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hookingminor · 4 years

Text

4 times his friends posted you on their instagram + 1 time he did - mat barzal

a/n: I wrote this literally back in july so lets just ignore how idealistic this is regarding quarantine but im a slut for some barzy this is all fluff

word count: 4,733

summary: like the title says, some friends (with benefits?) to lovers + a tyson cameo, fluffy summer quarantine fic

tagging @davidpastrsnack so kate can get on the barzy train

To say the whole quarantine thing was an inconvenience was an understatement. School had ended online, your summer internship was cancelled, and it seemed like your summer would turn into an uneventful couple of months stuck in your apartment in, probably, the worst place to be stuck in during a pandemic: New York City.

Or so you thought.

You’d planned on having the most boring summer ever until your friend, Mat, had invited you to hole up away with him and a few friends in a lake house back in Vancouver. Well, friend was a loose term. The two of you were friends… just ones that kissed occasionally… and sometimes more than kissed. You’d met him about a year ago at a bar while he was out with his teammates after a game. A cliche meeting, but you hit it off instantly. Instead of ending up in his bed at the end of the night (which you would eventually end up at after a couple months), it turned into an exchange of numbers and an invitation to hang out later in the week.

You hadn’t thought anything of it at first, just thinking he was being friendly and wanting to end the conversation, so you were surprised to get a text the next day from an unknown number asking if you’d wanted to go on a bike ride.

Flashforward a year later and the two of you still went on bike rides together. At least, up until the pandemic started.

When the text came telling you to pack your bags for a month or so, you thought he was joking. Surely he couldn’t have meant you to join him in Vancouver over the summer? You were proven wrong when he showed up at your apartment the next day, two coffees in his hand.

“Uh, hi, Mathew,” you said hesitantly, opening your door to reveal your disheveled state, having just woken up.

“Why are you dressed like that? We have a plane to catch in four hours,” he said, pushing himself through your door, uninvited, to set the coffees on the counter.

“What are you doing here? What plane? You’re not supposed to be going out,” you reprimanded him for showing up unannounced and in the middle of quarantine.

“I told you we’re going to Vancouver, I know you read my text. Now let’s hurry up and pack, we gotta get going,” Mat rushed, already on the way to your bedroom.

You followed him after a brief moment once you’d processed what was going on. Mat had already pulled out your suitcase and set it on top of your bed by the time you entered the door. He was in the middle of rifling through your drawers and grabbing random garments to throw into the suitcase when you’d spoken again.

“You’re actually serious about this?”

“Of course I am. What better things do you have to do in a city on lockdown for an entire summer? Honestly, I’m doing you a favor,” he explained easily, turning back to grab more items.

“Oh, you’re doing me a favor? Thank you, Mat, for saving me from a summer of suffering. It’s not like I had other plans to find different internships or focus on my summer classes,” you replied sarcastically.

Mat rolled his eyes. “I am doing you a favor, and you’re doing me a favor by going. I need a hot piece of ass to get me through this, or I will lose my mind.” You slugged him on the shoulder in offense, but all he did was chuckle.

“And anyways, you can still do your classes in Vancouver. Instead of doing them locked in this apartment, you can do them lounged out under the Canadian sun. Preferably in a bikini,” he finished. You slugged his arm again, harder this time.

“In fact, you should take the red bikini, it makes your tits look amazing,” he said, noticing you shuffling through your swimsuits. You rolled your eyes at him but grabbed the red one anyway along with a couple others.

With both of you folding and packing, your bags were ready to go in record time.

“Alright, baby, let’s go.” And so you were off.

A week had gone by in total bliss. As much as you hated to admit it, Mat was right. Vacationing in Vancouver in a secluded lake house was a lot better than being alone in your apartment, even if you did still have classes to do. Mat teased you about it, but he always left you alone for a few hours in the day for you to focus on your work. Unless he really wanted something… like right now.

Mat had joined you laying on the couch while you were in the middle of annotating a book for class. He wiggled his way between your arms, causing you to break your hold on your book. He rested his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your middle, and nuzzled his face into your neck. Joining your hands back to your book and bringing your highlighter to the page, you continued to underline phrases you’d come back to later. A couple minutes passed in silence before Mat started sighing. And then he sighed again.

“What do you want?” you huffed out, closing your book with the pen marking your page.

“Let’s go swimming,” he said, pushing up to his elbows to look at your face.

“I have to finish, like, three more chapters today,” you explained.

“You can do that later. I want to go swimming now,” Mat whined.

“You know you sound like a petulant child right now, right?” you asked, moving a hand to his head, pushing his hair back as he pouted.

“Stop using big words on me. Let’s swim,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You paused to think about it for a moment, “Hmm… okay, I guess,” you said with a smile. Mat returned your smile with one of his own before hopping up to drag you to your room to change. It didn’t take much to convince you to swim. It was a really nice day out, and you didn’t really care to finish reading about 17th century philosophy.

