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tennessoui · 3 years ago

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Ummmmmm can i please request 5

This was written all on my phone waiting for my train and I’m trying to post it through my phone which tumblr is being a lil bitch about but here is

5. Falling Pregnant After A One Night Stand (3.6k)

(squick: a/b/o dynamics, mpreg)(two tags I never thought I’d write lmao)

Anakin’s working on the couch when he hears the key in the lock of the apartment door, signaling that finally—finally—Obi-Wan’s home from his week-long hastily planned stay at Bail’s place.

Bail and Breha’s place, Anakin reminds himself. Obi-Wan’s mated friends pose no competition to Anakin’s inner alpha, which definitely thinks of Obi-Wan as his omega.

Obi-Wan comes into the main room quietly, putting his bag on one of the barstools and leaning against the counter for a second, head bowed.

When he lets out a sigh and a heavy curse, Anakin can’t stop himself from speaking up, alarmed. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

Obi-Wan jolts and turns around to face the couch, clearly startled. “Anakin!” he yelps, one hand flying to his stomach and the other to grip the counter behind him, as if Anakin is an intruder, and not the man he’s been living with for six years. “I thought you’d be at work!”

Anakin fights the urge to flush. The truth is, he’s tried to go into work for the past three days, but Obi-Wan’s absense has kicked his alpha hindbrain into a special kind of panic mode, where he can’t stand to leave the den until the omega returns to it safely.

It’s not like Anakin’s going to say that though, not after five years of pining for the older omega from afar. He’s a pro at this by now.

“Working from home today,” Anakin says. And then so Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s spent his entire week alone on the couch waiting to be not alone anymore (he has), he lies, “Woke up hungover.”

“On a Thursday?” Obi-Wan says, sounding a bit concerned.

Anakin purses his lips and tries not to pout. He rakes his eyes over the omega, taking in his messed up hair and untrimmed beard and the dark circles that have popped up beneath his eyes. “You didn’t answer, Obi-Wan,” he accuses. “What’s wrong?”

The omega’s scent tinges with distress, which only proves Anakin’s point further. Obi-Wan never lets his scent leak through his blockers, not if he can help it. Anakin’s always made sure to luxuriate in his unbridled scent when he can, one that smells like maple and rain and cinnamon. But to smell it now just makes him feel more worried.

“Are you going into—“ Anakin stutters over the word heat. Obi-Wan’s at least feeling well enough to roll his eyes fondly. The older omega thinks Anakin’s one of those alphas that get wildly uncomfortable talking about an omega’s heat. It’s not true. Anakin’s helped friends through heats both platonically and sexually. Look, he’s run to the corner bodega at two in the morning to get Padmé heating pads to be left outside her door. He’s no stranger to heats.

But the idea of his prim and proper roommate writhing around in his nest, begging for something to fill him up the way he needs—that makes Anakin stutter and blush and trip over his words.

“No,” Obi-Wan says, but there’s something off in his tone, something sour in his scent. Anakin puts his laptop aside—the screen’s gone dark already anyway—and makes to stand, his inner alpha baying with the need to run his hands over the omega, to make sure he’s not bleeding or hurt or injured—

“I—I’m going to unpack and take a shower,” Obi-Wan decides, pushing away from the counter and closer to the couch. Not close enough. But closer. “And then I need to talk to you about something.”

“Are you…” Anakin casts around for the right word to say. Ill. Leaving me. Sick. Sick of me. Done with all of this. Dying.

Obi-Wan pauses and gives him his own sort of once-over. Whatever he finds in either his body language or his scent brings a soft smile to the omega’s face. “I’m fine, dear one. I—I need a shower. I don’t—smell right.”

Anakin blinks after him, hands balling into fists and relaxing as he processes those words. Usually it’s Anakin who wants Obi-Wan to shower off the stench of other alphas after his business trips or stays at his friends’ places. Obi-Wan’s always insisted he smells fine, but he’ll cave if Anakin’s mood gets bad enough.

It’s not something he’s especially proud of, but it’s worth it when Obi-Wan curls up onto the couch beside Anakin and he smells only like the shampoo and soap they share.

Sometimes if he’s tired enough, he’ll even let Anakin scent mark him so that next time he goes out, everyone will automatically assume he’s already in possession of an alpha and not looking for anything.

Sometimes, he even asks for it. Those times are the best.

Anakin tries to sit still while he waits for Obi-Wan to come back, but it’s impossible. He moves to the table, then to the kitchen counter, then back to the couch. Where should he sit, where would be a place he feels safe enough to receive whatever news Obi-Wan’s putting off telling him?

In the omega’s arms in his own bed, is the answer that comes to mind. But can he really ask that of Obi-Wan? They’ve done it before, when Anakin’s mother had died, when Ahsoka had left the city to get a degree abroad, when Anakin feels as though he’s going to shake apart if he doesn’t hold onto his omega and make sure that he at least can’t leave him too.

When Obi-Wan comes out of his room, all flushed from the shower with his hair still damp and messy, wearing a blue sweater Anakin’s pretty sure used to be his and a pair of sweatpants that are definitely currently his, there’s hardly a choice to make. If Obi-Wan wants to wear his scent, Anakin will give it to him.

Silently he takes his hand and leads him to his bedroom, toeing out of his shoes and tugging him into his bed and into his arms.

Obi-Wan goes so easily that it only makes Anakin more worried. His heart cannot take this level of stress and he has to hide his face in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and inhales greedily at the pure scent of omega—Obi-Wan omega—his omega.

“Obi-Wan,” he says nonsensically, just to feel the way the omega in his arms shudders at the sensation of his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck.

But then Obi-Wan doesn’t stop shaking and Anakin can feel a growing wetness against his shirt. He can’t stop the distressed rumble that comes out of his throat, but he bites his tongue just in time to stop the alpha command to tell him. Obi-Wan wouldn’t like that and Anakin wouldn’t like doing it.

His hands stroke soothingly over the omega’s back as he starts purring from within his chest. An alpha’s purr is supposed to reassure an omega, make them feel safe and protected, but Obi-Wan doesn’t seem to realize this because he doesn’t stop crying.

“Talk to me,” Anakin murmurs nosing at the short hairs behind Obi-Wan’s ears. “Baby. Obi. Omega. What is wrong? What can I do?”

Obi-Wan wipes his eyes dry on Anakin’s shirt and looks up at him with a heartbroken but strangely resigned expression. Like he already knows what Anakin’s going to do, and he thinks nothing he says will change anything.

As if.

When Obi-Wan went on a two month long business trip three years ago, Anakin grew out a beard and it only took one look from the omega upon his return before Anakin was shaving it off. The point is, Obi-Wan doesn’t even need to speak half the time for Anakin to agree. He’s just that in love. It’s pathetic. He can’t remember who he was before it.

“I’m a mess, I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan finally gets out, retracting one of his hands from the tight grip he has on Anakin’s shirt to rub at his eye. “I told myself I wasn’t going to be like this, but. I don’t—it’s—“

“Hey, hey,” Anakin soothes, leaning back a bit so he can knock their foreheads together. Packmates do that all the time. “It’s okay.”

Obi-Wan nods slowly, and his scent expands with the pleasant notes of a comforted, protected omega.

“Do you remember…when I went to Seattle at the end of August for that conference?” he starts slowly.

Anakin hums in acknowledgement. He’d wanted to go with Obi-Wan, instincts demanding that the other side of the country was too far for the omega to travel alone, but he’d not been able to get time off of work.

His heart drops into his stomach at the idea that somehow maybe Obi-Wan met someone there during his four-day trip, and he’s in love with them and is trying to find a way to tell Anakin he’s moving.

Would it be pathetic if Anakin followed him? Would Obi-Wan’s new alpha allow Anakin to live with Obi-Wan still? Would Obi-Wan’s alpha be amenable to telling Anakin how he made Obi-Wan fall in love with him in a matter of days when Anakin’s been trying to get the man to love him romantically for six years?

Anakin’s heart rate is up, but it’s nothing compared to the staccato beat of Obi-Wan’s. He tries to send out more calming pheromones, but he can’t even find them for himself.

This is it. He’s about to lose Obi-Wan. The alpha inside of him whimpers, and it takes all of his willpower not to crush his omega tighter to his chest.

No. Not his.

“I met a man there, just at the hotel,” Obi-Wan says. It would have been kinder if he’d just stabbed Anakin with the kitchen knife. There’s no relief to be found in this slow death. Because—because surely, Anakin will die without Obi-Wan. Not physically, of course. He’s not one of those alphas who doesn’t know how to take care of himself.

Actually, it’s Anakin that cooks most of the time for both of them. And Anakin will do the shopping, will keep an eye on the amount of cleaning supplies they have, how much toilet paper, how many garbage bags.

But what would be the point of cooking anything if Obi-Wan isn’t there to taste it and shower him with praise? What’s the point of cleaning the apartment if Obi-Wan isn’t there to tuck himself into his arms on the couch and thank him for the work? What’s the point of anything if he’s doing it without Obi-Wan?

“Anakin, I—“ Obi-Wan stutters and falls silent. Anakin braces himself for the end he should have seen coming. “I’m pregnant.”

White noise. Anakin doesn't even think he’s breathing. Obi-Wan is pregnant. Obi-Wan…had a one-night stand in a city 2,400 miles away from Anakin, and he’s pregnant. Someone touched Obi-Wan, someone made Obi-Wan come, someone got Obi-Wan pregnant, and maybe…maybe there’s a chance they’ll get to keep Obi-Wan too.

The alpha in his chest howls at the thought. The idea that—that someone else will have a better claim on Obi-Wan’s heart. What’s six years of living together compared to a child?

Except Obi-Wan presses further into his chest, with a shaky whine. The omega is here now, not with any other alpha, not in any other city. He’s in Anakin’s bed, in Anakin’s arms.

Anakin opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure out what to say, how to say it, how to speak. He needs to know so much more. He needs to know what Obi-Wan is going to do, if he’s in contact with the father, if he’s planning to move, if he’s planning to raise the—

As if he can hear his thoughts, Obi-Wan starts talking again, very fast as if he’s afraid Anakin’s going to kick him out in a few minutes and he needs to get the whole story out before he does.

“I’m keeping it. Them. I—I’m so old now—“ he’s barely 38– “I’m afraid this could be my only chance at…at a family.”

Anakin closes his eyes and hides his face in the still-damp strands of Obi-Wan’s hair. He doesn’t want Obi-Wan to see how devastated he is at this response. Anakin’s family is Obi-Wan. He’d thought…he’d wanted….

“I understand if you want to move out before the lease ends,” Obi-Wan mumbles, but his hands clench tightly around Anakin’s back. “I know…a baby…another alpha’s baby…you shouldn’t have to take care of them. I know it’s not what you signed up for, I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t hold it against you.” His voice gets smaller and smaller until Anakin has to strain to hear him. “I can do this alone.”

He sounds as if he’s telling himself as much as he’s telling Anakin. But Anakin can’t even focus on that because his entire attention is caught by everything else Obi-Wan’s just said. Because it sounds…it sounds as if Obi-Wan is planning to stay in the city. In the apartment. Without the sire.

Alone.

As if Anakin would ever let Obi-Wan be alone, given the choice. As if Anakin would ever leave Obi-Wan to struggle through any difficulty without him.

Obi-Wan presses impossibly closer to him. “Say something,” he demands, running his nose up and down Anakin’s neck, over his scent glands, as if he expects Anakin to be able to form whole, coherent sentences when he’s doing that with his mouth.

The pregnancy must be messing with Obi-Wan’s instincts and emotions, Anakin realizes distantly. His body must know he’s not mated, that he’s about to be a visibly pregnant, unmated Omega in a dangerous city. No wonder he’s trying to cover himself so completely in Anakin’s scent. He has to wonder if Obi-Wan even understands what he’s doing. He’s never been one to try and he in touch with his Omegan side.

“Alpha,” Obi-Wan pleads, and Anakin has a second realization that it’s been ages since he’s said something. The room fills with the scent of distressed, in pain omega.

Anakin lets out an involuntary purr and tightens his hold on Obi-Wan’s body. It would be nice to look him in the eyes, but he thinks they both need as little distance between themselves as possible. “You’re going to make a great parent,” he soothes, nuzzling along Obi-Wan’s hairline. “And I’m not going to leave you unless you want me to.”

Obi-Wan stills completely as if shocked to his bones, and then he relaxes bonelessly into Anakin’s arms. This time, Anakin feels the tears as soon as they start and he goes about stroking up and down Obi-Wan’s spine again.

“I was so afraid,” Obi-Wan admits between sobs. Anakin thinks to himself privately that he definitely knows how that feels, but one of them shouldn’t be crying. “I didn’t know how to tell you—I didn’t want you to hate me for making such a stupid mistake—“

There’s nothing Obi-Wan could do to make him hate him. Sure, Anakin’s absolutely filled with hatred for whoever caught Obi-Wan’s eye on that business trip, but none of those emotions bleed over into what he feels for Obi-Wan. Not when his love is too strong and entrenched.

“Bail said you’d understand but I’m just—a mess, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time and these goddamn hormones are making me feel out of control—“ Obi-Wan continues. The fact that Bail fucking Organa found out about Obi-Wan’s pregnancy before Anakin did will drive him crazy if he lets it, so he puts that aside for now and focuses on comforting his omega.

“We’ll figure it out,” Anakin says, scenting Obi-Wan back. “It’ll be alright.”

————

A few hours later, Obi-Wan awakens from the nap he’s fallen into with a start. Anakin’s gotten no sleep, too busy drawing nonsense lines on Obi-Wan’s back and staring at the ceiling, thinking about the future. About what’s going to happen to them, around them.

No matter how much he hates the sire of the child in Obi-Wan, he already feels attached to the baby. It’s part of Obi-Wan. Maybe they’ll have his hair color or his eyes. Maybe they’ll have his compassion, his wit. Maybe they’ll let Anakin teach them how to play soccer or swim or cook.

The possibilities are endless and all of them involve Obi-Wan falling in love with him because of how amazing of a father he is to his child.

It’s not the most pressing thought in his mind, but he has to admit at least to himself that it’s there. That he’s just as in love with Obi-Wan as he was when he woke up in the morning. Now he just has another part of Obi-Wan to love: his child.

Maybe their child.

“I need to tell him,” Obi-Wan mumbles from his spot laying across Anakin’s chest. “I don’t—I don’t particularly want his involvement or, or money, but he should know. He should have the option to be in his child’s life.”

The part of Anakin who has just spent the past three hours getting used to the idea of raising Obi-Wan’s child as if he’s his own bristles at the idea of the sire being involved at all.

“Do you have his number?” Anakin asks reluctantly. He can’t imagine getting to sleep with someone as gorgeous as Obi-Wan and not trying to give him a means of keeping in contact.

But Obi-Wan shakes his head.

“His address?”

Another negative. “I…know his name and where he works.”

Anakin bares his teeth at the ceiling. “And?”

Obi-wan sounds more than a bit embarrassed. “Ah. He was the bartender at the hotel. And his name tag said Set.”

“You went to a medical conference full of alpha surgeons and researchers and you…slept with the bartender,” Anakin says blankly, before he can stop himself.

Obi-Wan huffs. It’s the most Obi-Wan response he’s given since he got home from Bail’s. “Sorry my one-night stands don’t meet your standards.”

Anakin hums. The truth is the only person who will ever meet his standards as a romantic partner for Obi-Wan is Anakin. “So what do you want to do? Call the hotel and ask for Set?”

Which, by the way, is the most pretentiously Seattle name he’s ever heard of. Set’s given name is probably, like, David and he just wanted to sound cool and grunge.

“I can’t just—this isn’t something I can say over the phone, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. He falls silent.

“It’s mid-November,” Anakin points out. “Neither of us are hurting for money, but plane tickets are going to be astronomical until January at least. If they’re available at all.”

There’d be shitty seats available, of course, but Anakin’s not going to let his pregnant omega cram himself into an uncomfortable, smelly seat for eight hours.

“You don’t—I don’t expect you to come with me,” Obi-Wan mumbles into Anakin’s collarbone.

Anakin just manages to bite back a scoff and the urge to point out that last time Obi-Wan went off to Seattle without him, he got pregnant. Who knows what would happen if he does it again?

“Well, I’m gonna,” he says firmly. “But I think we should drive. It’ll take longer, but I’d feel much better about what you’re exposed to, not to mention how much more comfortable my car is than a coach seat. We can share a motel bed to cut costs, and—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Obi-Wan picks himself up off his chest to stare at him quizzically. “What if your job won’t let you take the days off? They didn’t even let you leave for the original Seattle trip and that was only a few days. We’re talking weeks here, Ani.”

Anakin sets his face into a scowl. He’s worked at the same finance firm since moving to New York, but if they won’t let him take time off for this, for Obi-Wan, he’ll quit. Simple as that. “Then I’ll go anyway and they can fire me.”

Predictably, Obi-Wan has several protests. Anakin will hear none of them. If he is fired, if he can’t find another finance job in the city that makes the same amount of money, then they’ll move out to somewhere else. He’s heard good things about Denver. And if Obi-Wan doesn’t want to move that far, maybe they can move upstate. It’ll be easier to raise a kid outside of the city anyway.

He’s not dumb enough to tell Obi-Wan this, knowing it makes him sound literally insane, but he is just stupid enough to cut Obi-Wan off and say, “you’re the most important person in my life, Obi-Wan. You….you both are.”

Hesitantly he moves his hand down to rest it gently over the slightest swell of Obi-Wan’s tummy. The omega’s breath catches in his throat, but he lets him touch.

“I’m going to be there with you, every step of the way if you’ll have me,” Anakin adds, stroking his thumb over the impossibly soft skin. Pregnant. Obi-Wan is pregnant.

It’ll take a few days more to get completely used to that idea, that’s for sure.

Obi-Wan studies his face with eyes still red-rimmed and puffy from all that crying a few hours ago. Slowly he raises his own hand to Anakin’s neck and rubs up and down his scent gland with something almost like longing in his expression. They’re so close together. Anakin would let him have anything—everything.

Everything.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan agrees with an air of strained incredulity in his voice , placing his other hand over Anakin’s on top of his abdomen. “Yes. Let’s drive to Seattle so I can tell my one-night stand that I’m carrying his child.”

Anakin nods and adds privately in his head, And so I can tell him that that kid’s gonna be mine in everything but blood and he better stay on his side of the goddamn country.

He’s not losing his family to some stupid Seattle alpha.

#asks #prompt fill #I could definitely see 2 more parts of this #part 2 the road trip #part 3 the get together where anakin meets set and is very surprised when they look identical #this was so fun and cute to write that’s why it’s 3.6k btw #squick tag: a/b/o #squick tag: mpreg #stuck between calling this the roadtrip au or the baby daddy au #baby daddy vs found father showdown fight to death au #anakin would 😌❤️#anyway this was supposed to have a lot more italics but they didn’t copy from the Google doc so when I finally get home I’ll add them #obikin #omega obi-wan kenobi #alpha anakin skywalker #roadtrip au

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soramei · 4 years ago

Text

Intentional - Part 1

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 7.3k

Masterlist

A/N: hey yall this is my first ff im posting on tumblr :D im kinda scared to post but i hope anybody who stumbles on lil ol’ me will join me along the way :) also important!!! i made oc/reader asian cus i am lol (and this whole thing is basically a glorified self insert) so plz keep this in mind when reading!! oh god i didnt realize how slow this first part was sry...

The cold silence of the room felt like stabs at your inside. You commanded your feet to stop bouncing up and down as you unconsciously started to bite off the dead skin of your bottom lip. The white corporate light from above reflected off your brand new lanyard hanging delicately from your neck. You felt the coarse blue fabric rub against your neck as you mindlessly fiddled with your lanyard; the newly printed photo of your face stared back at you with a smile.

The creak of the door to your left was what broke you from your nervous fidgets. Whipping your head up from your lanyard, you immediately stood up ready to bow to whoever came through that door.

It was a girl. She looked around the same age as you, if not older. Her attire was what gave her away. Her appearance essentially mirrored yours: hair tied back into a ponytail with a white blouse and black work pants. She also had the familiar blue ‘JYPE’ labeled strap hanging from her neck.

“Hello,” you spoke meekly, scared to disturb the cold silence that had a hold on the room you were in.

“Hello,” she replied. “My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern and today is my first day.”

This is so relieving, you thought, another newbie to share the stress with me.

“This is my first day too,” you perked up, “I’ll be starting as the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.”

Getting the acceptance email from JYP Entertainment was definitely a high point in your life. The feeling of butterflies swarming your insides as you clicked the email open only to see your acceptance was immediately locked as a core memory. All the years of memorizing thousands of Korean and English vocabulary flashcards, the panic attacks before your finance exams, and the many, many late night coffee breaks were worth it the moment you received your first legitimate job offer, and from the esteemed JYP Entertainment company no less.

“Chinese marketing?” Na-eun asked. “So you aren’t from here, I take it.”

You shook your head. “I am from China. I completed my degree a while ago with a major in Language and a minor in Business. To be honest, I’ve done internships back home, but it’s been my dream to move to a new country.”

All of what you said was true. Up until now, your surroundings have never changed in all of your twenty-three years living. From the walk with your grandmother to daycare to the vast campus of your university, the view of your city has never changed. Your social circle stayed stagnant since you were able to talk and your love life was — for a lack of a better word — uneventful.

It wasn’t until the day you decided to start applying for careers outside your home country that you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you could find an escape from your inert lifestyle and escape the burnout and stress that has been building up over the years. And so, on a day when you were feeling unusually confident, you gathered up the courage and spent hours sending out applications to organizations all over Asia that pertained to your specific degree. The applications were mainly for small jobs at small companies, however, your strange spike of motivation gave you the confidence to apply to the everso esteemed JYP Entertainment located in Korea. Of course you knew about this company — you and your friends played songs by ‘Twice’ nonstop back in highschool — but you didn’t realize the full power that this company had on the entertainment market until you did your full research. To say that you thought you had no chance was an understatement. This application was so far of a reach that you purposefully forced your mind to erase all memory of even applying.

However, with your education, your work experience, and whatever tiny bit of luck you had, you somehow made it through the initial application process. Then the next. And the next. Then the interview. And now, you were nervously sitting in this white painted room with Na-eun, in a completely new country, waiting for your manager to come greet you.

“So you’re from China? You’ve got to teach me chinese sometime.” Na-eun smiled.

You giggled in return while nodding your head. You were relieved that you’ve met a potential friend so early in your career in this company. This was one of your big worries. With your social circle being so stagnant for the majority of your life back in China, you rarely had the opportunity to meet new people, much less make new friends.

You were about to inquire more into Na-eun’s life when the door to your left abruptly opened. In the blink of an eye, three new people strutted in — two women and one man. They seemed to be higher status than you and Na-eun judging by their attire. All three were styled in some type of blazer and dress pants and there was no lanyard to be found on any of them.

“Hello new employees,” the man greeted. Judging by his face, he looked to be in his late thirties at the least. His hair was styled back neatly and his lips slanted up, giving him a fox-like appearance. “I am Executive Manager Kim. Joined beside me on the left is Social Media Manager An and to my right is Marketing Manager Chen.”

Both you and Na-eun immediately stood up to bow and introduce yourselves.

“Hello. My name is Choi Na-eun, I’m the new social media strategist intern.” Na-eun said.

“Hello. My name is y/n, I’m the new junior Chinese marketing assistant.” You repeated after her, copying exactly what she said. You did not want to screw anything up on your first day, especially your first impression.

Manager Kim reached over to Na-eun, introducing himself and giving her a firm handshake. He then slowly moved over to you, and reached for your hand.

“Y/n,” he gave time for your name to settle on his tongue as he gave a sly smile. “You’re not from here, aren't you?”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No, sir. I’m from China where I studied language and business. I hope to do well here as the Chinese marketing assistant.” You replied, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so timid.

“I’m glad to hear,” Manager Kim chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll treat me and your other managers well.”

You felt an uncomfortable shiver pass through you as he brushed his thumb along your hand before letting go. This feeling was excused as nervousness, after all, this was your first day and your first time meeting your higher-ups.

You introduced yourself to Manager Chen, assuming that she would be the one you were to assist in your time here at JYPE. Judging by her last name, you presumed that she was Chinese as well.

“Forgive me for being so straight up Manager Chen, but are you Chinese?” You asked.

“That is alright, y/n,” she smiled, “I’m not. My Husband is, but I’ve lived in China for more than half my life. I don’t want to brag, but my mandarin has gotten proficient over the past decade or so.”

Proficient? It’s amazing. You thought. This first day was turning out better than you thought. Other than the weird feeling you received from Manager Kim, everything was turning out splendid. A potential friend and a manager that could speak your first language.

“Since it’s about noon right now,” Manager Kim took a look at his watch, “What do you all think about some lunch?”

The other managers nod their heads in agreement and gestures for you and Na-eun to follow them out of the waiting room you were in for so long.

The whole building seemed so clean. With every corner lit, by natural light or artificial light, you could clearly see that every room, every piece of furniture and decor had been purposefully placed. You couldn’t help but have a stupid look of awe plastered on your face as you mindlessly follow your superiors over to the cafeteria.

You turned your head over to Na-eun and gave her a tilt of the eyebrow, silently saying wow, this is where we work.

With the turn of a corner and several silent strides, your little group made it to the cafeteria.

The difference between your claustrophobic waiting room and this vast room was astonishing. With countless tables and romantic yellow lighting, this place almost resembled a five star restaurant. You’ve never seen a cafeteria as extravagant and clean as this before. However, to be fair, you’ve never had the experience of working with such a large corporation before.

The managers led you to the serving station where you grabbed yourself a tray and proceeded to spoon small portions of rice and side dishes onto your plate. This cuisine was different to what you were used to, but nonetheless looked delicious. You were prepared for the small cultural differences, especially with the food, but from everything you’ve witnessed so far, the culture shock would be easier to overcome than what you’ve anticipated.

