Y: [sweetly] No.

Rook: *getterbackback wants to know what your shirt says?

Y: Yeah, hold on.

[She stands and pulls the shirt out to be seen better. It says in large letters, I'M CUTE AND I BITE]

Y: You can do one yourself if you take a dark shirt, tape the parts you want covered, and scorch the area around it with diluted bleach. I've done a few of these, a few designs more than once.

V: Destroyed them?

Y: Nah, Lil wants at least one of every one I do.

V: [to the camera] That would be our fellow student Lilia Vanrouge, from Diasomnia.

Y: He's pretty great. He's *elderbatbrat if you want to look him up.

V: Sit back down so I can figure out which blush to use.

Y: Pinks and corals work best for my skin tone.

V: I thought you didn't wear makeup?

Y: Why do you think I know wearing it tires me out? It's not something I ever did a lot because of the effort.

Y: Except for highlighter. it's basically sparkles and it's light, so I like that.

V: You remember that, but not your proper name?

Y: Ain't life grand.

R: I'm getting several questions about that. Would you care to elabourate for the chat?

Y: Yeah. I don't remember a lot about where I'm from. Culturally? Lots. What I like? What I don't like? Everything. Names and places specific to who I was? No. And don't ask me to think about it too hard, I get the worst fucking headache and I stop seeing right.

V: You've never seen right in your life.

Y: Oh, fuck off, Vil.

[Vil stops blushing one cheek to point.]

V: Stop that.

[Yuu responds by biting at his finger with an audible click when her teeth meet, laughing hysterically as Vil pulls back in shock.]

V: !!! Dreadful little monster!

Y: Yeah, but you're the one who thought you'd get more views if I was here.

R: We indeed just surged another 20,000 views and counting! Excellent work, Yuu.

Y: Thank you, Rook.

[Vil looks ready to explode.]

Y: I won't bite again, that was just too easy. Please continue, I do want to see what magic you can do.

V: This is regular makeup.

Y: Metaphorically, you jackass.

R: *rosemassacre wants to know if you're always like this.

V: She's always this horrible.

Y: Vil first saw me and called me a dumpy little potato. I told him it's because I'm great all ways and everyone wants a taste, and slapped my ass at him. He's been obsessed with me ever since.

V: I am not obsessed with you.

R: You go into a rage over her at least once a week.

V: She can't go a week without being a pest.

Y: I went three after you kicked me out of the movie club.

V: You can't just project violence on the walls of Pomfiore because I said we weren't going to watch it!

Y: Vil, it was The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, and it is art.

V: A man gets sawed in half in the first ten minutes.

Y: To an absolutely bangin' soundtrack. Oh that reminds me. Ad time, hold on.

[She wiggles a little before puting on her best customer service face.]

Y: If you want to access media that is quite literally from another world, please go to MonstroMedia dot com and sign up! There's ebooks, movies, tv, music, and more. Much of it is horror, sci-fi and fantasy, as it's from my person collection of media brought with me on my laptop and backup drives. You can use the code SHOENHEITSAYSWHAT for the first month free!

[She put her hand up and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone.]

Y: I completely understand piracy, but I'd appreciate if you paid because this is the only way I get spending money, and I can only bat my eyes at these boys so much before they expect something in return for gifts.

V: How'd Ashengrotto talk you into that one?

Y: He was going to make me start paying for all the food I eat if I didn't.

R: *waterwitchesbetgitches says, and I quote, "so like if ur the only gal at NRC how many boyfs you have"

Y: So many. At least twenty. Even more if there were girls here.

V: That is a gross exaggeration. She has maybe three, if we're being very generous on the definition.

Y: [points] And he's mad he's not one of them.

V: [squinting] You are absolutely dreadful and I can't understand how you're so popular.

Y: I like you too, Vil.

[Vil pauses, visibly taken aback.]

V: ... Thank you.

V: You know you're going to have paparazzi on your tail now, right?

Y: Aw, shit.

R: *insertmagicamhandlehere wants to know what's on your neck.

V: An antique chain with an attached charm specially made for me by Soleil Atelier.

R: I believe that was for Yuu.

[Yuu snickers, as Vil looks for himself. When her collar is pulled down, it fully reveals a vicious set of hickeys with visible toothmarks.]

V: Eww.

Y: You should see the other guy.

V: Eww!

[Vil takes a moment to recover, while Yuu laughs.]

Y: That could be a second part! Everyone needs that tutorial. "Bruise Coverup How-to by Vil Shoenheit: For when you just can't keep them off of you."

[Vil mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like "nerds shouldn't be allowed to fuck"]

Y: Then where would your fans be?

V: At least there's only setting spray after this and then you can leave.

Y: Won't you get bored without me here?

R: One last question! *shroudstreaming has asked... well, there's a lengthy keysmash and an all-caps "why".

Y: Ah. Hi, babe!

Y: Hey, everyone go follow him, he's a total fucking babe and he refuses to take my word for it, no matter what I do to him-

[Vil sprays setting spray directly in her face, leading to Yuu coughing.]

V: No taste at all, and gross to boot.

Y: Asshole.

[Vil offers a mirror]

V: No. Miracle worker.

[Yuu looks... well, the same, but with an even, well made-up face.]

Y: ... Aww. You remembered I like sparkles.

V: Less likely to scrub it off if you actually like it.

[Yuu's admiring herself for a few moments in silence, with Vil watching, quite pleased.]

Y: Hey, can I do you next?

V: Absolutely not.

Y: Ask the chat.

V: No.

R: Chat says yes.

V: [With a visible eye roll] Ugh, fine.

Y: Aight. Take your shirt off.

V: What.

[Yuu brings up a case and flips it open. Inside is a magazine with a gory cover, and various things like fake blood and liquid latex.]

Y: Alright kiddies. You wanna learn how to slit a man's throat?

[Vil gets up and walks away without another word.]

Y: You said I could! Get back here!

[Yuu follows. Rook emerges from behind the camera.]

R: That's it for tonight, ma belles. Next time.

[Magicam Live ends, but not before audible yelling and scuffling, quickly cut off.]

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #vil schoenheit

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moeyy-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Here and Now - Part 6

Zak Bagans x Reader

Warnings: Playful teasing/pranking, fluff, brief hint at sexual acts (if you squint).

Word Count: 1,897

Series Master List || My Full Master List

Rage boiled through your veins as your stared at the flashy pink glitter on the floor. Your eyes moved along the shiny nuisance, following it to the river of red and pink heart-shaped confetti that led into the rest of your home. More hearts littered the walls, poorly-cut pieces of paper with love quotes, and red and pink streamers criss-crossed overhead. As you took a step in, you heard music playing from a back room, most likely from your television.

“It’s like… Valentine’s Day threw up in here,” you mumbled as you slowly stepped towards the living room. The confetti faded into another substance, deeper red. “Rose petals? Really Goodwin?”

You phone buzzed in your pocket, jolting you from your rage-filled cloud. It was Jay.

(9:45pm) Jay: I’m just glad you had fun.

You stared down at the text. There was no doubt this was Aaron’s work, no one else would go this far out. But, how did he get in? The only person other than you who had a key to your place was…

Jay.

You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh. Sure, betrayal stung, but karma was a bitch.

(9:47pm) Y/N: I want my key back, and I hate you.

(9:48pm) Jay: ????

(9:48pm) Y/N: You know.

You snapped a picture of the carnage and sent it to Jay with several angry face emojis. For several minutes, he didn’t answer. Figures. He knew what he did, or at least what he allowed to happen.

You let out another long sigh. This was going to be a bitch to clean up. But, you thought Zak might get a kick out of it. So, you sent him several photos, hoping to at least get a laugh out of this catastrophe.

“Hey, I can’t lie, he did go all out,” Zak admitted as he laughed. You stood your tablet up in front you as you munched on your breakfast. You were happy to have a surprise breakfast with Zak, even if it was virtually. He was gradually getting ready to spend his day with his mom, which made you smile inside.

“Yeah, he did, but now I have to buy a new vacuum. That glitter ruined my brand new one! One hundred dollars down the freaking drain,” you whined. You took a bite of your oatmeal, then leaned back in your chair. “And I don’t know how that asshole passed kindergarten. I’ve never seen more lop-sided hearts in my life!”

Zak’s nose scrunched as he laughed. “Yeah, paper art isn’t exactly his thing. Or, he did it on purpose knowing you would notice and it would piss you off that much more.” You rolled your eyes. Knowing Aaron’s actual incredible artistic talent, Zak was probably right.

“Well, I’m out a vacuum. And, I’ll probably have to disclose that there is a never-ending glitter infestation when I sell this place.” Zak’s face froze at your words.

“Wait, you’re selling the place?” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Uh, not right now, but I’m sure I won’t live here forever. Or, maybe I will. I don’t know.” The air around you felt heavy for a moment, but Zak’s laughter broke the silence.

“I still can’t believe Aaron trashed your place like that. I mean, I have to give it to him, it’s pretty well done. Although, the glitter is pretty fucking cruel.” Zak grinned, making your heart skip. God, he was handsome, and funny, and just, well, everything you were looking for.

And, now, everything was really sinking in. The man on the screen was the man you were dating, Zak Bagans, the man you never thought you’d have a chance with until a few days ago. You were still pinching yourself.

“Yeah, glitter is the bane of me existence—” your phone buzzed beside you, cutting you off. You rolled your eyes at the name on the screen. “Speak of the devil. I never texted him last night, so he’s probably wondering if his ‘brilliant’ plan worked.”

Zak chuckled again, slipping his glasses on. “Well, I’ll leave it to you to rip him a new one. I’ve got to get over to my mom’s pretty soon.” You nodded and shook your phone.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m already planning my payback.”

Zak leaned his head back as he cackled. “Well, if you need an accomplice, let me know.” You raised your brow. “It would only be fair. You know, since Jay was obviously in on it.”

“Oh? Have you chosen a side?” You giggled, taking a sip of coffee.

“I may have picked a side. Or, maybe I’m a double agent.” He winked, but you just narrowed your gaze.

“Traitor.” You laughed with Zak, admiring his gravelly laugh.

“Alright, well, I’ll text you later, okay? Have a great day, beautiful.” Your heart nearly burst out of your chest. But, you held it together with a smile, and nodded.

“Have fun, handsome. Say ‘hi’ to you mom for me.” Zak nodded, then blew you a kiss before signing off.

You sat in your chair for a second, allowing your mind to settle. Then, you picked up for phone, ready to rip Aaron a new asshole.

You glanced down at your phone. 1 New Text Message: Aar Bear

(10:03am) Aaron: How was your date, Lovebird? Did you make it home? ;)

(10:08am) Y/N: Oh, yeah. I made it home just fine. I had a blast yesterday. :) Oh, by the way, I fucking hate you.

(10:10am) Aaron: What? Why would you say something like that? I’m one of your best friends!

(10:11am) Y/N: Well, first of all, you owe me a new vacuum. That glitter completely fucking ruined it. Oh, and you aren’t allowed at my place ever again. Oh, and I know you had help. All threats will be neutralized.

(10:13am) Aaron: Uh, oh. We’ve been had. xD

(10:14am) Y/N: Karma’s a bitch, Goodwin. Watch your back.

*Two days later*

Packing for an investigation was something that took you days to finish. Sure, it was only three or four nights from home, but it wasn’t anything like packing for a vacation. You obviously needed clothes and toiletries. But, you also needed your gear.

You slipped your laptop into its case and stood it next to your open suitcase. Then, you grabbed your still camera, an extra memory card, several rechargeable batteries, and your share of video cameras. The fact that your equipment suitcase was twice as big as your clothing suitcase never failed to make you laugh.

It was important to make sure every piece was properly charged and working properly. So, you followed the routine that Jay had taught you when you first started. You took a couple of shots with your still camera, which worked perfectly, then placed it into the protective pouch in your suitcase. Next, you tried out your video camera, testing a good minute of video, then placing it in its spot.

A knock at the door spooked you, nearly making you drop one of you night-vision cameras. Ah, they were early. You launched from the floor and shuffled over to the front door.

The crew all decided that it would be a good idea to meet the day before you left, as usual, to make sure there was a game plan for departure and for the first day of the investigation. So, Billy, Aaron, Jay, and Zak were all going to meet at your place to go over what needed to happen. Of course, that meant actually letting Aaron and Jay back into your home, which you promised you wouldn’t do until you got then back for their stunt. But, if you played it cool, you could get them back when they least expected it.

However, the timing worked perfectly, because your date with Zak would start after everyone left.

You opened the door, where you greeted Zak. He lived the closest to you, so you weren’t surprised he got there first, and twenty minutes early.

“Hey, you,” you greeted with a smile. Zak stepped inside, lugging two small suitcases of equipment. They obviously weren’t his clothing suitcases, yes plural. He had two, and each were twice the size of yours.

“Good morning, or I guess afternoon—” He stared down at his fancy watch. It was ten minutes passed noon, and your stomach was telling you it was almost lunch time.

“Just chuck those into my office. That’s where the rest of my equipment is right now. Do you want anything to drink? I was thinking about ordering lunch for everyone in a few minutes. I don’t have a lot of food around since we’re leaving tomorrow.” Something about having Zak in your home felt so natural. Sure, the guys liked to meet at your place and drop off the equipment with you the day before leaving. You were, after all, they main AV tech now, and all of the equipment should be in one spot where you can triple check it all before you left.

“Nah, I’m good gorgeous. When are the guys gonna be here?” Zak asked. You tilted your head.

“I told everyone, including you, to be here at twelve thirty, but I’m sure Aaron will be here closer to one. You know him.” You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Well, my mom always taught me to be early,” he teased, shooting you a wink. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

You shrugged, leading Zak to your office. “I don’t know yet. Billy is going to tell us when he gets here. He always has the master plan.” Zak nodded, approaching you.

Zak placed his stuff beside your equipment bags, then turned to you. He reached out, curling your hair behind your ear, before allowing his hand to rest on your face. His thumb gently stroked your cheekbone.

“You excited for tonight? It’s not going to be as thrilling as our first date, but it will be fun.” You nodded, offering a blushing smile. “Good, me too.”

Zak leaned in and brushed his nose against yours. It was you who closed the distance, gently planting your lips on his. The moment you made contact, Zak hummed and smiled against you. His other arm slipped around your waist, pulling you closer against him. Your hands smoothed up his shoulders, then your arms found their place hooked around his neck.

His lips danced with yours, slow and soft. His hot breath tickled your cheeks as he pushed you backwards, stopping when your ass gently met with the edge of your desk. He wasn’t forceful or aggressive, but firm as his fingers curled around the fabric along your back.

“Ah-hem,” you heard a higher pitched voice clear their throat. You and Zak launched from each other and turned toward your office door, where you met the gaze of Billy and Jay. You really needed to get your key back from Jay.

“Uh, hey guys, you’re early.” Zak stared down at his watch again.

“Yeah, sorry if we’re interrupting anything,” Billy teased.

“Good thing we got here before they got too far,” Jay poked. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You caught Zak and me making out. Good for you. Can we just get started please?” You snapped playfully. The guys laughed, including Zak. Then, Billy and Jay tossed their gear onto the floor and plopped down on the floor beside it.

Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated! <3

#zak bagans #zak bagans x reader #zak x reader #zak bagans x reader series #zak bagans x y/n #zak bagans and reader #zak bagans reader insert #aaron goodwin #jay wasley #billy tolley #ghost adventures

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spookypalace · 4 years ago

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something borrowed - chapter one

After one drink too many at her 30th-birthday celebration, Jo unexpectedly falls into bed with her longtime crush and best friend, Alex -- who happens to be engaged to her best friend, Izzie. Ramifications of the liaison threaten to destroy the women's lifelong friendship, while Jackson, Jo's confidant, harbors a potentially explosive secret of his own.

—

Or the one where everyone is a little messy but you still root for them anyway.

June 2010

“Oh! Wow, I had no idea! This is amazing.” The small brunette whispers to herself as she paces the dark littered sidewalk of ninth street in the East Village, the wind briskly wafting through her freshly curled hair as her high-heeled clad feet clicked against the gravel. “No, that sounds so obvious,” She continues to mumble to herself, using a manicured finger to flick away the bang which had stuck to the lip-gloss which painted her plump pink lips. With a deep sigh, she threw her hands back to her sides, shaking them furiously as she felt the familiar clammy feeling begin to settle in her palms due to her nervousness.

As her entire body began to heat up, she was thankful that it was the little black dress that had caught her eye earlier that evening whilst she was examining her wardrobe in search of something to wear. It wasn’t a dress she had chosen for herself; short little pieces of clothing had never been her thing—her style was usually casual, ripped jeans and relaxed t-shirts. But her best friend, Izzie Stevens, had picked it out specifically for her during a shopping trip back when they were college freshman. It was Izzie’s style; figure hugging, clinging to every curve and a deep square neckline which showed off her perky assets.

She didn’t believe she had any of that, never had. Her shoulders were a little wider than her hips, her legs much shorter, barely standing at five foot four and her chest substantially lacked what Izzie’s had. With luscious blonde hair which flowed down her back, blinding white teeth and skin smoother than butter, Izzie really was perfect. Izzie was always the lucky one, always had been—since they were in fifth grade. Her skin tanned more quickly, her hair feathered more easily, and she didn't need braces. Her cartwheels were superior, as were her front handsprings (she couldn't do a handspring at all). She had double-pierced ears and the trendiest clothing from her rich and caring parents.

But at least Jo would always be a few months younger than Izzie, six months, and four days to be exact. Izzie, as obsessed with clear and smooth skin as she was, constantly worried about growing old and the aging effects that was brought with old age. Izzie’s age was the one thing that Jo didn’t quite mind never catching up to.

“Oh my god!” Jo plasters a fake wide grin on her face and throws her hands into the air in mock surprise, white teeth illuminating the small corner of the street she continued to pace up and down. She brings her dainty hands to her chest and widens her eyes as not to blink, willing herself not to blink in an effort to fake cry. Something which she was usually very skilled at. But not tonight it seemed.

With a groan, Jo gives up, “I suck!” She shouts into the empty street before sitting down onto the concrete steps which lead up to the apartment building, she was currently having a small breakdown outside of. Huffing, she removes the black heel from her right foot, resting for a moment in hopes she’ll finally calm down.

The feeling Jo currently had reminded her of New Year's Eve when the countdown is coming and she’s not quite sure whether to grab my camera or just live in the moment. New Year’s Eve never goes how you plan. Then you’re left feeling enormously let down and think to yourself that the night would have been more fun if it didn't mean quite so much, if you weren't forced to analyse where you’ve been and where you’re going.

Like New Year's Eve, tonight is an ending and a beginning. She didn't like endings and beginnings. She would always prefer to churn about in the middle. The worst thing about this particular end (of her youth) and beginning (of middle age) is that for the first time in her life, Jo realises that she has no idea where she’s going. Her wants are simple: a job that she enjoys and a guy whom she loves. And on the eve of her thirtieth birthday, Jo had come to the realisation that she wasn’t anywhere near getting what she wanted.

First, she’s an attorney at a large New York firm. By definition this means that she’s miserable. Being a lawyer just isn't what she thought it was cracked up to be—it's nothing like L.A. Law, the show that caused applications to law schools to skyrocket in the early nineties. She works excruciating hours for a mean-spirited, anal-retentive partner, doing mostly tedious tasks, and that sort of hatred for what you do for a living begins to chip away at you. So, Jo had memorised the mantra of the law-firm associate: I hate my job and will quit soon. Just as soon as I pay off my loans. Just as soon as I make next year's bonus. Just as soon as I think of something else to do that will pay the rent. Or find someone who will pay it for me.

Which brings Jo to her second point: she feels desperately alone in a city of millions.

Whilst visually she knows for a fact she’s not alone, because if she were then she wouldn’t currently be stressing out about how to fake shock to all of her friends once she enters the club in which her ‘surprise’ birthday party is being hosted in five minutes. She had friends to summer within the Hamptons, friends to meet on a Thursday night after work for a drink or two or three, friends to gossip with and rant to. And she had Izzie, her best friend from home, who is all of the above.

For a while, friends were all she needed—when you’re in your twenties, settling down with the man of your dreams can wait. There’s still so much living to do when you’re twenty-three and then twenty-seven, but by the time you’re twenty-nine … the cold empty side of your double bed begins to get a little old.

“Right.” Jackson Avery’s voice booms from the now open door which leads to his apartment, shaking Jo from her thoughts of loneliness, “I’m ready, you good?” He asks with a smirk when he notices her perched on his steps, face bored and disinterested.

Big doe eyes, decorated with mascara and dark eyeshadow, glance up at him as her lips turn into a pout involuntarily. “I don’t wanna’ go,” she knows he thinks she sounds like a toddler, she can tell by the way he chuckles and continues to look down at her with raised eyebrows, “I don’t want to be thirty.”

Jackson jogs down the few steps, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as he does so, until he’s standing directly in front of the small woman. “Come on,” he extends a handout to her, hoping she’ll take it without much of a fight. Jo only pushes her bottom lip out further as she places her foot back into the uncomfortable heel and places her hand into his, groaning as Jackson pulls her up with force. “If it makes you feel any better then honestly, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Jo scoffs, letting him lead her towards the club only two streets away from his place, “right.”

She had met Jackson in college, during orientation their freshman year. Whilst they weren’t fast friends, both of them were rather reserved. After a while they began to grow closer; during study sessions and group projects—they always seemed to be on the same page. It wasn’t until they finished college and realised that they were only living a few blocks from one another that they really started to spend time outside of class together, Jackson was always available for a morning coffee or an afternoon stroll during a stressful day.

Izzie had always been adamant that Jackson was crushing hard on Jo, but she never saw it. When it came to men, Izzie had a one-track mind—according to the blonde, no male and female could ever just be friends. She believed this so strongly that she took it upon herself to try and set the pair up during every night out at the bar or weekend lunch. Something which got old and obnoxious on Izzie’s part fast. Due to this, Jo had chosen to keep her friendships with the two fairly separate. Except for the times it was unavoidable, like birthdays and engagement parties and whatnot. Like tonight.

They arrive at the club far too quickly for Jo’s liking, she comes to a stand still once they’re outside, dragging Jackson back by the clasp of their hands as she firmly stays put. He sighs, his eyes subtly giving her the once over now Jo’s directly stood in the bright lights of the nightclub’s neon sign. Jo doesn’t notice, pays no mind to the man in front of her as she thinks about what’s on the other side of that door.

“What’s up?” He asks, frowning with concern, “you love an excuse to get drunk—your thirtieth birthday is as good an excuse as any,”

Jo takes a deep breath, “I told you, I’m getting old.”

“Keep going with that and I’m going to get offended,” he steps closer to her with a smirk, eyes gazing down at hers, “you remember I turned thirty, like, ten months ago, right?”

At Jackson’s comment, a sincere smile finally spreads across Jo’s glossy lips, “barely, I woke up passed out in your bed with a pink wig on and roller skates hanging off my feet.” Jackson’s smirk turns into full-fledged laughter as he recalls the memory.

“If we’re lucky then maybe tonight will end similar.”

Jo’s eyes glimmer as she teases, “no way, I’m thirty tomorrow—it’s socially unacceptable for me to wake up in some random guys bed.”

Jacksons face turns into a mock frown, “random?” As they both continue to laugh with one another, Jo shoves a dainty hand into his chest and walks past him with a bump to his shoulder. Her heels click towards the large black door with the shiny brass handle, pulling it open as she throws an eye roll at him and finally gets over her nerves and steps into the room her friends had piled into to celebrate her birth.

She wasn’t alone, she knows that—she felt that when she stood with Jackson, laughing and smiling so effortlessly.

But she was lonely.

One hour later, once everyone has gotten over how atrociously Jo’s fake shock was, the party is in full swing. People were dancing and laughing and singing along to the sound of Jo and Izzie’s nineties playlist as it blared through the speakers.

She never enjoyed being the centre of attention, which is why she specifically asked Izzie months ago not to throw her any kind of party—before Jackson informed Jo that actually, Izzie had ignored her completely, Jo’s plan was to enjoy a chilled night at their favourite bar. Just Jo, Jackson, Stephanie, Izzie and Alex.

Alex. The one saving grace of this party—his face was the first she spotted when she walked through the club doors, the first voice she heard and the first person who brought a smile onto her face. He’d sent her a wink, one which reminded her of way back when they were barely twenty, and it sent butterflies swirling in her stomach. She won’t lie and say she wasn’t disappointed when Izzie ran through the crowd of people, arms swinging and lips screaming, to engulf Jo into a tight hug, spinning the shorter woman around, and cutting through the moment.

Jo’s current personal situation seems all the more dismal as she sat with her oldest and bestest friend in the corner booth of the club, the blonde had a glamorous PR job and was now freshly engaged. After all this time, Izzie is still the lucky one. Jo watches her, telling a story to the group which had gathered into the booth, including her fiancé.

Alex and Izzie were an exquisite couple, lean and tall with ridiculous good look and great jobs. They are among New York's beautiful people. The well-groomed couple registering for fine china and crystal on the sixth floor at Bloomingdale's. You hate their smugness but can't resist staring at them when you're on the same floor searching for a not-too-expensive gift for the umpteenth wedding you've been invited to without a date. You strain to glimpse her ring and are instantly sorry you did. She catches you staring and gives you a disdainful once-over. You wish you hadn't worn your tennis shoes to Bloomingdale's. She is probably thinking that the footwear may be part of your problem. You buy your Waterford vase and get the hell out of there.

“So, the lesson here is: if you ask for a Brazilian bikini wax, make sure you specify.” Izzie finishes her obscene tale, and the whole group laughs. Except for Alex, who shakes his head, as if to say, what a piece of work my fiancée is. “OK!” Izzie shouts obnoxiously, hands slapping together as she claps, “I’ll be right back, tequila shots for us all!”

Jo watches as she moves away from the group and towards the bar, leaning over the sticky surface to flirt with the young bartender, who she already told Jo she would ‘totally fuck’ if she was still single. As if Izzie would ever be single. She said once in high school, "I don't break up, I trade up." She kept her word on that, and she always did the dumping. Throughout our teenage years, college, and every day of our twenties, she has been attached to someone. Often, she has more than one guy hanging around, hoping.

It occurs to Jo that she could hook up with the bartender. She’s completely and totally unencumbered—hasn't even been on a date in nearly two months, it was an utter disaster and she decided she needed to give herself a break. But it doesn't seem like something one should do at age thirty. One-night stands are for girls in their twenties, and as of tomorrow morning she would no longer be in her twenties.

Plus, she thinks she’d had her fair share of one-night stands and after every single time she always found that she ended up thinking to herself that she was a relationship person. She preferred to know the person, nothing competed with the feeling of being familiar with someone’s body. Knowing exactly how to make them moan, their toes curl, and their skin tingle—that’s what she wanted. And there was the feeling of comfort, being so comfortable that there was no awkwardness and you never felt too shy to try something new. She missed that. She really really missed that.

She hadn’t experienced that since her last boyfriend, two years ago.

“You look great,” Alex whispers into her ear as the rest of the group continue to chatter, his hushed voice breaking Jo out of her sad sad thoughts.

Jo rolls her eyes, tilting her head so it falls against the side of his, “you have to say that I’m your fiancé’s best friend.” As comfortable as the position was, Jo lifts her head up quickly so she can turn to look Alex in the eyes—eyes which were wide, gazing down at her. His lips were parted, as if there was something he wanted to say but as he opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, Jo decides to relieve them of the thick tension and shakes her head with a small girlish girl.

“No, I don’t,” he finally adds, eyes continuing to watch her every movement. The way she picks up her full glass of vodka with dainty hands, the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and her curls frame her face—small things he’s always noticed.

The tension is cut once Izzie returns with the shots, but Alex refuses his, so Izzie insists that Jo does the two. Before Jo knows it, the night starts to take on that blurry quality, when you cross over from being buzzed to drunk, losing track of time and the precise order of things. Apparently, Izzie had reached that point even sooner because she’s now dancing on the bar. Spinning and gyrating in a little red halter dress and three-inch heels.

"Stealing the show at your party," Stephanie, Jo’s closest friend from work, says under her breath. "She's shameless."

Jo giggles, not really caring—it was something she had come accustomed to. “She’s just a little drunk.” She’s not sure when she became the person who constantly made excused for Izzie’s behaviour, probably way back when they were fifteen … maybe twelve, who knows.

Everyone waits for her next move, which is to swivel her hips in perfect time to the music, bend over slowly, and then whip her body upright again, her long hair spilling every which way. Jo turns her head away from the woman up on the bar to glance at Alex, who in these moments can never quite decide whether to be amused or annoyed. To say that the man has patience is an understatement. Alex and Jo had that in common.

"Happy birthday, Jol!" Izzie yells. "Let's all raise a glass to Jo Wilson!" Which everyone does. Without taking their eyes off the blonde.

A minute later, Alex whisks her down from the bar, slings her over his shoulder, and deposits her on the floor next to Jo in one fluid motion. Clearly, this was something he had done before. "All right," he announces, glancing over to Jo apologetically. "I'm taking our little party-planner home."

Izzie plucks her drink off the bar and stamps her foot. "You're not the boss of me, Alex! Is he, Jo?" As she asserts her independence, she stumbles and sloshes her martini all over Alex's shoe. In usuall circumstances Jo would agree with Izzie—Alex wasn’t the boss of the woman. But at this very moment, as she continues to cause a scene with her temper tantrum, Jo had to agree with him.

Alex grimaces. "You're wasted, Iz. This isn't fun for anyone but you."

"Okay. Okay. I'll go... I'm feeling kind of sick anyway," she says, looking queasy.

"Are you going to be okay?" Jo asks, concern dripping from her voice despite the fact she felt incredibly drunk herself.

"I'll be fine. Don't you worry," she says, now playing the role of brave little sick girl.