You changed into your red bikini, Mat swapped his shorts for a pair of swim trunks, and threw on a backwards baseball cap. You went out back to join the rest of his friend group, who were in the process of loading up the boat with supplies and equipment.

“Oh, look, if it isn’t Brainiac and the Beast. Are you two finally going to go boating with us?” Tyson shouted from the dock. You rolled your eyes at his nickname they created for you and Mat. It had only been a week in Vancouver, but the chirps about you and school were tired by now.

“Princess here wants to swim in the pool, maybe next time!” you shouted back, pointing to Mat.

They laughed at your response, turning their attention back to the boat and running supplies to and from the house. You turned your attention back to Mat, who was taking off his hat and was about two seconds away from jumping in the pool.

“Mathew, stop!” you yelled out, “Get your ass over here!”

“What is it?” he asked, stopping just short of the deep end. He grumbled before marching over to you.

“You need to put sunscreen on first, dumbass,” you reprimanded. As you turned your back to grab the bottle of sunscreen, he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Mat,” you said sharply, turning back to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

You ignored him, opening the cap and squeezing lotion onto your hands. You gestured him to turn around, and you spread the lotion over it, making sure to rub it into his shoulders.

“I don’t see why I have to put sunscreen on. It’s not even that hot outside,” he muttered.

“First of all, you’re a dumbass. Second of all, heat doesn’t automatically mean the UV rays aren’t strong. And lastly, you’re white, baby, you’ll burn like a sun-dried tomato and being in water only increases the amount of sun you’re exposed to,” you explained, reaching up to rub some on his face.

“Sorry, Miss Meteorologist,” he grumbled, clearly not happy he’d lost this argument.

“One of us has to have brains. We can’t all get by on our good looks and skating ability,” you replied, slapping his cheeks when you were done for good measure.

“Okay, well, if you’re finally done,” you nodded in confirmation, “Let’s go.” He picked you up from under your thighs and ran at full speed towards the pool before you could even process what was happening. You screamed his name in protest begging him to put you down, claiming you hadn’t had time to put on sunscreen yet. He ignored you as he jumped into the deep end, dragging you with him.

You emerged from the water clinging to Mat’s wet body, your hair sopping and hanging over your face like you had come straight out of the movie The Grudge. Mat was laughing at your chaotic look, knowing you were well pissed at him. You jumped higher in the water on top of him to dunk his head under and tried your best to drown him.

It wasn’t until you were relaxing on the couch later that night doing your routinely social media scroll that you saw one of the guys recorded your sunscreen interaction by the pool, you calling Mat a dumbass, and him throwing you in the pool onto their instagram story with a caption “all these two do is fight” with some laughing crying emojis added for effect.

After a long day or hiking, you’d immediately crashed on the couch once you’d gotten back to the house, not bothering to walk all the way to your room. It was only early in the afternoon but you’d been out since sunrise, and dealing with people for hours on end had drained you. The group laughed at you as you plopped your body down onto the couch, curling your head under your arm instead of grabbing the pillow two feet away from you. The rest of them gathered in the kitchen, refueling their bodies with assorted snacks as they started popping open bottles of beer, ready to start the night. It seemed that even an entire day on their feet had not emptied them of their, seemingly endless, energy.

“Jesus Christ, we hiked for, like, six hours and you’re all still bouncing off the walls,” you sighed deeply.

“We’re about to go hit the boat and go water skiing, too. I’m assuming you’re too tired to join us?” Tyson teased.

“I will not be joining you because unlike some people, I need a nap. Now get out of here, you’re all giving me a headache,” you said, pinching your fingers on the bridge of your nose to emphasize your point.

They all snickered but kept quiet as they shuffled around, packing up more food to take outside. You heard the sliding door shut and close a few times as they ran in and out before it was finally silent. You let out a sigh of relief as you took solace in the calm quiet.

That was until you felt a pair of arms shifting you closer to the edge of the couch. You peeked one eye open to see Mat rolling your body over to give him some space as he climbed over your body to nestle himself between you and the back cushions.

“Not going out on the boat?” You asked as he tucked a pillow under the both of your heads and pulled a blanket over your bodies.

“No. They’re exhausting. I need some time for myself,” Mat replied, wrapping his arm around your middle to pull you into his chest.

“No offense, but if you’re with me, you’re not by yourself,” you explained, closing your eyes again as you settled into a comfortable position.

“Yeah, but you’re you. You don’t exhaust me,” he said quietly. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t answer. Within a few seconds you heard Mat’s breathing even out, and you followed quickly behind him into a deep sleep.