“Have this soup y/n,” Manager Kim’s grating voice came from in front of you, interrupting your inner monologue. “It’s good for your complexion.”

As Manager Kim hands over the bowl of soup, you feel the sleeve of his blazer brush up against your shoulder, causing the pit of your stomach to drop.

First day nerves. That was what this feeling was. You thought.

You quietly thanked him with a small nod and walked briskly from the service line, trying to find where Na-eun went with the other two managers. Thankfully, they were just a step away and you quickly made your way over to the comfortable spot beside Na-eun. She gave you a small grin and you both followed your way to a table right in the middle of the room.

Soon, all five chairs of the table got filled and sounds of chopsticks tapping and scraping against plates and bowls filled your ears. An awkward silence dominates your table as you start to pick at your food.

“So,” Manager Chen cleared her throat, “after lunch I was thinking we should go to a meeting room and discuss Miss. Y/n’s role in our new project.”

“I was thinking the same for our new Intern Choi.” Manager An cut in, “What do you think, Manager Kim?”

“It all sounds good. I will be accompanying Manager Chen to her meeting room as I wish to also further discuss the preliminary steps for our project.” Manager Kim looked from Manager Chen over to you.

“Project?” You ask.

“We’ve had a very successful year with our idol groups and we wanted to ride this success and start marketing in China. Recently, we’ve noticed a very large and growing Chinese audience for this group. I’m sure you’re very curious now, however we can discuss further details once we are in the meeting room.” Manager Chen replies while taking a sip of the water in her glass.

Manager Chen appeared to be a very professional and respectable woman. With prominent collarbones and wide shoulders, she easily looked the part of a confident and adored manager. She needed minimal makeup to highlight her tall cheekbones, and even with a short heel on her feet she seemed to tower over you. However, her warm and comforting voice was what broke her intimidating demeanour. Just listening to her voice felt like you were back in your high school classroom with your favourite teacher explaining the motif of a sad love poem.

After some more awkward conversations mixed with a few work discussions, the five of you finished the delicious food on your trays.

“Please excuse me whilst I head to the restroom” Na-eun spoke up after your group finished clearing the table.

“Please excuse me as well.” You quickly followed, bowing as you both ventured off to the washrooms.

I should get her number so I’m not completely a loner in this place, you thought to yourself. And so, after a quick inner struggle to speak up, you finally decided to ask.

“Hey, should we exchange contacts? I don’t wanna look like the newbie eating in the cafeteria alone after today.” You chuckled.

“Totally!” Na-eun beamed. “I was actually thinking the same thing…”

And so, you both quickly exchanged each other's contact as you made your way to the restrooms.

The hall of the washrooms were narrow, hidden away from the main cafeteria. You walked in, deciding you only wanted to retouch your hair and makeup before your first official meeting. You carefully fix the loose hairs that somehow escaped the confines of your elastic and dab on a fresh layer of foundation before applying your lipstick which rubbed off while eating. Looking over at Na-eun, you see she’s quite in the zone redoing her mascara.

“Hey, I’ll just wait for you in the hall.” You said.

Na-eun gave you a disinterested nod back as she kept focusing on her mascara.

You walked to the end of the hall, leaned against the wall, and pulled out your phone. Smiling, you opened the virtual Tamagotchi app and saw your little friend staring back at you, bouncing up and down. The bundle of virtual pixels happily bounced as you fed and bathed it, making you happier in return. Playing this game, you were so entranced with your phone that the abrupt closing of the washroom doors broke you out of your hypnosis fast, causing you to flinch and drop your phone.

You looked up, only to see a brown haired man wearing a long sleeved black shirt. The hem of his sleeve fell, covering his hand as he bent down to pick up your phone. He stood back up, fully facing you now and you immediately recognized who he was. You weren’t a fool, of course you did all your research on the artists of JYPE before applying for the job. Looking down at you right now, holding your phone in his hand, was Bang Chan of Stray Kids.

The wispy tufts of his brown hair bounced over his forehead as he stepped over to you. He smiled, his dimple poking out of his cheek, and handed your phone back to you. “I think you dropped this.”

Blushing tomato red, you embarrassingly accepted the phone, trying not to make your shaking hands noticeable. It seemed like that failed, however, as you noticed him glance at your hands and dimple grow deeper.

“Thank you.” You meekly chirped and lowered your head, still in awe that you somehow bumped into a JYPE idol in the bathroom hallway of a cafeteria.

“It’s good that there’s no cracks.” Bang Chan said, looking in your eyes.

You looked back into his eyes. His smile never left his face, and you physically felt the warmth radiating off his body like rays from the sun. Some boring, objective part of your brain knew this interaction only lasted a fraction of a second, but you swore that time froze.

“Hyung!” A distant voice called.

Your trance was broken as Bang Chan looked over to the person calling his name. He turned back to you, politely bowed, and casually sauntered over to the man who called him.

What just happened? Your inner monologue ran, still trying to process the embarrassing interaction. The scent of his cologne lingered, swirling the atmosphere around your body.

Thankfully, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on this interaction as Na-eun finally opened the washroom doors and was making her way toward you.

You and Na-eun trailed behind the managers until you reached the set of elevators. It was there where you had to unfortunately separate from your comfort work buddy as she hopped in the elevator across from yours with Manager An. The other two managers led you to the elevator at the end and pressed the button for your destination floor. The ride in the elevator was silent. You stood there, fiddling with your nails.

Once the elevator gave the ding of arrival, the three of you headed down a hall where you presumed had the meeting room.

Manager Kim took a look at the watch on his wrist. “We are a minute late, everybody should be there already. Enter silently and respectfully.” He said in a stern voice.

You reached the frosted glass door of the meeting room and entered through the already opened door. The managers followed behind you with Manager Chen being the last one in and closing the door.

Your eyes widened at whom you saw.

There was Bang Chan, who sat in all his glory, staring right into your eyes with his mouth ajar. His shocked expression didn't last long, however, as he quickly composed himself to fit with the professional atmosphere of this room.

But why was he here? You thought. He’s an artist, isn’t this a management meeting?

Your inner monologue was broken by Manager Kim’s stern voice. “Y/n, why don’t you sit with me for today?” He asked with a slight tilt of the lips. His hand was hovering above your back, almost guiding you to the seat just right of the head chair.

Your heart rate quickened. There was no way that you could handle sitting right beside a high position manager on your first day. You barely knew what your duties entailed, you definitely could not handle the pressure of this seat today. You whipped your head around to look for Manager Chen. She was already sitting in her seat, looking like she was right at home.

“Manager Kim, if you don’t mind, I would like to sit in this position for today, '' a voice spoke up, “I have a lot of new ideas I’d like to share that are written in my notes.”

Bang Chan.

He paused a brief second, eyes switching between you and Manager Kim, and raised his iPad to show the screen filled with words.

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.” Manager Kim monotonously replied. He then made his way to the head chair.

You looked over at Bang Chan, trying to subtly send the most grateful facial expression over to him. He returned your look, slightly grinning as his fingers tapped on the screen of his iPad and sat down to the right of Manager Kim. You looked over to see Manager Chen gesturing you to sit in the chair beside her and swiftly made your way over. At your seat, she handed you a notepad and pen, both adorned with the JYPE logo.

“Now, as of 1:02 p.m., September first, the meeting will officially begin.” Manager Kim clasped his hands together on top of the table. “As most of you already know, we are in the preliminary stages of planning a Chinese debut for our artist group ‘Stray Kids’. All we have right now is the estimated timeline, which is four months. We have a basic grasp of the concept we are working towards, however, as you all know, trends are always changing and growing. While we are working to create a new and original concept for Stray Kids, we also want the concept to gather as much audience reception as possible.”

Wow. That was a lot to take in. Your hands struggled to keep up with writing down what Manager Kim was saying. You knew this relatively new group was really starting to explode in the past year, but a debut in another country? This group must work really hard to even have the company consider a step as risky as this. So this is why Bang Chan is also involved in this meeting.

You peaked your head up from your notepad. Bang Chan sat across from you, one hand on his chin and the other one holding the pen to his tablet.

Manager Kim then carefully discussed the duties that each group in the room would take. Many of the jobs were directly involved with developing the concept itself, such as producing music, concept art, and theme development. Your pen never took a break from gliding on the notepad as you hurriedly jotted down everything that Manager Kim said.

Eventually, Manager Kim’s delegations moved to Manager Chen. “Manager Chen, I’ll let you take over from here.”

“Thank you Manager Kim,” Manager Chen cleared her throat. “While my main job here was to market Korean comebacks towards the Chinese audience, this new project changes things up a bit. Now, not only will I be in charge of marketing to the Chinese audience, but I will also be directly in charge of the concept itself. I will be working carefully with our team in China to monitor the trends which we can incorporate into our debut.

“This is my new assistant, y/n,” She turned and gestured to you. You politely nodded your head. “She will be gathering information on useful trends and reporting back to me, as well as some translating. Please report any ideas that you deem useful to her by the end of every week for her to sort through and deliver to me.”

You almost want to call Manager Chen crazy for giving you so much power, after all, you were only starting out as her assistant. Despite this, however, you were determined to go above and beyond with the new responsibilities given to you, after all, you knew that choosing to work in an organization as big as JYPE would take blood, sweat, and tears.

After some clarifications given by Manager Chen and a few more questions directed at her, Manager Kim took the reins back in his hands.

“Now, as I’m sure you all know, this is Bang Chan: the leader of Stray Kids. Although our management team is in charge of this debut, we like to include the opinions of artists whenever possible. He will make an appearance whenever he can and act as a representative of Stray Kids, sharing their ideas and opinions.” Manager Kim explained.

Bang Chan politely introduced himself, and quickly went on to express some concerns of his members. He made sure that each concern was answered thoroughly by Manager Kim before moving on to the next.

“As for our concept ideas,” Bang Chan’s soft brown eyes met yours, “will I have to report to y/n?”

You felt your ears redden.

“You could, yes,” Manager Kim straightened his back, “but if you find the weekly deadlines too much of a problem, you may just report to me or at any subsequent meeting.”

“No worries sir,” Bang Chan’s eyes lingered on yours for a fraction of a second more before grinning at Manager Kim, “I’m always punctual.”

The rest of the meeting consisted of more introductions and preliminary plans. After about an hour, everybody seemed satisfied with the contents of the meeting and were starting to pack up all their clutter on the table. You looked over at Manager Chen, silently asking what should I do next?

Manager Chen smiled. “Let's head to my floor. I can give you a quick tour, you can get settled at your desk. I have some paperwork that I’m almost done with; I’m sure you’ll have no problem finishing it for me.” She already was standing up and straightening over the creases of her jacket.

You stood up as well and followed behind Manager Chen like a lost baby duckling. You both made your way over to Manager Kim to bid farewell. You politely thanked him, said your goodbyes, and were about to leave when he stopped the two of you.

“Manager Chen, let’s go out for drinks tonight.” Manager Kim took a look at the intricate watch on his wrist. “With our whole team, of course. It’ll be a welcoming night and we can get to know the people on our team better.”

“That’s a great idea, Manager Kim,” Manager Chen nodded at his idea in approval. She turned on her iPad to quickly get a glimpse at her schedule. “What do you think y/n? Can you make it tonight? I know this is very last moment, but I think it’ll be a great opportunity for you to get to know your coworkers better.”

“I should be able to make it.” You definitely could make it. You had no plans anyways.

“Am I invited to this top secret party you’re all having?” A now very distinguishable voice came from behind you. Bang Chan stared at Manager Kim with a very mischievous expression.

“Would your manager allow it?” Manager Kim questioned, knitting his eyebrows.

“I’m on a diet, so I can’t drink alcohol or eat anything,” Bang Chan’s nose scrunched up in annoyance, “but I want to be as involved as I can. Just because I’m an idol doesn’t mean I can’t help behind the scenes as well.”

“Very well,” Manager Kim nodded with a fixed expression, “Let’s all meet at that restaurant about a block away west. I’ll go tell the others.” And with that, Manager Kim left you, Manager Chen, and Bang Chan to stand in awkward silence.

“Well,” Bang Chan cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I’ll get going as well to do some work now, but it was nice meeting the both of you.”

“You as well.” Manager Chen replied for the both of you and Bang Chan left soon after.

Manager Chen then led you to the elevators again and you headed up yet another few floors to reach your destination. You nervously fiddled with your hair as you silently waited behind your boss, looking up at the smooth lines of her blazer every few seconds. The elevator doors dinged, letting you know of its arrival. The two of you swiftly headed out the elevators and walked to what you presumed was Manager Chen’s office area. You kept following behind Manager Chen in silence before you stopped in front of a set of doors that looked identical to the ones at the previous meeting room. Manager Chen opened the doors for you, and you headed in.

You paused a step in, looking wide-eyed at the interior. The office was clean. A big glass desk sat right in the middle of the vast room in front of a huge set of windows. There were a couple of soft looking chairs placed right before the desk with a huge rug right underneath it. Over to your left, you spotted a water dispenser with a kettle right beside it. You stared at the room a bit longer before realizing you must have looked very stupid with that astonished look on your face.

“Is this your office, Manager Chen?” You asked.

“Yes. It seems that you like it,” She chuckled. You felt the heat rise to your ears.

“Since you’ll be working so close to me, I’m sure you’ll be happy to come here more often.”

“Thanks.” You awkwardly laughed. You blamed your bad response on the fact that you still weren’t familiar with the language, not your blatant awkwardness.

Manager Chen made her way over to her desk, picking up a small stack of papers. “These are some letters I’ve received from several designer companies in China. Since we are still in the very preliminary stages of this project, we would like to keep our options open for the stylists here.” She picks an annotated letter from the pile. “I’ve translated and created a summary of the main points of this letter. There are a few more left which I believe I can trust you with. Just do as I did with this letter and add the sample pictures along with it.”

You quickly complied, taking the stack of papers from her hands.

“I’ll show you to your new work space.” She led you out of your office and over to a cubicle that wasn’t too far away. It was considerably smaller compared to Manager Chen’s office, but you thought it had a certain coziness to it. Plus, working close to your coworkers could also boost your motivation. “Here is your desk, it’s not the most exciting thing, but you may bring photos or whatnot to decorate it. Now, I’ll let you settle in and get started on your work. You can meet me at my office around six, I can double check your work before we leave.”

You thanked her before she left and immediately got started on your work. You diligently translated the whole of the letters before picking out the main points that matched with Manager Chen’s example. After this was done, you included the photos that came with each letter and slipped them into their own cozy folder. This work was monotonous, sure, but it was something you needed on your hectic first day here.

You were so captivated by your work that you completely forgot about the time. The sun was starting to set, and you only remembered to look at the time after you tucked your last letter neatly in its folder. You briefly panicked, praying that you weren’t making your manager wait. Thankfully, it was only a quarter until six. You took the next fifteen minutes double checking your work, making sure to also check the time every once in a while. At exactly six, you left your desk and scurried over to the big doors of Manager Chen’s office.

Knocking a couple times, you waited patiently to be let in.

“Come in.”

You let yourself in, handing the papers to your manager, then sat quietly in one of the chairs before her desk, crossing your fingers together. You fiddled with your thumbs, patiently waiting for Manager Chen to speak up.

“Not bad, this is some decent work.” Manager Chen announced as soon as she finished glossing over your work. “I’ve noted some places that you can either fix or improve. I’ll scan them and hand you a copy tomorrow.”

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A tidal wave of relief washed over you as you let yourself relax further into your chain. Not bad, this is some decent work. You proudly repeated this moment in your brain. Although you were disappointed with the mistakes that you let slip through, to get somewhat of a compliment on your first day meant a lot to you.

“Shall we get going now?” Manager Chen asked.

You grabbed your bag and stood up. “I’ll let you lead the way.”

_______

It seemed like all you were doing on your first day was following Manager Chen around like a lost puppy. The situation right now was no exception either, as you tried to copy her confident strides over to the restaurant a block down. You watched the busy rush hour streets and sidewalks fill with people, some people going home after a long day, some people going to party just like you.

Soon, after a few more minutes of walking, the both of you arrived at the small wooden doors of the restaurants. It seemed like the both of you were a bit late as Manager Kim was already waiting in front of the entrance with the rest of the team. Bang Chan was also there, head down looking at his phone.

“Sorry we’re late, have you been waiting for long?” Manager Chen somehow sounded confident despite making everybody wait on her.

Her voice seemed to have caught everybody’s attention. You watched as Bang Chan swiftly turned his head up from his phone, his eyes making contact with yours. You immediately focused your eyes somewhere else, trying to casually play off the fact that your eyes subconsciously drifted to him.

“We’ve only been waiting for a couple minutes.” Manager Kim gave a tight smile. “Let’s go in before you all get too cold.”

Your little group of around ten people slowly entered the doors, filling the restaurant. Manager Kim called over a waitress, signaling that you had ten people in your group, and let the waitress lead you all to a long wooden table.

The restaurant was nice, nothing too fancy, but that’s how you could tell the food was good. With dim lighting and tightly packed tables, it made you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside.

However, your thoughts on the restaurant were soon broken by a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with me?” Manager Kim’s lips curled up, “After all, this is a work gathering, how good of a boss would I be if I didn’t even treat my newest team member to a drink?”

Your brain was in shambles. You seriously didn’t feel comfortable sitting with him all night. However, the logical side of your brain was saying something different. He’s just being nice as a boss. You don’t know how people in this country act anyways, stop being paranoid.

It seemed like your inner turmoil was taking longer than necessary, as you heard another familiar voice speak up.

“Manager Kim-” Bang Chan called out.

“You don’t need to sit with me here, Bang Chan.” Manager Kim chuckled as he stared directly in Bang Chan’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about work outside the office.”

You watched as Bang Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, looking back to you in reluctance. You smiled at him before turning your attention to Manager Kim. It was just one night, right? Plus, there’s no harm in establishing a good impression with your boss.

“I’ll sit with you, Manager Kim.” You smiled, “thanks for offering.”

And so, you took your seat next to Manager Kim at the table. Bang Chan, who was to your left, looked askance at Manager Kim for a brief second before his facial expression did a complete 180. His familiar, boy-ish smile was plastered on his face like it was the most natural thing.

When the menus came, everybody at the table — including you — started to order onslaughts of food and alcohol. After brief moments of casual chatter about topics such as the weather or how good the food was here, everything that was ordered arrived at your table.

You grabbed a can of beer and started sipping on it. You’ve drank before — of course — with your old friends at university, but it’s been at least a year since you last did. Better ease myself in. You thought.

However, your preconceived plans were ruined when a small glass of clear liquor got pushed in front of you.

“Y/n, surely you aren’t going to sip on that can all night.” The ends of Manager Kim’s lips curled up.

“Wasn’t planning to, sir.” You replied while tipping the glass up and into your mouth. The bitter liquid burned your throat as it went down. You took a moment to recollect your surroundings. Seems like your tolerance was higher than you thought.

“Bang Chan, do you not drink? Why not eat something then?” Manager Chen pointed to the food on the table.

“No can do ma’am, I’m on a strict diet. My manager would kill me.” Bang Chan pointed to his glass of water.

“In that case,” Manager Chen filled another glass, “Y/n, have another drink.” She slid the glass down the table in front of you.

You gladly accepted your second drink, downing the alcohol in one go. Your eyes instinctively squeezed together as you felt your throat burn. From the tips of your ears to the ends of your toes, your whole body felt warm and alive.

You lost track of the time. As your conversations got livelier, your head got fuzzier. You stopped counting your drinks after four, especially since so many people were eager to offer the new employee a drink. Although your vision was starting to blur, you could still think straight. I can still think, you thought to yourself, still — what a powerful buzz.

Your thoughts ran rampant in your mind as you stared at the lightbulb across the room. What a pretty light. So bright. Warm.

“Y/n.”

Was the light calling your name?

“Y/n!”

Your eyes focused again and snapped away from the lightbulb. Where was the voice coming from? You slowly turned your head. Bang Chan.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Hi.” He smiled back. So bright. Warm. “It’s been hours and I haven’t even offered you a drink yet.”

You tried to focus your eyes on his face as he slid the glass over to you. One more drink wouldn’t hurt your buzz, right?

You gladly accepted, slowly moving your hand over to the glass to pick the clear liquid up. It went down in one go just like all the others.

Huh? Was this water?

You struggled to focus your eyes on the person who offered you the drink. “That was yummy.”

“I bet it was,” the talking blur chuckled, “How about another one?”

You nodded, then took the glass he slid towards you. It’s funny how water flows even when in a cup. Water. You needed to pee.

“Hey,” your words dragged out, “where’s uh, where’s the washroom?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.” Manager Kim stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You didn’t want to take it, but it seemed like nobody was noticing his offer.

Reluctantly, you took his hand and stood up, only to stumble down again. Did your knees not want to listen?

“Whoa there, better hold on.” Manager Kim said.

“No, I can walk. I-I can walk.” You let go of Manager Kim and tried to focus all your brainpower on moving your feet in a straight line. This tactic only worked for a second, however, as your knees gave in and you stumbled down.

“It’s obvious that you can’t.” Manager Kim’s lips turned up. “It’s time for you to go home. I’ll take you back.”

What? No. You didn’t want Manager Kim to take you home, not after all the awkward events of today and the general vibe from him. You tried to express your thoughts, but nothing came out of your mouth.

“Manager Kim, you’ve been drinking!” Bang Chan’s voice came from some part of the room. “It’s not safe to drive, I’ll call a taxi for you.”

“What about Y/n here? I’ll get a taxi for us both.” Manager Kim said.

“I called my manager earlier to pick me up, we can drop her off along the way. It’s not a good idea to put two drunk people in a car. I’m completely sober right now, so let me do all the work.” Bang Chan grinned, patting Manager Kim on his shoulder.

“Is that what you want, Y/n?” Manager Kim glared.

You dizzily nodded.

“Alright. In that case, I can call my own taxi later.” Manager Kim grimaced.

“Stay safe, Manager Kim.” Bang Chan smiled. He turned to you. “My manager’s been waiting outside for a while now, do you want to leave now?”

You nodded. You tried to start walking again, but your damn knees just wouldn’t listen.

“Do you want to hold on to me?” Bang Chan knitted his brows together and held out an arm.

“I,” you slurred, “can walk.” You tried to start your feet again, only to end up stumbling down.

“I know you can,” Bang Chan said as he reached his hands out to stabilize you, “but — ah — I’m really tired after today. Can you hold on to my arm so I won’t fall out of exhaustion?”

You agreed to help him. Bang Chan waved to everybody still at the table before leading the two of you out to a black SUV. He allowed you to stumble your way in the back seats first before sliding in himself. He asked you for your address, which took many tries for you to accurately type it into his phone.

You leaned your head against the window, staring at passing blurred lights as Bang Chan’s manager started driving. Just being away from the loud and bright environment seemed to have cleared your head a little, but the pounding would not stop. You cursed yourself for being so irresponsible on your first day, especially because you were still alone in this new country.

“Hey,” you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “want some water?” You looked over to see Bang Chan holding out a plastic bottle with the lid screwed off.

You languidly reached your hand out for the bottle and gulped down as much water as you could in one breath before handing it back to him. The street lights started getting blurrier as you tried to fight exhaustion, the muscles in your eyelids starting to get more and more uncontrollable.

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there. Ten more minutes.”

You couldn’t hear anything after that, however, as you felt your eyes give up on you and your body fall into a deep sleep.

“Y/n… Y/n.” A familiar voice called.

You fluttered your eyes open, your head pounding. Not knowing where you were, you surveyed your surroundings in a panic. It seemed as though you were in the back of a car… Parked outside of your apartment building?

“Hey, you’re finally awake.” Bang Chan’s voice entered your ear. It all came rushing back to you; the restaurant, the drinking, entering the SUV.

“How long have we been parked here?” Your groggy voice sounded inhuman. You had to clear your throat a couple times.

“It’s only been twenty or so minutes. I’m not allowed to leave the car, are you able to get home alone? I can ask my manager to go with you.” Bang Chan scratched the back of his neck.

“I should be fine.” You mumbled, a bit embarrassed to have fallen asleep in the car of a person you just met that day. This wasn’t even his car, it was his manager’s.

“Hey… can I put my number in your phone?” Bang Chan avoided your eyes. “Just so you can tell me when you get home.” He quickly added.

“Okay.” You awkwardly handed him your phone with your contacts already opened. He quickly typed his phone number in before handing it back to you.

“Text me when you get home. Remember to lock your door, okay?”

You thank both him and his manager before hurrying back to your apartment. Your head was still pounding unrelentlessly as you pressed the elevator button for your floor. The events of today were still unprocessed in your brain. You met a potential friend, which was a highlight. However, you also met two higher up managers and an actual idol, only to get hilariously drunk in the presence of. At least it’ll make a good story to tell my mom. You thought.

In no time, you made it in your apartment and locked the door behind you, remembering what Bang Chan told you in the car. You texted the new number in your phone.

Y/n: Hi. It’s y/n. I just entered my apartment.

Not even a minute later, your phone lit up, signaling a new text message.

Bang Chan: great!! remember to lock the doooor hahaha ( ◕ω◕✿ )

You subconsciously grin at your phone. Cute. Throwing your phone haphazardly on your bed, you begrudgingly began your night routine. After washing up and throwing on a random shirt from your closet, you fell on your bed ready to sleep. You were about to close your eyes when your phone lit up again with a ding. It was another text.