Jo thanks her for the party, tells her that it was a total surprise—which is a lie, because she knew Izzie would capitalize on my thirtieth to buy a new outfit, throw a big bash, and invite as many of her friends as Jo’s own. Still, it was nice of her to have the party, and Jo’s finally glad that she did. Izzie’s the kind of friend who always makes things feel special. Izzie hugs Jo hard and tells her she'd do anything for her, and what would she do without Jo, her maid of honour, the sister she never had. She is gushing, as she always does when she drinks too much.

Alex cuts her off, "happy birthday, princess. We'll talk to you tomorrow." He gives Jo a kiss on the cheek as she grimaces at the old nickname he had coined all the way back when they were freshman in college. Before he exits, he turns back one last time, “you’ll be OK?”

"Thanks, Alex," Jo smiles. "I’ll be fine, good night."

Jo watches him usher Izzie outside, holding her elbow after she nearly trips on the curb. Oh, to have such a caretaker. To be able to drink with reckless abandon and know that there will be someone to get you home safely—so you didn’t end the night passed out on your male friend’s bed with absolutely no idea if anything happened between the pair of you.

Sometime later, Alex reappears in the bar—much to Jo’s drunken delight.

"Izzie lost her purse. She thinks she left it here.” He huffs with a roll of his eyes, “it's small, silver," he continues, using his hands to show them the size. "Have you seen it?""

“She lost her new Chanel bag?" Jo shakes her head and laughs, a little louder than she anticipated thanks to the alcohol coursing through her system, because it is just like Izzie to lose her things. Usually Jo would try her best to keep track of them for her, but as it was her birthday, she decided to go off duty—albeit unintentionally. Still, Jo helps Alex search for the purse, finally spotting it under a bar stool.

“Oh my god!” Jo hears Jackson’s mocking tone from behind her, “the Chanel purse, Jo!” She grabs the purse from the floor, accidentally knocking her head against the bar, before turning around to shove a laughing Jackson in the chest.

Alex grins, lifting a hand to ruffle her now slightly messy hair playfully, “what would I do without you?” He asks rhetorically, but there’s a glint in his eyes as he watches her glance up at the ceiling with a smug shrug, full of confidence.

As he turns to leave, Alex's friend Andrew, one of his groomsmen, convinces him to stay.

"C'mon, man. Hang out for a minute." With that, Alex calls Izzie at home and she slurs her consent, tells him to have fun without her. Although she is probably thinking that such a thing is not possible.

Gradually Jo’s friends peel away, Jackson included, saying their final happy birthdays. Alex and Jo outlast everyone, even Jackson. Something which wasn’t uncommon, it had become a regular occurrence since college. The pair sit at the bar making conversation with the young bartender from earlier who has an "Amy" tattoo and zero interest in the aging brunette lawyer.

It’s just after three when they decide that it's time to go. The night feels more like midsummer than spring, and the warm air infuses Jo with sudden hope: maybe this will be the summer she finds what she wants to do, where she’s going and all that crap.

Alex hails me a cab, but as it pulls over, he says, "how about one more bar?” His voice is hopeful and there’s that familiar crooked smirk on his lips, “one more drink?"

"Fine," Jo groans with a roll of her eyes, a smile on her face that tells Alex she’s joking—she’s more than happy to stop at one more bar with him. "Why not?" Jo grins as they both get into the can and he tells the cab driver to just drive, that he has to think about where to next.

They end up in Alphabet City at a bar on Seventh and Avenue B, aptly named 7B. It’s not an upbeat scene—7B is dingy and smoke-filled. They both like it anyway—it's not sleek and it's not a dive, it’s more up to their speed, more them.

Alex points to a booth, “sit down, this ones on me." Then he’s turning around, "what shall I get you, still partial to a vodka cranberry or beer?" He asks, that smirk still on his lips as he’s proud to think of how well he knows the woman in front of him.

Jo tells him she’ll have whatever he's having, and then she sits and waits for him in the dark red booth, patiently as the vodka and tequila and rum swills around her head. Jo watches as Alex says something to a girl who’s stood at the bar wearing army-green cargo pants and a tank top that says "Fallen Angel." Jo almost scoffs. Jo smiles and shakes her head, ignoring the familiar pang of jealousy running through her veins.

A moment later Alex slides in across from Jo in the old booth, pushing a beer her way. "Newcastle," he says before he smiles, crinkly lines appearing around his eyes. "You like?" Jo nods and smiles back at him.

From the corner of her eye, Jo see’s Fallen Angel turn on her bar stool and survey Alex, absorbing his chiselled features, wavy hair, full lips. Izzie complained once that Alex garners more stares and double takes than she does. Yet, unlike his female counterpart, Alex seems not to notice the attention. Fallen Angel now casts her eyes Jo’s way, likely wondering what Alex is doing with someone so average. Even if the little black dress did wonders for her usually non-existent cleavage, Jo didn’t see herself as anything special. She finds herself silently hoping that the girl thinks they're a couple. Tonight, nobody has to know that she is only a member of the wedding party.

“That’s the dress you wore to our celebratory drinks the night we took the bar.” Alex notices, tilting his beer in her direction.

“Oh wow,” Jo let’s out a breathy laugh, “you remember that?”

Alex smirks before letting out a sigh and shaking his head in almost disbelief, “Of course I do. You threw up all over my bathroom floor whilst wearing it.”

Jo’s jaw drops to the floor at the mention of the old memory, her eyes scanning over Alex as he sets his beer down and lets out a hearty laugh. “Noooo,” she drags the word out, cringing, “I was such a disaster.”

Alex scoffs, “no you were not, you were a college student.”

And for the third time that night, their eyes are glued to one another’s, both having so much to say but having no idea how to say it. But this is how it had always been with Alex, even when they could feel the tension between them—they were still nothing but completely comfortable with one another. Although, in this instance, her cheeks began to heat up.

Jo clears her throat, shaking her head, hoping the waft of her hair would cool down the heat that was rising at the back of her neck. “Do you remember that apartment,” she reminisces, “it barely fit the two of us.”

“How could I forget,” Alex mumbles with a grin, “I spent half the time I lived there sleeping on the floor ‘cause your place was always flooding.”

“I don’t know why you always let me crash in your bed.” Jo thinks out loud. He doesn’t answer, just shakes his head and takes another long swig of his beer, hoping the conversation will change. “You know, I had a huge thing for you back in college.” The words tumble from her lips, so fast he barely catches them but after a second he’s certain of what he’s heard. And she wants to say it’s the drink talking—the alcohol running through her system. But it’s not. And he knows its not. She can tell by the way he awkwardly bows his head, hiding his smile and shaking his head.

Eventually, the conversation changes and it’s as if she never made the slip up. But she did. But then Alex is talking about his job and their Hamptons share that begins in another week and a lot of things. It’s always been this way, easy and comfortable. But Izzie doesn’t come up and neither does their September wedding, not once.

After the pair finish their beers they move over to the jukebox, fill it with dollar bills, searching for good songs as they giggle and tease one another about their song choices. Jo pushes the code for "Thunder Road" twice because she knows it’s his favourite song.

"Yes, Springsteen's got to be at the top of the list. Ever seen him in concert?" Alex’s eyes glimmer, as they glance down to Jo—a tipsy smile gracing his lips.

"Nope," Jo answers with a laugh, “grew up homeless, remember. Concerts were a luxury I couldn’t afford." Jo almost tell him that Izzie offered to take her back in high school, well, Izzie would have been dragged along out of pity even though she much preferred groups like the Backstreet Boys. But Jo decides it’s best not to bring this up. Because then he’ll remember that it’s probably time to go home to Izzie and she doesn't want to be alone in her dwindling moments of twenty-somethingness.

Alex chuckles, never being one to skirt around Jo’s tough upbringing, it was actually one of the reasons they became such good friends. “You’ve had a zip code for over ten years now, I’m not letting that excuse slide anymore.”

Jo mocks shock, slapping a hand against the back of his upper arm, “not an excuse, jerk.”

Not too long later, it’s last call at 7B. They get a couple more beers and return to their booth.

Sometime later they are back in a cab once again, going north on First Avenue. "Two stops," Alex tells the cab driver, as they both live on opposite sides of Central Park. Alex is holding Izzie's Chanel purse, which looks small and out of place in his large hands. Jo glances over at the silver dial of his Rolex, a gift from Izzie. It is just shy of five o'clock. They sit almost silently for a stretch of ten or fifteen blocks, besides for a few comments mixed with tipsy laughter, both of them looking out of their respective side windows, until the cab hits a pothole and Jo finds herself lurched into the middle of the backseat, her bare leg grazing his.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Alex’s lips are on Jo’s. He’s kissing her. Or maybe she’s the one kissing him. But, somehow, no matter who was the one that initiated it, they’re kissing. And Jo’s mind has gone blank as she listens to the soft sound of their lips meeting again and again. Their tongues tangle, fighting for dominance which Alex eventually wins over and Jo can’t complain … because this is what she’s wanted for so so long.

Ever since freshman year.

At some point, Alex taps on the Plexiglas partition and tells the driver, between kisses, that it will just be one stop after all.

They arrive on the corner of seventy-third and third, near Jo’s apartment. Alex hands the driver a twenty and doesn’t bother to wait for change. They spill out of the taxi, kissing more on the sidewalk and then in front of Jose, Jo’s doorman. It makes her giggle and not because she’s still a little tipsy and high from the feeling of Alex’s lips on hers but because who would’ve thought—Hobo Jo has a doorman.

Their lips don’t part the whole way up in the elevator, their hands grabby and desperate as they try to fight the urge to rip off one another’s clothing. Alex has Jo pressed against the elevator wall, her hands moving to the back of his head.

Once their up, she fumbles with her key, turning it the wrong way in the lock as Alex keeps his arms around her waist, his soft lips nipping and biting against her neck and the side of her face. Finally, the door is open, and they’re no longer just kissing and touching. They’re in the middle of her studio, and he’s slowly pulling down the thin straps of her dress, kissing the soft skin where his hands graze—savouring the moment.

Just as Alex is about to pull down the tight dress the rest of the way. His hands stop their descent, placing them on either side of her head and forcing her to look at him. Her pink plump lips swollen, hair messy from him running his fingers through the long tendrils—she looked perfect, he’s never thought she looked more perfect than she did in this very moment.

“Are you drunk?" His voice is a whisper in the dark.

"No," Jo says. Because you always say no when you're drunk. And even though she is a little, she seems to have a lucid instant where she can consider this whole thing clearly. It strikes her that, in a sense, she can have both a momentous birthday night and the one thing she’s wanted for as long as she can remember.

One thought of Izzie is in her mind, but she’s being pushed to the back, overwhelmed by a force stronger than their friendship and her own conscience.

Within seconds, Alex’s lips are back on hers and he’s hurriedly removing her dress ad she makes quick work of snapping open the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Jo doesn’t even realise they’re moving backwards until he’s throwing her down onto the soft bed and Alex crawls on top of her. Jo’s eyes flutter closed, then open, then closed again as a swarm of pleasure sweeps over her as Alex’s hand continue to roam over her body.

“Me too.”

“Hmm?”

“I had a huge thing for you, too. Still do.”

And then, somehow, she’s having sex with her best friend's fiancé.

#jolex #jo wilson #alex karev

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makeste · 4 years ago

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top 20 favorite quirks

okay, but listen, though! it’s exactly what it says in the title. not best quirks, or most useful quirks, or most creative quirks. not even coolest quirks! I did try to take all of these things into consideration when choosing, but honestly? by far the most important factor was, “I JUST THINK THEY’RE NEAT.”

anyway but let me backtrack and post the actual ask.

you’ll note that at no point was I asked to pick twenty of them. I did that all on my own. so here is my list!

20. Solid Air (Tsuburaba)

Tsubaraba Kousei. all-time undefeated grand champion of The Floor Is Lava. or at least he was until Ochako came along. anyway, so this is an extremely nifty quirk with all sorts of utility ranging from defense to helping him get around. it’s super useful for catching bad guys, and apparently the only real limit is his lung capacity. this quirk has so much potential and I love it.

19. Copy (Monoma)

the fact that he can copy his opponents’ powers and use them against them is badass enough, but add in the fact that he can hold up to 3 (or 4??) of them at once -- for as long as ten minutes -- and this quirk starts getting seriously powerful. anyway so one thing you might note as you read on is that although Copy is on my favorite quirks list, AFO is not! and that’s because Monoma’s limits actually make the quirk much more interesting to me, because they force him (and Horikoshi) to get creative. this is a really fun quirk and I would love to see more of Monoma in action. about time we saw him fight some actual villains and not just class 1-A, honestly.

18. Brainwashing (Shinsou)

as with Monoma’s quirk, what really sets this apart from other mind-control superpowers (to me, anyway) is the fact that it has limitations. he can’t just control anyone at random; in order to take them over he has to get them to respond to him somehow. which leads to innovations like the voice-changer, and which as a result has made his battles so genuinely interesting and fun to watch. anyway so I really want Shinsou to hurry up and join 2-A, and for them to just give him his provisional license all “here you go, son” with no testing whatsoever, because we’re past the point of pretending the HPSC is actually responsible these days, and because I really want to see if he can help turn the tides the next time the heroes battle the League.

17. Zero Gravity (Ochako)

I feel like it’s worth noting that I don’t really have any kind of fear of heights or falling or anything like that. and so I can’t really explain why Toga using this quirk on Ms. Curious and her lackeys was hands down one of the most singularly disturbing scenes in the entire manga for me! but it was!! even now I’m wincing just thinking about it. she just lifted them all up and DROPPED THEM and they just FELL and DIED. just like that. holy fucking shit. anyway, so we should all be very grateful that Ochako is super kind and sweet and more inclined towards helping people rather than murdering them. because holy shit. anyways though this quirk is dope.

16. Erasure (Aizawa)

I once said that this quirk was “not very cinematic”, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so wrong about anything in my life. oh, past me. you truly underestimated the dramatic impact of someone with a terrifyingly powerful quirk going in for the kill, only to be all “NANI?!” as they suddenly realize that their powers are no longer working, and the camera pans over to a man with gorgeous floating hair and intense red anime eyes. I owe you an apology, Erasure. you are cinematic AF.

15. Black Hole (Thirteen)

I really wish we got to see Thirteen fight more often. they suffer from the same “too powerful” curse as so many of the other characters and it’s a shame. anyway so Black Hole is cool af and gives me a ton of Miroku/kazaana vibes, which I freaking love. this quirk is lowkey on a Tomura-level of destructive potential, honestly, and yet no one ever talks about it?? Thirteen could literally destroy anything they touched if they wanted to?? imagine if they ever Awakened, you guys. holy shit.

14. Tape (Sero)

this power is so fucking stupid and ridiculous and completely absurd and I LOVE IT. Horikoshi really drew a skinny guy with tape elbows and was all, “so this kid is basically Spider-Man but with tape. I have not put the least bit of logical thought or creative effort into this power beyond that, and I’m not going to, either.” and somehow we all just accepted it. anyway, dubious origins aside, it’s such a versatile ability and Sero has such amazing control over it. it’s offense; it’s defense; he can use it to set traps; he can use it for maneuverability. TAPE ELBOWS CAN DO IT ALL.