A couple hours passed in a dreamless sleep when you heard the sliding of doors and laughter travel through the house. It stirred you from your sleep and you both shifted around, letting out displeased groans.

“Are they both still asleep?” You heard one of them ask from the kitchen. Neither of you wanted to answer in hopes they would leave you two to continue sleeping.

You were sadly mistaken.

“Hey! Sleeping beauties! Time to get up!” Tyson shouted from somewhere above you.

You both groaned out a “Fuck off, Tyson,” without opening your eyes, both of you giving him the middle finger. Tyson laughed to himself and you expected him to keep bothering you, but you heard his footsteps lead away from the couch. You turned over on your other side, tucking your face into Mat’s neck before falling back asleep.

When you woke up later that evening, you checked instagram again to see Tyson posted a new story. It was the video of him bothering you two and flipping him off with a caption that said “I get no respect around here :(“

It had been raining all day. Which meant everyone was stuck inside watching movies and eating pizza. It didn’t take long for you to get bored of lounging on the couch, especially when all they wanted to do was watch Fast and Furious movies. You sat on the loveseat you were sharing with Mat, and you distracted yourself from the boring movie by tangling your hands in your hair, French braiding the strands into pigtails mindlessly. You unbraided and rebraided your hair into a fishtail after the pigtails, and then into a regular braided ponytail after that. You let yourself get caught up in daydreams as you stared blankly at the TV when Mat started tugging on your leg. Dropping your braid, you finished tying it off with a hair tie and turned to look at him.

“Let me practice on you,” Mat said quietly.

“Practice what?” You asked.

“Braiding,” he said, shuffling to sit upright. He tried to gently push you off the couch until you got the hint and moved to sit between his legs on the floor.

“You think you can do it?” You asked, ready to offer him a demonstration.

“I’ve been watching you for the past half hour, I got this,” he replied, pulling out your hair tie. You rolled your eyes at his confidence, but let him continue unraveling the strands.

Every few minutes Mat would sigh exasperatedly before pulling out the twists he’d made to start over. Eventually, he’d almost gotten all the way to the end of your hair before he sighed again, clearly fed up by how long this was taking him. You didn’t say anything as he restarted for a third time, going for a straight back braid instead of a French braid.

After another ten minutes, Mat had finally completed his simple braid, tying your hair off with the tie. He tapped your shoulder to indicate he was done, and you pulled the long tail over your shoulder to look at it.

It was a braid.

An extremely loose one where he mixed up the strand order in a couple places, but a braid nonetheless. You turned around to get back up on the couch, and you were met with his triumphant smile.

“Good job, bud,” you complimented, leaving the braid in as you resumed your previous position on the couch.

You checked your phone to find a notification of a new story tag. You opened the app to see a picture of you on the floor, staring at the TV while Mat had his hands twisted in your hair and a confused look on his face and tongue poking out of his mouth. Next to your instagram tag was “he’s been knotting her hair on purpose for 20 minutes now”

Your final exams for the summer classes you were taking were in a week. Finals stressed you out more than anything else in the world, and when you were stressed, you did a lot of baking. A lot of baking. After finishing your finals study schedule and nearly breaking down almost twice because of the amount you had to get done, you decided to start baking instead of going to sleep. So, at 3 in the morning when everyone was asleep, you’d turned on the oven and brought out the bowls.

It began with a few dozen cookies. You figured everyone could at least enjoy the cookies. Who didn’t like cookies?

Cookies turned into muffins, muffins into cupcakes, and then cupcakes into pies. By the time everyone was waking up, it was nearly eleven in the morning. You’d gone to the store twice and had taken a few twenty minute naps while you waited for your desserts baked in the oven. And right now, you were in the middle of finishing off some cinnamon rolls for breakfast

“Oh my god, what the hell happened here?” Mat had asked with a scared expression, taking note of the disastrous kitchen. You didn’t answer him as you were topping off the rolls with some icing.

A few more bodies had gathered in the kitchen and began to fill the seats at the countertop while they watched you with worried eyes.

“What?” You asked innocently, placing the plates of cinnamon rolls in front of all of them. Their eyes followed you carefully as you pulled more goods out of the oven where you were keeping them warm. Plate after plate you set on the counter, all the cookies and muffins and cakes.

“How long have you been up?” Tyson asked cautiously. You swear you’ve never heard him use a softer voice than right now.

“I’m not sure. I never went to sleep, I guess? What time is it now?” You asked, pulling out glasses for orange juice.

“Nearly noon. You seriously didn’t sleep?” Tyson asked. The others had delved into the confections, eyes bouncing between the two of you as they stuffed their faces.

“She’s stress baking,” Mat replied quietly, helping himself to a cinnamon roll.

“What the hell is tress baking?” One of the other guys asked.