Bang Chan: Hey… Just so you know, if you ever feel unsafe around the office just tell me okay? I’ll always try to help you in whatever way I can.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan smut

255 notes · View notes

spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Note

omg i’m so glad u have a tumblr!! ur literally my fav mgg fic author ❤️ i’m a hoe for that man can u do sleeping together for the first time with like an age gap or something spicy lmao

hi omg thank you 😊 that literally means the world to me! also thank you for requesting one of my fave things to write haha i love first-time-having-sex-together tropes. happy reading!

summary: reader is an artist who needs some inspiration, preferably from her new boyfriend.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, age gap, creampie, a little breeding kink, oral (male receiving), kind of Dom!Matthew vibes, dirty talk, praise kink with a hint of degradation as well (not super prominent).

word count: 4.4k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

masterlist

I straighten up and bend backward a bit to relieve the pressure on my spine. my hair is falling out of the knot on my head and I push a stray piece behind my ear, placing the wooden paintbrush between my teeth. aside from the warm, mellifluous tones pouring from the speakers, the apartment is silent.

I've hit a creative wall, it seems. every time I've tried to paint this week, I find myself standing above a stretched canvas with nothing but a frown and crossed arms. even little details feel wrong to add; the empty space is taunting me. it doesn't help that my thoughts have been flooded with memories and fantasies of Matthew. we've been on a couple dates now, sweet outings that leave me fluttery inside. I remember the words he says, the shape of his smile and the curve of his jaw, like they've been been in my mind forever. he's elusive, however, and hasn't initiated anything sexual with me. I think he's afraid of coming on too strong. there's a considerable age gap between us, but I don't care. I want him all the time-- whenever I'm at work, or trying to paint, all I can think of is how good it would feel to have those strong, veined hands on me.

christ.

before I can lose my courage, I text him. if anything can inspire me, it's his presence. likely, he's at work and won't be able to respond or come over, but it's worth a shot.

I'm just sliding my phone into my back pocket when the response comes in. a smile spreads over my face; he'll be over in half an hour. in the meantime, I'll sweep the background with shades that remind me of him: rich, emerald greens, honeyed tones that reminisce of his eyes. he'll pop against any backdrop.

I'm bent furiously over my work when he tells me he's arrived, and my heart thuds in my chest. even after hanging out several times, the butterflies are as alive as ever. they flood my stomach while I buzz him into the building.

"hi." he greets me when I open the door, curls messy. he must have just come from work.

"hi, Matthew." I smile up at him. his gaze travels over my face, my body, taking in my appearance for a moment.

"you look lovely." he says it genuinely, despite the fact that I'm literally wearing a paint t-shirt under a pair of rummaged overalls. I forgot to fix my hair, too.

"thanks." I blush, about to turn away when he bends down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. it's the first time he's said hello that way, and part of me flushes with the knowledge that he's attracted to me right now.

"now," he looks around my apartment as I step back to let him in. "what can I help you with?"

"I have a small favor to ask." I spin the paintbrush between my index and third fingers, reaching out to take his wrist and pull him towards the couch.

"anything," he replies, then sees my setup. "is this your studio?"

"slash living room." I chuckle. Matthew sits on the soft cushions before staring up at me. I don't miss his pupils dilating as they travel over the shape of my body. instead of allowing myself get distracted, I gesture to the wet paint on my canvas. "I need you to model for me."

"like, be your muse?" he beams at the notion, incredibly pleased with himself. I like this about Matthew; although he can be self-deprecating and doesn't take himself too seriously, he appreciates my admiration.

"oh, hush." I giggle. he laughs, reclining on the couch now that he knows why I invited him over.

"how do you want me to pose, Picasso?"

"well, let me re-orient myself." I hold up a hand, grab the abandoned easel, and try to get everything set up. he never takes his eyes off me.

"why were you painting on the floor?" he asks, slightly amused. I jerk my head toward him, narrow my eyes.

"it's my process."

"no judgement." he holds up his hands in surrender. I place the canvas carefully on the easel so that he can't see my work, then gather up my paints, palette, and brushes. there's a moment of pure silence when I frown as I glance between his face and the chasm of space awaiting its representation.

"you look tired." I observe. he lets out a sound that resembles a laugh.

"I am."

"how long did you sleep last night?" I ask as I start painting, focusing on the shape and planes of his face. if I don't get the composition exactly correct, I'll have to throw the whole thing out.

"three hours." he says this like it's normal. my eyebrows shoot up.

"three hours? why?"

"I had to work on lines." he shrugs.

"don't move." I order. he suppresses a grin.

"my sincerest apologies."

"uh huh," I dip my brush into a pale skin shade that I've mixed to match his pigment. "you need to get more sleep."

we continue on like this for a while, making light conversation while I get down the basics of my portrait. I can't handle anything that requires more than a fraction of my attention while doing this, and he seems to appreciate my concentration.

that said, it's beyond difficult to focus when he stares at me like every movement is magical, something he wants to memorize. I feel pliable under his watch, a little bit like a doll. he could bend me every which way, ask me to do anything, and I would give in. and who could blame me?

my thoughts slip into darkened territories, and the hue of my cheeks must do the same, because he gets this mischievous smile on his face that I can't ignore.

"what are you thinking about?" he asks softly.

"hm?" I turn to him. "oh, nothing."

"really?" his brows lift in that intimidating, delightfully entertained way that sets my skin on fire.

"I..." I trail off, wondering if I should give into the chaos in my mind. the thoughts that slash through my psyche whenever I see the width of his shoulders, the fit of his shirt. "I should have asked you to pose nude."

Matthew blushes-- actually blushes-- when I say this, his head dropping momentarily as a grin takes over his features. when he lifts his gaze to mine again, there's a different look in his eyes.

"yeah?"

"mhmm." no taking it back now. "I think that would be too distracting, though."

"how so?" the corner of his mouth tugs up.

"you know why." I avert my attention, only once flitting back to him. his tongue darts out over his lips and he holds contact.

"say it." he dares me. the tone of it, slightly dominant, makes my stomach flip. quietly, I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I have trouble keeping my hands to myself."

we stare at each other, words finding and dying on tongues in the silence.

at this point, my painting has been somewhat abandoned. brushstrokes sit unaccompanied by actual structure, except for the general godly shape of his face, and I'm clenching the utensil between my fingers as if to channel the sexual tension elsewhere.

"is that right?" he notes my absolute stillness and stands up, walking toward me in a relaxed, confident gait. all I can do is look up at him when he stands before me. the top button of his shirt is undone, and I can see the smooth skin beneath, each of the other buttons awaiting my fingertips.

"yes." the word is messy. he runs his index finger over the shell of my ear, bends down, whispers so low that the phrase almost gets lost in the air.

"me too."

he plants a gentle kiss on my jaw, hand reaching tentatively to rest on my waist. I can feel the caution in his actions, the worry he has about pressuring me. I'm cognizant of every breath he takes, especially the hitch when I give into myself and kiss him.

his mouth is warm and soft. the tension twists and knots between our bodies, roiling in the empty space as we resist the energy still. but I don't want to resist. I know that I want this, and he seems to want it just as much.

"Matthew." I pull away, his teeth tugging gently on my bottom lip.

"what is it?" his eyes, dark, search mine. my pulse quickens beneath my skin.

"I want to be with you."

"you are with me." he chuckles lightly, glancing at my features. the full circles of my eyes, the bloom of pink spreading over my cheekbones.

"no," I shake my head. "I mean... I want to be with you."

"you want to have sex?" he asks, clarifying. I nod eagerly, though he frowns a bit. "are you sure?"

"do you not want to?" I try to keep the disappointment out of my face. maybe I misread the situation. the most we've done is make out on his couch and once in an Uber on the way back from our first date. but there's a sweet, burning sensation whenever I see him, something I want to dive into. I want him; I've wanted him since the moment we met.

"of course I want to," he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. relief loosens my chest. "I just don't want you to regret anything."

"I couldn't ever regret this." my eyes travel over his frame, over the little scar beneath his chin. he angles my face up to examine my features. there's a smirk on his face.

"then what are we waiting for?" his hands move to encircle my waist, tugging me to him like I'm something long-awaited, like he needs my weight against his. our lips meet again, my head tilting as we kiss deeply, my fingers twining in his soft hair. I'm standing on my tiptoes as I do it, and one of his hands reaches down to squeeze my ass. he grunts as my pelvis moves against the quickly-forming hard-on in his pants. I can feel it against my stomach as he ruts against me just slightly. I smirk.

"sit on the couch again." I whisper when I pull away. he's holding my face with one hand, staring into my eyes with the kind of dominance that tells me he knows exactly what to do. but I appreciate that he follows my request, pulling my hips toward him as he backs up and sinks onto the cushions. he sits, awaiting my next move. when I sink onto my knees and settle between his legs, he bites hard on his lip. I don't move at first, willing to draw out this beautiful moment when he's watching with undivided attention.

"what are you doing down there, sweetheart?" he feigns innocence when I give him my doe eyes. I run slender fingers over the erection in his pants, his quickened breath an indicator of just how needy he secretly is. I revel in it.

my free hand wraps around his upper thigh, digging my nails in slightly. he's so gorgeous, and the tension of his muscles beneath me is enough to break my resistance. I start to palm him through the fabric, torturing slowly while he runs fingers through my hair and tries not to buck up against my touch. I finally get around to undoing the button on his pants. he waits impatiently. I tug them down his legs, lingering on the waistband of his boxers. when they come down as well, another kind of knot forms in my tummy. he's perfect.

"oh my god." he throws his head back when his dick hits his stomach, the pleasure of releasing it its own sensation.

"hm?" I wonder aloud, wrapping my hand around the base and starting to slowly pump him. he raises his head to look at me.

"you're just... doing so well." he breathes. I grin at how easily I've got him; I was worried about being too shy or him being more experienced, but he's greedy for me. I love the power I have right now.

I surprise him by flattening my tongue against the underside of his cock, dragging it up over the throbbing vein and pausing at the top. I let him stare at me with my mouth hovering over him, the head resting on the tip of my tongue. he moans when I begin to kitten lick the precum that leaks out, grip tightening in my hair as it comes out of the ponytail I made earlier. the veins in his arm clench as I sink slowly onto him. my cheeks hollow. his jaw drops open, dewy skin catching the light, as I start to suck on him.

"fuck..." he trails off. I begin to bob up and down, doing tricks with my tongue and swirling around the head, savoring every single second. his desperate touch, the way he bucks his hips up involuntarily when I try to take him to the hilt, all of it causes me to moan. vibrations draw out sinful noises from him as well, those heavenly sounds that he litters with my name. my hands rest on his thighs at first, then move up to rest on the warm, taut skin of his abdomen. I crave every centimeter of his skin, his contact, especially when I can feel the rushed rise and fall of his panting. I give him full use of my throat, sliding over him and moaning with every tug of my hair. he mutters profanities, praises me, struggles to keep his eyes open just to see me peek up at him from beneath my lashes. his expression tells me he's got plans for me.

"if you don't stop, I'm gonna cum, baby." he groans, smoothly tugging me off of him. there's a slight popping sound and I settle onto my knees, staring up at him. the smile on my face is unmistakable. I love that I can do this to him. I grip his legs and pull myself up into his lap, drawing myself across him just before his erection, glancing down at it. his hands rub over the tops of my thighs, tracing over the curve of my hips and resting on my ass. I start to roll my body down, my lips finding his throat as I suck and bite. my tongue licks over his Adam's apple and he shudders, drawing me closer so that my stomach brushes his cock.

"stop teasing." he starts to undo the straps of my overalls, chuckling a bit to himself as they fall easily. I blush.

"pretty sexy." I joke. Matthew suddenly grabs my chin, holds me in place so that I look him dead in the eyes.

"you're perfect." he smiles admiringly, then toys with the hem of my t-shirt. I reach down, pull it off and toss it somewhere in the room. I'm not wearing a bra, and Matthew slides his hands up my waist, ribcage, pausing just below my tits. when I grab his fingers and place them over me, his dick twitches.

"excited?" I smirk. his fingertips seem to have a mind of their own as they begin to toy with my nipples, the pad of his thumbs teasing me. I sigh, chest pushing out towards him desperately. he holds my body like he's worried I'll crumble, but also in a way that connotes a deep longing. something spilling over.

"can I take you to the bedroom?" he asks me breathlessly, one of his hands leaving my chest to stroke his own cock. the sight makes me groan helplessly while I grip his shoulders and grind against his lap. he picks up the pace for himself. "I can't wait any longer."

I nod eagerly, gasping when he stops touching himself to pull up his pants, hoist me up into his arms, and stand, carrying me with surprising ease down the hallway of my apartment. I point him to the correct room and he laughs when we get inside.

"you're messy." he laughs, although I'm not sure if he means the scattered papers around my bedroom or the whine that issues from my throat as I reach for his clothed dick while I'm pressed to him. it's sitting against my navel and I want to see his undone expressions.

I ignore the playful comment; he lays me down gingerly on the bed, straightening up to gaze at my figure before I push the rest of the overalls down my legs and cast them off. he lets out a giggle as I pout at the work I have to put into getting naked.

"stop laughing..." I blush, smiling. but I'm giggling too. he grazes the inside of my thigh, unable to keep from touching me while I discard my panties.

"I'm sorry." he laughs in a way that shows he isn't sorry at all, but the soft kiss he plants on my lips tells me it's all endearing to him. I wrinkle my nose slightly. for the first time being naked around him, I feel surprisingly comfortable. he watches me with a quiet adoration, like I've spun sugar and gold between my fingers. unable to contain myself anymore, I grab fistfuls of his shirt and undo the rest of the buttons. every second that his skin isn't against mine is a new kind of torture. it comes off easily and then the pants come off, too, until we're just staring at each other.

"do you still wanna do this?" he speaks carefully with me. I don't know where to look-- at his perfect chest, stomach, the purplish bruises already forming across his throat, or his enraptured face. it's almost overwhelming, and the waves of desire crash over me, hindering my words.

"yes," I nod. "yes, yes, yes." the word keeps falling from my lips even as he crawls on top of me, burying his nose into my collarbone and kissing feverishly. one hand supports his arm beside my head while the other reaches down to part my legs. I sigh at the cool air that's interrupted by his dick rubbing over my folds. he starts to grind down, drawing out every second of foreplay while I try to catch my breath. my eyes tilt to the ceiling, fluttering shut. I bask in every sensation. his warmth, his weight, all of it presses down.

"do we need a condom?" he asks softly, his cock throbbing against my center.

"birth control." I shake my head. he nods against my skin, allows me to tangle my fingers in his curls. "I'm clean."

"me too." I reply. he grabs my hip and yanks it towards him, pulling his chest away to straighten while he lines himself up at my entrance. he's concentrating on the place where our bodies meet, eyes full of lust when they peek up at mine.

"tell me if you need me to stop." he says softly.

"okay." I can't think of anything else. every cell of my existence is consumed with thoughts of impatience, and when he slides into me, my thighs tense and my mouth drops open.

"Matthew... oh my god." my voice is more like a mewl, in shock as my walls squeeze around him like they're trying to reject the sudden pressure between my legs. his jaw clenches, sinking into me until he reaches about halfway.

he lets out a surprising groan, leans down to kiss my shoulder as he finds a sweet spot. our chests are pressed together and, judging by the way he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts my torso to his, he likes the feeling.

we stay there a moment, him trying not to hurt me. but then I lift my pelvis up, trying to take more, and he inhales sharply.

"do something," I beg him quietly. "please."

I feel his lips curl into a smile and he pulls his face up to see my expressions. his hips push forward, my body sliding up the bed with the force. he watches my eyes roll back, my ribcage expand, my face overcome by pleasure. his gaze is unrelenting with lips slightly parted as he begins to thrust in and out of me.

I'm already a panting, moaning mess beneath him. he touches his nose to mine, swallowing each other's breaths while he moves.

"is this how you want it, baby?" he smirks, getting lost in his own lust. I nod and he gently turns my face to his. "tell me what you want."

"more." I sigh, hips again raising to meet the thrusts that are growing more forceful each time. my nails drag up his back, the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair and tugging at the ends. he sinks his teeth into my neck lightly and moans. I wrap my legs around his torso.

"such a pretty girl..." he growls in my ear. his grip on the sheets tightens when I clench myself around him, drawing him impossibly closer to my core. I can't help the helpless moans spilling out of me. I'm insatiable right now, scratching at his shoulders until I'm sure I'll leave red marks. he groans lasciviously at the clawing, ramming into me with an unrelenting voracity.

"oh my god," I yelp, back arching as he hits my g-spot. "right there, Matthew." my pleas fall on receptive ears: he holds me tighter to his chest and pounds into me.

"you like getting fucked by older men?" he whispers dirty things in my ear and I nod quickly, hardly able to speak through the ungodly sounds escaping my mouth. I cling to him and he lets me, treating every limb like it belongs to him.

"yes-- fuck, yes." I moan, almost sliding out of his grip from how hard he goes.

"you can take it," he breathes out, fingertips digging into my ribs while he holds me up. he's leaving marks that won't go away for a while, remnants of the full power of his desire. I want more, writhing and using my limited mobility to grind against him. he chuckles darkly over my skin. "look at you."

"Matthew, I'm gonna--" I gasp when he slams into me particularly hard. "I'm gonna cum."

"good." he shudders slightly, that attitude showing again. he reaches his hand up a moment to run through my hair. "cum on me, princess."

my lips part and I try to gulp down air, but it's impossible with the way he's holding my attention. the thing about Matthew is that he's so sweet and gentle that whenever he looks at me like I'm a plaything, it shocks my insides. they turn to jelly, eager to please and quick to satisfy. he switches so easily with me, and he doesn't even need to request my submission. I give it more than willingly.

"fuck me..." I pant out, feeling my pussy start to clench over and over around him. my orgasm fuzzies the edges of my vision, creeping up my spine until it's arched. "oh fuck-- Matthew!" I practically scream while my frame gives out. I'm shuddering, crying out at the absolute euphoria wracking my body.

"scream my name, baby." he groans, his own orgasms approaching quickly. the fluttering of my cunt around him is causing the vein in his forehead to throb. he rocks into me, the headboard knocking into the wall while he nears the edge. "such a good girl for me."

I nod and meet his thrusts with my hips while I ride out my orgasm, inadvertently finding myself wound up again. the pleasure of his fingers when they reach between our bodies to rub my clit causes me to buck into him, whining mercifully while he gets me off again.

"oh--" he sucks in a breath when I squeeze, keeping him here with me. "you feel so good."

he starts to lose control, hips juddering to get as deep as he can get.

"can I fill you up, baby?"

"yes." I reply immediately. he smiles a little, lifting me up more so that he can hold me under my ass while he pounds into me so deeply, I can feel his dick brushing my cervix.

"oh my god," he moans, the sound desperate as I feel him twitch and spill inside of me. he keeps pushing as though to keep his cum within me, panting over my skin. "such a tight little cunt."

the circles on my clit, combined with the sinful things he continues to say, cause me to whimper and climax all over again. I moan his name, absorbed in the warmth of his seed in my stomach.

"you want more?" he slows his thrusts but pleasures me through my orgasm while I nod helplessly.

"I'll cum in you again tonight." he promises, taking my shaking, weak form as a sign to withdraw. both of us wince at the sensitivity until he lays me back down on the bed so gently, it makes me question if what we just did was real.

neither of us speaks for a moment, trying to regain our composure as he rolls down onto the mattress beside me. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling him drip between my thighs.

"that was..." he turns his head to gauge my reaction. I don't even bother to hide the satisfied grin on my face.

"amazing."

"yeah?" he rolls over onto his side and places one large hand on my stomach. his touch makes me bloom.

"mhmm." I hum. his face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a beautiful sight that makes me want to kiss him all over again. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way for someone so quickly.

"can I get you anything?" he smiles. I don't say anything at first, only reach out to cup his face in my hands and pull him to me for a chaste peck.

"no, thank you." I rub my nose with his. "I'm gonna take a shower and make something to eat if you want to join me."

"definitely." he examines my features once more as if to assess damage. but there's only pure joy painted across my face. "are you sure I didn't go too hard on you?"

"you can go harder tonight." I tease.

"what about your painting?" he suddenly recalls the project lying in the living room.

"rain check." I shrug. he laughs, wraps an arm around my waist.

"alright, then."

#matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds #smut #mgg smut #one shot #first time #artist #spencer reid

295 notes · View notes

cheonjeolmi · 4 years ago

Text

Walmart Date (Modern AU)

Pairing: Hange x F! Reader

Warnings: None ( except for some tooth-rotting fluff )

Request?: Not requested, though my requests are open so feel free to send!

A/N: just some desperately needed Hange fluff !! Sorry for any grammar or formatting errors as its been a while since I used tumblr. In any case please enjoy the story, and follow me on twitter for writing related updates @_thexaus !

“Y/N!! Come on, come on! Let’s goo” Hange exclaimed as they couldn’t help but pace back and forth around their shared room.

“Babe, it’s still way too early for you to be this hyper.” you groaned.

“Oh, sorry! I’m just so excited!” They giggled and brought their arms around you, wrapping you in a hug.

“We’re going to Walmart to buy some groceries and other things, why exactly are you excited?” You asked as you returned their hug.

“Yeah, but we’re still spending time together! We’re going on a Walmart date!” she continued, “plus, I’ve missed you. We’ve both been busy with work. But now that it’s our day-off, we can have our date!” Hange smiled and pressed a light kiss to your forehead, face heating up in embarrassment from the sudden kiss.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you blush! It makes me want to kiss you even more” they swooned, peppering you with kisses, before kissing your nose then touching it afterward. “Boop!” They chuckled at your reaction. “I love you, Y/N”

“I love you too, Hange” The two of you wrapped around each other, with you listening to their heartbeat. The brown-haired scientist pulled away, retracting their arms from you

“Okay, the last one to the car is a rotten egg!” Hange laughed as they bolted towards the door, leaving you in their trail very confused

“What..?”

“Haha, rotten egg!” they said as they kept boasting about their victory. (Y/N) glared at them

“It’s not fair! I wasn’t ready and you tried to trip me at some point. Also, if I had known we were doing that, you would definitely be saying otherwise right now.” you accused your brown-haired partner

“Whatever, you’re just mad that I won” Hange turned to you with a smug smirk before sticking her tongue out, you scoffed and walked a bit further from them, deciding to playfully ignore them.

“Babe, I did what I have to do and I won so that’s all that matters,” they boasted once more, noticing you walk further from them, they let out a laugh “Are you seriously gonna ignore me?”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you walked even further from them, creating a bigger distance than before. “Okay fine, be that way then. I’m gonna ignore you too! A taste of your own medicine, if you will.” They sighed, crossing their arms, stomping toward the Walmart in front of you both.

Although that didn’t last long since once you both entered the store, they turned to you with tears starting to form in the corner of their eyes. “Y/N!! Please don’t be mad at me anymore, I’m sorry! There, are you happy!? You’re not the rotten egg, I am!” they whined, begging for your attention in the process.

When they saw you turn toward them, their smile grew but immediately dropped when you gave them a smug look, loving the way they were acting now.

“Torture! This is torture, Y/N! Why are you torturing your cute and precious partner named Hange aka the love of your life?! I thought you loved meee..” they whined, as other people began to give you both weird looks.

“Oh my god, Hange! I forgive you. Now, be quiet before we get kicked out!” you said as they immediately brought you into a hug kissing your cheek,

“Yay, Y/N loves me!” Hange sang in delight as they dragged you along the store “So what are we going to buy?” they hummed, walking beside you. “Oh no, I forgot to make a list,” a small frown came across your face.

“Well anyway, snacks, drinks, and ingredients for dinner. Did you wanna look around to buy something?” Y/N said turning to Hange smiling as they nodded “Okay great! We’ll meet up later, yeah?” After which they both went their separate ways.

Hange skipped around the store holding a basket filled with sweets, and a worrying amount of Red Bull. Once they finished going around getting everything they wanted, the brown-haired scientist stopped and froze in fear

“Oh no…” Hange had gotten lost in the big store and was completely without their girlfriend and now, proceeded to exaggerate their situation, thinking of all the things that were unlikely to happen. Were they overreacting? Yes, but they believed you could never be too sure.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no no no. I have to find Y/N! Oh, I can call her-!” fishing for their phone, only to see that it was dead. “Oh come on! The day I forget to charge is the day I get lost. What are the odds.” they sighed in defeat but soon perked up, thinking of the perfect idea to get them out of this predicament.

“Calling Ms. Y/N L/N, please head down to register 5. Again, can Ms. Y/N L/N, please head down to register 5. Thank you.” The store speaker rang out as you head over there to see what was wrong, there you saw Hange sitting down on the bench, pouting while swinging their legs back and forth.

You compared the sight to that of a child who lost their mother, which to be fair was sort of your situation right now. Hange then looked up and saw you come closer, making their pout turn to a wide grin, soon enough they ran up to you and hugged you tightly.

“Y/N!! You’re here! And you’re alive!!” Hange practically screamed as they were now reassured and weren’t alone by themselves anymore.

"Hange, what-? Of course, I'm alive...Now, start talking.” your gaze hardened against their brown eyes, they gulped from the tension and simply nodded.

“First, why’d you ask them to call me here? Second of all, why didn’t you just text or call me?” They rubbed a hand on their nape, clearly nervous as you seemed like a mother scolding their child, which was also very much true.

“Well, I um..got lost...second, my phone was dead. Also, while waiting for you, I talked with the lady at the register! Her name was Flora! What a nice fellow she was..” Hange smiled, recalling the small conversation they had, whilst waiting for Y/N to arrive at the register.

“Hi, I’m Hange!”

“Nice to meet you, Hange. I’m Flora,” “So, this Y/N person is your..girlfriend?” Hange nodded

“Ah, yes she is! Very lovely, kind, helpful, friendly, and she’s just so great!”

“Aw, that’s sweet. You must love her a lot” the kind woman said and Hange could only nod, thinking about all the things she loved about you.

“I’m gonna marry her one day. I don’t know when or where, but if I’m with her that’s all that matters'' the brown-haired scientist sighed dreamily, as they began to imagine what married life would be like with you.