13. Outburst (Ms. Joke)

when will it finally be her time. Outburst is one of those powers that sounds super dumb at first, until you really stop and think what the ability to make someone laugh at will could actually DO to people. true uncontrollable belly laughter is a totally incapacitating thing. she’d have people collapsing to the ground and practically seizing up. and good luck using your own quirk to fight back when you’re doubled over struggling to breathe and can’t even see straight because of the tears in your eyes. that’s assuming any of her opponents are even capable of thinking straight long enough to try it. like, this is such a straight up brutal ability and the fact that we have still NEVER SEEN IT is honestly infuriating.

12. Glamour (Camie)

it’s an illusion quirk. of course I have to put it on my list. illusion powers make every battle approximately 100x more entertaining. and what makes this particular power even better is that in any other series, this quirk would have been given to some Tokoyami-esque super serious emo kid. but BnHA went and gave it to Karen from Mean Girls instead. what a fucking power move. goddamn.

11. Black (Kuroiro)

according to BnHA Ultra Analysis, Kuroiro’s Appearing Out of Nowhere skills are rated a 4 out of 6. I still haven’t figured out if this is meant to be a burn on him or not. this kid can ninja in and out of literally any dark object in existence. if it’s nighttime, that means he can basically move wherever he wants to at will. of course he’s skilled at Appearing Out of Nowhere. so tell me then, why is it ONLY a four out of six?? how could he possibly fuck this up?? who was grading him?? DOES HE JUST SUCK. I don’t know, but anyway it’s really funny to me and also I really love this quirk.

10. Transform (Toga)

Toga went and Awakened herself right into the top ten with the reveal that not only can she mimic other people’s appearances, but that while she is transformed, she can actually use their quirks. like excuse me, what?? holy shit??? it is honestly driving me crazy that we’ve only seen this in action once. Transform is basically Plot Twist: The Quirk. I really want to see Toga use it to its full potential and infiltrate U.A. and/or spy on the HPSC and/or murder someone with their loved one’s own quirk. I WANT HER TO GIVE SOMEONE THE MAES HUGHES TREATMENT. I want her to do something so shocking that people ragequit the fucking manga lol. I know I’m always saying the manga isn’t that dark, but this is honestly the one exception where I would freaking love for it to get dark as shit. anyway so yeah. if you want to fuck with people you really couldn’t ask for a better quirk.

9. Creation (Momo)

MACGUYVER: THE QUIRK. an unlimited inventory in the hands of someone brilliant enough to actually utilize it to its full extent. what’s not to love? honestly if it were me with this quirk it would be completely useless. not only would I get hopelessly bored two seconds into trying to memorize an object’s molecular structure or whatever, but even if I DID manage to figure out how to make stuff, I would never know what to do with the stuff, or when to use it. every time a new situation cropped up I would just create a bunch of random objects in a panic. but Momo is so elegant in her problem-solving that she often needs to create only one or two things to come up with the perfect solution for something. basically this is a good quirk that becomes a truly great quirk when placed in the hands of the best possible person in the world to wield it. the quirk is awesome because Momo is awesome, and I fucking adore quirks like that (see: next entry).

8. Permeation (Mirio)

ah, Mirio. the original victim of the “too powerful to be allowed” curse. remember that time he BEAT HALF OF CLASS 1-A IN UNDER SIX SECONDS, you guys. small wonder Horikoshi couldn’t even make it through one complete villain fight with him before he had to de-quirk the poor kid. anyway, so Mirio makes this quirk look so mind-blowingly awesome that it’s easy to forget what a terrifying and fucked-up power it is in reality. “yeah it makes me blind and deaf and if I’m not careful I’ll fall into the center of the earth or splice myself in two or some shit.” what the actual fuck Mirio. but because he’s worked so hard and because Nighteye trained him so well, he’s mastered the timing to such an insane degree that he could kick Overhaul in the face without harming a single hair on Eri’s body. and honestly, there’s no way I could not love a quirk that gave us a moment like that.

7. Warp Gate (Kurogiri)

unlike SOME OTHER PEOPLE whose names start with Kuro, I would bet you that Kurogiri’s Appearing Out of Nowhere skills are a full six out of six! alas, the top ten of this list is chock full of people whose quirks are so badass that they had to be written out of the story one way or another. with Kuro at large there was technically nothing stopping the villains from just dropping in on U.A. one night to kill All Might, or rekidnap Bakugou, or whatever else they might want to do. and that’s actually a really scary thought though lol so it’s no wonder that Horikoshi was all, “yeah I’ll just have them capture him now.” anyways do you guys remember that one time in chapter 18 when Kuro used Warp Gate to create an endless loop of All Might suplexing Noumu suplexing All Might?? fucking quirks, though. wild.

6. Fiber Master (Best Jeanist)

another badass quirk, another badass quirk-user incapacitated and taken out of the story before their time. Best Jeanist is honestly terrifying. if he wanted to he could immobilize and even strangle and kill pretty much anyone in the world, whenever he fucking felt like it. that alone would be crazy enough, but then add to that that this quirk for all intents and purposes is basically telekinesis. as long as someone is wearing clothing he can move them around however he wants, as we saw in Kamino. basically, everything Hawks can do with Fierce Wings, Jeanist can probably do with his own quirk. AND THAT INCLUDES FLYING, YOU GUYS. the more I think about it the more I think we truly were robbed. I need Jeanist to come back already and fly everyone at Jakku to safety and tie Tomura to a chair with his own cape before proceeding to style his hair.

5. Rewind (Eri)

IT’S MY LIST!! I CAN PUT WHATEVER I WANT, AND IF YOU SAY I CAN’T, I’M TELLING MOM. okay but listen. everyone always rags on this quirk and how stupidly powerful it is, and look, I get it. but isn’t it kind of interesting that everyone is also always speculating over who Eri is eventually going to heal with her quirk? like, fandom is always complaining about how broken it is but at the same time they’re out here hatching all of these wild theories that center around it. and to me that indicates that in truth, this is actually an awesome quirk -- just so long as it’s used right. obviously there have to be some major limitations or else this is just “Fix Everything: The Quirk.” thankfully, Horikoshi did limit it! it’s super dangerous, she has trouble controlling it, and most importantly, it’s ridiculously slow to recharge and so she can only use it once every few months. it’s basically Recovery Girl’s quirk with a bonus slow-replenishing stamina bar that, once charged, allows her to release one ultra-powerful SUPER HEAL special move. and that’s pretty awesome. basically I think this quirk gets too much hate and not enough credit for the additional menu options it adds to the story. it’s interesting and compelling and I can’t wait to see what Horikoshi does with it.

4. Dark Shadow (Tokoyami)

TOKOYAMI WHY IS YOUR QUIRK SENTIENT. Existential Crisis: The Quirk. do quirks have souls?? if you shot Tokoyami with a quirk-be-gone bullet would Dark Shadow fucking die??? if Tomura absorbed Tokoyami’s quirk would Dark Shadow grow out of his back and be all “hey um, who the fuck are you”?? and would Toko’s head turn back into a normal human boy head?? would Dark Shadow look like Tomura instead of a bird shadow?? what even IS Dark Shadow, actually?? obviously it is not just a shadow because shadows can’t punch people or shield people from attacks or pick people up and fly them around. but yet he’s afraid of fire and grows weaker in daylight?? is Tokoyami secretly the strongest character in the entire series?? is there any way I can possibly justify putting this quirk all the way down at #4 instead of #1 where it clearly belongs?? let me answer that question by not answering it and moving on.

3. Explosion (Bakugou)

is the fix in?? is “exploding hands” really a better quirk than a fucking sentient monster man who lives in your belly button and reads your mind and is made of ~darkness energy~ and is your best friend? apparently the answer is yes! to both of those questions. yes the fix is in. I love Kacchan and his quirk is fucking awesome okay. it just never ceases to amaze me how this one single quirk, which really only does one thing, is nonetheless so spectacularly powerful that it allows Bakugou to compete on the same level as the fucking protagonist with all of his godlike super-strength and Main Character Powers and wacky SIXQUIRKS!! shenanigans. in my opinion the coolest thing about Explosion isn’t even its firepower; it’s the way Bakugou’s adapted it to fly around and to boost his speed. I think he legit may be the fastest character in the series right now, or close to it. he’s faster than Iida and Gran Torino and Endeavor. he can keep up with Deku without breaking a sweat. and he knows how to use that speed, thanks to his insane reflexes. add in the fact that this is also without a doubt the most cinematic quirk in the entire series, and I think I’m justified in putting it this high up. and anyway I still put two others up above it so shh.

2. Search (Ragdoll/Tomura)

Hey, What’s That Guy’s Deal: The Quirk. I just really love this one you guys. it’s so fucking useful. Video Game HUD: The Quirk. one hundred people at a time?? locations and weak points?? works even when you’re not looking at the person anymore and have blinked your eyes, unlike CERTAIN OTHER PEOPLE’S weak-ass quirks?? check, check, and check. is it any wonder AFO wanted this? plus it just looks so damn cool. the visual representation of everyone as little stars on a map. Turn On Location: The Quirk. okay look I feel like I’m doing a bad job of explaining why I have this quirk all the way up at number two. it just has this subtle badassness to it, and its introduction after almost two hundred chapters of buildup was just so fucking cool. maybe it’s recency bias?? I don’t even know; all I know is that I love this quirk and want to see more of it in action.

1. Blackwhip (Lariat/Deku)

listen, I was obsessed with this quirk back when it was called “Venom” and was by far the absolute coolest part of the 1990s Spider-Man cartoon series. I’m not just going to suddenly not be obsessed with it just because fandom is mad that Horikoshi gave Deku an additional power beyond just Smashing Stuff. Blackwhip is hands down the coolest quirk, guys. I’m sorry, it just is. it has the coolest name. it had the coolest entrance. it does basically anything you could ever want a quirk to do in battle. it grabs stuff. it Bloops. what more do you want. you’re all just jealous because you wish that you could Bloop too. I know I am. I wish I had a Bloop. anyway so yeah, Blackwhip is the upgrade to Deku’s fighting style that we desperately needed after 200+ chapters of Delaware Smashes and Broken Bones. all his fights are cooler now. he can save more people! he can fight without instantly dying! plus you just gotta love powers that occasionally explode out of control if their user gets all emotional and pissed off about the fact that you insulted his boyfriend. so yeah. Blackwhip at number one! on this list of favorite quirks. not best quirks!! jesus christ. please don’t kill me I have a family.

so that’s my list! all 3000 words of it. how does this keep happening.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bnha ranking #bnha top ten #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

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yamagucci-x · 4 years ago

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Read on Ao3 The once-first-years begin their final season together. Rated: G

Hinata pressed his forearms together, bumping the ball back toward Kageyama in a high arc. They’d spent most of the rainy afternoon in Hinata’s room, playing video games or re-watching highlights from pro games, but as soon as the skies cleared in the evening they shrugged on their jackets and started tossing around a worn volleyball in the backyard.

It’d become a more common scene over the years, since Kageyama finally started acknowledging their friendship for what is was. At the very least, he had decided it was less trouble to actually answer Hinata’s texts and come over (at the risk of getting roped into spinning for Natsu’s double dutch practice) than to ignore him and have Hinata appear unannounced at his house twenty minutes later. Nowadays, most off days found the two of them chatting as they savored the simple pleasure of passing the ball back and forth.

As Hinata watched Kageyama stretch up his arms to toss he was reminded of another evening in his yard, about three months ago. Unlike the humid April evening it had been a cold, harsh night in January. The air was biting and snow began to swirl as clouds obscured the sunset. Their devastating loss to Inarizaki at Nationals was still fresh, stinging and burning with every recollection. They had no net but Hinata pushed the ball into Kageyama’s chest, demanding he set for him. He’d spiked each one of his setter’s tosses into the gathering snow with more ferocity than the last, until they were left staring up into the dark sky with silent, hot tears streaming down their cheeks. They probably would’ve stood there all night if Hinata’s mom hadn’t called them inside with dark predictions of losing their fingers to frostbite.

Now, on the eve of a new volleyball season, the mood was different. They had licked their wounds, healed and rested, and were itching for more.

“What do you think the new first-years will be like?” Hinata asked.

Kageyama smirked. “Hopefully they won’t suck as bad as you did.”

Hinata sucked his teeth, switching from an underhand to overhand position. “Well hopefully they won’t have your shitty attitude.”

Kageyama shot him a look but didn’t say anything, reaching up to toss the ball high and slow to the side. Hinata’s eyes flashed as he saw the opportunity. With a running start he launched himself into the air and spiked the ball down hard. They grinned as their eyes met.

“It’s kinda sad though, isn’t it,” Hinata said as he jogged to retrieve the ball, “Our last season at Karasuno.” There was more he could’ve said— their last season as teammates, probably the last season they’d see each other regularly, their last season before things really changed— but he didn’t.

“Not really,” the setter said bluntly.

“Kageyama! You’re so heartless,” Hinata hollered, chucking the ball at him, “You sound like Tsukishima!”

Usually an insult like that would have him red in the face, but he caught the ball with a smile and a glint in his eye. “I mean, it’s not like we’re ever going to stop playing volleyball, right?”

Across town Tsukishima sneezed, feeling an odd twinge like someone was talking about him.

Yamaguchi jumped a little on the other end of the bed. “Shit, you’re not getting sick, are you?” He whipped around to look at him with wide eyes, sitting forward on his knees. “You can’t get a cold now, Tsukki, the new season starts tomorrow!”

Tsukishima adjusted his glasses with a frown. “Will you relax? It was one sneeze, I’m not getting hospitalized.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi sighed, slumping back against the wall and clutching his stomach, “I’m just so anxious about my first day as captain. Yachi gave me some advice on dealing with nerves, but I feel just like the first time Coach called me up as a pinch server.”

“Yeah, you’ve been acting psychotic all week. It’s ridiculous.”

“Hey!” Yamaguchi tossed a pillow at his head. “Just because you never get worked up about anything doesn’t mean it’s ridiculous. There’s a lot of pressure!”

Tsukki rolled his eyes, running a hand through his bangs to fix them. “It’s ridiculous when you’re the only one who still doubts your skills.” He refused to meet Yamaguchi’s gaze but he couldn’t help the corner of his lip curling upward.

Yamaguchi smiled, understanding how Tsukki complimented him in his own way. “Y-Yeah, I guess,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“Now will you finally pick a course?” Tsukki picked up his Switch controller and nodded toward the Mario Kart menu blinking on the TV, “I wanna kick your ass again.”

“Oh right- sorry, Tsukki!”

The next morning broke cold and clear. In his rush to bike to school Hinata almost hit Kageyama in the street, but after some arguing and a little shoving they agreed to stop by Sakanoshita Store together. Just as they got to the shop, three other figures appeared at either side of the intersection— Tsukishima and Yamaguchi from one direction, Yachi from the other. For a second, they all blinked at each other in silence.

“Guess we all had the same idea, huh?” Yachi said with a smile.

They all laughed and, realizing it’d been weeks since they’d really seen each other, fell into handshakes and eager chatter. Even Tsukki seemed excited, his lips pressed into a smile.

“You finally got the haircut, ‘Guchi!” Hinata grinned as his teammate reluctantly submitted to having his hair ruffled.