“Yeah she does this when she’s stressed. Usually when finals are coming up,” Mat said, directing it more towards you than his friend. You gave him a sheepish look, deciding not to comment since he already answered for you.

Mat was used to your stress baking as it resulted in you showing up at his place in the middle of the night with bags full of pastries in the late hours of the evening. It was always against his diet and he frequently gave most of your desserts to his neighbor, but he could never tell you no when you arrived with gifts.

“Well, I’m all out of flour, so, I’m going to run to the store again to get some more supplies so I can make a chocolate cake later,” you said hurriedly.

You did a quick double check of the kitchen, flashing all the guys a bright smile before heading out the door with your purse in hand, all of them staring until the front door shut behind you.

When you came back, you found Mat in the kitchen doing the dishes and nearly all the sweets you’d baked earlier were eaten or wrapped and put away. Maybe there was a plus side to being in a home with five other people.

“Mat, you don’t have to do that,” you said, setting your groceries down and hip checking him away from the sink.

“You’re already stressed, I figured doing the dishes would take away some of that,” he said with a shrug. He continued rinsing out some bowls as you gave him a small smile.

The two of you continued to wash the dishes in silence, moving to clean the countertops when you were done. After half an hour, the mess you’d made was gone and any signs of a baking breakdown had been erased.

It was a shame you were about to tear up the kitchen all over again.

“How about this,” Mat said, noticing the frown on your face at the thought of making another mess, “Let’s have a competition.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“You said you were making a chocolate cake, right? How about we see who can make the better cake,” Mat propositioned.

You raised both your eyebrows this time. You both knew you were the better baker by a long shot. You did have this same breakdown at least twice a year. You weren’t even sure Mat knew how to make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or included possible salmonella-inducing ingredients.

You knew what he was really trying to do. He was trying to distract you from all the stress, and he knew you couldn’t turn down a competition. You were just as bad as him when it came to winning. Thankfully, this was something you knew you’d win.

“Fine, but I hope you’re prepared to lose,” you agreed with a smile.

“I don’t know, I have been practicing my cooking skills lately,” he said, grabbing the bowls he’d just dried off.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” you replied with an eye roll and heavy sarcasm.

You joined him in gathering all the ingredients and materials on the counter, setting up your respective stations. Mat divided the workspace in half, drawing a line in flour which made you laugh. You split the bowls between the sides and set up the ingredients on the second counter just like an actual cooking show.

“Okay, ground rules first. Half an hour to make the cakes, we bake them at the same time, and then another half hour for decorating at the end,” you explained, tying your hair back in a ponytail. Mat nodded at your statement and set a timer on his phone for 30 minutes.

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Go!”

After about two hours, your creations were done. Well, they were supposed to be. Mat’s cake looked more or less like a brown lump coated in frosting and stripes. You’d tried your best to decorate yours with small chocolate roses, but you could’ve turned out a plain cake and probably would have done better.

“I think I won,” you stated confidently.

“You’re not allowed to decide, you’re biased! I’ll make a poll on my story,” Mat said, going to grab his phone.

“You can’t do that, your followers are going to pick yours.”

“Fine, we’ll get someone else to do it— Josty! Come here,” Mat called to his friend passing through the kitchen. He hesitantly walked over to where you were, not wanting to come in the middle of whatever you two were shouting about.

“We need you to make an instagram poll to see who’s cake looks better. Oh, and you’re going to taste test them,” you said, picking up your cake to pose for a picture as Mat did the same. Tyson sighed before realizing you two were serious and he opened his app to take a picture.

He added the photo to his story with a poll asking “Which one is better?” With two options, Y/N’s or Mat’s.

After you set the cakes back down, Tyson picked up a fork before stabbing them to pick out a chunk from each. He ate yours first, nearly moaning at the taste.

“Holy shit, this is, like, the best cake I’ve ever eaten,” Tyson said, shoveling down another forkful. You gave Mat a shit-eating grin.

“Okay, okay, try mine now,” Mat said, displeased. Tyson rolled his eyes before forking out some of his.

“Uh,” he coughed, “it’s a little,” cough, “dry.”

“What? No, it’s not! Let me try,” Mat shouted, outraged, and grabbed Tyson’s fork to try for himself.

It took him two seconds before he was spitting the cake into a napkin.

“Fine. You win,” Mat conceded, throwing a dish towel against the counter in mock fury.

You gloated for another 5 minutes, pointing out Mat’s terrible baking skills as Tyson continued to eat your cake and laugh at Mat.

You won the instagram poll too.

+ 1

It was the last week before you and Mat were flying back to New York. The past month had passed quickly, and Mat needed to get back for the start of training camps. As the summer began to end, the whole crew thought they’d spend one last day on the boat before everyone started parting ways.

It’s not like you were opposed to being on boats, but when all the guys did was water sports and no one wanted to slow down to teach you, it wasn’t as fun.