“I was exactly like you once with my wife, when we’d still been dating. Her name’s Evie and now we’re married! 10 years and counting!” “Let me tell you, waking up to her every day is a dream and even after 10 years it never gets old. I’m sure it’ll be the same for you both” Hange smiled and thanked the kind woman at the register.

“Hange? Helloo? Earth to Hange?” you waved your hand against her face, which seemed to break them out of their daze and smile at you. “Oh, sorry Y/N! Were you done paying for everything?” they asked and you nodded “Oh shoot, I forgot something!”

“Oh? What did you forget? We’re not in a rush so we could go look for it” your eyes lit up in mischief “No no, it’s not that. It’s just that,” moving forward to get your head start “the last one to the car is a rotten egg!” you exclaimed, giggling as you bolted out the door, leaving Hange in the same state you had been in before.

“Huh..? HUH!!? HEY WAIT!! THAT’S NOT FAIR Y/N!” they shouted as they ran after you, which didn’t take long. Hange caught you in their arms around your waist trapping you within the confines of their body, their chest pressing against your back.

You moved around their hold, both of you admiring each other's features as the two of you smiled like idiots. “Hey you” they smiled, “Hey yourself” Y/N replied, snuggling closer towards the scientist.

Suddenly the air between you changed, a visible sense of longing present, “Y/N..” Hange began to slowly lean towards you, you began to do the same as your lips brush against each other, their hands move to cup your face, the kiss feeling like all the good things you could name.

Fireworks. Butterflies. Electricity.

Everything in that moment felt right and you both knew that. “Hange” you moaned into her lips as the two of you broke apart for air, which didn't last long as your lips were back on theirs. The taste and feel of their lips on yours, their scent of warm vanilla with a slight hint of earthiness to it filled through your nostrils.

Everything about them was addicting, and it was frightening how you were willing to sacrifice a lot to be with them-- or to feel the rush of excitement, danger, adrenaline, and warmth which coursed through your veins whenever you were with Hange.

For a few seconds, everything around you was still. You feel every little detail and it's simply beautiful. It’s only but the two of you and it's unlike anything you’ve ever experienced and oh how you wished this moment could last forever.

As the two of you parted, yours and Hange's foreheads pressed against each other gently with the two of you smiling like idiots in love.

“Y/N, stay with me forever please” “Hange..I'd only ever want to stay with you anyway” they smiled once again and placed soft kisses along your face, from your forehead to your nose, and from your cheeks to your jawline bringing their lips to the shell of your ear with Hange softly nibbling on it,

“Hange-” you moaned at the action and they smirked at the way your voice slightly broke. “And another thing, I win, rotten egg.” Hange pulled back to look at your shocked expression and smiled. Admittedly, you had forgotten about the silly race as memories of the kiss you shared not too long ago, filled every space in your mind.

The coffee-haired scientist raced over to where you parked the car and you couldn't help but smile seeing their tall energetic figure make a beeline to the car, with you walking a few steps behind them accepting your defeat. God, you loved Hange so much and you knew that they loved you too, if not more.

But no matter how many times Hange had told you they loved you, you always felt comfort in knowing that, smiling once again for what seemed to be the millionth time that night.

'You're going to be the death of me, Hange Zoe.'

#hange x reader #hange supremacy #aot fluff #reader insert #fanfic #writing #hange zoe #aot #snk fanfiction #modern au #first post #snk x reader #aot x reader #writer #fanfiction

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tsukkisbean · 4 years ago

Text

never cold | third year boyfriend!tsukishima x gn!reader

genre: fluff and angst

warnings: jealousy, poor communication

word count: 4.0k

summary: you’ve always loved valentine’s day and believed it was a holiday worth celebrating and this year you have tsukishima to spend it with. however, much to your disappointment he tells you that he thinks the holiday is a waste of time and doesn’t understand why people even bother. so what happens when your secret admirer takes their chance to tell you how they feel?

a/n: i’m sorry this turned out kind of lame but nonetheless i hope you like it!!! ty for requesting!! also this is a repost bc tumblr is picking a fight :)

original request here

Every year, each class is assigned to run a holiday event for the school. So, when the school president notifies you that your class will be in charge of the Valentine’s Day event this year, you’re over the moon.

You’re determined to pull off an amazing event not only because your pride as class representative is on the line, but simply because you love the concept of Valentine’s Day.

During your break between classes you rack your brain, trying to think of an idea that will blow the entire school away.

“What about a kissing booth?”

You turn to look at your friend, nose scrunching in distaste, “Really? A kissing booth? I think that’s overdone and quite frankly, disgusting, Yachi.”

Embarrassment is written all over her face and you can’t help but feel bad at your small outburst, “Sorry Yachi, that was rude of me. I do appreciate you trying to help me though.”

Her messy blonde hair sways side to side as she shakes her head, “No, you’re right. I’d feel sorry for whoever has to kiss hundreds of random strangers.” A giggle escapes your lips when you see the way she gags at the thought.

“Hey, Y/N are you planning to do something with Tsukishima for Valentine’s?”

The question catches you off guard. You’ve been dating for just about a year now and you know he wasn’t exactly into these sorts of things but surely, he at least had something planned, right? Just as you’re about to respond, the school bell goes off, signalling the start of your third period.

For the rest of the day, your mind is preoccupied with brainstorming. Love telegrams? Serenades? Chocolates? No, although traditional, it was all too boring to you.

It’s only the when the ring of your cellphone brings you back to reality. Your face lights up at the caller ID, your finger quickly swiping across the screen.

“Kei! Where have you been?”

When you hear your boyfriend’s voice for the first time today, your worries seem to fade away. “Yamaguchi, Hinata and Kageyama kept pestering me to practice with them during all our breaks today.” You can just imagine the scowl he has plastered on his face.

“Well it can’t be helped. After all, interhighs will be here before you know it. You’ve got to set a good example for all your juniors.” You hear him sigh on the other end, “Yeah I guess but, that means we won’t be able to see each other as much.”

The corner of your lips lifts upward into a wide smile. Tsukishima has never been the type to be so forward when expressing his affection towards you, so you always cherish these types of moments.

You’re suddenly reminded of what Yachi asked you earlier in the day and you ponder whether or not you should bring it up with him.

“Hey, Kei?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have anything planned for Valentine’s Day?” You can barely make it out, but you definitely hear him scoff.

“Probably not. I don’t really understand why people go crazy over it. It’s so corny and unnecessarily expensive, it’s just a waste of a day.”

You nod your head, even though he can’t see you, “I see. Well I have homework to do, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Kei.”

Before he can respond, you end the call, throwing your phone on the bed.

Why were you so upset? You know that your boyfriend was like this; you understand that he isn’t fond of big theatrics when it came to love. You like him and he likes you, that’s all that should matter. Yet, for some reason, you can’t get rid of the tight feeling building in your chest.

When you wake up the next day, your heart still feels heavy. Last night’s conversation still lingers in your mind, maybe because you know there’s some truth to what he said. Or maybe, it’s because you secretly hoped he’d take advantage of the holiday to show you how much he cared for you.

Pushing your thoughts away, you busy yourself with getting ready for another day of school.

When you arrive, you easily spot your boyfriend, his tall frame towering over most of the other students. One of his friends catches your eye, before giving your boyfriend a gentle a nudge, pointing towards you. Tsukishima turns to look at you momentarily before quickly walking off in the direction of his classroom.

Automatically, your lips turn into a frown. He must be upset because you abruptly hung up on him last night. You let out a sigh; maybe you’d buy him a slice of his favourite strawberry shortcake and surprise him after his practice.

During class your mind is anywhere but the lesson, your focus drifting between the Valentine’s event and Tsukishima avoiding you.

“Y/N”

“Y/N!”

Your seatmate gives you a sharp nudge to the side, bringing your attention to the front of the room.

“I believe you have an announcement for the class?”

You scramble out of your seat, smoothing out the wrinkles in your uniform as you make your way to the front of the classroom, “This year our class has been chosen to run the Valentine’s day event.” A mixture of groans and excited whispers fill the classroom, “If you would like to participate in the planning process please let me know. Those who do not partake in the planning are required to participate in the execution of the event.”

During lunch, much to your relief, a number of students approach you to offer their help. As a group, you exchange ideas back and forth and by the end of lunch break you’ve collected a wide variety of ideas. All that was left was to actually decide on one.

Happiness and excitement settles in your chest, and you can barely sit still for the rest of the day. When the final bell goes off, those helping with the event hurriedly crowd around your desk to continue the conversation from earlier.

“Okay well we definitely have to have flowers and chocolate! How can you have Valentine’s Day without those?”

“Singing attracts way too much attention. I would literally die of embarrassment if I got serenaded in front of the whole class.”

“Telegrams are so overdone, but I also think they’re romantic, they definitely fit the vibe.”

“What if we set up an event based on the red string of fate?” Once you hear the idea your heart falls in love.

“Watanabe, that’s a great idea! Students can send in their profiles and whether they’re looking for love or friendship. Then we’ll match them based on preferences. On Valentines Day, we’ll separate students onto two sides of the sports field. They’ll find the card with their names and put on their string before they set off to find their match!”

Excited chatter erupts among the group, everyone adding in their two cents. The next while is spent delegating tasks to everyone, from promotion to design to operations. By the time you wrap up it’s already close to 7pm.

Grabbing your belongings, you quickly throw them into your bag. Tsukishima should be wrapping up practice soon, and unless his teammates ask him to stay the two of you could walk home together.

Quickly, you make your way to the gym to find your boyfriend. From quite a distance away you can clearly hear Hinata and Kageyama shouting at each other as usual. When you arrive at the door, you’re greeted by a chorus of “hellos” from the volleyball club.

Your boyfriend jogs over to you, stopping just shy of the door. Upon further inspection, you can see the beads of sweat forming on his nose and forehead and you can’t help but smile, knowing how hard he must be working to make it to nationals this year.

“Y/N? What are you doing here still?” there’s a hint of standishoffness in his voice but you brush it aside, “My class was assigned to the Valentine’s Day event, so I stayed behind with some classmates to do some planning. I thought that we could walk home together?”

Tsukishima’s lips press into a thin line. Was he still angry with you?

“Sorry, but we’re still practicing.”

A voice chimes in from behind, “What are you talking about? You just said-”

The tall male whips around, you can’t see his expression but by the way Hinata reacts, you can tell he’s glaring at him.

“You know what, forget it. You obviously don’t want to walk home with me and I’m an adult so I can walk myself home.” Turning on your heels, you storm away from the gym, ignoring your boyfriend as he calls your name.

The next couple of weeks fly by as you’re busy preparing for the Valentine’s event. Applications flow in every day, and although you’re glad the event is a hit you can’t help but feel exhausted.

The fact that you and Tsukishima haven’t spoken properly since your outburst doesn’t help either. Your text messages are short and infrequent; a simple “good morning” and “good night”, and sometimes the occasional “have a good day”.

Before you know it, Valentine’s Day arrives. As you step onto the field, your heart is racing uncontrollably. You’ve spent the past month alongside your classmates working out every single kink to ensure everything would be perfect for today.

You raise your arm into the air, the red flag in your hand dancing in the cold winter breeze. Taking in a deep breath, you call out as loud as you can, “Ready... set.... go!”

Laughter fills the air as you watch your school mates stumble between each other trying to find their other half for the day through the sea of red.

“Pull on your string, you might be my match!”

“Quit pushing me!”

“Hey, stop trying to tangle my string!!”

“You guys are totally matched together, you’re literally the same person.”

Your cheeks start to ache from smiling so hard, but you can’t help yourself. Watching as everyone slowly finds the end of the red string creates a warmth in your chest. You haven’t felt this way since... well since the day Tsukishima confessed to you.

It had happened last winter. The two of you were walking home together after his volleyball practice. You’re not sure what came over you at the time but you thought it would be a good idea to throw a snowball at him. The look on his face when the cold white powder hit him square in his chest was absolutely priceless. But the moment didn’t last long when he made a much much much larger snowball.

You screamed at the top of your lungs as he chased after you, determined to get back at you. After a few minutes, your lungs started to give out and so you turned around, hands held up in the air, “I give up, I’m sorry.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, snowball still in his hands ready to throw it at you if need be, “What are you sorry for?”

You tried to stifle your laughter, for someone who acted so cool all the time, seeing that side of him was honestly quite refreshing, “I’m sorry for throwing a snowball at you. You must be cold.”

“No.” In three swift strides, Tsukishima is standing in front of you, “I never feel cold when I’m with you, Y/N.”

A distant voice snaps you out of your daydream. When you come back to your senses, you realize everyone has found their match and is waiting for your closing remarks. Grabbing the microphone you quickly thank everyone for participating, sending them off with well wishes.

Once the majority of the students leave the field, you round up your classmates, thanking them for all the hard work they put into the event.

As you head back inside, a familiar voice calls your name, “Y/N!”

“Watanabe, thank you for the amazing idea. There’s no way I would have been able to think of something as creative as this.”

They quickly shake their head, “No way, I should be the one thanking you. You had so many more ideas to add on that really brought it to life. This event was totally a hit, I heard a lot of people saying they want to do this again next year.”

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you head back to your classroom to grab your things.

“Hey, Y/N...?”

“Yes?”

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Your head snaps towards them, the surprise evident on your face.

“Ah sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just wondering since you always seem so excited to talk about Valentine’s Day.”

You reach out, giving their shoulder a gentle pat, “That’s okay, I don’t mind,” you pause momentarily, “I don’t think I’m doing anything.”

Watanabe nods their head, clearly thinking about whether or not they should puruse the current topic. When they choose to let it go, you silently thank them, not wanting to be reminded of the fact that you and your boyfriend were still on bad terms on the supposed most romantic day of the year.

When you arrive at home, you try to distract yourself with your homework. Hours pass by, not a single message, or phone call. Even if Tsukishima didn’t like the holiday didn’t he at least have the heart to tell you “happy Valentine’s Day? Pulling out your phone, you open up your chat with your boyfriend. But before you can start typing, the familiar typing bubble pops up and you quickly exit out. You watch your screen expectantly, jumping when your phone chimes.

[10:43pm] ♥kei♥: good night.

Immediately, your shoulders deflate. That was it? Another simple goodnight? Throwing your phone in the corner, you climb into bed and shut your eyes. Maybe in your dreams you’d meet Tsukishima in a world where he truly cared.

Your body feels sluggish in the morning as you make your way to your cubby. Instead of sweet dreams, you tossed and turned all night unable to get Tsukishima off your mind. Pulling your indoor shoes out of their slot, you drop them to the floor with a thunk. You slip off your outdoor shoes, and just as you’re about to put them away, a red envelope catches your eye.

You look around to see if anybody is watching you, but everyone around you is absorbed in their own conversations. Quickly, you stuff your shoes away, before tearing the red packaging open.

Dearest Y/N,

Where do I begin? When I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were an angel sent from the heavens. Seeing you smile at me sends my heart into a frenzy, and quite frankly, I’m not sure if I’ve even recovered from the last time you looked at me with those eyes. Those beautiful eyes that I could get lost in forever.

If only you were mine, I’d make you happy.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

You were at a loss for words. From the way they addressed you, it was obvious it wasn’t your boyfriend. Yet, you couldn’t think of a single person that could have written you this letter.

The warning bell goes off and you shove the letter into your bag, rushing off to homeroom.

As the week continues on, so did the letters. No matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t figure out who was leaving them for you.

At your wits end, you decide to confide in Yachi. If you couldn’t catch sight of your secret admirer, maybe she could, “I’m telling you Yachi, it’s definitely not Kei. I have no idea who it could be and I have no idea how they keep slipping me these notes without me noticing!”

As you ramble on about your secret admirer, you fail to notice how silent Yachi has become. When you finally realize, you notice how stiff she’s become; the colour has drained from her face and she’s not looking at you, but past you.

Slowly you turn around, only to be met with a cold pair of eyes. The grip around your wrist is tight as you’re dragged down the hallway.

“Kei, you’re hurting me. Let go!” Your complaints are dismissed as the two of you continue on, stopping only when you reach the gym used by the boys’ volleyball club. Your body is shoved into the supply room, Tsukishima slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

Click

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

Your mouth hangs open, completely lost for words, “Kei you can’t be serious.”

The way his gaze pierces through you tells you he’s dead serious.

“Is it because of the letters you’ve been receiving? Who are they from? Do you like them?” His questions come rushing at you so fast, you can barely catch everything he’s saying.

But the longer he goes on, the angrier you feel yourself become. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, your body trembles with anger, you even think you might be seeing red.

“Do you want to break up with me?”

It’s like something inside you snaps and you can’t bear to listen to his rambling any longer, “Tsukishima Kei,” your voice rings loud and clear in the small room. For a moment even you’re stunned at yourself.

You open your mouth to speak again, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a weak sob. You lean over, resting your hands on your knees as the tears build in your eyes. It only takes a moment for them to start streaming down your face.

“Kei you’re so stupid, you’re so fucking stupid.” When you feel his fingers graze your skin, you immediately step away, your back hitting the layer of gym mats.

He takes a step towards you, “Y/N...please tell me what I did wrong. Please.” His voice is soft, barely a whisper.

When you look up at him, he looks just as ruined as you do. The area around his eyes is bright red, tears brimming his eyes.

"I wish you loved me more.” The words are bitter in your mouth, but there’s truth in them.

But when you see the look on his face, you’re instantly filled with regret, “Kei I didn’t-” but he cuts off you off before you can continue, “Is this because I said I wasn’t planning anything for Valentine’s Day?”

You say nothing, but your silence tells him everything he needs to know. Running his fingers through his hair, he lets out a frustrated sigh, “Maybe if you weren’t hanging out with Watanabe or any of those other people.”

“We were working on the Valentine’s Day event, and you know that.” you spit back at him, anger brewing in your chest once again.

He steps towards you again, arms trapping you between his body and the mats behind you, “I bet one of them is the one sending you the letters.”

When you don’t respond, he starts to make his way out of the supply room stopping momentarily to look back at you, “Y/N, I don’t need a shitty holiday to express how much I love being with you, when I do it everyday. Or at least that’s what I thought.”

With that, he leaves you, his footsteps heavy against the hardwood floors of the gym.

Over the weekend, you try to distract yourself from thinking about Tsukishima. But no matter what you do, everything always seems to lead right back to him.

Like the hoodie you’re wearing that he (reluctantly) gave you when you snuck out past midnight that one time. Or when your parents bring home the strawberry cake that the two of you would sometimes share at the bakery near your house.

While you drown in your feelings you ignore the knock on the door. But it comes again, and again, and again. Forcing yourself up from your bed, you make your way downstairs.

Swinging the front door open, you’re greeted by nothing but the emptiness of your front yard. Just as you’re about to shut the door, a flash of red catches your eye.

On the ground is a card and attached is a piece of long red string. The string passes your front gate but that’s as far as you can see. Cautiously you pick up the card, your name written clearly on the front. You don’t recognize the writing and so you debate with yourself for a few moments.

You shout to your parents that you’ll be back, not bothering to tell them why you were running off so late at night.

As you follow the red string you pass a number of familiar places. Your favourite bakery, the record store that has all the albums of your favourite artists, and the book store you like to hide in on rainy days.

At last, the string leads you to the park. Your eyes follows the string to where it disappears behind a nearby tree. Slowly you approach, your feet crunching against the snow.

Just before you can identify the person at the end of the string, a ball of white is hurled towards your chest.

You look down, the icy crystals already melting into the fabric of your hoodie. The sound of footsteps catch your attention, the culprit walking out with his signature smirk plastered across his face.

“What the hell was that for?”

Suddenly, you’re pulled into a hug. It’s warm and familiar, the feeling has you melting into his arms.

His hands grab fistfuls of your hoodie, pushing you closer to his body, holding you as if you were going to melt away just like the snow. Part of you is still angry at him for lashing out at you, but the other part of you knows that you were also in the wrong. So you stay, you stay in his arms because when you’re together like this, your heart knows that it’s home.

The two of you continue to stand there, breathing in sync, hearts beating as if they were one.

“Y/N I’m sorry.” His voice breaks the silence between the two of you.

One of his arms wraps itself securely around your waist, the other rising to cup your cheek, “I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you like that, it’s not your fault you were getting those letters.”

You shake your head furiously, wanting to tell him he’d done nothing wrong but when you look into his golden eyes. It’s a look you’ve never once seen before. It’s almost as if they’re pleading for you to listen, just for now. So desperate yet so full of love.

“I should have realized how important Valentine’s Day is to you. When you hung up on me, I should have realized. When I saw you the next day I shouldn’t have run from you. Being away from you hurt me, and I know it hurt you just as much. It wasn’t fair of me.”

There are a million thoughts running through your mind, but there’s one that you can see clearly.

“Kei, I love you.”

Maybe it was the winter chill, or maybe you’ve finally managed to fluster him, but nonetheless his ears burn a bright red.

“I didn’t mean what I said the other day - about wishing you loved me more. I know you do. I know you don’t say it often, but everything you do for me shows me you do.”

You ramble on, listing every action of love, big or small, that you can recall. Your speech is cut short when your boyfriend captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

His lips are cold against yours, yet when he pulls away, your mouth feels like they’ve been set aflame, “Y/N, I love you. If you want, I’ll make you feel as if Valentine’s Day is everyday.”

Your heart flip flops at those three words but all you can say is, “Kei you’re cold.”

Gently, he knocks his forehead against yours, “I’m never cold. Not when I’m with you.”

#tsukshima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu fluff #clara click clacks

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suituuup · 4 years ago

Photo

pieces - chapter eight

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

Chapter seven was published yesterday, in case you missed it! I was too lazy to make a tumblr post.

The term rollercoaster didn’t seem strong enough to describe the last six weeks of Chloe’s life.

Seeing Beca again. Leaving Marco. Getting clean. Finding out she was pregnant.

She felt like she needed to stop and take a minute to remind herself to breathe, but the weight pressing on her chest prevented her from sucking enough oxygen into her lungs.

“You’re…” Beca blinked twice in slow succession. “...pregnant. With a baby.” She grimaced in the next beat, releasing a breath. “Sorry, I-- I wasn’t expecting that.”

Chloe couldn't blame her for being shocked. She swallowed thickly and cleared the lump from her throat. “I made an appointment for an abortion. Tomorrow.”

Tears sprang up into her eyes before she could stop them, and she lifted a hand to her mouth to muffle the sob itching to come out.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked out, shaking her head.

“Chlo…” Beca murmured, setting a hand over Chloe’s back and the other one on Chloe’s. “You don’t need to apologize. What you’re going through is incredibly hard, and… if an abortion is what you feel is the best option, then that’s what you should do.”

Chloe had always wanted to have kids one day, but this was the worst possible timing. She didn’t have a place to raise that baby, or a job, not to mention that she was a recovering addict.

She nodded along to Beca’s words, as though attempting to convince herself further.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Beca asked. “To the appointment?”

Chloe hesitated. “I don’t want you to miss work because of me.”

“You’re more important than work,” Beca argued softly as her thumb stroked Chloe’s knuckles back and forth. “And I don’t think you should be doing this on your own, you know? But I don’t want to overstep either, so it’s completely up to you.”

Chloe sniffled, reaching up to wipe her tears away. “I… I think I’d like it if you could be there.”

“Done,” Beca instantly said, nodding firmly. She cleared her throat following a few beats of silence. “So um, is there anything you should do for your recovery? Now that you’re out of rehab, I mean.”

“The therapist there recommended one in the city, I need to call and book an appointment. I’m going to my first NA meeting in two days. Otherwise, I’ve been told having a routine could really help? Like go for a morning walk, do some yoga, cook, clean… that sort of stuff. But all I want to do right now is crash for a few hours.”

Beca nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Let me know if I can do anything to make things easier on you, okay?”

Chloe managed a small smile despite how heavy her heart felt. “I’m already so grateful for what you’re doing for me, Bec.”

“It’s what friends do. Help each other out.”

Chloe ended up sleeping for four hours straight. She had never felt so exhausted in her life, and she guessed it was a mix of the physical and emotional toll of pregnancy and rehab finally hitting her. She didn’t eat much for dinner and mostly pushed her food around in her plate, knowing most of it would come back up as it had for the last few days.

She and Beca got to the clinic ten minutes before Chloe’s appointment that next morning, and after filling out the paperwork, they were led into an exam room, where Chloe was asked to change into a paper gown. She sat down on the edge of the bed once she was changed, her eyes sweeping over the many baby pictures lining the wall.

Her attention shifted to the door when it opened, a middle-aged woman stepping inside.

“Hello, Chloe,” she greeted with a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m Dr. Harris.”

“Hi,” Chloe returned quietly. “This is my friend Beca.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Dr. Harris said as she approached. “I was told you’re here to terminate your pregnancy?”

“I-- yes.”

“Okay. As one of the nurses probably told you over the phone, I need to check how far along you are first so we can figure out if a procedure is required,” she explained, setting her chart down and snapping on a pair of gloves. “When was your last period?”

“I-- I’m not sure.”

She used to take the pill. But when you’re fortunate if you remember to eat one meal a day, it’s also easy to forget to renew your birth control prescription. That was just another detail among the many in her life that seemingly had ceased to have consequences or meaning the further she slipped down that rabbit hole.

“Okay, that’s alright. Can you lie down please, and put your feet in the stirrups? I need to do a vaginal ultrasound so we can see better.”

Chloe nodded, scooting back and lifting her feet. She reached for Beca’s hand as nerves sprouted in her belly, immensely grateful for her presence.

“This might not be the most comfortable feeling, but I’ll try to be as gentle as possible,” Dr. Harris said as she placed a condom over the wand before slowly inserting it. She tapped a few keys on the ultrasound machine, gently moving the wand around until a clear image popped up on the screen. It was another minute before she spoke again. “Okay… given the size of the embryo, you’re about seven weeks along, Chloe.”

Chloe puffed out a breath as a kaleidoscope of emotions swept through her. This was her baby, up there on the screen, and the sight of it suddenly made her question everything and ask something that she would regret shortly after. “Can I-- can I listen to the heartbeat?”