“It looks good! You’re not shaggy anymore,” Yachi giggled. “Oh wait! I guess we should be referring to you as Captain Yamaguchi now, huh?” She struck a pose and saluted him with a stiff upper lip.

Everyone else laughed, but Yamaguchi looked a little sea sick. “Ugh. Remind to buy some antacid, I’m gonna need it.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tsukishima said, “It’s not like any first years could ever be worse than these two were.” He smirked at Hinata and Kageyama.

Hinata bounced with indignation. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I wasn’t even that bad, Kageyama’s the one-”

“-Don’t try to blame me, dumbass, my ‘attitude’ was ‘cause you sucked,” Kageyama snapped.

“What?!”

“Oh, these?” She pulled her low ponytail over her shoulder so she could fidget with a lock of hair. “It’s nothing, just- I guess some people have been noticing the posters I make for you guys and, well, the girls’ team asked me to do something for them.” She turned the papers around, revealing an eye-catching design to recruit new members.

Yamaguchi looked stricken. “Oh god,” he groaned, “How am I supposed to keep order? I can’t be scary like Sawamura or Ennoshita!” A chill ran through the group at the memory of lectures past. None of them were sure anyone could be scarier than Daichi.

Evidently looking for a change in topic, Yamaguchi sighed and pointed to the small stack of papers Yachi clutched to her chest. “Anyway, what’ve you got there, Yachi?”

The other boys nodded approvingly but Hinata’s eyes went wide. “You’re doing work for another team? But you’re our manager!” He clenched his fists, shouting to the sky, “Augh! It was so cool to be the only club with awesome posters!”

“It’s way too early for this much yelling,” Tsukishima muttered.

Yachi’s face immediately went red and she threw out her hands. “I-I’m sorry Hinata! I told them it was just this once, I don’t want anyone on the team to think I’m a traitor!”

Hinata, who didn’t seem to be listening, wrapped his arms around Yachi from the side. “Screw the girls’ team, I won’t let them take you!”

Suddenly the door of Sakanoshita Store flew open and they all froze. “Oi!” Coach Ukai appeared, his breath a mix of cigarette smoke and steam, “You idiots gonna stand there causing a ruckus in the freezing cold all morning, or are you gonna come in?”

“Sorry, Coach!” They called, running inside.

Ten minutes later they filed out, Yachi sipping hot cocoa (an apology for “roping her in with the idiots”) while the boys munched on granola bars. Yamaguchi was feeling more confident after a pep talk from Ukai, and everyone was energized after hearing that they had an early practice game scheduled.

“I guess if I’m having trouble I can always count on you to whip the new recruits into shape, right Yachi?” Yamaguchi said, nudging her with a smile.

Yachi withered a little. “Oh gosh, no- I have my hands full enough trying to wrangle you guys and the second-years.” Really, the second-years were well behaved and her own cohort listened when she found the courage to reprimand them. But somehow a joke had gotten started that she’d turn into a drill sergeant and just the thought made her want to faint. She shuddered even when she remembered how poorly everyone got along before she joined in their first year. Sure she’d grown a lot since then, but she still wasn’t sure her nerves could handle something like that.

“Oo, we should all take a picture before our practice game this week,” Hinata suggested, “To commemorate the start of our last season!” Yachi and Yamaguchi responded with enthusiastic yeses, but Kageyama and Tsukishima both scoffed.

“I’m not doing that,” they said in unison. Everyone tried to stifle their laughter when the two boys looked at each other with a mix of shock and disgust.

“Fine,” Kageyama said after a minute.

“I guess,” Tsukishima muttered.

“Perfect!” Hinata tried to throw his arms over their shoulders, but they both brushed him off with a scowl. “Karasuno- fight!”

“Shut up, it’s too early!”

#karasuno first years

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junghelioseok · 6 years ago

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change. | epilogue

↳ a kind, handsome stranger makes you question your deteriorating relationship.

◇ taehyung x reader | jungkook x reader ◇ angst | fluff | smut ◇ 3.7k [10/10]

notes: at long last, this story is finally over! thank you so much for putting up with my sporadic updates and sticking with me for so long! ♡

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | epilogue ✓

One year later -

It takes exactly twenty-two minutes to drive downtown from your apartment on a day with traffic. You know this fact well, for it’s a trip you’ve taken many times, but the man whose lap you are seated on doesn’t seem to understand the sense of urgency at all. “Tae, we’re going to be late!” you insist, prying uselessly at the hands curled around your hips. “It takes twenty-two minutes to get downtown!”

“Good thing it’s only nine-thirty then,” Taehyung croons, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear. “And that means we still have eight minutes to do whatever we want.”

You dissolve into laughter when he pokes at your sides playfully. “Tae, come on.”

Your boyfriend relents with a chuckle, releasing you from his embrace and standing up when you tug on his hand. He watches with hooded eyes as you fuss with his tie—straightening the silver pin and adjusting the knot until it sits neatly at his throat—and once you’re satisfied with the result, he grabs your hand again and laces your fingers together. You check your purse one last time while Taehyung pats down his pockets for his belongings, and once you’re both sure that you have everything you’ll need, you bid Yeontan goodbye and step out the front door. Taehyung locks up while you call the elevator, and together, the two of you descend to the parking garage where Taehyung’s sleek silvery car is parked.

The drive downtown passes in comfortable silence, broken only by the soft jazz filtering through the speakers. Your route takes you past the business district, steely gray skyscrapers rising up outside your window as Taehyung stops at a red light. One building stands out in particular—a monochrome glass high-rise that you immediately recognize.

It’s Jungkook’s office. You’ve visited the building many times in the past, and even now you occasionally walk by on your way to and from work. It took some time for the you and Jungkook to heal after your breakup—however mutual it may have been—but after several long months the two of you finally settled into a comfortable, casual friendship. You’ve even gotten coffee a few times, but as of late you haven’t been hearing from him very often. And when you stumbled across him while waiting to cross a busy downtown street last Thursday, you finally found out why.

He’s seeing someone new. You’d spotted him sitting in a cozy little cafe at noon, the large glass windows opened up to let in fresh air, and that alone is enough to have you stopping dead in your tracks. For as long as you’ve known him, Jeon Jungkook has been a workaholic—a man who, on the rare occasion that he actually ate lunch, ate at his desk with his laptop still up and running. So when you see him out—and with a young woman sitting in the chair across from him, nonetheless—joy bubbles up in your chest. Even from your spot across the street, you can see how enamored he is with his companion. It’s clear from the relaxed set of his shoulders and the sparkle in his eyes, and when she says something amusing, you can practically hear him cackle in delight.

Maybe it’s the wail of a passing ambulance or a particularly strong gust of wind, but he suddenly looks up, his gaze locking with yours. For a long moment, the two of you stare at each other silently, before Jungkook cracks a smile and waves a hand in greeting. You wave back.

Then he’s turning back to his new girlfriend, another grin creasing his expression as he says something to her. You cross the street with a smile on your lips, and when you finally reach the restaurant that Taehyung is waiting for you at, you tell him all about what you’d seen.

“I’m happy for him,” Taehyung said.

“Me too,” you replied.

And that was that.

Back in the present, the light turns green, and you settle comfortably into your seat as the car begins gliding forward once more. Reaching across the center console, you place a hand on Taehyung’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze and grinning when the corners of his mouth curve up into a playful smile. One hand leaves the steering wheel to settle atop yours, and you relish the warm, comfortable weight of his palm as he makes the final turn toward your destination. Directing your attention to the window again, you watch as the stately columns of the hotel come into view. Namjoon is standing on the steps chatting with his best man, Jackson, and waves when he spots your car slowing to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” Namjoon calls once you’ve opened the door and exited the vehicle. “How was the drive down?”

“Not bad,” you reply, admiring the silky white shirt he’s wearing. The tall man is wearing an entirely white suit, a slender pink tie knitted loosely around his neck. His ashen hair is swept off his forehead, and you give him an approving thumbs-up before turning toward Jackson. “You’re here early, Jackson.”

Jackson brushes a stray lock of dark hair off his forehead. “Nah, I only got here ten minutes ago. Wanted to check on the flower delivery.”

You nod. As best man and maid of honor, you and Jackson have spent the past several months organizing and planning for the wedding. Thankfully, Namjoon and Jin had opted for a simple ceremony, but that hasn’t stopped you from checking and double-checking every detail. “And the photographer?”

“Already inside,” Jackson replies, jabbing a thumb toward the door. “He’s setting up now.”

“And I’ve got backup,” Taehyung pipes up, cheerfully hefting his camera bag.

Namjoon watches the entire exchange with a soft smile, dimples creasing his cheeks. “You guys are the best,” he says. “Really. I can’t even begin to imagine what we would’ve done without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” you reply, grinning up at him. “Am I allowed to hug you? Or will that ruin your suit?”

Namjoon laughs and opens up his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous—if anyone’s ruining my suit, it’ll be me. Bring it in.”

Giggling, you step into his embrace, looping your arms around his waist. Vaguely, you are aware of Taehyung stepping up beside you to engage Jackson in conversation, but all you can focus on is Namjoon—sweet, wonderful Namjoon, a man you love dearly and a man who, in a matter of hours, will be marrying your best friend. And speaking of your best friend—

“Where is he?” you ask, pulling back from the hug.

“Inside,” Namjoon replies, nodding at the entrance of the hotel. “Insists that we should minimize our interactions lest we get cursed—you know how Jin is. He’s in the third room on the left. You can’t miss it.”

You nod and reach up to smooth down the rumpled lapels of his shirt and straighten his pink tie. “Thanks Joonie,” you murmur ardently, sentiment bubbling up in your chest at the thought of him walking down the aisle. “I’ll see you in a few, yeah?”

Namjoon’s eyes are glistening, though he quickly blinks a few times to dispel the moisture. “Yeah. Now get your butt in there. My fiancé—” He pauses, then continues again, a soft smile settling across his features. “My husband. My idiotic, soon-to-be husband. He needs his maid of honor.”

///

“I swear to god, Kim Seokjin, if you don’t stay still for the next thirty seconds, I will strap you to this damn chair.”

“Kinky,” Jin mumbles under his breath. Still, he stops fidgeting long enough for you to knot the slender pink tie around his neck and adjust it until it lays flat at the base of this throat. “Well? How do I look?”

You appraise him carefully, giving his tie one final pat. “So handsome, I almost wish I were marrying you myself.”

That earns you a laugh. “You wish,” Jin retorts, the crease in his brow smoothing out at last as you step aside so he can see himself in the mirror. You turn around to admire his reflection as well, grinning and poking his cheek gently when he remains unmoving a moment too long.

“Good?”

Jin hums absentmindedly, stroking the silky pink material of his tie before beginning to fidget with the lapels of his black jacket. His fingers are shaky, and you reach out to help when his pinky catches on one of the buttons and nearly pulls it off its threads.

“Nerves getting to you?” you ask as you readjust his collar. “Or is it excitement?”

“Both,” Jin admits with a chuckle. “Definitely both. Honestly, I kind of feel like I’m going to piss myself.”

You snort. “Charming. Truly. Joonie’s a lucky guy.”

Jin laughs with you, his shoulders quaking with amusement. “I’m the lucky one,” he says once he’s caught his breath again, wandering over to the window to look out over the sprawling courtyard with its stone fountains and neatly-trimmed trees. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” Then he turns to you, eyes soft. “Especially when I’ve got a friend like you. I love you, you know. I probably don’t say it enough, but I do.”

“I love you too, Jinnie.” Joining your best friend at the window, you lean your head on his shoulder gently so as not to rumple his suit. And there, the two of you stay, finding comfort in the hushed quiet of the room and bright futures that lie ahead.

///

Five minutes before the ceremony is set to begin, you finally find your way to the front row seat reserved for you. Taehyung is already seated when you arrive, and greets you with a boxy smile and a thumbs-up as you plop down onto the cushioned chair. “All good?”

“All good,” you confirm, relaxing back into your seat and sliding your hand into his. Off to the left, you spot Yoongi seated at the grand piano, foot tapping idly as he waits for his cue to begin. Two minutes. One. With thirty seconds left, Yoongi strikes the opening chord, the string quartet seated behind him joining into the main melody seamlessly. And then the double doors open.

Namjoon walks in first. His parents are on either side of him, his mother holding tightly onto his hand, and your lips tug up automatically when he flashes her a dimpled grin. He looks sharp in his fitted white suit, cutting a striking figure as he strides toward the end of the aisle. Once there, he kisses both of his parents on the cheek, hugging his mother one final time before ascending the steps to where the officiant waits. The music dips—fades briefly—and then swells into a soaring melody that echoes through the hall as the doors open once more.

The entire room seems to stop breathing when Jin enters. Blindly, you clutch at Taehyung’s hand, squeezing it tight as you watch your best friend walk down the aisle toward the man he loves. Even from your spot in the front row, you can see the tremble in his lower lip, and when he hugs his parents and finally steps up to join a waiting Namjoon, his face splits into a brilliant, breathtaking grin. Hi, you see him mouth.

Hi yourself, Namjoon mouths back, unable to contain a dimpled smile.

And with that, the ceremony begins—but you barely hear the words leaving the officiant’s mouth. You’re focused purely on Namjoon and Seokjin—holding back tears when you see Namjoon reach up to swipe at his eyes and Jin beginning to blink rapidly, his ears flushing pink. It’s only when Taehyung suddenly squeezes your hand that you snap back to attention, hearing the words being uttered for the first time.

“Sometimes, you just know,” the officiant is saying, glancing between Namjoon and Seokjin with a warm smile. “Sometimes, you meet someone and you just know that they’re the one. The one you want by your side for the rest of your days, sharing in all that life has to offer. Namjoon and Seokjin—they’ve found that in each other. And today, at long last, we are gathered here to celebrate their union.”

Taehyung’s fingers lace with yours as the ceremony continues. Vows are read, and rings are exchanged. Tears are shed, and you curse silently when you open up your purse to discover that you’ve run out of tissues. “Well, I guess something had to slip through the cracks,” you remark to Taehyung as the two of you head downstairs for the dinner and reception. “So what if I’m missing tissues? I’d call this a win.”

“Absolutely,” Taehyung agrees, his palm meeting the small of your back as he guides you to your assigned table. “A resounding victory—honestly, you need to give yourself more credit. You and Jackson did an amazing job pulling this together.”

You beam, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. Your boyfriend eagerly accepts the affection, mouth curling into a wide smile before he playfully turns to find your lips with his own. The kiss is short and sweet, and both of you are still grinning by the time you pull apart again to take a seat at the main table beside Jackson and his date, along with both Namjoon’s and Jin’s parents.

Three courses and several drinks later, the music begins. Space is cleared for dancing, and everyone’s eyes fall upon the newlywed couple as they take to the floor for their first dance—a slow, soothing number that proves easy to get lost in. Namjoon and Jin look as if they’re in their own little world, soft smiles and even softer words exchanged as they sway back and forth in each others’ arms. They continue even after the last notes of the melody fade out, and it’s only when the music morphs into something more upbeat that they break apart and gesture for everyone to join them on the dance floor.