Today, however, had been quite calm as you sat against the front of the boat, a seltzer in hand as you watched Tyson wakeboarding in the back. Mat was curled up behind you as you leaned back against his chest, tanned skin shining in the summer sun. You reached back to grab the baseball cap off his head, placing it on yours to shield your eyes from the sun. You’d forgotten to bring sunglasses, and you figured Mat could part with his hat since he had a pair.

The day passed peacefully as all the guys took turns until it was sunset. Mat had joined you back on the seat, skin wet from just getting out of the water. He wrapped you in his arms before pulling you onto his lap, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Tys, take a picture of us real quick,” Mat said, shoving his phone into Tyson’s chest.

You thought nothing of it, you and Mat had taken many pictures together, and this was no different. Mat rested his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your stomach as you both gave your cheesiest smiles to the camera. A quick shutter indicated the picture was taken and Tyson gave Mat his phone back.

Mat called your name from your bed as you stood in the adjoined bathroom, finishing your nightly routine.

“Hey, do you mind if I post that picture of us on my instagram?” Mat called out.

“The one from the boat? Why?” You asked, drying off your face with a towel.

“It’s a cute picture,” he shrugged when you reentered the room.

“People are going to start talking if you do,” you warned with a cautious tone.

He paused for a second.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Mat asked quietly, looking up to meet your eyes.

You stayed silent as you climbed in under the covers.

“What are you trying to say, Mat?”

He took a deep breath, “I think you’re amazing, you know that. And we’ve been friends for so long, it kind of feels natural, doesn’t it?” His fingers began tapping against the sheets anxiously as he held his breath and waited for your response.

You gave him a small smile, moving your body around to fully face him.

“It does,” you agreed, “But if you want us to be something more, you’re going to have to ask me on a date first.”

“A date? After I’ve already gotten you into bed? What’s the point?” You knew he meant it as a joke since he could barely finish the sentence without laughing, but you gently slapped his head as he began to apologize.

“I’m kidding!” He said between chuckles, “Will you go on a date with me once we get back to New York and it’s safe to go out again?”

“I’d love to, Mat,” you replied, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss.

“I’m still going to post that photo tomorrow, though,” he said after a short pause, smiling against your lips.

The next day when Mat had gone on a fishing trip with the guys, you saw a notification pop up on your phone.

“@barzal97 tagged you in a photo”

You unlocked your phone.

“Isolation isn’t so bad when you have this girl to spend it with”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #nhl fic #my writing #isles13

1K notes · View notes

asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ chemistry ❞ o.st

synopsis → osaki shotaro moving to town means trips to the dance studio, boba dates, and the perpetual teasing of lee donghyuck.

pairing → shotaro, reader

requested? → yes! based off @onlyjihoons’s shipping game answer ♡

word count → 5.5k (this was supposed to be 1k.... goodbye.)

a/n → i enjoy writing texting scenes WAY too much ;; tbh this is like 50% texts im cryign but i had to convey how much i love 00 line .... and also how firmly i believe in lee donghyuck devil supremacy. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated and enjoy!

if someone were to ask you how you felt about your friends, you would without any hesitation, answer that you loved them to death. of course, if you were being completely honest, you would also have to add that you experienced the urge to strangle them from time to time. that might earn you a couple odd stares but you’re sure people would be more understanding if they knew who was in your inner circle to begin with.

for starters, there was lee jeno — tall, handsome, and the textbook definition of a gentleman. then, na jaemin, who you would consider to be the yin to jeno’s yang. an extremely energetic guy and, in your book, a total freak of nature ever since you found out that he inhales four shots of espresso on the daily. liu yangyang was a more recent addition to your group but, being as quick-witted as he was, he quickly fit right in. he also had a habit of going on somewhat aggressive rants in german which renjun found to be extremely amusing. speaking of, huang renjun was another one of your close friends — the shortest of the group, actually. (and, much to renjun’s dismay, that’s exactly how donghyuck liked to introduce him to people.) he was the type of guy you could trust to keep everyone in check which consequently made you mildly terrified of him.

however, it could never compare to the perpetual fear you have of lee donghyuck.

of course, you love him to pieces but sometimes you really wish he didn’t find so much joy in, well, making everyone miserable. you couldn’t deny it was funny to watch him tease and taunt your other friends. you still remember him purposefully messing up renjun’s game at the local arcade just when he was about to reach his high score — and also the way renjun had tackled him to the floor right then and there, resulting in the six of you being banned from the place. or, that time he offered to pay for everyone’s starbucks orders only to tell the barista that jaemin’s name was ben dover. (to no one’s surprise, yangyang had found that joke particularly hilarious.) you can also clearly recall how hard you had laughed in both of those situations.

but, donghyuck never let anyone laugh for too long.

according to him it was ’only fair’ to make sure each of his friends was at the receiving end of his gags. so, despite laughing at his latest victim’s expense, each of you knew that donghyuck would make sure you were in the same position sooner or later.

you definitely weren’t expecting it to be your turn one dull friday evening.

things are going slow for you as you sit at your desk, typing away on your laptop. school has been out for hours and your professors have decided to be saints and leave you little homework for the weekend. beside you, your phone dings, alerting you of the new text message in your group chat.