The doctor glanced at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Chloe confirmed. “I’m sure.”

Nodding, Dr. Harris pushed another key, and the most beautiful sound filled the room a second later. A steady, strong woosh woosh. Tears sprang to Chloe’s eyes, and she felt a squeeze to her hand as she attempted not to let them fall. Her own heart constricted in her chest, so hard it was nearly painful.

“Turn if off, please,” she croaked out, shaking her head as her lids slammed shut, those tears sliding down her cheeks and curling around her chin.

The doctor shut off the machine and withdrew the wand a few seconds later. “You can put your legs down, Chloe.”

Chloe nodded and straightened, taking the tissue Beca offered her and blowing her nose with it.

Dr. Harris watched on, her eyes soft. “You still have some time before making a decision.”

“Did it look healthy?” She found herself asking, then figured she should explain. “I just got out of rehab. I did cocaine and drank a fair amount of alcohol on a daily basis up until four weeks ago. And I was given um...” Chloe scratched her forehead as she raked her brain for the medication name. “Gabapentin for the first two weeks of rehab to help with withdrawal.”

Dr. Harris’ features remained professional as she nodded slowly. “The heartbeat is strong, and I didn’t catch anything abnormal. The risk of miscarriage is more present than for other pregnancies as the drugs crossed through the placenta when you were still using, and that up to twelve weeks. Problems could occur during and after the pregnancy. But the baby could also be perfectly healthy, since you stopped in the early stages of pregnancy. It’s hard to tell.”

Chloe’s mind swam with all these possible scenarios, and she didn’t know whether to listen to her brain or her gut feeling. “How-- how much time do I have to decide?”

Dr. Harris slipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “Abortion is legal up to 25 weeks in New York state. Up to ten weeks, you can take a pill, past that a surgical procedure is needed.”

Chloe sniffled, swiping the back of her hand under her runny nose. “Okay. Thank you.”

Dr. Harris cast them both a tight-lipped smile. “Of course. I’ll leave informational pamphlets at the desk for you to read, as well as my phone number should you have any questions.”

“Thanks,” Beca said as the doctor walked out, then focused back on Chloe, reaching out to brush her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get dressed? I can go get those pamphlets in the meantime.”

Chloe nodded, her insides caving in as soon as the door clicked shut behind Beca. She gripped the edges of the exam cot hard, her nails digging into the leather and her breathing turning chopped as a mix of panic and sadness unleashed within her.

It all seemed unfair, but she knew her own recklessness was the root of the situation she found herself in.

She eventually managed to calm herself down enough to get dressed, meeting Beca by the desk ten minutes later. The walk home was silent, and Chloe was grateful Beca didn’t push her to talk. She didn’t even know how to process her own thoughts, let alone speaking them aloud.

A few days passed. Chloe slept a lot, and tried to keep herself busy the rest of the time. One hour each morning consisted of hugging the toilet while she puked her guts out, and the rest of her day was spent craving that warm embrace of the rush cocaine once brought her.

The temptation was there. She knew there was a store on the corner of Beca’s street that sold booze, and she knew there was enough change in the bowl by the front door to afford at least a couple beers.

Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to. Not after seeing that tiny blob on that screen and listening to its heartbeat, because the biggest part of her wanted this. She knew it deep down, but she couldn’t silence those same voices that had been making her life hell for the past four years, telling her that she was bound to fail at this like she did with everything else.

Chloe woke up that Saturday morning to a churning stomach. Scrambling out of bed, she stumbled to the bathroom across the hall and made it just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the ceramic bowl.

She slumped back against the wall afterwards, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she reached out to flush the toilet with the other. Chloe glanced up when Beca appeared around the corner, a sympathetic smile curving her lips as she stepped closer and handed Chloe a steaming mug.

“Ginger tea. I read it helps with morning sickness.”

Chloe accepted it with a quiet thank you. She cradled the mug between her palms, her head tilting back against the tile behind her as she exhaled. “You can sit, if you want.”

Beca nodded and lowered herself next to her in the tight space, their thighs and shoulders touching. “Do you… want to talk?”

Chloe sucked in a sharp breath. “I feel… lost,” she croaked out, her head rolling to the side to look at Beca. “Before the appointment, I was so sure terminating the pregnancy was the wise option, but then I saw it on that screen and heard its heartbeat and…”

“You realized the wise decision is maybe not what you want?” Beca supplied when Chloe trailed off.

“I’ve always wanted to be a mom,” Chloe whispered before she broke eye-contact, focusing on the mug she held in her hands as she blinked away the tears filling her eyes. “But it’s crazy to even consider it, right? I don’t have a job, I don’t have my own place, and I’m still battling with my own mind because I crave something. All day, every day since my last hit.”

“But you didn’t cave,” Beca pointed out softly. “I know it’s only been four days since you got out of rehab, but you didn’t cave, and that’s already an accomplishment of its own.”

“I just… I don’t want to harm this baby more than I’ve possibly already done,” Chloe admitted quietly.

Beca nodded, and reached out to take one of Chloe’s hands, tugging it into her lap gently. “If keeping this baby is what you want to do, those things you’re worried about have solutions. You may not have a place of your own, but I’m not kicking you out. Even with a baby. This is home for you as long as you want or need it. A job shouldn’t be too difficult to find. Maybe it won’t be the greatest one on earth to start with, but it will be something to get your head back in the game,” she paused, tilting her head to the side and seeking Chloe’s gaze. “And what you just said? About not caving because of the baby? I can’t think of a better proof of your ability to be a great mom. You’re already putting that baby before your own needs, and I can’t even fathom how great and out of control those can become, and I think that’s admirable. And for what it’s worth, I think you should trust what your gut tells you. I listened to my brain instead of my heart once, and ended up making one of the biggest mistakes of my life.”

Chloe let Beca’s words resonate within her, basking in the temporary peace they brought her. There was no doubt about where her gut feeling lay on this.

“I feel like I’m turning your life upside down,” she whispered after a while, sniffling. “You’ve done so much for me already, I don’t want to keep abusing from your generosity, or jeopardize your relationship with Sarah.”

“You’re not abusing anything, Chlo. I promise,” Beca murmured with a squeeze to her hand. A stretch of silence settled between them, until Beca spoke again. “You still have time to think about it. Just know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll support it.”

Over the next week, Chloe found herself picturing what it would be like, caring and nurturing for that baby and raising them. For the first time in five years, cocaine wasn’t the first thing she thought about when she woke up, or the last thing on her mind before going to sleep.

For the first time in five years, it felt like she had purpose, in trying her best to be the mom her child deserved. That meant staying clean, leaving those demons behind where they belonged, and getting her life back together one day at a time, for that innocent being that came to light in the darkest time of her life.

She woke up earlier than usual that morning, and headed to the bathroom to pee, pausing as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. A soft gasp escaped as she lifted her shirt and ran her palm over the barely perceptible swell in her lower belly. It wasn’t there yesterday, and Chloe felt tears pool in her eyes.

Happy ones.

“Hey there, little one,” she croaked out, her heart swelling against her ribcage as she rubbed slow circles over her skin. “We’ll be okay, won’t we?”

She puffed out a long breath, a watery smile breaking through.

One day at a time.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #chloe beale #beca mitchell

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mushroom-cartel--writing · 4 years ago

Text

begrudging (love-)blindness

Summary: You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru & Reader, Gojo Satoru/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc.)

Personally, I think this is hot garbage in terms of structure and pacing (it’s loosely all strung together is what I’m saying, but I just needed to get it off my chest before I wrote anything else. Yet... I guess I had fun? Yeah. I did!

There's spoilers from the manga mixed with headcanon.

I still hate spacing and formatting on Tumblr, it sucks. Please, please, please, this is for your own good, click the AO3 link, this fic is such an eyesore on this platform.

|||

There’s a tug at your chest, sending you hurtling backwards and into something hard. A wall. Tiles. Smooth.

The heavens and the earth view one another through a layer of haze of light at night.

There are thousands of people gathering, their footsteps thundering echoes in your ears. Their chatter is a constant hum in the air. It stinks of sweat.

(“The train will be arriving soon. Please stand behind the yellow line—”)

You sigh.

“Dammit, Satoru! A little warning would be nice,” you hiss to the man. You hear him whisper something back but his voice is swallowed up by the crowds and then he, too, is consumed.

You feel him wander farther away from you; not left with much choice, you follow him. And down, down, down you go.

You pause when there’s an invisible wall blocking your path of his own making. “Hey!!” you shout, starting to scream expletives at him from the top of his lungs and he doesn’t look back.

A few seconds pass. The people, these poor, clueless civilians who just want to go home for the night are like sardines in a can, their bodies pushing and shoving. For space. For air. Requiring neither, you phase through the wall and the remaining levels to catch up to him, the thoughts going through your head solely focused on figuring out why he has let you out. He wouldn’t do something like this without warning you beforehand.

Why now? What now?

You pull out from the shadowed cracks of the feeble curtain set up along the fifth floor underground, suddenly feeling a heaviness you hardly ever experience. You run a cursory swipe over his teeth; the blood in the air is fresh, there are more civilians down here than up above, more sardine-ing (their presence is fading away, the above platforms’ panicked din becomes extinguished, it’s ghastly quiet, a moment frozen in time), but no Satoru. Not physically.

He loves you, you know. (You don’t understand though… Why?)

It’s a burden, draining you of what vigour is left in your soul, barely just clinging on to this plane itself.

His love is a curse in itself, really.

"I don't want you to see me hurt," he had said often, back when you were children, oblivious to the power of those words until you got older.

What they meant.

What they did—to him and you.

Still as the wind, you stand together, hands brushing up against each other's, your fingers infected with poison where his is not; the calloused skin and scars shared between you weaving a tale for the ages that will never be told.

You’re both nineteen at heart but certainly not in spirit.

You lean against him, completely unseen, waiting for him to flick his finger back.

Waiting for him to obliterate the first person he thought he could trust outside.

He doesn’t. You disappear for another time, expectant.

His love is a burden and you're not sure where you would be without it.

If he hadn't looked your way, would you be the same person you are today?

It's frightening, these thoughts of yours, but he usually chases them off when he senses them bubbling to the surface. (You want him to be annoyed.) A casual grin and stance, a flick of his wrist, a rush of wind by your side, then the phantom pressure is gone, yes, gone, however—it's never banished completely. It never can be.

You don't remember the colour of his eyes but there's a memory of you claiming they looked like marbles, buried somewhere (somehow), in the back of your mind. Like the marbles you'd smash glass bottles to obtain, their fizzy contents only drained seconds beforehand; stubby, sticky, small fingers sorting through the shards, squashing ants in the process.

Those very same fingers, now, haven't changed a bit, save for the chipped nails and whatnot duress they’ve sustained throughout his life.

You use them to push the blindfold up to his forehead, taking in the surrounding sights.

Why now? The fact that you can feel them, his fingers and everything else—that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.

You breathe, inflating the faux lungs.

Finally, you see it. The reason why you’re walking and talking and fully corporeal.

You gulp at the living corpse, its stitches wonky and fresh. Cerebrospinal fluid spills from its face in fat droplets and lands upon the clothes of a dead man. Disgusting.

“So I was right in the end,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else. “You’re not Suguru.”

(Satoru owes you a thousand yen. You told him to burn the body immediately. Or, you know, the usual. But what’d he do instead? He went and passed it off to a third party! Man, why’d that old hag have to kick the bucket so soon… If she was still around she’d probably kick Satoru’s dumb ass for trying to be decent.)

“How are you free?” Not-Suguru asks.

The real Suguru wouldn’t ask about your appearance. He would make a comment about how the temperature has dropped and burrow into his collar. He wouldn’t question things.

The real Suguru never acknowledged you, but he knew there was something in the corner of his eye that took the image of his friend and laughed alongside them when they pulled their antics during missions.

The real Suguru is gone.

Who the hell knows where Shouko is.

Yeah. A little warning would have been nice. Real fucking nice.

There’s a cube with a dozen eyes between the two of you, the crater on the ground betrays its unassuming weight. Satoru’s muted presence, a shrunken pearl of light, emanates from the cube.

Not-Suguru follows your line of sight to it.

Giving him an answer would be a waste of your time.

You can’t, they say.

Young master, please, don’t go there, implores the servants and guards.

The elders, his grandmother especially, tell him not to enter the storehouse tucked away in the garden behind an avenue of camellia trees because that’s something they’ll discuss when he’s older.

He doesn’t listen to them, the curiosity of a three-year-old child cannot be satisfied by mere words. (“Let this be known,” the gardener says in his defense, one cold summer’s day. It is raining outside. His grandmother shoots the only person in the compound that doesn’t treat him like a blind fool with a withering glare. He does not see them again until—)

What’s in the storehouse?

A library of cursed objects? Spiritual remnants, artefacts, texts, poisons, weapons?

Maybe the mummified corpse of an ancestor whom they keep around to ward off evil?

Perhaps a curse, frozen in time forevermore?

Maybe it’s nothing and the adults are all in on some kind of elaborate hoax, he figures. Mm, yeah. Sounds about right. No one else knows about the storehouse.

It’s old and earthen. Wild plants curl the walls to one side and splotches of moss grow on the tiled roof. Where the sun hits least is pristine. Clean. He wonders if that’s where the wards are placed, out of sight, out of mind.

Oh.

Standing in the entrance of the open door with bare feet, at the threshold of the aged structure, fulfilling his desire, he learns why they wanted him to remain ignorant.

It’s a child. (A human…? This whole situation is off.) A kid his age. He can’t tell whether or not they’re older or younger. They might be a bit taller, though.

No, he wants to shout, this can’t be it! He stomps his foot. That’s cliché! Boring, boring, boring! Again, he strikes the ground. Ugh, whatever—

A sigh escapes the emaciated figure sitting in the darkness, hunched over themself against the wall of the bare storehouse.

“Ah, my f̶̥̍r̵̝͐̏i̷̳end,” they start, softly. “M̶̹̦͒y̸͍̮̋̚ f̸͉̓̋r̴͇̦̕ǐ̴̦͇e̵̫͠n̷̢͉̅̓ḍ̸̅, my very dear, old friend. You have returned.

“My e̷̳̭̿y̶͈͂e̷͔̭̎͘s̴̭̄̊, have you come to give them back? Ask for several others?

“I have waited for you, as promised. Come. Closer. Please. I do not know how long has passed since I last gazed upon your visage. Do not be afraid.

“I no longer lust for flesh as fervently as before, I will not ask of y̸͖͔̒o̵̳̍u̵͍̘̓ ą̴͕̈́n̵̫̓d̸̛̳͛ y̵̻͑̎o̵̖̥͒͌ų̴͋̐r̵̦̩̓s a sacrifice to please me.”

Their voice is garbled, the resemblance to a broken radio off-pitch jarring his reaction time, a music box opened underwater gurgling, ghosts beat to the rhythm of the blood in his ears and titter buried mysteries.

In the corner of his eyes distant stars burn, galaxies explode to life and die repeatedly, the vast cosmos is shredded apart. Universes are swallowed whole. The plane he stands upon bends to the will of the one whose gifts he uses carelessly to play the role of a deity and dictate the balance of the world.

People have said [they] reflect the very heavens.

His faith wanes.

a trio of ragtag orphans,

escapees, survivors and starved,

on the verge of being

no better than beasts,

happen upon a traveller taking respite from the winding roads.

a foreigner no doubt

they guess from the strange hued garb;

rest, everyone around these parts,

they know comes not

easy to scum, scoundrels, sinners and

deceivers alike.

mad ones, rushing to death

—without protection i must add—

oh my darling children, you are!

consume my flesh,

defend those unseeing,

purge the blight

and you shall witness

my return before long, indeed?!

They do not move and neither does he.

What he assumes to be their head tilts ever so to the side, gauging him, this fool of a boy trespassing on their domain. This part of the garden, the little boy realises too late, is theirs.

This, the storehouse and now him.

(—the gardener finds him sprawled out on his back come dusk. They help him to his feet and dust him off, the sparkle in his eyes an unusual occurrence; they ask their precious young master what happened and he points them in the direction of the doors sealed shut.

“I took a peek inside,” he lies. Children are supposed to do that, right?

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” The gardener knows he’s a bad liar.

“Good. Now come.” They lead him away from the path of the camellias. “Lady Mitsue has been beside herself over you, mister.”

His grandmother hasn’t. She probably knows what he has done and will instruct him to feed the council what they want to hear. My son was too soft, she asserts before and after every meeting with those windbags.

You have to do better.

And his father is dead, so only time will tell who’s right.)

He starts having weird dreams (memories?) several days later.

Trying to ignore them doesn’t work.

Every waking moment is subject to gore.

He has to resist the urge to scratch his own eyes out while he trains.

In the world beneath his eyelids, there are shadowy figures claiming it best he is blinded and locked away and fed what no other soul could hope to consume without issue. And just as they force open his jaw—every night, every time—he wakes up.

Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

One day, he dreams of years of living without sunlight causing you to screw your not-eyes shut and look away upon the opening of a door into your domain. When you recover, you turn to the door, the emotion of curiosity tugging for your attention out of the myriad of beings you’ve eaten.

Standing at the threshold, ethereal, desperate and short of breath, is a young man. In his arms is a woman, his wife, you presume. They’re stark shades of white, binary stars of a celestial system long dead.

You smile, recognising them in an instant. “Ah, my old friends, children of my children’s children a dozen times over, tell me, what is it you wish for?”

“My wife and our child,” says the man, “please, I beg of you, save them!”

Oh? A healing? It’s been quite some time since that was last requested of you.

You skitter to the pair’s side and shut the door gently behind them, ushering them further in.

You click your not-tongue at the woman’s state, wondering why no one thought to come to you earlier. If they did, the price they’d have to pay would be much less than what you’re about to tell the man. Humans are such prideful creatures, Satoru knows this, but he can’t help but feel tense as you instruct the man to lay the woman down and state your cost.

First, he opens his mouth. Then it shuts. Opens. Shuts. The man regards his dear wife with something Satoru has never seen before in the eyes of those around him.

His reply?

“I accept—”

A harsh smack to the head disrupts the memory; he looks up, unsurprised to meet his grandmother’s gaze, wrinkled eyes so very much like his own piercing his soul.

“Being distracted in the middle of a fight is unbecoming of you, boy,” she says. “What seems to be the matter?”

He can’t tell her.

He stays silent.

“Satoru.” She raises her hand, fingers crossed, indicating the void’s opening. “We Gojou pride ourselves on our ability to adapt. That is why, in fact, I say my son was too soft. He could not accept that he would lose my daughter-in-law and the child she carried in her womb to common illness. He could not accept that it was impossible to cheat death. He could not accept the position he was placed in. And for that, he died and of the aforementioned two, only you lived. Do you understand?”

No. He doesn’t want to understand.

What is adaptation if they’ve yet to rid themselves of and bow down to your constant presence? Is that not their most fatal flaw?

You eat them.

One life in exchange for another; you told his father it was the only way.

You were given the corpse of his mother a hundred days after his birth by the elders.

Every Gojou after death, you grind their bones between your teeth and their flesh rots at the bottom of your belly. Their soulful essence fights for dominance against the forces of the innumerable curses the clans feeds you—the hate, the sentiment, the sheer bursts of techniques and mighty powers clashing, click, click, click—you embody and absorb the aftermath of each childish scuffle, playing the bored jailer adjudicator. Corpses, tools, objects, energy and flesh. It’s how you’ve lived for so long without light or human thought to taint you: the jujutsu world’s dirty little secret, waste disposal.

You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

He loves you for that one reason.

A means to an end, forever.

(The boy, a few days shy of his fourth birthday and inauguration, does not know what love is. He thinks he does, having read the definition in a dictionary in order to familiarise you with modern speech, but love is not a word to be thrown around lightly the way he does.)

“I do,” he lies again, this time, to himself. “I understand everything.”

His sight is black.

He pushes back against the current, against instinct telling him to relinquish control and reaches forward for the dream that he was ripped from.

Your true form towers over his mother’s prone form, dripping ichor and the fluid of loose entrails all over. His father stays seated even when you lift an arm to draw blood, the man facing you without a trace of fear.

“I accept—but on the condition that my child receives your protection.”

“My p̶̹̽r̴̽ͅo̵̠͐ť̷̬e̶̺̊c̶̻̒t̷̙͑i̵̮̓o̶̱n̷̖͂?” Do they not teach the younger generations what that entails?

“Yes. My ancestors wrote that you were a benevolent being in a past life. That you were a kind-hearted human who accidentally drank poison before being found and buried alive, condemned and reviled, forcing you to become what you are now. Does that still not hold true?” His father’s face is hopeful.

It doesn’t. But who are you to tell him that? That ‘benevolent being’ never existed in the first place. You’ve always been this.

The vivisepulture part was true, but the beginning? Debatable. Your memories of ‘being human’ are foggy; you’re not sure if they’re real or someone else’s. Satoru’s is the clearest thus far because you abide within him. And he’s young, there’s little to garner.

What other nonsense has been made truth in the time you have withdrawn from the world?

He wants to go down that rabbit hole.

You grab the cube and run, warping reality in your wake.

You are many things.

Alive, you are first; secondly a parent, a teacher and a friend; cursed thrice times over; quarter something-something or rather by this point; and last, your hollowness complements the damned hallowed.

You are Gojou Satoru but not.

His skin peels off in delicate scales from the speed you’re going.

The first and last time you puppeteer his body, Satoru invokes his father’s contract with you for the second time in his life.

Like the first occurrence, it happens by accident.

(The first occurrence is a stain on your memory.

Mitsue looked her grandson in the eye and tasked him with a futile quest, one that would decide the future headship of their clan. You personally thought such practices outdated but you held his tongue and grit his teeth, faking laughter for the audience they had.

She reminded you too much of your youngest, both in the way she cobbled herself together and how she suspended time long enough to catch a glimpse of you hunched beside him, flickering in and out of her void domain with the ease of a toddler climbing free of their crib.

Beautiful and deadly.

He nearly died.)

He is unaware of the finer details, but where his consciousness ends at getting a scalpel to head, it rouses again with him standing before the man who has the blood of Satoru’s friends on his hands and left him to bleed out undecapitated.

On a high from escaping Izanami’s clutches, he sprouts math and whatever nonsense off the top of his head and ragdolls up, down, across and through the air.

He feels like a being higher than the gods. Doesn’t mean he is, though.

He’s barely in control.

Violent swashes of red and blue fill the sky. He sees beyond his opponent rising from the earth the heavens condemning his breaching unto their space.

“Hey, stranger, did you know purple was her favourite colour?”

“Whose?”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“You are Satoru, right?”

“Yessssss?”

“You… you’ve got a bit of…” Suguru gestures vaguely around the lower half of his face.

“Oh.” You rub the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and see it come back tinged pink. The drying drool on his sleeves is used to rub the rest of the blood away. “Thanks.”

“Have you found her?”

“Amanai? Her body?” Suguru flinches. Your gaze is drawn to the cultists clapping. “Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru says. “I feel like killing these people. Should we?”

“Why?”

“I’m still h̸͓̟͐u̴̦͗n̴͇͈̅͛g̵͔̒̕ŗ̴͕͂͘y̸͚͍͘͘.” Two wasn’t even a snack.

“I’m angry that we failed too. But we can’t do anything now, it’s out of our hands.”

Several days later finds him back at the entrance of the storehouse, none the worse for wear.

In the shadow of the building grows a lone weed.

“It’s changed.”

“Of course it has.”

“Will I end up like them?”

“Yes.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gn!reader #gender-neutral reader #gojo satoru x reader #reader insert #one-shot #originally posted on ao3 #jujutsu kaisen #this is a dumpster fire

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lilliagradiewrites · 4 years ago

Text

wish you liked girls (kiara carrera)

Summary: You’ve been best friends with kiara for years, but lately you’ve noticed some changes in the way you feel towards her. When you hear the song she wrote about you, all is revealed.

WC: 4.5k

WARNINGS: homophobic, use of the f slur, cursing, nothing else really, just lots of angst and a lil fluff.

*this is based off of the song ‘wish you liked girls’ by Abbey Glover. I changed the lyrics around a little to fit the story better, but all credits to her nonetheless!!

A/N: happy new years my loves! this one shot is kind of my new years gift to all of you. I haven't been very active in the past few days, so I’m sorry about that. i tried to upload this on christmas, but tumblr was rude and didn’t let me, so here we are instead! wishing you all the greatest 2021, and I hope you all enjoy!