“Let’s get this party started!” Jackson exclaims from his spot on your right, bouncing to his feet. He and his date disappear among the other couples, and after a moment’s hesitation, you allow Taehyung to pull you out of chair and join them.

“I haven’t danced in ages,” you admit as Taehyung grips the curve of your waist. His other hand wraps protectively around your smaller one, and you squeak in surprise when he pulls you flush against his chest.

“Me neither,” Taehyung murmurs, warm breath ghosting across your neck and sending shivers down your spine. “But who cares about that? Let’s just have fun with it.”

So you do. Song after song, dance after dance, you and Taehyung do whatever strikes your fancy—sometimes whirling about in a frenzy, other times swooping along in a dramatic waltz. At one point, Taehyung tries to get you to dance on his feet—something you have to laughingly talk him out of, citing the problem your high heels would pose.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, collapsing into the nearest chair after a particularly sprightly song. “My feet are killing me.”

Taehyung sits down beside you, still grinning from ear-to-ear, and grabs a pitcher from the center of the table to pour you a glass of water. You accept it gratefully, taking a long sip as he pours another for himself. “You could always take off your shoes,” he suggests after he’s downed half the glass.

“Sounds dangerous,” you remark. “I’m about ninety-nine percent sure I heard Namjoon break a plate during dinner. Who knows if that’s been cleaned up? What if I step on it?”

“Fair point,” Taehyung relents with a chuckle. “Why don’t we just get some air instead? I could use a break too, and the courtyard looks nice.”

The promise of lush green grass and a reprieve from the crowded dance floor has you back on your feet immediately, your hand naturally finding its way back into Taehyung’s as the two of you meander through the throng of people and out into the balmy evening air. A few stars twinkle in the dark sky, visible in spite of the city lights, and you tilt your head back to admire the view with a sigh, letting your heels slip off your feet so that you can feel the grass between your toes. Off to your left, a fountain splashes merrily, the veined marble structure illuminated by soft spotlights that turn the water into rippling streams of gold.

Tugging on Taehyung’s hand, you lead him toward the fountain, intent on dipping your toes into the shallow pool. The rim forms a makeshift bench around the circular perimeter, so your boyfriend takes a seat as you carefully lift your skirt and step into the pool. He runs a hand through the nearest jet of water, unintentionally sending a spray of cool water in your direction, and you let out a surprised shriek when it makes contact.

Immediately, Taehyung is pulling back his hand, eyes wide. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry—are you okay?”

You can’t help but giggle at his alarmed expression, wading through the ankle-deep water to plop down beside him on the edge of the fountain. “It’s just water, Tae. I’m fine, promise.”

“What about your dress?” he asks, brushing a finger along the satiny material. “Won’t it be ruined?”

You shrug. “A little water won’t hurt it.” Leaning back on your hands, you kick your feet gently, sending growing ripples across the pool. “I am getting a little chilly though. Water’s cooler than I thought it’d be.”

Taehyung hums and shrugs off his jacket. “Here,” he murmurs, placing it delicately around your frame. You thank him with a smile, snuggling into the soft fabric—still warm from his residual body heat—and leaning against his shoulder. His arm comes up to wrap around your waist, and for a few long moments you simply sit there, enjoying the splashing water and the light breeze rustling through the trees. His fingers draw nonsensical patterns along your shoulders and arm, his touch gentle and soothing, and it’s only when he suddenly stiffens that you are pulled out of your reverie.

“Tae?” you ask, straightening up so you can see his face. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” Taehyung stammers, blinking rapidly. “I… it’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

But you know it’s not nothing, and you certainly don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to the jacket you’re wearing. And now that you’re paying attention, you are suddenly very aware of a slight lump in the inside pocket, pressed just below your rapidly thumping heart.

“Tae,” you repeat, no louder than a whisper that nearly gets carried away on the breeze. “Is this... is this what I think it is?”

Instead of answering, Taehyung releases a heavy breath and slaps a hand over his eyes. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen,” he mumbles, lower lip jutting out into a slight pout. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“No!” you hasten to reassure him, sliding off the jacket and pressing it into his hands. “I’ll pretend I didn’t notice anything. What? Nothing to see here. This thing in your pocket? Just your wallet, as far as I’m concerned.”

He huffs out a soft chuckle. “My wallet’s in my other pocket—you know that as well as I do. Besides, what’s the use in hiding it now? The proverbial cat’s out of the bag.”

And then before you can speak again—before you can even blink—Taehyung is suddenly turning, dropping down to one knee on the soft grassy ground. “Tae,” you breathe. Your heart skips a beat.

Taehyung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he reaches into his pocket. When he retracts his hand, a delicate velveteen box is cradled in his palm. The lid flips open to reveal the ring within—a single deep purple amethyst bordered by diamonds and set in silver, and even though you’d suspected as much, you still let out a tiny, breathy gasp that has Taehyung chuckling. “{Name},” he begins, his voice soft and tender. “I wasn’t planning to ask you this tonight, especially considering where we are. But I guess we wouldn’t be us if the timing wasn’t a little off, right?” He pauses to clear his throat, and you reach out to take his free hand, your chest swelling with unspoken emotion.

“I love you,” he continues. “I’ve loved you for a long time, and I know I’ll continue loving you for as long as I live. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met—you’re smart and kind and beautiful, and I’ve never been happier than I am in this moment. And there’s nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. So {Name}, darling—will you marry me?”

There are a million thoughts floating around your head—half-formed and jumbled and more or less incoherent. You want to tell him how wonderful he is and how happy he makes you, and how you want nothing more than to start a family and grow old with him. But those words escape you right now, swept away by the delirious wave of joy that’s spreading through your veins. “Yes,” you whisper, unable to say anything else. “Oh my god, yes.”

If you thought Taehyung’s smile couldn’t possibly get any wider, you are proven wrong. In an instant, he’s slipped the ring onto your finger, clasping your hands tightly as he straightens up and pulls you in for a searing kiss. The sound of the fountain fades into the background, as does the muffled music still emanating from the wedding reception. Taehyung is all you can feel and all you can taste—his mouth moving ardently against yours, his fingers curling around your hips to pull you close. Nothing has ever felt more right.

“I love you,” you breathe against his parted lips. “I love you so, so much.”

The rest of your thoughts can wait.

#taehyung #taehyung scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #v #kim taehyung #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #lia writes #it's finally done!!! i def rushed this a little bit but i'm overall happy with it i think #thank you for reading!!!

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idiosyncrasy-at-its-finest · 4 years ago

Text

prophecy but make it w/ a typo

I wrote this on Oct. 7, 2020 during a creative writing club meeting on a wednesday.

lots of cursing even tho I never curse irl... I never proofread it... and it really deviated from the prompt and idk what it’s purpose is but uh... enjoy reading?

Prompt: The village oracle has just released the next great prophecy. Problem is, there’s a typo.

My phone chimed and I rolled my eyes in anticipation of the sigh I knew would escape Chris’ lips. “Why keep that ridiculous bell on anyway? That crazy bat hasn’t said anything worthwhile in years.” I shrug, looking over my shoulder to watch her bite her lip for a photo.

“Like… I dunno. For old time’s sake.”

“What a lame response. We’re seventeen, there is no ‘old times’ and– ooh, Chris responded!” I rolled my eyes yet again. “Your eyes are gonna get stuck up there one day.”

“Yeah, ‘cause of you. It doesn’t freak you out that you both have the same name?”

“Nah. People stopped calling me Chris years ago.”

“Yeah, since you went from an A to a D.”

“Yup,” she popped the ‘p’, “now only you call me that.” There was a pause as she took another photo of herself. “Imagine screaming your own name in be–”

“Nope! I’m checking my inbox now, hush.” I ignored her shrieking laughter and turned on my phone, blinking at how bright it was. “God, it’s late isn’t it?”

“It’s only like… three a.m. No big deal.” I hummed, listening to her giggle in response to whatever was sent to her by whichever hot guy she was talking to and mindlessly scrolling through my phone, hoping for something interesting to do. “Jack? Weren’t you going to check the newsletter?”

“Oh, yeah. I dunno. Just. You know? You’re right. I need to grow up.”

“I never said that–”

“No, but you’ve thought it, I know. Everyone has.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know. I’m the only girl in school who hasn’t posted a bikini pic and hasn’t gone to a party, or even kissed a guy, or– hell, Hannah’s done more than I have.”

“Hannah Ingham or Hannah Fields?”

“Fields.”

“Yikes.”

“Tell me about it!” I flop back onto my bed and watch as the bounce pushes her tits up. “I wish I was more like you.”

“Everybody does.” The clicking of her acrylic nails against her phone screen echoed throughout my room.

“No, seriously Chris. How are you so… how’d you get to be so perfect?” Her phone slid out of her loose grip and landed on her face.

“Fuck.”

“Shit, are you okay?” I scrambled up to check her, stifling the urge to laugh. She sat up with a red nose, rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out. But her expression was worn tight across her face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine; you just– you have to prepare me when you’re going to get all depressing and shit.”

“I have to prepare you?”

“Yeah. You’re like… my daughter or whatever.” Her hand, with long and thin fingers, circled in the air. “It’s not fun hearing you talk crap about yourself all the time, you know? It hurts. In here.” She pouted and pointed to her heart.

“In your double D boobs?”

“Yes. Right there. It– Jackie, I’m not saying you’re perfect. You’re far from it.”

“Believe me, I know–”

“But, but– Jesus, let me finish. I’ve already been honest so please just keep listening– you’re amazing as is. Your hair is always so pretty, even when you haven’t washed it for days. Dry shampoo is like my best friend– alright, alright… second. Your smile is slightly crooked but that’s what makes it so cute. Two out of every ten guys that texts me asks about the cute girl next to me in all my photos. Fuck Jack, you’re damn good looking and personality is blessed as shit.”

“I don’t– I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing. Just open that fuckin’ email. You know you want to.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She smiled at me softly and I remembered the days when it was just me and her against the world. She dropped her gaze and turned her attention to her phone again. Brianna, Ryan, Joe, Amber. I tore my gaze away, heart panging at the reminder that she didn’t just have me. She had other friends.

I unlocked my phone again and a smile passed my lips at the photo that was my background. It was me and Chris the night her parents got divorced. We’d somehow gotten stranded in the middle of a lake, soaking wet, her mascara and my nose running, and so so happy. The mail icon had a little red bubble beside it, a ‘1’ inside the circle. I tapped it.

“What the fuck?”

Watch out; twenty-three minutes and eighteen seconds after you next go outside, you better fuck.

___________

“Oh, yeah… told you. Batshit crazy.”

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hillerskas · 5 years ago

Note

59 and 99 from the prompt list! Have fun and please don't take any pressures!! Lovelove❣️❣️

59 ‘Look at me.’ & 99 ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

As the seconds and minutes and hours tick by with emptiness, Eliott chews his fingernails. A shaky sip of water here, a forlorn glance over the display there.

He looks at the clock again and sure enough, another half an hour has gone by in silence. It’s not exactly silence- a quiet orchestral piece plays from his shitty CD player at the back of the room- but the lack of human beings around him make it seem that way.

A whisper of an angry memory teases at the back of his head.

‘Eliott, it’s just not realistic, love… Don’t look at me like that, I’m just telling you the truth.’

Perhaps he should have listened to her.

The tip of his finger’s already bleeding when he goes to bite at it again, the rusty taste immediately swirling around his mouth.

Seven pieces. Just over 200 euros. No visitors.

He’d hired the space off Idriss at a slight discount, anticipation and excitement threatening to burst out of him as Idriss handed over the showroom keys earlier that day. The keys had felt like they weighed a thousand tonnes at the time with the promise they held. A chance to show his work to a slice of the city that made him, a chance to prove himself, a chance to validate the months hunched over blank canvases in an attempt to pour out the pictures dancing in his brain. He’d never really prepared for this outcome; sat on a stool in the middle of an empty gallery, numb.

At ten o’clock, he rolls a cigarette, slowly, and with one eye on the clock, loose tobacco falling out of the paper and decorating his jeans. At ten fifteen, he stands up, mechanically returns the unopened bottles of white wine to the fridge at the back and throws black sheets over his canvases. At ten twenty, he shrugs on his jacket and clicks off the lights one by one, cigarette hanging limply from between his lips.

Paris isn’t silent by any means when he finally gives in and locks up, but he can hear the click of the key as clearly as if it were a gunshot.

He stares at his hand for a while, almost refusing to let go of the handle just in case the departure makes his failure feel all the more real. He’s wearing his father’s ring and it glints under a nearby streetlight as his hand trembles. He should have listened to him, too.

A little bit of his heart breaks off and floats away into the ether when he releases the handle.

He shoves the keys into his jacket pocket and then stumbles around for his lighter and when the fuck are his hands going to stop shaking. It takes several tries before he lights the end of his cigarette and takes the first few steps away from the shop.

It’s then that he hears the sharp slap of running feet behind him. His hackles go up and he pauses, risking a look back. It’s a man- not much younger than himself- sprinting along the pavement with a grey scarf unraveling itself around his neck. He skids to a stop right in front of the showroom, just short of where Eliott’s still stood.

‘Fuck!’ the guy hisses, fully pressing himself up against the glass. The window fogs as he pants, out of breath, staring into the darkness of the shop.

Eliott tugs at his bottom lip and glances around nervously before eventually deciding to approach the man. ‘Are you alright?’ His voice sounds like he hasn’t used it in years.

The man flinches away from the glass and turns to Eliott, wide-eyed and still heaving his breaths.

‘Uh, I-‘

He runs a hand through his hair, strands left sticking up every which way in the wake of his fingertips. Eliott takes a cautious step towards him and a gentle pull of his cigarette.

‘I really wanted to see this exhibition tonight- here- but it seems like I’ve missed it.’

Eliott’s eyebrows jump in surprise. He realistically should have connected the dots, but his mind’s still swirling and after the night he’s had he never would have pictured someone actually running to catch his exhibition.

‘I could open it back up, if you want,’ Eliott says.

The man seems shocked, flitting his eyes over Eliott’s figure in a sort of once over. ‘You could?’

The corner of Eliott’s mouth quirks up, the first hint of a smile in hours. ‘I mean, I am the artist.’

The guy lets out a small chuckle and begins to readjust his scarf. ‘Shit, sorry, I had no idea.’

Eliott smiles warmly at him and throws his cigarette into the street. ‘It’s okay.’

When he reaches for the keys this time, his fingers are blissfully steady.

‘I swear I meant to get here earlier,’ the man starts, still sounding winded. Eliott grins to himself as he twists the key in the lock and opens the door. The man’s voice follows behind him as he begins to switch the lights back on. ‘I just got caught up at work, I didn’t have time to change or anything, sorry.’

Eliott turns with a beam, clicking the last light on. The guy definitely looks ruffled, a few drink stains on his skinny black jeans and where his white shirt is exposed under his winter coat. Eliott finds he doesn’t mind the look at all, though.

‘Don’t apologise; it’s okay.’

‘Has it been busy?’

Something in Eliott’s stomach drops and he freezes. He keeps his eyes focused on the man’s cold tinted nose as he swallows down the lump in his throat.