[4:23 pm] hyuck: i’m bored 🥺

[4:23 pm] you: plz never use that emoji again

[4:24 pm] nana: it’s misleading dude

[4:25 pm] yangx2: yeah like when have u ever made a face that isn’t this 😈

[4:25 pm] renjun: donghyuck is the devil = confirmed

[4:25 pm] nana: CALLED IT

[4:26 pm] hyuck: u guys are literally so evil

jeno laughed at “u guys are literally so evil”

[4:27 pm] jeno: look who’s talking lol

[4:27 pm] you: dangg u know it’s bad when lee jeno disses u

[4:28 pm] jeno: ...ngl it kinda feels like ur shading me rn

[4:28 pm] you: u would be correct :)

[4:29 pm] hyuck: um HELLO can u guys go back to paying attention to me???

[4:29 pm] renjun: what do u want, diva?

[4:29 pm] hyuck: i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(

renjun disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

yangx2 disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

you disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

nana disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

jeno disliked “i just wanna spend some quality time with my best friends ;(”

[4:30 pm] hyuck: OH COME ON

[4:30 pm] yangx2: i think what u meant to say is that u wanna make one of us very miserable today, right?

[4:30 pm] hyuck: .....no comment

nana renamed the group chat “hyuck hate club”

[4:31 pm] hyuck: ok i’m honestly feeling so attacked right now

[4:31 pm] jeno: well now u know what it’s like to be friends with u

[4:31 pm] you: so true king omg ur on a roll

[4:32 pm] hyuck: hmm okay so either jeno or y/n is gonna be today’s target, got it

[4:32 pm] hyuck: anyway can u guys come down to the dance studio now??

[4:32 pm] you: what makes u think i would go anywhere near u when i know ur plotting ur revenge on me as we speak

[4:32 pm] hyuck: because maybe i’ll have mercy on u and just terrorize jeno instead

[4:33 pm] you: good enough for me! thnx bestie, see u soon!!

[4:33 pm] jeno: HEY

nana laughed at “good enough for me! thnx bestie, see u soon!!”

[4:34 pm] yangx2: u literally cannot trust anyone in this friend group

[4:34 pm] renjun: ikr isn’t it great???

you might have been slightly out of your mind to willingly go see donghyuck knowing you had teased him in your group chat earlier. although, if there was a slight chance he would show you mercy if you did hang out with him, you were going to take it.

the studio was where you had first met donghyuck, along with the rest of your friends due to the dance classes you attended. after bumping into each in between classes and during practice, you began to get well acquainted. turns out, the six of you actually got along incredibly well and after a while, you began to share routines and tips, even choreographing together from time to time. obviously, this led to the infamous group chat being formed and lots of time spent outside the studio as well.

but, none of you had lost that love for dancing. in fact, forming your little clique had only made it grow. as you opened the front doors of the building you had made so many memories in, you wondered if donghyuck wanted your insight on a certain routine or needed some help choreographing. of course, there was also the possibility that he really was just bored and wanted you to suffer with him.

what you did not expect, however, was to see him caught up in conversation with another person. you couldn’t clearly see them with donghyuck in the way; all you knew for certain was that your best friend’s mouth was moving a mile a minute. you tentatively tiptoe into the room, hoping to not intrude on their discussion. but, at hearing the doors creak open, donghyuck puts his rant on pause to enthusiastically wave you over.

you sigh, putting your belongings down and approaching the pair. as you near, you notice that hyuck has a huge smile — no, smirk — on his face. you internally curse yourself for believing that he would ever pass up an opportunity to torment you, especially in front of a stranger.

“this is a very dear friend of mine,” you hear him introduce to his acquaintance. “her name is y/n. she dances, too.”

“oh, that’s really cool!”

the stranger’s unusually cheery tone prompts you to finally peek behind donghyuck and put a face to the voice.

and what a face he has.

“this is shotaro,” donghyuck informs you. “he’s new to town and quite the dancer. caught him in the middle of a routine.”

your knees almost wobble as you take in the stranger — shotaro’s — kind eyes that almost sparkle. (you aren’t sure if it’s because of the fluorescent lights of the studio or just part of his charm.) his lips are curved up into a friendly smile that makes you feel slightly giddy. his hair falls into his face almost perfectly, not a strand out of place and you’re uncertain as to how that’s even possible since, as donghyuck had said, he was dancing. not to mention, there’s not a bead of sweat on his face. did this guy come straight out of a disney movie or something?