LET’S DO IT!!

~~~~~

You didn’t know exactly how you felt towards Kiara in the beginning. You feelings for her were indecipherable; more than friends… but also just friends?

The past few months had been a wild ride for you. Constantly, you were questioning your sexuality, and frankly everything you’d ever known.

It got harder as the days went on, and with every beautiful girl that showed up in your Instagram feed or your tiktok for you page.

And then, of course, there was Kiara.

Perfect, beautiful, unattainable Kiara.

She was your best friend, and you usually viewed your hangouts as a super comforting and safe space. Now, however, your hangouts were simply a cause for more stress.

Kiara was so… wonderful. After knowing her for many years, you could confidently say that the girl had no flaws.

Kie’s perfection made everything so much harder for you. Your feelings toward your friend were incredibly confusing.

Did you want to be her, or be with her?

The biggest issue was not your feelings for Kiara, but rather a completely separate problem.

Your boyfriend.

You were nearing a year with Hunter, the boy you found yourself lucky to call your own.

Hunter was an amazing guy, and everything a teenage girl could ask for in a boyfriend. He was considerate and sweet, and always knew the right thing to say to you. He never pressured you into intimacy, knowing that you weren’t comfortable or ready just yet.

You loved Hunter, you knew you did.

Yet, you found yourself feeling that same way towards Kiara.

This was the main issue causing the battle in your head. Was your love for Kiara just platonic? Or maybe you loved Hunter as a friend, Kiara was the one you wanted to be with?

None of those options felt right, but the last possible option made you feel confused and slightly guilty….

What if you wanted to be with them both?

All these thoughts rushed through your head as you brushed makeup on your face, preparing for a night with the girl who frequented your thoughts daily.

There was an open mic night at you and Kiara’s favorite indie cafe. Kie, who was unknowingly an amazing singer and songwriter, had played some music for you a while back, leading to a process of you encouraging her to grow as an artist.

For months, Kiara had been running song ideas by you. You could recall countless nights during which you and Kiara would sit on her bed, working together to finish up a song she’d been writing.

Kiara credits all her music to you completely, but you knew she was just being modest. The girl was undeniably talented.

That’s why, when you saw that Retro was having an open mic night, you’d insisted that your best friend go play one of her songs.

You had sat on her bed that night, the flyer you’d collected from the cafe sitting between the two of you.

You grabbed the notebook containing all of the lyrics you’d written together, and pored over the most recent piece.

The song was your best one yet. She’d been inspired by yet another fight between JJ and Rafe.

“What if I write something about the pogues and the kooks being so divided?” She’d suggested that same night. You could tell, judging by the look in her eyes, that a train of ideas was chugging in circles throughout her mind. “The whole thing is so ugly and gross… I just want to turn into something beautiful, you know?”

Without a second thought, you’d picked up a pencil and the song book you’d grown to be familiar with, and the two of you got down to work.

Two sleepless nights and countless cups of coffee later, the two of you had completed the piece. It was undoubtedly the best song you’d ever written. It captured the unnecessary feeling of hatred coming from the opposite groups of the island perfectly, adding a touch of soul. The moral of the song was simple: can we just get along?

Kiara had strung the words together beautifully, adding a gorgeous melody and some strums on her guitar. Once the two of you heard the lyrics had worked so hard on turned to music, you knew that there was something special about this piece.

That’s why you insisted so strongly that Kiara sing it at the open mic night.

“I don’t know, Y/N…” Kiara had twiddled her fingers, biting her lip in apprehension. “What if people hate my music? Or what if I fuck it up so bad I become a massive laughingstock. I don’t think I could handle it.”

You smiled, grabbing her hands to still them. “It’s a good thing you won’t have to worry about that, then, because you’re not gonna fuck it up.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Kiara protested, breaking the gaze you’d been holding as you spoke.

“I do!” You grabbed Kiara’s chin, moving her face towards you so that her eyes met yours again. “You are fucking amazing, Kiara Carrera. Do not doubt yourself. You are so talented, Kie, I don’t think you even realize how incredible you are. I am going to that cafe tomorrow and signing you up for the open mic night whether you like or not.”

This was a threat, but not an honest one. You would never sign her up knowing she was uncomfortable. So, when you let go of your light grip on her chin, you listened intently for a murmur of approval.

After a moment, it finally came.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” You exclaimed in celebration, throwing your arms around your friend. “I’m so excited, you’re gonna be amazing!

Now, a few days later, you’re sitting at your vanity, preparing for the night you’d be waiting for. Kie was extremely nervous, so you’d taken her out shopping earlier that day to calm her down. She’d bought a new outfit for the open mic night, which looked amazing on her. She promised you that she’d come pick you up so you could go to the performance together, and you’d happily agreed.

You didn’t expect to be at your house an hour early, though.

You weren’t even halfway through your makeup when you heard a knock at your door.

You’d rushed down the stairs, praying you’d get to the door first.

Your parents never liked Kie. They knew she liked girls and guys, and called her a “Hippie whore.”

Your homophobic parents: Yet another reason you couldn’t come to terms with the way you felt towards your best friend.

The odds seemed to be in your favor today, as you reached the door before your parents and swung it open to reveal a highly nervous Kiara.

“Hey!” You smiled. “What are you doing here so early?”

Kiara bit her lip in embarrassment and looked down to her feet.

“I-I got nervous and I got ready way too early. I know I’m not supposed to be here for another 45 minutes, but I’m too freaked out to be alone. Is it okay if I hang out with you while you finish getting ready?” She questions softly, almost embarrassed.

You smile, finding her nerves exceptionally adorable.

“Yes, of course you can. Come in, come in.”

You grab her arm, closing the door behind her and pulling her quickly up the stairs. The last thing you wanted was for Kiara to have to interact with your parents.

Once in your room, you close the door and head back to your vanity, Kiara flopping down on your bed.

As you sat down and continued applying your makeup, you spoke to your friend.

“So, how nervous and excited are you for tonight?”

Kiara smiled lightly, and bit her lip once again. “Very for both.” She confesses with a small chuckle.

“I know you can’t tell someone not to be nervous but I can tell you that you shouldn’t be. You’re incredible, Kie. I can’t wait for everyone to see how talented my best friend is.

You focus hard on your eyeliner, leaning in to your mirror to make sure you get a clean wing.

Once you're done on both sides, you lean back and admire your work. Perfecting your winged liner was something you’d been working on for a while, and it seems that your practice has helped. The wings are sharp and pretty much even. If you don’t look too closely, the wings are seemingly symmetrical. This is good enough for you, you decide, capping the liquid liner and setting it back in your makeup drawer.

Finally done with your makeup, you begin cleaning off your desk. You put your products back in your drawer, and the brushes in the holder you have for them on the corner of your desk.

Standing up, you look at Kie with a smile. “Now help me pick out an outfit so that I look hot supporting you from the audience.”

45 minutes later, the two of you are finally ready to leave. Kie is nervous as ever, but you offer comforting words to try and help calm her down as much as possible. You grab your favorite bag and throw the essentials in it. Your phone, a portable charger (just in case), and a few extra hair ties. Once you were done, you turned to Kie, who was playing with her fingers anxiously. “You ready?” You asked, encouragement laced in your voice. Kiara, still very obviously apprehensive, could do nothing but nod. Taking your bag in one hand and Kiara’s hand in the other, you head out of your room and towards the front door.

The two of you made your way down the stairs, moving quickly to leave so that you didn’t have to interact with either of your awful parents. When you got to the bottom, you rushed for the door, fumbling with the door handle. The house you lived in was old, and all of the metal pieces (such as the door knob) were rusted and hard to use. You did your best trying to twist it open, saying a silent prayer that one of your parents didn’t round the corner and see Kiara with you. She was nervous enough as it is; she didn’t need your parents making her night even worse.

Unfortunately for the both of you, your prayers were seemingly denied as your mother walked into the foyer, arms crossed over her chest.

You had hardly even noticed her presence until she said your name, anger apparent in her voice.

“Y/N. How many times do I have to tell you who you can and cannot bring into our home?”

You grimaced at the sound of her voice, turning slowly, knowing you’ll be met with inescapable doom. In the process of turning, you saw the look on Kie’s face. She looked anxious and heartbroken, not to mention severely guilty. After seeing your best friend’s expression, you knew you weren’t cowering down to your mother.

Your original plan had been to apologize profusely and beg her to let you go with Kie, possibly even lying about where you were headed.

But you knew you had nothing to apologize for, and neither did Kie.

“I don’t see why it matters, Mom.”

Surprise flashed over your mother’s face, shocked by your confidence. Standing up for yourself wasn’t your usual reaction to her scoldings, and she wasn’t prepared for the reply she was given.

“It matters because it’s my house, and because I’m your mother. I told you I did not want people like her over at this house. Now send the girl on her way and come sit down with me. I think we need to talk.”

You had to admit, you were nervous to make your next move. You knew what you were going to do, and it would result in getting your ass shredded when you come back home. But you didn’t care; you had to be there for Kie.

“I can’t right now. Me and Kiara have a place to be, so…” You turned and messed with the doorknob some more, finally getting it to work correctly. “I’ll talk to you when I get home tonight. It shouldn’t be terribly late. But, I might stay over at Kie’s, so, you think you could wait until tomorrow?”

Anger washed quickly over your mother’s face. She uncrossed her arms so that she could clench her fists at her sides, moving towards you menacingly. “Absolutely not, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. You will be staying here, and you will not be staying at her house. I won’t allow it.”

You smirked, a sudden confidence washing over you. “Well, that doesn’t sound very fun. Good thing I didn’t ask for your permission, huh?”

Kie looked shocked by your attitude, and your mother was getting angrier by the second.

“I’m going to need you to fix your attitude, young lady, or there will be severe consequences.”

“I don’t care. I don’t, and I’m not sorry about it. Kie is my best friend, whether you like it or not, and I’m spending the night with her.”

Your mother’s face was almost completely red. “Kie is a fag-”

“No. Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I will not allow you to talk to her that way. Why are you the way that you are?”

“Why are you hanging out with gay people? Do you like girls or something?”

“Why does it matter?” You’re fuming at this point. If she wasn’t your mother, you would’ve hit her by now.

“It matters because homosexuals are abominations. The Lord says so. I thought I’d taught you this by now, but clearly I didn’t press the word of God into you hard enough when you were younger.”

“No, Mom. Terrible people like you are an abomination. We’re leaving.”

And with that, you were gone, wrenching the door open and ushering Kie out of it, ignoring your mother’s shouts as you closed it behind you.

You rushed to Kie’s car, hopping in it as she pulled out of your driveway and sped through your neighborhood.

The two of you were completely silent for a moment. Both of you could barely process what had just happened. The more you thought about the situation, the more it upset you. Who was your mother to decide who you could and couldn’t hang out with? Especially when her reasons for you not hanging out with Kie were so disgusting.

What would your mother say if she knew the thoughts you’d been having?

After a little while, Kiara broke the silence. “Why is your mom like that?” Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, and you could tell by the tone of her voice that she was fighting tears.

You sighed. Hearing Kiara so upset, especially on a day that was supposed to be fun, broke you. “I wish I knew, Kie. I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe she accused you of liking girls just because you hang out with me. She’s so disrespectful for no reason.”

You shook your head. “You say it like it’s a terrible thing she ‘accused’ me of. It’s not a bad thing. She just made it bad because she’s a bitch.”

Kiara nodded, turning her head to gaze out the window. A momentary silence fell over the two of you, but you couldn’t help but feel like something wasn’t right. You glanced over at Kie, whose brows were furrowed. She bit her lip in thought.

Is there something she wanted to say?

“Kie? Are you alright?”

The brunette didn’t say anything. You knew something was up, so you pressed further.

“What’s on your mind, love?”

Kiara shot out her reply quickly, like it was taking all of her courage to say it.

“You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“Liking girls.”

You paused briefly, letting the girls words sink in for a second.

“No, I didn’t.”

Kiara turned to you, a million emotions in her dark eyes. They all flashed as you made eye contact, making each feeling hard to identify. “Do you?”

“Like girls?” Your breathing was halted. Was Kiara… feeling the same way towards you as you had been for her?

“I-I don’t know.”

Kie turned towards you. When you looked at her, you could see the tears in her eyes.

You could identify a strong sense of hope in her dark eyes.

“You don’t know?”

Suddenly, you remembered.

Hunter.

Your amazing boyfriend that you loved so much.

“It doesn’t really matter though, I guess. Since I’m with Hunter.”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them.

Kie took a deep breath, and looked away.

“Right. Hunter.”

A few minutes later, you’d arrived at the cafe. No more words had been spoken, and tension in the car was thick.

Once the car was parked, you finally spoke.

“Are you ready to go?”

Kie nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you climbed out of the car, Kiara going into the back to grab her guitar. Once everything was locked up, the two of you headed inside in silence.

The crowd was bustling with life in the small cafe. On one side, people with songbooks and sheet music sat with their instruments, and on the other side, people sat sipping on cups on coffee.

When you noticed the separation, Kie headed over to the performers side. You gave a light ‘good luck,’ to which Kiara didn’t reply, and then the two of you went separate ways.

Kiara took a seat in the performer section, looking nervously at the people around her. She tried her best to push away the feelings from the conversation in the car earlier, but it was very difficult. For a moment there, she had allowed herself to believe that the feelings she had for you were reciprocated. That look in your eye when you looked at her… something about it made her think you felt the same as she did. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

You just had to bring your Hunter.

Kiara hated Hunter, though she’d never let you know that. She had no real reason to hate him, but she did. She hated him so much, it was almost painful to see his face.

She hated him because he had what Kie wanted more than anything else in the world.

You.

Kie watched you as you moved around on the other side of the cafe. You were standing at the counter, talking to the barista. Though Kie couldn’t hear you over the bustle of the place, she knew exactly what you were saying.

You were ordering your usual: a large vanilla sweet cream cold brew with caramel drizzle. You order has been the same for what feels like forever. You had tried other things, but you always stuck to your favorite.

“I’ve never liked anything as much as this.” You’d said a few weeks earlier, when Kie had teased you for never changing your order.

Kie longed to be over there with you, teasing you about your order. Just talking to you lit up her life. You were everything to her, and she wasn’t even afraid to admit it.

You got your coffee, thanking the barista and dropping some change in the tip jar.

Kie watched as you scanned the room, searching for an empty seat. As you looked around, your eyes met Kiara’s, and you held her gaze for a moment. Though you didn’t know why she was being so cold towards you earlier, you couldn’t help but offer a small smile of encouragement.

To your great relief, she smiled back.

Once you knew she was alright, you broke her gaze and continued searching for a seat. You wanted to sit near the front, so that you could lock eyes with Kie when she was on stage as a form of moral support, but all of the front seats were taken.

Slightly disappointed, you had to take a seat in the back, near the exit.

When Kie saw that smile you gave her, she knew something had to be done. Even when the two of you weren’t really on the best terms, you continued to support her.

She loved you so fucking much.

Right then and there, Kiara made a decision, one she hoped she wouldn’t come to regret in the future.

An hour had gone by, and many performers had made their way on and off the stage in the small cafe. You counted down the performers until your best friend went on the stage, nervously playing with the straw on your cup. Even though you weren’t the one going up on the stage, you still felt terrified.

When the performer before your friend was reading off the last lines of his slam poem, your heart began to race.

The guy walked off, and you watched your friend stand up.

“Next up, we have Kiara Carrera, performing an original song called ‘differences aside.’ Let’s give her a very warm welcome!”

You could barely hear the announcer calling Kie’s name over the sound of your heart pounding.

Up on the stage, Kiara’s heart was pounding just as loud.

See, when Kie showed up at your house earlier in the day, she had completely intended to sing the song the two of you had written together. ‘Differences Aside’ was a beautiful song, and one she was very proud of. However, after the events that had went down on the way to the cafe, her mind had changed.

She was writing a song she had written by herself.

A song she wrote about you.

“Hey, everyone, I’m Kiara. I know I said that I was gonna be singing a song called ‘Differences Aside,’ but there’s been a slight change of plans. I’m going to be singing a different original instead. I hope you all enjoy it.”

When she had finished talking, she made direct eye contact with you. You were shocked by her words, and a little bit upset. Was she really so frustrated with you, or hurt by your previous conversation, that she refused to sing the song you wrote together?

It was heartbreaking, and you moved lower in your seat as she began strumming her guitar, fighting the tears forming in your eyes.

“I grew pretty attached to you,

Like a dog on a lead

Thought you were everything I could’ve dreamed of,

And all I could ever need.

But you like him, him, him

And you don’t like me.”

Kiara’s voice rang out as she began singing. She sounded beautiful, and the song was very pretty.

You would’ve loved it, but you were slightly confused.

With every word she sang, she was looking directly into your eyes.

“Always thought you looked at me differently

Than any other you'd see

Thought you were aching to see me

At any, any possibility

But you like boys, boys, boys

And you don't like me.”

Your eyes widened at the last lyrics.

Was this song about you?

“I could be a bitch and tell you a million reasons why

Being with me would be much better than with any other guy

I could tell you I'll treat you right

And never wrong

Tell you in my arms is where you belong

“But I know that you can't change someone

So I'll just leave you alone, although

I wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Girls like me.”

With Kie looking in your eyes as she sang, the lyrics hit you hard.

She did have feelings for you.

Tears began to sting your eyes, and you were overcome with emotion. You dropped Kie’s eyes, grabbing your things and standing up. Unable to stay any longer, you ran out the door, crying as you did.

Inside, up on the stage, Kiara’s heart dropped as she watched you leave. She had no choice but continue to sing.

“I wish you would’ve been more clear

When I was hanging out with you

That women isn't really something

That you've ever been into

'Cause you like boys, boys, boys

And you don't like me.”

Tears began to fall as she sang, blurring her eyes. She just kept strumming, putting everything she had into the last verse and chorus of the song.

“And I know you don't swing that way

But that won't take my feelings away

Oh I wish you liked girls

I wish you liked girls

Like me”

It became harder to sing as sobs caught in her throat, but she pushed through. She was going to make it through this performance. She had to.

“I could be a bitch and tell you a million reasons why

Being with me would be much better than with any other guy

I could tell you I'll treat you right

And never wrong

Tell you in my arms is where you belong

But I know that you can't change someone

So I'll just leave you alone, although

I wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Wish you liked girls, girls, girls

Girls like me”

When the last chord rang out at the end of the song, the crowd erupted in applause and murmurs. Kie choked out a quiet ‘thank you’ in the microphone before running off the stage and outside to you.

She was so so scared that she’d ruined everything.

When she got out there, you on the phone, sniffling as you spoke.

“See you soon. Okay, bye.”

You turned around, and your cheeks immediately went pink when you saw her.

“Hi.” You said softly, not knowing what else to do.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Hunter.”

Kie’s heart dropped when she heard the name. She recalled your words from when she’d first walked out. ‘See you soon.’ Her heart dropped further.

“Is he coming to pick you up?”

You shook your head, causing a small bit of relief to flood through kiara. “What were you talking to him about?”

You paused for a moment, dropping the eye contact the two of you were making.

“I broke up with him.”

Your friend let out a light gasp, hope entering her mind once again. “Oh.”

You just nodded, looking anywhere but at Kiara.

“May I ask why?”

Your response was simple.

You ran up to her and kissed her.

Finally.

Kiara was taken aback, but kissed back eagerly, so happy this was finally happening.

And when she was kissing you, everything was good.

Maybe changing the song was a good idea after all.

#kiara carrera #kie carrera #kie carerra x reader #kiara carrera x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfiction #kiara carerra fanfiction #kie carrera fanfiction #kiara carrera one shot #kie carrera one shot

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davosmymaster · 5 years ago

Text

To the Ends of the Universe

A/N - Hello!!! How’s everyone doing? Just wanted to say thank you to the people who left a comment/liked the post about this one shot. I really hope this fic won’t dissapoint anyone.

Special thanks to @wonders-of-the-multiverse who has been there from the very first second. This fic initially started as both of us just daydreaming about the Master as usual and well, here we are XD. She was also my incredible beta reader.

As some of you know, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake. This is also my first fic on tumblr YAY

I really hope you have a good time reading this!!!

WARNINGS - Blood, mentions of nightmares, it’s pure fluff basically with hints of angst

PAIRINGS - Dhawan!Master x Reader (The Master x Reader)

WORD COUNT - 6,062 words

TO THE ENDS OF THE UNIVERSE

The dimly lit hallways exploded in a bright white light as you rushed to the medbay, the loud thumping of your heart stuck in your ears as you forced your legs to keep the pace for just one more second.

As Opposed to The Doctor’s, The Master’s TARDIS had always looked quite dark and unwelcoming, almost as if it wasn’t pleased with having anyone wandering around inside her. This time, however, a white flickering light guided you through the maze-like corridors to your destination. It was a big change from the dirty tricks she used to play during the first few months of your stay.

The floor under your shoes quaked as the ship took off, the harsh trembling sending your body forwards and your shoulder crashing against one of the metal doors. You rubbed the tender spot for a second, the worry that had overwhelmed you at the sight of blood quickly being replaced by a wave of pure annoyance and agitation.

“You could help me a bit here” you whispered through gritted teeth towards the TARDIS, the pain in your shoulder slowly dissolving into numbness.

A low groan seemed to come from the walls and the energy inside it. The metal disappeared as the door slid open to reveal the grey colour of the medbay.

“O-oh” you gasped “sorry”

Once inside the room and without a thought, your body automatically went for the second drawer in one of the cupboards.

Traveling the stars wasn’t as safe as you would have liked, and both the Master and yourself had gotten hurt more times than either of you remembered. As years and years passed you had surprised yourself in the most appropriate situations, becoming aware of the fact that you could find almost anything in the medbay at this point; even if you couldn’t understand the advanced medical technology a time lord could have gathered all over time and space for god-knows-how-long.

“I’m back!” you announced when the control room appeared in front of your eyes again. The figure of the Master was leaning against the console, eyes too focused on his own empty fists to be considered normal. His hair was more disheveled than usual, the fringe coated with blood as it brushed across the top of his eyes. “Master”

He jumped in place at the sound of your voice, one of his hands instinctively going to his coat’s pocket as a reflex. The wound on the side of his head was still bleeding, although the oozing flow of blood seemed to have lessened considerably since you had last seen him. His skin was much paler than usual and the dark rings under his eyes were looking much worse than that morning. You couldn’t help but think that he looked miserable, even beyond the blood staining his face and clothes.

“Are you alright?” you whispered. You took a step forward cautiously and didn’t look away from his eyes, trying to find all the answers to your questions in those big brown orbs.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He quickly backed off, putting as much space between the two of you as he could. You watched him wander the room, walking in one direction before changing his mind the next second. You clenched your hands around the medical supplies, the weight of all the things you were carrying reminded you why you had left the room in the first place.

“Have a seat somewhere” you demanded, although it sounded angrier than you had intended, almost like a bark. “You’re still bleeding”

“YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

Your heart hammered in your chest as a response. The silence fell between the two of you, the atmosphere suddenly running out of air. He looked like a madman right there in front of your incredulous eyes, bleeding and pointing at you like he pointed at his enemies after stating a threat. He had never glared at you with angry eyes before.

The Master had been acting odd for some time now. It all started with a change in his plans. One day, for no apparent reason, he took you on a trip to one of the most beautiful planets in the universe. The blue dunes of sand under an orange bright sun permanently eclipsed by one of its forty-three satellites. It seemed to be the perfect place to have some rest, at least it was until some of the natives recognized the Master and threatened to kill both of you.

Surely ‘the most beautiful’ didn’t imply ‘the safest’, as the few civilizations that lived there had been at war for more than a millennia. The only thing all those aliens had in common was, somehow, the desire for the Master’s dead body. When the TARDIS set off again, as far away from the planet as she could, you realized he had done the first good action in a long time: he had left behind two civilizations unified for a cause greater than themselves, to get rid of him once and for all.

Most of the time you couldn’t choose where to go, he always traveled whenever and wherever he needed in order to gather weapons or artifacts. Other times it was merely to have some fun, and on some rare occasions you would manipulate him to use his bloodthirstiness to do some justice.

Those trips weren’t as usual now, or maybe he just had stopped telling you the truth about his intentions. Burning planets, dangerous ships and poisonous waters became beautiful trips to sightseeing constellations and the most delicious dinners served next to the colorful Medusa Cascade. No matter how beautiful or safe the place seemed to be, there was always someone or something interrupting the dates you were trying to enjoy with the Master. Not that he would call them dates, anyway.

You used to read him like an open book. When he said “you’ll slow me down” in reality he meant “this is gonna turn nasty and I want you as far away from here as possible”. When he said he wanted to be alone, that was probably the last thing he wanted. And most of all you were almost a hundred percent sure that the strange words he whispered into your hair when he thought you were asleep meant “I love you” in Gallifreyan.

But you still hadn’t managed to persuade the TARDIS to get you a Gallifreyan dictionary with the words’ pronunciation. It was definitely a work in progress though, or it had been until you realized that the Master and yourself had been slowly growing apart for the last few months.

“(Y/N)” he said, his voice almost as low as a whisper “I- I shouldn’t have-”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have” you responded firmly. There were a lot of things you were willing to forgive him for, but yelling and mistreating you wasn’t one of them.

He groaned in pain then, drenching his fingertips in the blood clot in his temple. Your own heart shivered in your chest at the sight, concern quickly burning your insides as a white hot fire ran through your veins.

“Don’t touch it!”

You quickly walked the space keeping you apart and gave him a gentle smack to his wrist. He avoided your eyes, fixing them instead on the rolls of unopened gauze, alcohol, towels, and those strange alien band-aids that accelerated the healing process up to five times faster.

In a flurry of movement the Master moved, his hands quick to try and snatch them from you. But you had known him for a long time and knew exactly what he was like.

“I can do it myself, I’m not a child”

“I know you can-” you replied softly, your mind trying to convince itself that he was acting weirder than usual because you had underestimated the damage caused by the blow he had suffered to the head. “-but I’m not as sure about the rest of the sentence.”

He raised one eyebrow in response and you watched him try not to grimace in pain again.

“Here” he pulled away from you and walked to the front door of the TARDIS, opening it with ease. The old wood-like doors pulled back to reveal a black nothingness filled with thousands of distant flickering stars “I need some air.”