‘Would you like some wine?’ he asks instead of answering. The guy’s brow crinkles in confusion for a moment before he nods.

‘Sure… I’ve had the shift from hell, so alcohol would be great,’ he tacks on.

Eliott’s smile returns and he bows slightly, walking over to the mini fridge.

‘It’s not the expensive stuff. I think you could barely even call it wine.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’

The crack of the bottle lid opening echoes around the space. He pours out two large measures into plastic cups and hands one to the man. His skin’s cold when their fingertips brush.

‘Cheers,’ Eliott announces, lightly tapping his cup against the other man’s.

‘Cheers…?’

‘Eliott. I’m Eliott.’

‘Lucas.’

Eliott takes a large gulp of his wine in an attempt to hide his giddy smile. He can feel his embarrassment and disappointment slipping away little by little.

He giggles as Lucas’ nose wrinkles after his first sip. ‘How cheap did you say this was?’

‘I found it in a bin outside a restaurant and thought, well, we’re in France, how bad could it be?’ Lucas stares at him, wide-eyed and cheeks puffed out. Eliott leaves him hanging for a beat before bursting out into laughter. ‘I’m kidding, Lucas.’

Lucas rolls his eyes and finally swallows down the wine. ‘That was uncalled for.’

Eliott lifts his shoulders and brings his cup back up to his still-smiling mouth. ‘Possibly.’

‘Could I see?’ Lucas asks after a quiet moment, licking excess wine from his lips and nodding over to one of the covered canvases.

‘Ah, first we need ambiance,’ Eliott says, holding up his index finger. Lucas laughs and shakes his head. ‘Close your eyes, Lucas; you must see my work in the atmosphere I originally intended.’

‘You’re ridiculous,’ Lucas titters with unexpected yet welcomed familiarity, but he dutifully places his free hand over his eyes.

‘I’m actually a very serious artist,’ Eliott faux grumbles as he moves to plug his CD player back into the wall.

‘I don’t doubt it.’

The track skips at first, as it always does, before settling into smooth, generic background music. Eliott methodically makes his way around the space, bunching up the sheets in his hands and revealing each piece. He glances back at Lucas every couple of seconds to check his eyes are still covered. It’s silly, really, but he wants to make this viewing perfect for Lucas, just like he’d tried to do earlier when it was just himself and an empty room calling out to the city.

He throws the sheets into the corner of the room and then picks his wine back up, taking a desperate sip as he double-checks that everything is ready and in its place.

‘If you don’t let me look soon, I might die.’

Eliott snickers and glances at Lucas. He can’t help but think he looks adorable, chewing absently at the rim on his wine cup as he waits, eyes still covered with slightly red fingers.

‘Okay, you can look now.’

Lucas blinks roughly against the sudden influx of light as he removes his hand. Eliott’s breath hitches when he takes in Lucas’ expression as his gaze lands on the first painting. It’s full of such genuine wonder and admiration, Eliott’s struggling to process it. Perhaps the torture from earlier was worth it for this.

‘Wow…’ Lucas whispers. Eliott swigs his wine awkwardly, a little overwhelmed. Lucas takes tiny steps forward, pausing in front of each piece and raking his eyes over every detail. ‘I’ve seen your stuff on Instagram, but…’

‘You have?’ Eliott asks, almost choking on his drink.

Lucas looks back at Eliott over his shoulder and nods with a private smile. ‘That’s how I found out about this.’

‘Not many people follow me on there,’ Eliott mutters, self-deprecation bleeding into his tone without his consent.

Lucas simply shrugs and flicks his eyes back to the artwork. ‘Well, I do.’

Eliott dips his head and studies the bumps on the side of his cup. A warmth is starting to spread across his chest, heartbeat quickening. It’s something he’s very familiar with, but hasn’t felt in a long while.

‘I love this one,’ Lucas says quietly, gesturing to Eliott’s painting of a man half submerged underwater. ‘You’re very talented.’

Eliott moves to stand next to Lucas, possibly closer than necessary.

‘Thank you… though, I might put the dreams to bed,’ Eliott replies in a low voice, scanning his eyes over brush strokes and charcoal smudges.

‘Look at me.’ It’s hushed yet urgent. And Eliott does. ‘Eliott, this… Your work, it’s amazing. Trust me. Please don’t give up on it.’

‘I-’

‘I wouldn’t have run about fifty blocks to get here if it wasn’t,’ Lucas interrupts with an impish grin, cracking the tension.

‘I hope you’re exaggerating,’ Eliott says through a melodic laugh.

Lucas shrugs and looks back at the drowning man. ‘Maybe a little.’

Eliott exhales languidly and picks at his bottom lip. There’s a subtle pricking sensation at the back of his eyeballs that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. So he doesn’t.

‘It’s late,’ Lucas eventually mumbles, looking down at where he’s now twirling the end of his scarf between nimble fingers.

Eliott hums in agreement, though his chest screams quietly in protest. I already know it could never be too late with you.

‘Would you…’ Lucas trails off and sinks his teeth into his lower lip.

‘Would I what?’ Eliott murmurs.

Lucas smirks slightly and shakes his head before raising his gaze up, up, up until Eliott’s confronted with a deep dark blue.

‘Would you want to go somewhere with me?’ Lucas asks, still with that smirk and with a cocky quirk of an eyebrow.

The section of Eliott’s heart he thought he’d lost creeps back in and begins to stitch itself back together.

‘I’d love to.’

#elu #elu fic #elu prompt #skam france fic #skamfr fic #THANK U FOR THE PROMPT i actually got this done pretty quickly considering how long my other ones take oop #i really enjoyed writing this so yes thank you ❤️#my stuff #harleyhype #asks

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stupidnephilimlove · 5 years ago

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Written for the @frightening-fall-fic . A few days late, but here’s my take on the week 1 prompt: bad decisions were made. Read here or on AO3 Summary: When Izzy stumbles upon an old ritual book in a used book store, she decides it's perfect for her Halloween party. It's supposed to be a little fun, but the book and the idea give Alec the creeps. But really, what could go wrong? -

Alec wonders how - despite wanting to do something epic every year - Isabelle manages to leave settling on a Halloween idea until the last minute.

"Just throw a fancy dress party," Alec suggests, only half paying attention as his eyes scan the bookshelf. This was supposed to be a solo outing, an afternoon of perusing the recently opened used book store, but Isabelle insisted she tag along.

Isabelle throws Alec a disgusted look in response to his suggestion. "That's so unoriginal, Alec. It has to be better than last year."

Alec's pretty sure they had this exact conversation around a year ago, but he figures mentioning that isn't going to help the situation. Instead, he pulls a book from the shelf and scans the blurb.

"So do a seance or something," Alec says.

Isabelle sighs at his lack of interest and pulls the book from his hand. She sets in back on the shelf and looks at him.

"We did that last year. And yes, it was awesome, even if I say so myself. But it needs to be something different."

Alec resists the urge to roll his eyes at her and moves deeper into the store. He spots the fake spiders and cobwebs covering a section in the corner.

"Maybe they've got something over there?" Alec gestures to the Halloween themed area as he speaks. He doubts it, but if it means he can look around the store in peace for a few minutes, then he's more than willing to suggest it.

Mumbling to herself that Alec's no use, Isabelle heads off in that direction and Alec goes back to his book search. He makes it ten blissful uninterrupted minutes before Isabelle comes bounding over, excitement in every step.

"I've got it! Alec, it's the perfect idea," Isabelle says.

Finally.

"Oh, yeah?"

Isabelle holds up an old, battered book. The binding is starting to come away, and the gold text on the cover has faded so much that Alec's unable to make out the words.

"A ritual," Isabelle says, offering Alec the book.

Alec takes it, and he's off-put by the way the leather feels in his hands. He flicks carefully through the pages, they're well-worn and in what Alec takes a guess at is Latin.

"I'm not sure, Izzy."

There's something about the book that has the hairs on Alec's arms rising.

"Oh come on... it'll be brilliant and fun. No one will expect it."

Alec's sceptical about the 'fun' part, but if Isabelle's got it in her head that this is what's happening, then Alec knows better than to argue with her. So when Isabelle insists she buy the book, Alec makes his first terrible decision by not talking her out of it.

Alec stands outside of the intricate chalk circle that Izzy had Clary draw on their floor. That better come off, or he's going to kill her, Alec thinks. There's music playing, something instrumental, and it's giving Alec this feeling of tension. The feelings only increased by the dozens of candles that flicker, shadows chasing each other around the room.

It's a small group tonight, just Clary, Isabelle, Simon, Jace and Alec. Five Izzy had said once she'd settled on the ritual - one for each point of the pentagram the circle surrounds.

"Are you sure about this?" Alec asks.

Jace gives him a companionable punch to the shoulder. "It's just a bit of fun. Don't tell me you're scared, Alec?"

"No... 'course not," Alec says. That's a lie, but he's not going to admit his unease to his brother. There's this feeling of wrong and stop and this is a terrible idea, and it's not like Alec at all. He doesn't believe in this stuff. He believes in what he can see, what he can understand, what he can explain, and Alec tries to shake off the feeling.

Isabelle instructs them to take their places at each point of the pentagram. She tells Alec his point represents fire and she gives him an unlit candle to hold. Clary's is air and she holds a feather, Simon's is earth and she gives him a jar of dirt, and Jace's is water and he grasps a cup half-filled.

"And I represent spirit," Isabelle tells them, taking her up her spot.

Then in a hushed tone, voice serious, Isabelle says, "Before we begin, I have to warn you all not to step into the circle until the ritual is complete."

"Why, what happens if we do?" Simon asks.

Izzy grits her teeth at the interruption, the charade falling for a moment. "Then I'm gonna kick your ass for ruining the evening, Simon. Trying to set the mood here."

Simon grins sheepishly and nods his head. "Oh, sorry. Go on."

Isabelle finds her character again, turning to pick up an intricate bowl. She sets it down by her feet just inside of the circle and then stands to full height again. Isabelle picks up the book, and the room falls silent.

God, why does the sight of that book give Alec chills?

Isabelle holds the worn book in one hand and gracefully lifts the other. Four sets of eyes are trained on her and Alec's heart feels like it's beating double time in his chest.

"Me invocare te in tenebris," Isabelle says. The words sound odd and mispronounced, but the tone of her voice has Alec holding back a shiver and clutching his candle.

Izzy throws her hand out, something falling from her fingers and into the bowl in front of her. Smoke rises from the bowl on contact and she continues speaking.

"Venire ad me."

Neat trick, Alec thinks.

Isabelle repeats the words again, voice louder. "Me invocare te in tenebris. Venire ad me."

The room feels cooler, noticeably so, and Jace shifts uncomfortably next to Alec. Alec's glad he's not the only one this is freaking out.

"Me invocare te in tenebris," Isabelle says. The pronunciation is better, at least to Alec's ears, and each word is filled with conviction.

"Venire-" Isabelle's voice cuts off mid-sentence and she doubles over, clutching her stomach and cries out, "No! Please."

Clary reaches out from beside Isabelle in concern, and despite himself, Alec steps forward. "Izzy?"

Isabelle raises her head, and there's a goddamn grin on her face, before she doubles over for an entirely different reason, laughter shaking her body.

"Oh, you should have seen your faces," she says between gulps of breath as the group grumbles.

"I knew she was playing," Alec hears Jace tell Simon, and Simon nods saying, "Yeah, sure. Me too."

Alec sighs in exasperation, and as he does, his candle flickers to life. Alec almost drops it in surprise.

"Nice one, Izzy. Quit it now." Alec says, trying to keep the shakiness from his voice. Her tricks are really beginning to get to him.

Isabelle's laughter dies out and she looks at the candle. "That wasn't me."

"I'm not falling for any more of your pranks," Alec says taking a step back to his previous position. His foot stops as if it's hit a wall, and Alec looks down. He's standing inside the circle.

"What is this?" he asks, eyes lifting to Isabelle's.

"Now who's playing pranks?" Jace says.

He tries to move again, panic rising in his chest, but he can't. He doesn't know how Isabelle's doing this, but it's not funny anymore.

"Alec, come on," Clary says and Alec can hear the annoyance in her voice.

The music abruptly stops playing and all at once the candles go out, plunging them into darkness. Except for the small flicker of light from the candle Alec's holding.

There's the smell of burning. Alec tells himself it's due to the candles all burning down to the wick at the same time. And the lack of music? It's probably on a timer. The whole thing some elaborate plan of Izzy's to scare them.

"Izzy, this is a bit much," Clary says in the dark.

"Seriously, this isn't me," Isabelle insists. "Who hijacked my evening?"

The group breaks out into bickering. But Alec doesn't move, a hand closes over his shoulder and there's breath at the nape of his neck and Alec's going to kill Isabelle as soon as the lights come back on.

"I hate the twenty-first century," a male voice, low and sultry, says close to Alec's ear.

The bickering instantly stops. Alec doesn't know that voice, and though the hand is gone from his shoulder, his blood runs cold. The candles suddenly flare back to life and Alec's not sure who screams. Jace? Simon? Possibly Alec himself. Because standing in the circle in front of Alec is a man - at least, he looks like a man. Of course, he's a man, Alec tells himself. A very well-dressed, well-styled, entirely too hot, man. Apart from the eyes.

The eyes are golden and catlike and... fucking brilliant contacts, that's all. Alec's feeling a little hysterical and takes a breath to calm himself.

"Mmm," the man says, tilting his head as he looks at Alec. "A worthy offering though."

"Jeez, Izzy. Where'd you find this guy?" Jace asks.

"Enough," the man says, voice deep and commanding, lifting a hand, and for a reason Alec cannot explain, silence falls. The man turns back to Alec. "You may call me Magnus."

Alec doesn't want to call him anything. Okay, there's a thread of desire that has Alec imagining another evening, in a completely different setting with this Magnus. But right now? Right here? Alec wants this whole nightmare to end. He considers that they must all be in on this, and he doesn't know how or when, but he's going to get them back.

"What do you request of me, in payment of your soul?"

"M-my soul?" Alec stutters. Magnus can't be serious, but Alec can't bring himself to look away from Magnus' eyes. He feels almost entranced by them.

"Yes. You summoned me. I answered the call. Now make your request known."

"What? Like getting that promotion my boss has been holding back?" Alec asks stupidly.

Magnus nods and steps closer. "Unimaginative as usual, but if you insist."

"What are you doing?" Alec asks, but he doesn't move away.

"To be binding, I must seal all business with a kiss." There's a suggestive raise to Magnus' eyebrow and Alec feels his cheeks flush.

Is this guy - in the middle of this prank - really flirting with Alec?

Oh, what the hell. Magnus is hot, and Alec's not giving the rest of them the satisfaction of him backing down. Bolstered, Alec closes the space between them.

Magnus reaches up, hand settling at Alec's neck, and heat spreads through Alec from that simple contact. Magnus pulls him closer, leaning in to take Alec's mouth with his. The kiss is like nothing Alec has ever felt before, and he opens his mouth, accepting Magnus. Alec feels it everywhere, feels a fire burning beneath his skin, and if he examined it closer, he might see that it isn't entirely caused by desire.