“excuse her,” donghyuck chuckles. “good looking people tend to make her freeze up. don’t worry, this happened when she met me, too.”

you offer your friend a glare and an elbow to the side and you swear you hear shotaro chuckle. you turn to him instead, putting on a welcoming smile.

“my bad, i just—”

“got lost in his eyes?”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “donghyuck, please don’t make me have to attack you in front of our guest.”

more giggles escape shotaro. (you swear it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard.) you curiously tilt your head at him.

“sorry, it’s just that, you guys are too funny,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

you mirror his grin, slightly relieved he was amused instead of weirded out. “yeah, well, just wait ’til you meet the rest of us. it’s like a circus show, you’ll love it.”

“hello, clowns!”

“speak of the devil,” donghyuck murmurs, watching as yangyang and renjun enter, followed by jeno and jaemin.

“woah, who’s the cutie?” yangyang asks renjun, in what you presume he thinks is a whisper. however, yangyang has never spoken quietly a day in his life. renjun simply shrugs at his question.

having clearly heard the compliment, a faint blush creeps onto shotaro’s cheeks.

“guys, this is shotaro,” donghyuck answers, tugging the sandy blonde forward.

he gives a somewhat shy wave. “hi, y/n’s friends.”

jaemin erupts into laughter. “uh oh, looks like he likes y/n more than hyuck.”

“don’t blame him,” jeno mutters.

shotaro’s forehead creases, face suddenly twisted in worry. “oh, i’m sorry, was i not supposed to say that?”

“oh no, don’t worry,” donghyuck denies, quickly. “i’m sure y/n doesn’t mind at all, right?”

if you could crawl into a hole to avoid the embarrassment, you would. of course, donghyuck was 100% right; you really didn’t mind shotaro calling the group that if it meant you could hear him say your name over and over again. in fact, his sweet voice could probably make the dictionary sound like the most addictive song. but, donghyuck had no right putting you on the spot like that.

jeno suddenly speaks, catching on to your flustered state and donghyuck’s evil grin. “so, it’s y/n’s turn today? sweet, i’m off the hook!”

shotaro furrows his brows slightly. “huh?”

“oh, it’s just an inside joke,” jeno says, smile reaching all the way up to his eyes.

you wish you could strangle him right then and there for finding amusement at your expense but the last thing you want is for shotaro to think you’re some sort of psychopath. (although, with a friend group like this, you’re definitely beginning to think that’s where you’re headed.)

“got it,” shotaro responds, breaking out into a grin himself. “you guys seem like a really close bunch!”

“the closest,” donghyuck corrects, overly sweet, as he wraps an arm around you. (you resist the urge to shove him off.) “you’ll fit right in!”

you believed that the torture was over the day donghyuck introduced shotaro to your group. you would probably just see him from time to time and the studio (hopefully without hyuck around) and it would all be downhill from there, right? the latest notification on your phone alerts you that you are absolutely wrong.

hyuck has added one (1) user to the group chat

[1:05 pm] hyuck: welcome shotaro!!

[1:06 pm] unknown: oh hey guys! :]

the emoticon almost makes your heart beat right out of your chest. you roll your eyes in frustration at how easily affected you were by this guy. seriously, why did everything he do have to be so cute? regardless, you quickly add his number to your contacts.

[1:06 pm] hyuck: why don’t we do a little roll call so shotaro can save ur numbers to his phone

[1:07 pm] yangx2: YANGYANG

[1:07 pm] yangx2: HA I WAS FIRST

[1:07 pm] jeno: ...

[1:08 pm] jeno: anyway this is jeno :)

[1:08 pm] nana: jaemin present!

[1:08 pm] renjun: hi shotaro, this is renjun

[1:10 pm] shotaro: haha cool thanks a lot, i just saved all ur numbers!

[1:10 pm] shotaro: but quick question, is y/n in this group chat? :0

you almost drop your phone at reading shotaro’s message although you’re unsure why. he just typed your name, get it together, you urge yourself.

[1:11 pm] you: heyy shotaro! i’m right here :)

[1:11 pm] shotaro: oh yayy! i’m so glad ^^

hyuck disliked “oh yayy! i’m so glad ^^”

[1:12 pm] hyuck: shotaro plz return my love what does she have that i don’t T-T

[1:12 pm] nana: a heart

[1:12 pm] yangx2: a brain

[1:12 pm] jeno: a conscience

[1:12 pm] renjun: a functioning moral compass

[1:13 pm] hyuck: wtf

[1:13 pm] shotaro: ahahaha it’s like i’m watching a comedy

[1:14 pm] you: told u it’s a circus

[1:14 pm] you: i say get out while u still can

[1:14 pm] shotaro: whaatt and leave u behind? no way!

nana renamed the group chat “shotaro x y/n supremacists”

[1:15 pm] jeno: my thoughts exactly

[1:15 pm] renjun: took the words right out of my mouth

you cringe at your friends’ blunt behavior, praying shotaro didn’t find their antics to be too strange.