The Master took a seat at the border. His back rested against the doors, one of his legs dangling out into space, the other bent beneath him on the floor.

“You’ve definitely taken quite a hit.” you laughed, “There’s no air in outer space!”

He smirked with closed eyes, calmly breathing in and out through the nose. “Don’t tell a Time Lord what can and cannot be in outer space. Now get to work, if you’re not going to let me do it myself.”

You took a seat in front of him in the small space between his figure and the open door, one of your legs also dangling out into space. Leaning in, you pressed the gauze soaked in alcohol against the open wound to finally stop the bleeding. The Master clenched his jaw as much as he could, hissing in pain.

“Sorry” you apologized, “Keep the pressure on yourself, I’m gonna clean you up.”

He leered at you, the corner of his lips smirking lasciviously. You rolled your eyes, taking the wet towel in your hands and proceeding to clean the dry blood away from his chin and cheek. You cleaned his short beard the best you could and tried to get rid of the blood clots in his fringe, unsuccessfully to your dismay.

You could feel his eyes piercing yours, his fingers gently sliding across the skin of your shoulder, softly brushing your hair to get it out of the way. You fixed your eyes onto his own only to catch him avoiding your gaze, his attention stuck on staring out at the endless sight of the universe.

The Master kept his eyes fixed in nowhere in particular while you worked on his wound. You slowly opened one of the band-aids and tried to avoid his hair as much as possible, so you could place it on the side of his head; just above the temple. Now you just had to wait a few minutes to remove it. You had used those curious things several times before and although the healing was sped up, the thing never failed to leave some kind of scar. But even with those odds stacked against him, the Master was always lucky enough to never get scarred- likely thanks to his own unique biology.

You let yourself fall limp against the door and tilted your head to whatever the Master was looking for. The sight was beautiful as it had always been, millions of stars were almost swallowed by the black nothingness that separated planets, constellations, solar systems, and asteroids. And even at the incredible sight of all of this, you struggled to find something that could possibly retain the Master’s attention for more than a split second.

“Are you alright? You’ve seemed a little distant lately” you asked again.

Fixing your eyes on his features you searched for any sign of discomfort, either physical or emotional. At the lack of response your gaze started to wander, his hand catching your attention as he played with something inside of his coat pocket.

He was likely twisting and curling the TCE between his fingers. It was a trait you had noticed during your time travelling with him, his fingers fidgeting without fail whenever he was deep in thought. It happened every time, he would either tap four beats on any surface he could find or get something to entertain his restless fingers with, most of the time the ‘thing’ being his TCE.

The memories from the day filled your head then. He had looked distant the whole time, from the very first second he landed the TARDIS in one of the three planets that formed the solar system of one of the seventeen suns in Kasterborous. It was the closest you had ever been to Gallifrey and, still, it was far enough to not be able to admire the beautiful planet that had watched the Doctor and the Master grow into adults for centuries.

“I’m just planning my next scheme to trap the Doctor”

You nodded, although you didn’t believe a thing of what he said.

The words of what you had been thinking for endless nights poured from your lips before your mind could make up an excuse for his strange behavior, like all the other times. No one could blame you, after all you were just trying to protect your heart and mind from shattering.

“Is it me?” you asked finally, your voice betraying you and showing more emotion than what you had intended.

The Master suddenly turned his curious gaze to you. So he was paying attention then…

“Don’t you think I haven’t spotted how distant you’ve been lately” you added, although lately didn’t seem to be the right word. Obviously you had realized how much time he spent alone in the library and how his visits to the room you both shared were becoming less and less frequent. He always claimed he didn’t need to sleep as much, but you had been apart for enough time for you to notice that it was just a cheap excuse to not be there.

“Do you not want me to be here anymore?”

He frowned at your words.

“W-wha-”

“Are you still happy?” you asked with a hoarse voice, feeling the familiar weight of tears building up in your eyes at the low wheezing sound of the silence. You clenched your jaw and tried to swallow the tears. “Don’t lie to me.”

He just stared at you in silence for a second, mouthing like a fish out of water, until he finally blinked and tried to make a sound.

“I-is not-”

“Just-” you cut him off, feeling again like a lie was about to spill from his lips. “-you seem sad, distant, you’re not happy and you’re lying to me.”

“No-NO!” You snapped when he tried to talk again, “Don’t try to deny it, I can tell. I know you”

“So…” Anxiously you took a shallow shaky breath “It has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”

He pressed his lips together for a second but soon relaxed again. Changing his expression, the shimmer in his eyes shifted as he smirked slightly, the dark circles under his eyes failing to achieve the frightening look he was striving for. Maybe it would have worked with anyone else, but not with you.

“You humans are so vain, always thinking the universe spins around you.”

“I’m being serious, Koschei”

He took a breathless gasp, almost as if he had been hit. The name of a time lord was one of the biggest, best-kept secrets in the universe. Only a handful of people had known (or would ever know) the real name of the Doctor, and due to the Master’s lack of sympathy and his trouble to connect with people to an emotional level, even less had known or ever would know his.

‘How many?’ you had asked when he confessed his real name one night, his forehead pressing against your sweaty collarbone.

‘Only you’ he had whispered, right before kissing your shoulder “and some Time Lords at the Academy, but they are not important.” you heard him take a deep breath, his nose pressed against your throat “All dead now.”

Those times seemed out of reach. You even asked yourself if he regretted telling you.

“Not you.” he whispered defeatedly, his head falling to his lap “It could never be you.”

“What is it then?”

He shifted his whole body to face you, squirming in his place and unable to keep still. He removed his hand from his pocket, clasping your own tightly.

“It’s me.” he whispered in a choked breath and looked at your eyes “It’s so selfish of me to want you forever even though I know I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that!” you replied, struggling to believe the honesty in his voice and eyes. “You’re not serious. You can’t think like that after everything we’ve been through!”

He focused again on your hands firmly entwined.

“I believe it because… you’re so good” he looked away briefly towards the stars, before turning his gaze back to you again. “And people like me don’t get good people by their side or moments like this.”

The Master stroked your palms with his thumbs, suddenly finding them more interesting than his own thoughts. After a few moments he gave a shaky sigh, backing off once more.

“And if the past few attempts haven’t been proof of that, then I don’t know what could it be.”

“Proof?” you questioned, “Proof of what? And what do you mean by the past few attempts?”

He froze in place, and you frowned at his sudden stiffness. His shoulders tensed and body solid as he sighed deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried and failed to relax his posture. The Master grumbled to himself in defeat, his hand dipping back into his pocket and playing with the TCE or whatever he had found to fiddle with once more.

“I-it’s nothing. Just rambling.” he shrugged in an attempt to consolidate his own thoughts, but not even you believed his body language. “You do it a lot, ramble I mean, ugh, it’s your fault. I’m getting your bad ha-”

“Does it have something to do with the last few stops?” you insisted, although you knew from personal experience that pressuring the Master to talk more than he wanted was never a good idea “All those… extravagant places, the two dates at the Medusa Cascade…”

“Dates?”

You would have laughed at his disgusted look if the atmosphere wasn’t so tense between the both of you. So you just gave him a crooked smile.

“Yes, Master. That’s what it’s called when a person takes another person for dinner to talk and have a good time, especially when the place is that fancy. I loved it even though...”

He watched silently as you told him about the whole date and everything that happened afterwards, despite him being there by your side. Although the dinner had started off with good intentions, it had quickly slipped into a tone of awkwardness through no fault of his own. So much so that the chasing and ‘running for your lives’ had been very much welcomed, although he didn’t notice it. He even apologized once you got into the TARDIS. It was fair to say that he was beyond annoyed the first time.

A month later, when the second date was just another failed attempt in another restaurant in the Medusa Cascade, he had been furious. That was one of the reasons why the console room (or the living room of the house the TARDIS was disguised as) was even messier than usual. He had broken some chairs and cups before following your steps as you had stormed out to the library.

The Master realized as he watched you talk that there would be no such thing as a perfect time. He silently admired the star light reflecting in your eyes and highlighting your features, oblivious to everything else. He couldn’t believe the fact that fate had found a way for both your souls to meet and connect. It didn’t matter in the end how much he had tried to distance himself from any other form of life in the universe, because at the end of the day you had always been there, always. He didn’t believe in fate, but when he looked back at the few possibilities there was for him to meet a person that he truly cared about, it was hard not to succumb at the idea of a force greater than himself pulling the strings to figure everything out.

Even if he dared to think for a split second about not seeing you again, he wouldn’t be able to keep his pieces together. The Master wanted to do the right thing for once, and if fate surprisingly existed, he was certain it absolutely despised him. Countless times he had tried to have a full minute in silence with you, just enjoying each other’s company with a beautiful view, and the same amount of times his plans had been ruined by someone or something trying to either kill him, obtain revenge or obtain revenge via killing him. Until that precise moment he had never had regrets about all the people he had annoyed.

He wondered what he could do now. Kasterborous was the last place on the list, and he was beyond exhausted from trying. On the other hand, he couldn’t give up on you. His best dreams were always about you, but so were his worst nightmares. And whenever and wherever he was he could always be sure about two things: his love for you and his conviction that as long as your heart was beating, so would his.

How had he expected to make it perfect when your lives had always been so messy? After all, that was the whole basis of your lives: chaos, adventure, nothing ever occurring according to plan. And still, everything seemed to always find a way to fall into place. Not even the tardis had felt like a home before you, but now home seemed to be in his hands whenever he held yours, and he would be so lost if your hand ever left his.

A sudden current of hope swallowed him whole.

“Travel the universe with me.” He whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his pleading. However, your laugh died with ease when you turned around to find a pair of saddened eyes.

You leaned in and stroked his beard in your palm, using a few seconds to admire his lips and features. Sighing, you repositioned yourself with both of your hands in his lap, your eyes staring intensely at his own as you held his attention on yourself.

“I already travel with you, idiot.” You gave his hands a gentle squeeze, “What’s wrong?”

The Master took three shallow breaths, his sight lost somewhere in your hands above the fabric of his trousers. You moved away from him again, gazing worriedly to how distant he seemed to be from his own flesh. It was at that moment that his hand emerged from the concealment of his thick purple coat pocket, his fist trembling and knuckles a stark white colour.

An idea quickly surged in your brain, and you fought to swallow the dry lump in your throat at the fear of something serious happening to him.

However, that fear quickly vanished when his fist relaxed and his fingers slowly curled open; revealing what was inside for the light of day to see.

For a split second you thought he wasn’t holding anything, but then your mind acknowledged the shape of a ring sitting proudly in front of your incredulous eyes. The ring was so tiny in his large hand that you couldn’t properly see it until his fist was completely open and flat, it seemed almost a crime to keep something so beautiful concealed in the shadows.

The ring was silver, encrusted with white circular gemstones that you didn’t even bother to try and name as without a doubt they weren’t from Earth. The central gem shined a dim light almost invisible until he lent his hand to the side. For a second you could have sworn you had seen a fine black line inside of it, the thought quickly dismissed as a trick of the light as your eyes filled with unstoppable tears once again.

The only thing that could make you look away from the small piece of jewelry was a gentle squeeze to your shoulder, that and the fact that the Master had quickly stowed the ring away in his coat pocket once more. Your trembling body kept your eyes locked on the empty space it had once inhabited regardless, that was until you heard his panicked voice breaking through the loud thumping of your heart in your ears.

The Master had positioned both his hands against your cheeks which were now wet with your tears, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheek and drawing you away from your reverie. Only then did you dare to look at him again.

“I-I’m sorry. I-” he took shallow breaths, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes at light speed. “I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, please. Don’t cry.”

“W-” you tried to ask, but the words in your mouth didn’t seem to appear fast enough in your mind “W-what’s that?”

He leaned in and pressed his forehead to your own, still wiping away the tears that littered your cheeks with his thumbs. Even from that angle you could discern how one tear slipped away from his right eye, licking gently at the hot skin behind only to die in the corner of his lips.

“Nothing.” He stated with a shuddered exhale, suddenly cutting himself off by chewing his lip “It’s nothing!”

“It’s a ring!” You cried in return.

From all the things you expected from the Master, marriage was very low on the list. He despised most planets and sassily commented about any tradition and culture that wasn’t his own. You had never even bothered to think about marriage, especially after knowing that weddings on Gallifrey were mostly arranged, a mere game to obtain political power and status amongst the community. In Gallifrey weddings weren’t enjoyed and at the end of the day, they didn’t mean anything either; it was just a convenient tool for both parties.

But you weren’t a Time Lord.

You were human.

Just one more human traveling the stars.

During your travels, you had learned that the meaning of marriage was a timeless concept to the future of the human race, no matter how long someone had been away from Earth or how many millenniums had passed since the Solar System had been destroyed to dust. Some things simply stayed the same.

So he knew what marriage meant to the human race, and most importantly, he knew what marriage meant to you, for the both of you.

“No” he tried “No, it’s…”

“Don’t lie to me” you growled, pushing his shoulders back “Don’t you dare lie to me. I’m tired of getting pushed away. You always, always, do that. And it hurts”

You buried your head in your knees, your arms wrapping around yourself tightly as tears silently escaped your eyes without remedy. It happened regardless of how you felt, were you happy? nervous? sad? You didn’t even know at this point. The thing with the Master was that he was always so hard to comprehend, despite all the years of traveling and living together. In the end he was always true to his spontaneous, chaotic natures, never failing to surprise you at the least expected moment.

The Master moved closer, this time pressing his forehead to your shoulder. A second after you felt your own shirt getting damp, your heart tightening in your chest even more, if that was even possible. Knowing that not only was he only trying not to cry in front of you, he was also trying to hide, trying to find somewhere safe to let himself break. It was hard not to think about how much exhaustion and courage it was taking him not to get on his feet and run as far as he could.

He always had struggled to put his emotions into words, and expressing the depth of his feelings for you was still something he wasn’t quite used to. Even though he had never said I love you openly, you also knew he didn’t need to.

The Master was the kind of person whose acts always said more than his words. The way he supported you in everything you wanted to do, the soft whispers to wake you up and his habit of making a single cup of coffee in the morning just for you (mostly because he didn’t like the taste). You had spent an endless amount of nights in his arms when you couldn’t sleep, countless days curled up tightly next to him when sickness took over your body. You didn’t remember what nightmares felt like anymore, you hadn’t had one since the first night he shared with you. Yet still, you preferred them to the terror swallowing your body whole when his own nightmares woke you up in the middle of the night.

“Of course it’s a ring.” he finally admitted, “Im selfish enough to not want you with anyone else or anywhere else. I want you here for as long as we have.”

His confession was sealed with a feather light kiss against the exposed skin of your neck. “I’ve been trying to ask you for a long time, but it never works out. I fear this will have to do”

When you pulled away, he quickly wiped all the tears from his face in a rapid and almost angry manner. But even with his cheeks partially dry, you could still see the redness tinted around the edges of his eyes and the tip of his nose, still spot the remnants of tears clinging to his eyelashes.

You pulled his hands away from his face and cleared away the final tears that slipped across his cheeks. A choked sob tearing from his throat as he tried to take a steadying breath. You could clearly see the conflict he waged with himself, especially so when his hands turned into fists and his jaw clenched so tightly you feared he would break a tooth.

Pressing the tip of your thumb against his lip, you caressed the soft skin you were dying to kiss. Looking deeply into his eyes, you could tell he seemed to be finally paying full attention.

“Look at me.”

“I’m looking at you.”

“No, you’re not.” You exclaimed, “You’re thinking, not looking. Stop torturing yourself in that head of yours and just… look at me and see.”

Frown lines marked his face and you took the chance to get rid of the white band-aid that stuck to his forehead; revealing the pristine healed skin underneath.

“What do you want me to see?” The Master ventured after a moment of silence.

“How much I love you.” You brushed the tip of his nose with yours and slid your hand against the soft hairs in his jaw. “You need to see it, and believe…”

His short chuckle was melody to your ears.

“It's impossible not to see it, love.” He smiled sadly, your skin shivering under his touch as he slid two fingers under the fabric of the shirt’s collar. Lazily he outlined your collarbone, his hands roaming and exploring your skin as though it was an uncharted planet.

You smiled to yourself, knowing it was yet again another sign of his nervous quirks; the constant need to entertain his fingers with something.

“It’s there every time I look at you.” The Master continued, “And unfortunately, I never believe what I see.”

Somehow, you already knew what he was going to say, the words nestled deep within your heart. Closing your eyes, you gently pressed your lips against his own, the moment brief and chaste before backing off almost immediately afterwards.

“I’ll have to make you then.”

Leaning forwards your hand reached outwards, pulling the pocket of his coat round as you brazenly dug down into his pocket. It wasn't hard to find the tiny piece of jewelry, but it was definitely harder to free your wrist from the Master’s grip.

“Please…” he begged with pleading eyes “What are you…?”

Eventually, and without a word, he let your wrist go. You licked your lips, feeling the coldness of the ring nestled against your own palm but too afraid to open your fist to give it a proper look.

Taking a deep breath, you finally encouraged yourself to do what had to be done.

Even before giving the ring a second look, you slowly slid the piece of jewellery on to the place it belonged; where it would always belong. Then with baited breath you drew your gaze carefully across every inch of it, committing every shine, every detail to memory. The circular gem in the middle caught your attention for a lot longer than when you had initially seen it, and you found that the more you fixed your eyes on it, the clearer the thin black lines became inside of the gem.

You could tell it was gallifreyan, the entwined circles were hard to mistake for any other language, the black dots inside the circumferences were almost impossible to see. You struggled to find the meaning, even with the knowledge from the classes that The Master had given you in the past.

He seemed to be holding his breath when your eyes watched his features again. Noticing your eyes on him, he swallowed loudly. His whole figure relaxed. His shoulders falling back against the wood-like door, his constant frown fading and hands falling limp in his lap. With nifty fingers brushed away his fringe in an attempt to remove the hair from his eyes.

He was clearly overwhelmed by the situation and you did understand his reaction, after all he had been trying to propose for a long time.

“What does it mean?”

His grin was the biggest he had ever made, his eyes recovering that special shine you hadn’t seen in months.

“Why do I even bother trying to teach you?”

“Why do I even bother treating your wounds if you make me want to punch you in the face afterwards?”

“Uhm… let’s see…” He jokingly teased. Catching your left hand, he brought it closer to his eyes, his gaze fixated on the ring perched on your finger.

With a steady voice and growing confidence, The Master pronounced a series of sounds that you couldn’t quite comprehend, your mind still flaring with recognition for them as the words he always whispered in your hair during the night.

Before you could protest about not speaking gallifreyan, he promptly translated.

“Hold my hand to the ends of the universe.” He took your hand and gently pressed his lips to the ring and the skin around it.

“This is my promise” he finished with a whisper.

Your breath was caught in your throat. You only remembered you needed to say something when he warily gazed to your own incredulous eyes. You had no idea what he would decipher in your gaze, as your own torrent of emotions were hard to decode even by yourself. But you caught sight of the huge amount of hope installed in his eyes and your heart hammered in your chest at the sight.

“Yes, I do.”

The Master chuckled, your attention catching a glimpse of the happiness exploding in his eyes. It was like watching a supernova explode in before you. He let his head fall to your intertwined hands once again, sliding his fingers to tighten his grip around your own as he held your hand.

“I wanted to propose to you.” he smirked, “Not marry you on the spot. We have time for that.”

You chuckled and he lent in, his lips gracing your cheek as he kissed you once more. With his breath hot against your skin, the Master released a shaky, relieved whisper.

“Thank you, love.”

With a gentle touch, his hands wandered to the small of your back urging you to lay down on top of him. You followed his guidance with little resistance, hands pressed against his chest as you could hear the rapid beating of his hearts despite the numerous layers of clothing he always wore.

Excited at the sound, you shifted your hand directly above his hearts, the gemstones in the ring sparkling and reflecting the flickering light of the stars on your finger.

“I love you.” You whispered as his hands traced circular lines in your back. He made an amused sound and kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too,” He answered without a moment's hesitation.

#dhawan!master x reader #the master x reader #master x reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who fanfic #doctor who x reader #sacha dhawan #the master #dhawan!master

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fangirl-ramblings · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Karen Jones x f!reader

Word count: 1096

Summary: You've been sweet on Karen Jones since the first moment you laid eyes on her but you can't make out if she feels the same way

Notes: Pining, Fluff, wlwfic, CW: mild violence

Originally written for @rdrsapphicweek: Day 2 prompt - Sharing a Cigarette

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

Smoke & Mirrors

You watch her reflection in the mirror with fascination as Karen once more brought the cigarette to her lips. Seemingly staring into space at the starlit sky, she casually folds her arm across herself, as if to extenuate her ample bosom in her low cut top before she takes another long drag, blowing the smoke through her soft rouge stained lips.

You knew from the very first moment you laid eyes on her; when she walked into that Godforsaken saloon in the middle of nowhere where you worked, that you were attracted to her. Her smile lighting up the room and the confidence she exuded, by simply announcing to everybody they needed to cheer up as it felt like she'd just stumbled into a wake for somebody's grandma, was just intoxicating to you.

Oh how you long for those lips to brush against your own - hell, right now you'd even settle just to stare lovingly into those green eyes of hers that sparkle when she laughs. You watch for a moment longer, but finally manage to tear your eyes away, lest she get suspicious of your feelings towards her.

She'd often come into that dusty, old,rundown saloon; some nights just talking to you, other nights drinking the night away in the corner while you continued your work as a saloon girl and men surrounded her, While she was often nice and occasionally flirty to you, was it all smoke and mirrors with her? You'd seen how she'd often sweet talk her admirers when she wanted something from them, usually when she was bored and was trying to pickpocket from them. But then again she often offered you a share of her rewards.

Goddammit - this woman had had your head spinning. Was she keeping to keep you sweet so you'd keep plying her copious amounts of booze? Or was she as interested in you as you were of her? Once or twice the thought crossed your mind to offer your services to her - free of charge of course - just to see how she responded, but you didn’t want to risk the thought of misreading the situation, offending her in the process and then never seeing her perfect angelic face ever again.

"What a waste of good whiskey" she grumbled in that sexy southern drawl of hers before escorting you to one of the empty rooms upstairs to tend to your now bleeding face. Taking your heroine's hand, you followed her up the stairs and wondered if she too felt the same bolt of electricity as your hands touched or if she had a pool of butterflies fluttering about in the depths of her stomach too.

It wasn't until tonight though, that you thought there could be more to your feelings than just lust. A particularly nasty John, with a bad reputation that proceeded him, had taken offence to you not wanting to go upstairs with him and so, struck you so hard that you stumbled and hit your face on the bar. He would've most likely inflicted more damage had Karen not picked up the bottle from her table and smashed him over the head with it.

She had cleaned up your face the best she could, gently running a damp cloth over your wound and it took all your might not to kiss her there and then.

And that's where you both found yourselves now; Karen stood by the open window, face illuminated by her cigarette with smoke billowing around her, while you sat on the bed watching her in the mirror.

Regaining your composure, you smiled and whispered a soft but sincere "Thank you" before something flashed across Karen's eyes causing her to simply nod and move to stand by the window, lighting up a cigarette to try distract her mind.

You're so wrapped up in your thoughts and admiring her ethereal beauty and that you don't quite realise she has outstretched her hand towards you.

"You keep lookin' over - you want a smoke or not?"

You stumble over your words, flustered that she was aware you were watching her; but then again there always was more to Karen Jones than just a pretty face. You gratefully take the cigarette from her; even though you both know you don't really smoke, allowing yourself a brief moment of joy as your fingers brush against her ivory skin, careful to take the cigarette from where it rests between her two fingers.

She smirks as she watches you tentatively place it against your lips, your mind whirling thinking this would probably be the closest to sharing a kiss with the woman of your dreams.

"Somethin' tells me you want more of a poke than a smoke from me" she laughs uproariously, once more bringing you out of your daydream. Unable to fathom a reply, you feel your face growing redder and hotter by the second; and not because of the flickering flames of the open fireplace. "Relax, I've saw the way you've been lookin' at me."

"What...no...I…" Once more words failed you as Karen waited for your response. "God, Karen - I'm sorry I, ..." your words suddenly muffled as her hand is placed upon the back of your neck, pressing her lips against yours. Parting your own mouth slightly, she took the opportunity to let her tongue slide past your lips. Caught up in the moment, you respond in kind, throwing the cigarette into the fire and placing your hands on her waist.

"No need to be sorry" she smiles as she breaks from, sitting on your lap with her arm draped around you, "I've wanted to do that since the moment I first laid eyes on you."

You sit with your jaw agape that this actually happening "You did…?"

"Why do you think I spend so much time in this shithole?" She asks, tracing a finger along your jaw before softly kissing along your neck, "Plus I wasted a perfectly good bottle of whiskey defendin' your honor. When have you ever known me to willingly give up my booze for anyone," her hearty chuckles vibrating against your skin, "I just wasn't sure if I was imaginin' you felt the same way"

Grinning at her, you simply reply "I do, I always have done, but tonight just confirmed it all." You find yourself laying back with her still in your arms. Brushing a loose curl from her face "I think now would be a good time to make up for all that time we've missed out on, don't you?"

"Oh honey, I thought you'd never ask"

#karen jones x f!reader #rdr sapphic week 2020 #fangirl writes #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #why tumblr is this not showing in the tags?

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shozaii · 5 years ago

Note

Hii! How are you? Hope you're okay! I love your writing so much like this is exactly what I downloaded tumblr for🥺🥺 Can I please request and imagine with shoto whose love interest would always reject people who confess to them because they would think they're lying (bc they've gone through a traumatic episode, maybe?) and shoto does his best to prove them wrong? 👉👈 Maybe it's kinda weird but that just happened to me and I thought why not, haha! Thank you very much and wish you a good day!♡♡