The candles burn brighter as they kiss, and as Magnus' lips leave Alec's they blink out again. Alec can hear someone scrambling for the lights and there's a whisper at Alec's ear in the last of the darkness. "I look forward to collecting you, Alexander."

Simon flicks the switch and the room is illuminated, but Magnus is nowhere to be seen.

"Can't believe you stole my Halloween prank," Izzy says, clearly annoyed, though Alec thinks they all look a little shaken.

"I didn't," Alec says. "Didn't you guys set me up?" Dread is creeping up on him again.

Izzy shoots him an unimpressed look. "Honestly, Alec. You didn't need to go to that much trouble for a make-out session."

"Yeah, dude. My eyes cannot unsee that," Jace says.

And the group comes to the conclusion that Alec was messing with them despite all of Alec's protests. He tells himself it's just part of their prank, just them trying to psych him out even more.

Though, as Alec heads to bed at three am, a flash of catlike eyes in the mirror, the phantom press of lips against his, and that heat still burning under his skin, a part of him wonders if he really did just sell his soul.

Shaking his head at his fanciful turn of thoughts, Alec crawls into bed. He doesn't believe in souls, so he can't have sold one, and Alec puts the whole thing down to too much sugar and alcohol.

However, when Alec's boss offers him a promotion the next week, Alec struggles to convince himself it's merely a coincidence.

#frightening fall fic fest #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #malec #sorta #oh look i wrote a thing #fic: venire ad me #week 1: bad decisions were made

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theauthorunicorn · 6 years ago

Text

Probability of Love at First Sight | Shawn Mendes x Reader

Authors Note: You missed your flight to meet the one fated for you for less than a day.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2900 plus words

Reader

I sighed deeply as the ground staff told me that my flight pushed back ten minutes ago. Great! I called my mom saying that I’ll be coming late and promised to catch the next available flight. I can hear her over the phone with a disappointment sigh that I can’t help her with the things we needed to prepare for tomorrow.

I managed to moved my flight just enough to join my mom in London. I’m flying from New York and my flight will be leaving approximately eight hours and fifty-nine minutes from now. I considered hanging outside the airport to pass the time but I’m afraid I’ll be stuck with the traffic again.

*****

Shawn

My plane left me. I’m flying to London for my concert tomorrow night but due to over consumption of alcohol last night, I catch my plane to London leaving New York without me on board. And now, I have to wait more than eight hours before my new flight. Andrew told me to stay in the airport with low profile. Let’s see if I can do that.

Not that I’m complaining, but, the thing about crowded place, like for example, airports might get a little messy with someone like me who, fortunately, sold out some albums and luckily had a huge fan based. I looked around to see some place to stay here without attracting attention.

I found a spot.

*****

Reader

I made myself comfortable enough to a tiny corner in the gate that my flight will be using for boarding later this day. I spotted a book lying on the airport bookstore and had double price at it was in Barnes and Noble, I bought it. I didn’t have a choice.

I should have catch my flight earlier.

*****

Shawn

My phone is running out of battery and I’m looking for a place where no one will recognize me and a plausible stranger that might be generous enough to lend me a charger without freaking out that Shawn Mendes is asking to borrow a charger.

I was thinking about Starbucks but it’s a no. The lounge too, but, I can’t stay there without anyone noticing I’m there. Also, I can’t buy a charger because it’ll make me interact with someone who’ll probably realize it was me in a store. So, no.

I found a spot near the boarding gate with not more than twenty people occupying but there’s a girl reading a book with her air pods on to the corner.

I hope she have a charger.

*****

Reader

I started reading my new book and I’m in the fifth chapter when someone tapped my shoulder lightly. It’s a guy who I did not recognize but he seems familiar, he smiled lightly and spoke, “Please don’t freak out or shout or do anything that could catch an attention.”

Hearing that, I’m freaking out a little bit but I managed to contain it, he looked nice though. I removed my air pods and placed my boarding pass across the page that I’m reading as a bookmark. I looked at him, confused, “Well, it’s freaking creepy that your asking me not to freak out.”

“Do you know me?” he asked instantly.

“Am I supposed to know you?” I asked politely but in a sarcastic way.

He sighed, “Don’t you recognize me?”

“No.” I said plainly furrowing my brows.

*****

Shawn

“Great!” I scoffed. She seems real, acting she didn’t know me, but, it’s weird because I can see that we’re at the same age based on her choice of clothing and the book she was reading. She was about to open her book again but I stopped her by touching her hand accidentally.

“That was way more creepy, dude.” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” I smiled reassuring her everything is good with us, that I’m a good person, “by any chance do you have a charger? My phone battery is about to die.”

She looked at me blankly, still confused and opened her bag to pull out her charger and slowly handed it to me.

“Thanks, what time is your flight?”

She opened her book and said without looking at me, “I’m trying my best not to call security because you’re acting like a creep shit,” she whispered, “just use my charger you’ll have plenty of time to use it.”

*****

Shawn

Two hours passed she’s still reading her book, she’s halfway through it. She smiled, scoffed and laughed some point of her book, she looks beautiful. And I think she really mean that she didn’t know me. I smiled at that thought.

My battery was finally full and I returned her charger to roam around the airport to kill the time. But, I didn’t instead I sat beside her wondering what words I may use to caught her attention. With her air pods on it’s nearly impossible.

I glanced at her several times as the time tick by.

“Hey.” I asked her.

“Yeah?” she asked me.

“Aren’t you hungry?” was the only words I managed to utter. What the hell is happening.

She looks at me with a smirk on her face, “I actually do and thinking to ask you the same question. I’m heading to Starbucks to grab some coffee and some snacks.” she stood up. “Do you want anything?” she offered.

I’m stressed that what I should be doing and asking is what she’s doing right now. “Yeah, a coffee and anything that can be eaten to pass out the time.”

“Okay.” she smiled a walk away from our bench.

“I should be the one getting us food.” I stutter

“Nah, let me be. Stay here and guard up our premises.”

*****

Reader

“Can I have a name for the drinks?” the barista ask me.

I usually say Y/N and smiles but this time I wandered what name should I give. “Can you put something like ‘stranger’?”

The barista laughed, “Weird one.” she started scribbling it against the cup. “Any food to pair up?”

I approached him with our drinks. He bit his lips as he smiled. It is an unnecessary act to do and I feel offended.

“Thank you -” he mumbled as he grab the drink I handed over me, he furrowed his eyebrows probably asking my name and he looked into his cup, “Stranger?” he laughed at that.

“It’s better not to know our names.” I confessed, “I may and might know you and probably get embarrassed that I’m sitting next to..” I stopped thinking who he might be, “the prince of some country, a presidential son, senatorial son, an heir to a big company, I don’t know.”

“So you think, I looked like a prince?” he started questioning.

I shrugged my shoulder.

“A presidential son? A son of a senator or even an heir to a big company.” he laughed at those. Usually, I’ll get annoyed with this but unexpectedly I wasn’t. I, in fact enjoyed this little conversation.

“And I’m flying in a commercial plane?” he finished his thoughts.

“I don’t know, probably you had a biggest argument with your parents. And opted you to use your private jet and probably cut your card access, so you have a little less cash right now, but it’s still a lot of cash. So that’s why don’t bother to pay the drink that you just had. It’s on the house.”

He laughed so hard that he’d thrown his head to the back.

“Wow, that’s a good one.” he complimented my words, “Unfortunately, no, I still have an access to my private jet,” he said jokingly, “my cards are still here,” he pointed into his wallet, “but I don’t have any cash right now so thank you for the drink.” I giggled as he said it, “Yeah, it’s true, especially the last one.”

We talked for a little bit and he excused himself to use the bathroom.

*****

Shawn

I washed my face with the warm water running into the sink. I am drowned with her laughter and her wholeness. I didn’t want this to end. I hope her flight doesn’t leave so soon.

“So what did you do for living?” I asked her as I took the seat beside her.

“Are we getting comfortable to each other now?” she joked.

“That’s the goal.”

She laughed a little, “Do you want a make up one or the real one?”

“The one you’re comfortable sharing will be good. Because, I’ll believe everything you’ll say right now. But preferably the truth.”

She brushed her hair, “How should I say this that you’ll believe me? Hmm ..” she hummed. “I’m an editor to a publishing company.”

“That explains everything of me being a prince, with no jets to use, blocked credit card.” we laughed in unison.

She smirked, “How about you?”

I’m a singer, I write songs, I have albums, I have a concert tour this year. I’ll be traveling a lot.

“I - traveled a lot. For work.” I managed to say.

“Are you a vlogger?” she started scanning me, “but you don’t have a camera.” she pouted. “You looked so familiar.” she stared at me, “Nah, never mind.”

“Your flight isn’t leaving yet?” I asked softly.

“Do I bore you right now?” she asks leaning her face inches away mine.

“No, I was wondering how many more hours I get to spend with you.” I confessed.

*****

Reader

“Actually, I missed my flight earlier.” I told him. I still didn’t know his name but probably I’ll ask him as soon as my flight started boarding or his, whichever comes first.

“Me too.” he said. “It’s like this was meant to happen.”

I laughed lightly, my heart is beating faster and my breath is catching it’s rhythm.

“Did you know that people who meet in airports are seventy-two percent more likely to fall for each other than people who meet anywhere else.” I quoted.

“Really, how did you know that?” he asks me seriously fixing his gaze to my eyes.

“I’ve read it. How come you didn’t know that as per say you travel for a living?”

He shrugged, “Probably I haven’t met her with my previous trips. But, I think have met her already.” then he flashes a smile that could take away my pain.

*****

Shawn

I talked to her every possible thing that came across with my mind. She looked so beautiful every time she smiles, shrugged and most especially when she laughed. I noticed she only had a small backpack, a brown paper back and a black coat as her gear. I wonder where she was going to because I wanted her beside me as soon as where in the clouds.

“How many days are you traveling away?” I asked her softly wanting to caressed her hair against my palm.

“A week, less or more.” she answered, “you?”

“A month, probably longer.”

“You’re traveling to?” I finally had an urged to ask her this question.

It made her laugh again, I love that she laughed at little things she find funny. Her genuine laughter made me fall in love with her at this time. God, I love her already even if I didn’t know her that well.

“You know what, I might give my name and phone number to you later as soon as my flight will start boarding. Patience.”

“Oh, so it’s a deal.” I confirmed to her.

*****

Reader

Thirty more minutes until boarding. His eyes looked tired but he still talks and casually touches my hand in slight way. I’m loving this even if I’m hurting.

“I hope you’re traveling somewhere for your work not for your boyfriend.” he confessed as his fingers caressed against my arms slowly. He have the looks in his eyes that he meant every word he said.

“No. Actually, I’m seeing my mom and -” I stopped with an eerie silence to my mind, “my dad.” I smiled faintly.

“Good, because did you know people who meet in airports are seventy-two percent more likely to fall for each other than people who meet anywhere else. Just like us.” he confessed. “I think I’m falling for you.”

I chuckled, I wanted to say I’m falling for you too but I didn’t, I just smiled at him savoring his touch.

“My flight will start boarding thirty minutes from now.”

“Mine will be any time soon too.” he continued.

*****

Shawn

She smelled like cucumber. Her skin is so soft. Her lips are endearing. Her voice is so sweet. Her laugh is genuine. She loves books. I want her.

“Flight 3846 bound to London is now ready for boarding.” the announcement echoed the waiting lounge. I sighed sadly looking at her. “That’s my cue.” I told her, stopping my fingers running from her arms.

I saw her face with joy, “That was mine too.” she said.

“You’re flying to London?” I asked her.

“Yeah.”

*****

Reader

We walked towards the boarding gate as he intertwined his hands unto mine. It made me smile. I haven’t known that delaying my arrival to London may be a good idea. Maybe it’s all fated to happen, like what he said.

“Mr. Mendes, Ms. Y/L/N.” the flight crew greeted us.

As soon as we stepped on board we both go to separate direction to the cabin. I’m going to the right, he’s staying in left. Our hands still intertwined separated slowly.

“We didn’t have a seat together.” I reminded him.

“Don’t we?” he acted shocked by it.

I turned away from him finding my seat in the five rows from the front and settled myself to my seat next to the aisle. I’m seated with an middle-aged woman.

I was placing my things according to where it should be long. I also asked a flight crew to hang my coat and dress so it won’t crumple. I needed to have a dress change before the plane arrives in London.

A silhouette of man stand beside me, smiling, it was him. I still didn’t know his name but surely heard his last name earlier.

“Ma'am,” she said to the woman next to me, “is it okay to swap seat with you. This girl right here is my girlfriend and we didn’t end up seating together since the flight was so full and we’re like so far from each other. So, I was asking if it’s okay from you to transfer over there,” he pointed his seat, he’s on the first row left side of the plane, “it’s still a window seat with more comfortable space in front of you.” he smiled sweetly at her after explaining what he wanted and he did just label me as his girlfriend.

The woman beside me agreed, he helped her with her bags to transfer from his seat. After five minutes or so, he’s beside me with his things and settled himself to his new seat.

“I did ask the flight crew for this. They agreed.” he immediately defended himself.

“Did you just call me your girlfriend?” I asked him.

“That was a decoy, but, yeah, I just did. You’ll be soon. Hopefully. That’s why I needed your first name now, because, we happen to know our last names.” he said confidently. “Does my surname looks good with your first name?”

Y/N Mendes. I thought. It fits perfectly.

I didn’t answer him, instead a shook my head to let the thought leave my brain.

*****

Shawn

After couple of hours in the flight. We didn’t have enough talks. She’s now rested in my chest, synchronizing her breath with mine.

“I’m traveling today to London to attend my father’s funeral.” she took a deep breath as she told me the reason why she didn’t seem so excited to arrive there.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” I kissed her temple to assure her everything will be alright.

*****

Reader

We’re almost there.

He’s still asleep. I made my way to the comfort room to change my clothes before the seat belt sign is on for my father’s funeral.

“On behalf of your captain and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice day!” the captain said over the aircraft’s speaker.

I had to buckle his belt without waking him up. He must be tired from our travel and I didn’t want to wake him from his good sleep. We arrived at the airport and I made my way out faster, I had a funeral to mourn. I didn’t even say my goodbye to Shawn.

*****

Shawn

I woke up to an almost empty plane with my seat belt still buckled on and she’s long gone.

I noticed her book lying to the seat next to mine with sticky note and my name scribbled on it. She finally know my name.

I grabbed it opening the first page. With a written note all over it.

Shawn,

You looked so familiar. Believe me I didn’t know it was you until your passport dropped accidentally before the plane landed. I had to check your name and didn’t wake you up you needed the rest. I’m sorry for leaving you behind here, I have something to catch up, you know that already. Thank you for everything. I’m so happy that for a brief moment of time we’ve became part of seventy-two percent of people who likely fall in love in airports.

I hope to see you soon somewhere, Shawn. I adore you. Good luck to your concert.

P.S I took us a picture in my phone and your phone so that we can’t forget each other and remind me that this wasn’t only a good dream,that this happened actually, a reality.

Love,

Y/N

#shawn mendes imagine #imagine shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes #shawn #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes one shot #probability of love at first sight

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