(a/n): hellooo!! this took me a while i’m so sorry😭 and no it isn’t weird at all! this has happened to me as well and i do understand your feelings🥺 wishing you a good day too!❤️

masterlist

————————————

breathe.

a todoroki shoto x reader imagine.

another day, another denial.

you waved them off, and you walked your way, not wanting to utter another word. it wasn’t meant to be hurting them, right?

it wasn’t like shoto hasn’t noticed at all. he has witnessed it first hand lots of times. when you both are sitting together, you find someone calling out to you. you were hoping for it to be a call for help on a subject, or some books to carry, or some money because they were out of it and they desperately needed some to which you will gladly offer.

no, it was all the same thing.

“i like you.”

“please go out with me, y/n!”

“my feelings for you are a little too strong and i just-,”

you had to cut them all out. and when you do return to your seat, shoto looks on, not wanting to directly ask you. it would be rude.

but when you do look at him, he’s bewildered.

your eyes looked a little red. were you crying? well, definite explanation. knowing you, it would be a brush off of ‘no sleep’ or something.

“you can’t just tell me the same thing, y/n. you were alright this whole time. then again, i’m not saying you’re lying.”

he would be silent after, respecting your silence together.

***

shoto was there for you when you needed him the most.from the darkest parts of your life, to your life accomplishments, to your quirk developments. you had to admit; he was a great listener, too.

in fact, he was the first one to catch you wiping your tears from your already bloodshot eyes.

“y/n.”

he didn’t know exactly what he should do. be direct? beat around the bush? not ask you at all? last choice is pretty inconsiderate, so he’s just going to have to wait it out, until you’re comfortable.

none of your classmates has ever seen you crying - only him. this felt like the biggest step in the bond he shared with you; which was why he wanted to do his best for you.

“hey sh- todoroki,” you hiccuped. it had been your little habit to call him by his first name, considering your friendship since the beginning of your school days.

“shoto,” he said.

“huh?”

“you heard me, y/n. i can wait if you do want to talk about it. then again, it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

“ah, well.” you felt your eyes threatening you to release a new set of tears down your cheeks.

“we broke up.” and as you said that, all the haunting memories of the two of you came flashing back into your head. from the things they’ve done, to how much you fought back - terrible, horrid ones.

he placed a hand on your shoulder. “breathe, y/n.”

you did as he told, taking in deep breaths. you folded your arms around you chest, sighing. “it was definitely for the best but...but i just can’t seem to get it off my mind. it scares me every single time, and i’m worried that the same thing might happen again and i-,”

“okay, alright. i heard you loud and clear. look at me.

they’re gone from your life. no more. not a single cent worthy any longer. all that matters right now is for you to forget. it’s totally fine if you can’t forgive - if i were you i would never. but moving on doesn’t just happen right now. time is precious, and you have to use that to get along with the subject we call life.”

“i just don’t know how i’m going to have a crush on anyone, or moreover fall in love with anybody.”

“and that, y/n, is never a sin. from what i’ve learnt,falling in love is a process. learning about them is a move. talking to them is a new part of life you’re beginning to share with them. being with them is a whole new world of fantasies and euphoria. but most importantly - the right one is destiny’s very own gift to you - congratulating you for growing from the pains you have suffered.”

“shoto. you are amazingly poetic.”

“well, did i make myself clear?”:

how could you ever say no? this opened new doors. this pulled you up from your current position your soul was in - crouched in a corner with the same nightmares that surrounded you. this lifted the tremendous weight off your shoulders.

“has anyone ever asked you for advice, shoto?”

“i guess midoriya has...? but y/n, i hope i wasn’t offending you or anything-,”

“what? no way. thank you so much.”

he gave you a small smile, sealing the conversation off right at that moment.

***

why exactly were you trying to reject so many people from actually wanting to go out with you, date you, be in a relationship with you, even?

“wanna know why, shoto?” you looked at him.

“of course,” he said, his eyes eager to know.

“falling in love. learning about them. talking to them and finally being with them. these things made me say no. they may have done that - have i even tried to be with them, perhaps?”

he paused, looking at you with eyes wide open. his heart jumped with joy.

so someone did listen, he thought.

“besides, i don’t know if this is true. but i’m starting to learn about someone new already.”

“ah,” but his heart dropped when he heard those words. “i hope you don’t mind me asking who may that person be?”

“he’s pretty poetic, if you ask me. he proved me wrong in so many ways.”

then and there, he knew he had achieved more than just learning about you - moreover letting you out of your fallen paths.

————————————

(a/n): woooo this was a pretty big moment for me! to anyone out there who is actually going through the same thing; i hope you have found your path in moving forward to some place better. it takes time, i promise.✨

KDJKDKD I HOPE THIS WAS GOOD THO-

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bluespiderlilies · 5 years ago

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Post notifications gang 😎😎 May I have a KnY academy!Au with Angry Literature Teacher™ Sanemi, the soft-spoken art teacher s/o, mutual pining, and the students (the main 5 kids) seeing right through them and setting them up behind the scenes? Thank you so much ❤️

this was long overdue. i'm sorry for disappearing from tumblr :") from updating my story on quotev and school, it was hard to find motivation to do requests here on tumblr or even put up new chapters for reincarnation :") anyway, enjoy! <3 (and sorry for any grammar mistakes!)

“It’s okay…I just need to get the papers I asked him for. Oh, but what if we accidentally touch hands? Or I embarrass myself? Or say something stupid by accident?” You muttered to yourself, hand hovering over the door knob of the classroom, other hand gripping the file tightly—almost crumpling in in the process.

“(L/N)-sensei?”

You flinched at the sound of Tanjirou’s voice seemingly coming out of nowhere, the boy standing beside you with a concerned smile.

“A-ah, hello, Tanjirou!” You greeted with a smile, trying to maintain your composure, praying that he hadn’t heard about your ramblings minutes before.

“It’s nice to see you, sensei! But what are you doing outside of the classroom? Are you okay?” He asked, genuine worry swimming in his burgundy eyes.

Oh, this boy really made your heart melt!

You ruffled his hair, a giggle escaping your lips. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I need to, um, give the papers Shinazugawa-san asked for...”

Tanjirou looked at you for a moment, eyes searching yours for a moment before smiling. “Alright!”

God, I really hope he didn’t see me all jittery.

Opening the door, you heard Sanemi pause mid-sentence, looking up from the textbook he was holding. As Tanjirou excused himself and went to his seat, you bowed your head, smiling shyly at Sanemi.

“Excuse me,” you spoke, clutching the files in your hands, heart beating erratically at the thought of the many students looking at you—the one who affected you most was Sanemi’s gaze, who softened ever-so-slightly at the sight of you. “Sorry for interrupting. You mentioned that you needed these papers urgently, so…”

He nodded, gently taking the file out of your hands, just barely brushing against one another, yet it sent electricity throughout your entire body.

“Thank you, (L/N)-san,” Sanemi smiled, tucking the file underneath his arm, “I appreciate that you gave it to me quickly and personally…”

Genya narrowed his eyes, watching the interaction unfold in front of him. That—that wasn’t normal. For his brother to smile so casually, his harsh softening just because you were in his presence…

Yeah, something is definitely going on.

[ … ]

“I think my brother and the art teacher like each other.”

Zenitsu spat out his chocolate milk, coughing harshly into his arm.

“Zenitsu!” Tanjirou yelled, patting his back as the boy continued to cough into his arm.

“Um, what makes you think that, Genya?” Kanao asked, looking over at Genya as she placed her chopsticks to the side.

Genya blinked, nibbling at his sandwich. Swallowing, he spoke up. “Well…he just…he isn’t really mean towards her or anything. He gets a little soft and nicer around her.”

Zenitsu scoffed, not bothering to sugarcoat his words as he wiped his mouth. “Why would our angel of an art teacher like your asshole of a brother?”

“Zenitsu! Don’t even say that! That’s rude.” Tanjirou chastised, glaring at the said boy.

“Who the hell are you even talking about?” Inosuke chimed in, not at all paying attention to the conversation as he ate his lunch.

Genya rolled his eyes, sighing. “My brother, Shinazugawa Sanemi? And our art teacher, (L/N) (Name). I think they like each other.”

Inosuke snorted. “Who cares?”

Genya huffed. “Well, I do!”

“Then, why don’t we try to get them together?” Tanjirou suggested, trying to lessen the tension between his friends.

“Tanjirou, are you nuts?! It won’t work!” Zenitsu argued, almost dropping his chopsticks.

“Well…I’d like to try.” Kanao piped up, smiling slightly at the idea.

“Really?” Genya asked, eyes wide with surprise—did his friends really want to do such a thing for the two teachers?

“Yeah, of course! I want to see my teachers happy.” Tanjirou beamed, lips stretching into an bright smile.

Zenitsu scoffed, averting his eyes. “…fine. Maybe he won’t call me out for answers in class anymore.”

Genya looked over at Inosuke. “Well? What about you, Hashibira?”

Inosuke shrugged, biting into a piece of his tempura. “I don’t care.”

Genya grinned, scooting closer to the small circle the five friends had made. “Alright, here’s what I have in mind…”

[ … ]

Two weeks.

Two weeks of failed plans and tries.

Every time they tried to get you two alone, or get you two to talk to each other, something always happened. Each of the twenty attempts backfired.

Genya sighed tiredly, watching as you explained the requirements of an upcoming art project. Eyes shifting over to the clock, he sighs. This is my last chance.

Just as the bell for lunch rang, he quickly put his things away, wanting to catch you before you left the classroom.

Placing your papers into your file, you feel a light tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you greet the sight in front of you with a gentle smile. “Hello, Genya. What can I do for you?”

“Hi, sensei…uh, I just wondered where are you going to be during our lunch time?” He asked, glancing over at Zenitsu, Tanjirou, Kanao, and Inosuke—who were all waiting for him by the door, wanting to go to their usual lunch spot.

You shrug, placing your files into your shoulder bag. “In the staff room, most likely. Why?”

“Oh…! Well, uh, I have something to show you…its on the rooftop of the school.”

You raise a brow, smiling. “Oh? Really? I’m curious now.”

He felt his cheeks warm up. “Uh, I’ll meet you there!”

He bowed deeply, quickly rushing out of the classroom. You laughed quietly, shaking your head as you slung your bag onto your shoulder. He’s so adorable.

Exiting the classroom and quickly running up the flight of stairs that led to the roof, you opened the door, a cool zephyr met your skin, loose strands of hair tickling your cheeks.

Oh, you missed coming up here.

Closing the door behind you, you look around, eyes searching for the boy—instead, your eyes landed on the familiar sight of the man you like so much.

“Sh—Shinazugawa-san?” You stuttered out, hands tightly grasping the strap of your bag.

The white man turned around at the sound of your voice, eyes widening. What is she doing here? She’s never…

“(L/N)? What are you doing here—not, not that I mind…” Sanemi spoke, stumbling over his words.

Ah, fuck. I’m messing up already, he internally groaned, berating himself in his thoughts.

The corners of your lips curled upwards into a shy smile, walking over to where he was standing. “Well, um…your brother, Genya, said he wanted to show me something here…”

Sanemi sighed, resting his arms over the metal railing. “Of course…”

“Hm? What do you mean?” You asked, mimicking his actions as you leaned your arm against the railing, body turning to his direction.

He felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the thought as he closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Genya and his friends have been…trying to get us together. You haven’t noticed the way they’ve been lately? Always making up excuses to get us alone with one another?”

You laughed, heart skipping at his flustered expression. “Of course I’ve noticed…I just…didn’t want to say anything, I guess. It was cute of them.”

“I should apologize for my brother’s stupid—”

“I don’t think it was stupid…” You interjected timidly, rubbing the side of your arm nervously.

Sanemi blinked. “What?”

“Well…I, I like you. I’ve been trying to hint at it, but I suppose I’m not very good at that.” You avert your gaze, chuckling awkwardly. Great job. You screwed everything up.

“You mean that?”

You look up at Sanemi, who’s much closer to you now—his hands resting on your shoulders. You felt your cheeks warm up at the sudden proximity, nodding slowly.

He let go of your shoulders, turning away. “Hah, I can’t believe this…”

You muster a smile, stomach twisting at the sight of his conflicted face. “I’m sorry, Shinazu—”

“Sanemi.”

“What?”

“You can call me Sanemi, seeing that we will be getting closer from now on.”

You blink, looking at Sanemi—his cheeks dusted a light pink, his hand brushing through his white locks. “Yeah, I like you as well. I scared you, didn’t I?”

You let out a deep exhale, covering your face with your hands. Oh, God. That was so scary. So many emotions in such a short time…

“I thought I would’ve had to jump from the rooftop from embarrassment when you did that.” You laughed, looking up at him.

He smiled, eyes softening at sound of your laugh. He offered his hand, asking, “Do you wanna get lunch?”

You smile back, taking his hands in yours. “Of course.”

#what's up yall lmao #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer one shot #demon slayer x reader #kny #kny x reader #kny one shot #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba one shot #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

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bjy-on-ao3 · 4 years ago

Note

Would you be willing to write a fic for Levi (from Obey Me!) where the reader gives him a blow job while he plays video games? Thank you!

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Obey Me! Is apparently just my fandom now for when I want to write fics without heavily plotting out the dialogue first. I don’t know why, but it seems to work out well enough. Thought this one seemed like it didn’t require a ton of coherent speaking, as I imagine Leviathan would be an incoherent mess in a case like this.Fulfilling as a request from a Tumblr anon for reader giving Leviathan a blowjob while he plays video games. I likely won’t take other Leviathan requests besides this, simply because of all the brothers, Levi and Mammon are the lowest on my list and I find I have the hardest time studying for them when I write stuff like this. (This should be gender neutral, but if for some reason I overlooked something, and it’s not, someone yell at me so I can correct it.) Summary Reader interrupts Leviathan while he’s playing some games on his computer. They want to play a little game of their own with him. Tags/Warnings Blowjobs, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut

Distraction (GN! Reader/Leviathan)

The sudden sharp rap of knuckles on the door of his made Leviathan nearly jump in his seat, snapping him out of the focus that previously had belong to the game he was playing. He sat up straighter in his chair, golden eyes flickering between the monitor and the door. The interruption at a crucial moment earned him a game over and the prompt to begin again. The knocking rang out again, more forcefully, followed by a voice.

You waited outside for several seconds, hearing nothing. Raising your curled fist to drum on the door a third time, thinking he had fallen asleep or was out picking up some new figurine or game that Akuzon didn’t have. But as you drew your hand back, the customary TSL question that came with knocking on Leviathan’s door met you.

You smiled at the question, which always sounded passingly suspicious. You wondered if he always asked, even when he knew who was on the other side of the door, simply because he enjoyed the exchange more than he let on; a reminder the person in the hall still shared interest for one his favorite things. You thought for a moment, trying to recall the answer needed. You called it out loud and clear so he wouldn’t mishear through the door.

There was another period of silence and you waited, positive your answer was the correct one. Sure enough, the door opened and Leviathan was already moving away from the frame to let you in, leaving it to you to close the door behind you.

“Oh crap, did I interrupt you?” You asked sheepishly, glancing over at his computer monitor and noting the ominous screen prompting him to ‘try again?’.

“N-no, I mean, yes,” Leviathan began. That cute nervousness you saw a lot concerning your presence was already at work, it seemed. His face fell for an instant as he realized you might misconstrue his answer as blaming you. “But that’s alright! I can get back there again, easy!” He declared, the previous shaky tone drowned out by his confidence in his gaming abilities.

You stifled a small laugh in your throat, looking over at the screen again. It looked like a game you had seen before, one that Leviathan had shown you, in fact. You had seen that prompt too many times in the beginning to not recognize it.

“Would it be alright if I watched for a little bit?” You asked brightly, meeting his eyes.

The nerves bubbled up again, and you could see them clearly, but were quickly replaced once he processed your question. The new expression on his face was nearly ecstatic, nerves dying all over again in the joy or you expressing interest of watching him play.

“Oh, sure. After I beat this level, we can play something together… i-if you want?” The sentence was strong and happy to start, but trickled away into a soft apprehension.

You beamed at him and nodded. “Sounds good to me!” you cheered and noted the cute blush that tinged his cheeks from your enthusiasm.

Turning away, Leviathan made his way back to his chair and plopped down. You followed once you ensured the door was closed securely. The last thing you needed was to give one of his brothers an excuse to come barging because you accidentally left it ajar or unlatched. You looked at several other seats scattered around his room, to accommodate times when he allowed others into the room to play with him, but didn’t sit down. You opted instead to stand behind him, peering past his shoulder.

You knew it made him a little nervous when you got close, but it was fun to see his focus waver and watch his cheeks color more while he was aware of your presence - at least until he sank back into his zone of focus. Once everything faded away, it was like you weren’t even there and he would relax. It was a game you played in the past, and you knew just how to break his focus over and over when he slipped into it. Your intentions weren’t malicious, of course, and had he asked you to stop, you gladly would have done so.

You lay your forearms over the back of the computer chair, careful not to press down too hard and tilt it back. Leviathan glanced out of the corner of his eyes, cheeks still cutely pink, but he turned back to the screen, trying to ignore the new distraction. ‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ he told himself. Sure, you had confessed before you loved the time you spent with him, more so than your time with his brothers or the others outside the House of Lamentations you were close with. Still, he had trouble believing anyone could truly have an interest in a shut-in like himself.

You made short, quiet quips regarding the game as you watched him play, accompanying each with a gentle touch on his shoulder or neck. He answered dutifully, though his voice quivered whenever your fingertips brushed over his skin. His skin was pleasantly cool to the touch, despite the reddish tinge creeping past his cheeks and down his neck, too. You let one finger linger a little longer than the others.

The grating sound denoting Leviathan had died again in-game burst from his headset, and the game over scared flashed once more. He heaved a small, frustrated sigh, and you couldn’t but smile mischievously behind him.

“This level seems pretty hard,” you commented absently, working to suppress your grin.

“O-oh, y-yeah, it can be kinda tricky,” Leviathan answered, relieved to have an excuse for the death. He didn’t want you realizing you were the distraction knocking down his skill level.

“I’m sure you’ll get it soon. Don’t mind me though, no rush!” you reassured him. However long it took Leviathan to complete the level, you got to have fun. If it took him a while thanks to your ‘help’, it meant more lingering touches and teasing, and if he finished it early enough, you got to spend some time bonding over the game picked out next. A win-win situation, to be sure.

He nodded, staring at the game again. You waited innocently for a moment, repeating the same subtle actions as before, as if you weren’t quite paying attention to what you were doing, letting him settle a bit before you moved on. A look of determined slowly fell over his face, the flush in his cheeks a little less obvious. But his normally narrow pupils had dilated, just barely visible beneath his fringe of violet hair. You debated if you should just let him be for the evening and have your fun some other time.

‘No,’ you decided, letting your hands slip away from Leviathan’s shoulders, leaning further onto the chair. Your chin rested near his shoulder, hands poised on the armrests on either side of him. The telltale signs you were distracting him shone through again once he noticed how much closer you were, even though separated much by the back of the chair.

But he could feel the heat of yours and face near him, much more pleasant than his chill skin. Your breath tickled lightly, and he had to stop from squirming in his seat, lest he give himself away. He was determined not to react, to pay it no mind, stubbornness assuring him again it meant nothing despite what his screaming brain suggested.

You had to give him credit for the levels of denial he achieved now and then. Sure, you appreciated he never assumed more of you than you meant to give, but sometimes it became frustrating, making it hard to make an obvious enough trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. Not because he was stupid, but just stubborn and lacking the confidence to assume you could mean what your hints suggested.

Your attention faltered from the display, ignoring the sound of another game over, and you glanced down at Leviathan’s lap. It wasn’t the most prominent, but you could make out a bulge growing in his pants, a sign you were having more of an effect than making him blush and stutter or impeding his focus. Though you hadn’t caught his full attention in that regard, not yet, not with how he was surely trying to push the unchaste thoughts aside and ignore your proximity. You wondered how much could ignore from a real distraction, though.

“Hey, Levi, it’s not that I’m not enjoying watching you play or anything, but would you mind if I entertained myself a little while I wait for your to finish?” you requested, still leaning close, so your words skated over his ear. You smiled at the shiver he couldn’t stifle in time before he spoke.

“I-I-I...s-sure. It’s fine, I’m sure it’s boring!” he said, tripping over words and trying to shake off the haze threatening to distract him further.

“Oh, no, it’s not boring at all!” you reassured him. You didn’t want him thinking you found him or what he enjoyed doing boring. “Just, don’t mind me and keep playing, okay?” you insisted, standing up straight.

What you were planning was a leap for sure, but you were going to give it a shot. Your curiosity wouldn’t let the thought go once it had surfaced. You hoped once Leviathan realized what you intended, he’d enjoy it.

You swept around the chair, ducking down and beneath his desk, pressing both hands to his knees. Instantly, all focus Leviathan had left exploded, and when you looked up, his was a brilliant crimson, eyes round and enormous. A torrent of nervous gibberish flooded past his lips, his brain short circuiting.

“Levi, it’s alright,” you reassured him. “Just keep playing. Remember, I said not to mind me?” You waited, searching and listening for signs he wanted you to stop, and wasn’t just flustered.

“I-I… b-but.” He took a deep breath, as if it would allow him to restore his sanity, before turning his gaze up, trying not to peek back down.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked from your knees. You wanted to be sure whether it was his insecurity and embarrassment or true distaste and uncertainty causing him to protest.

His words tumbled out explosively, face screwing up, red and flustered as he tried still not to focus on you too much. “I-I-I… that’s not… y-you don’t have to…” Leviathan trailed off, pausing before continuing in a mumble. “N-no, you can keep going, I just thought…” His words became so soft you couldn’t really make them out anymore, but you sadly knew he was likely battling with his self-esteem again, declaring himself a gross otaku or some other awful moniker for the umpteenth time.

“Just so you know, I’m doing this because I want to and I like you a lot, Levi,” you told him unwaveringly. He didn’t answer, sitting there tomato red. He nodded and turned his attention back to the controller in his hands.

Your own attention flitted down, back to his lap, where the evidence of how you affected him had grown more prominent than before. Rubbing soothing circles on his knees, after a moment you reached for the hem of his shirt, pushing it up and hooking your fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. A sharp inhale hissed through the air, and your eyes danced up for an instant before focusing on the task at hand. You dragged the waistband of his pants down carefully, pulling his boxers along with them.

The erection you knew had been straining against his underwear sprang free, standing proud and unashamed in contrast to its embarrassed owner. You heard the tapping of buttons above you, the faint sound of the game from before filtering down from Leviathan’s headphones, though slower and less practiced. Tentatively, you wrapped one hand around his shafter, stroking up and down smoothly. He rewarded you with another sharp inhale and small, stifled sound.

You tightened your grip, pumping your hand up and down a little faster. Even more soft noises met you, the clack of the controller stalling, though you could tell Leviathan was doing his best to do as you asked. You eyed the wet bead of pre-cum that leaked from the head of his cock and flicked an impish glance up to him before focusing back down.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and letting your tongue loll out, lapping coyly at the pearl of fluid. Its bitter flavor burst over your tongue and you licked at the head again, the salty tang of his skin complementing the first taste. Above you, Leviathan let out a groan you weren’t sure if couldn’t suppress or hadn’t wanted to. You didn’t think on it long, the lingering taste of him and the heady smell of musk filling your senses.

Your lips wrapped around the head fully, mouthing and sucking and twirling your tongue around it. You shifted your grip, one hand caressing the base of his dick, the other cupping his balls and massaging them gently. The noise of the game pause for several seconds, as if Leviathan had momentarily forgotten about it. You took the chance to take in more of his cock, rubbing your tongue along the underside and you went, tracing the line of a thick, throbbing vein.

He whimpered loudly before you had even taken him halfway, and you heard your name follow in a needy, strained tone. His chest heaved shakily above you, and you looked up again as best you could with your lips around him. His fingers moved over the controller in a way that was very clumsy compared to his typical video game dexterity. Your distraction was shattering his concentration quite successfully, but you appreciated how hard at least he was still trying.

When you reached the bottom of his cock, the tip pressing against your throat, you swallowed, and a half-choked moan spilled out from Leviathan’s lips. His hips stuttered a little involuntarily, and you drew back, hollowing your cheeks. You pulled back until only the tip of your tongue flickered over his tick, teasing the head again and making choke out another embarrassing sound. You sank back down to engulf him in your hot mouth all over again, savoring each new, obscene sound it elicited from him.

You nearly jumped back when something cool and soft and leathery brushed along your hand and then your cheek. You calmed when out of the corner of your eyes you realized it was only Leviathan’s tail. Another quick half-glance upward confirmed in his arousal and distraction, he had shifted into his demon form. His tail wrapped lazily around and down, the pleasantly cool, scaly skin stroking your cheek and neck tenderly.

From the sounds above you as you continued to lave his dick with attention, glistening with your saliva as you pulled away each time, it sounded as if he had gone completely to pieces. Sure enough, his breathing grew even more labored, and the sound of his fingers on the controller stopped altogether. Clack. The loud sound of the controller clattering to the desk reached you. His focus was broken entirely, and he couldn’t pretend any longer.

“I-I tried, but…” he began in a groan, his attempt to sound apologetic ruined by the huskiness of his voice.

To assure you weren’t displeased with him, you increased your pace, sucking harder. Without the game to focus on, Leviathan melted into a pliant, desperate puddle. One newly freed hand moved to stroke your head and accompany his tail, while the other held the edge of his desk like a vice. His hips bucked in small, needy motions and you moaned around his cock.

Leviathan moaned and whine freely now, save for biting his lip, though even still he was pleasantly loud. You wondered absently what his brothers might think if they heard the noise or knew what you were doing. Not that it was really any of their business, of course.

From the frantic way Leviathan rocked his hips, his heavy breathing, and the way his dick twitched and throbbed, you knew he was so very close. He whimpered your name again, once, twice.

“I-I’m gonna…” Leviathan’s tried to warn you, but the arrival of his release silenced him, the warning a little too late as he came hard.

You greedily took in as much of his cock as you could as he finished, swallowing each salty, bitter jet of cum that washed over your tongue. You groaned as you swallowed, and above you his voice reflected the lust of the sound. When finally he had no more to offer, his chest rising and falling harshly, you pulled back. You stopped only to clean anything you had missed, before sitting back and licking your lips. You looked up at the still very red and flustered demon. He looked utterly exhausted, but his golden gaze skittered away shyly when you met it and you smiled at how cute he looked again.

He mumbled an apology again that was only partially audible, and you shook your head. “You did great, Levi, don’t worry. Besides, ti was fun. And, you know, if you want, we can practice some more so you get can get even better,” you suggested bawdily.

Levi looked torn, both mortified and excited by the idea, seeming as if he might combust. But you knew he wouldn’t say no the next time around.

#obey me leviathan #shall we date obey me #writing #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #fic friday #friday update #requests #asks #answers #text post #text only

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