[1:16 pm] shotaro: 😳

[1:16 pm] nana: aww someone’s shy

[1:17 pm] renjun: he wouldn’t last a day in itzy

[1:17 pm] yangx2: HELPP

you shake your head, laughing silently to yourself as you mute the group chat and place your phone back down. although, moments later, you receive a direct message. you presume it’s one of the boys trying to rope you back into the chat but the moment you see the contact name, you’re forced to do a double take.

[1:21 pm] shotaro: i hope i’m not bothering u but i just wanted to make sure ur okay .. you kinda went quiet in the gc :>

[1:21 pm] shotaro: it’s shotaro from the dance studio btw!

you can’t help but find the fact that he seriously thought you wouldn’t remember him adorable. how could you ever forget a face like his?

[1:22 pm] you: that’s so kind! i’m okay, i promise. i’ve just had to put up with those dorks for way too long, sometimes i just ignore them haha

[1:22 pm] shotaro: lol yeah they do seem like a handful! but i look forward to getting to know them better!!

[1:23 pm] shotaro: and u too ofc~~

it takes all your willpower not to spam dozens of heart emojis in an attempt to show shotaro just how he has reduced you to a lovesick fool. instead, your response is short and sweet.

[1:23 pm] you: right back at u, taro! ♡

“okay, take five,” donghyuck pants, pausing the music blaring from the speakers.

you gladly obey, wiping away the light sweat you had worked up from the latest routine you and hyuck were constructing.

you both belonged to the same dance class and frequently paired together for partnered projects. the rest of your friends attended different classes, which you constantly joked was for the best since there was no way one dance instructor could possibly handle the six of you together.

“how do you feel?” donghyuck asks you, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“the choreo’s great, i’m proud of what we got so far,” you reply. “of course, i would be happier if i didn’t have to get so up close and personal with you.”

donghyuck scoffs at your joke. “i can’t do anything about that. the teacher said the whole concept of the routine is supposed to be is intimate.”

you fake a gag, failing to contain a laugh when hyuck playfully shoves you in offense.

“i’m sorry i can’t be shotaro,” he adds, a smirk forming on his lips.

you roll your eyes. “oh, very funny.”

“c’mon, you’re acting like you wouldn’t kill to have him as your partner, especially with choreo as spicy as this.”

“well, it would beat being paired with you,” you remark, picking up your water bottle and taking a swig.

“hm, then looks like today might be your lucky day,” donghyuck replies, eyes trained somewhere behind you.

you follow his gaze, nearly choking on your water as soon as you catch sight of shotaro entering the studio. he meets your eyes, plucking out his earbuds and offering you a small wave.

“oh, hey guys!” he exclaims, cheerfully.

“hey ’taro,” you greet, rather quickly, earning you a knowing glance from your partner.

“’taro?” hyuck repeats, amused, as he folds his arms over his chest. “you guys are already on cute nickname basis?”

shotaro giggles, eyes squinting adorably as he does so. “it is a pretty adorable nickname, right? she’s the only one who calls me that!”

your heart beats faster when you see how oddly excited that seems to make him. did he somehow find it endearing?

“seems like the two of you are becoming quite close, hm?” continues hyuck.

shotaro nods enthusiastically before glancing at you tentatively, as if to check for confirmation.

“yeah, you could say that.”

your agreement causes yet another smile to grace shotaro’s lips — this time he seems relieved. you briefly wonder if the kid ever stops flashing those pearly whites of his. you certainly hope so, or else your heart may never catch a break.

“well, since you’re comfortable enough with each other,” donghyuck begins, flashing you a grin.

you’re not even sure what he’s gonna say but you already feel the need to put an end to it. after all, nothing good has ever come of donghyuck’s mischievous grins. you subtly purse your lips and narrow your eyes in an attempt to get him to stop whatever chaos he’s planning to ensue.

nevertheless, he proceeds. “maybe you could help me out with this choreography?”

you want to facepalm at donghyuck’s lame excuse of a lie. however, on the other hand, shotaro’s face lights up in delight.

“you’re working on choreo? what for?” he inquires, curiously.

“for our dance class,” hyuck explains, motioning towards you. “i have a couple ideas so i was thinking you two could maybe try out some steps i’m planning to include. you know, to help me... visualize.”

“that sounds awesome,” shotaro responds, oblivious to your friend’s untruths. “i would love to help you guys out.”

“great!” donghyuck claps his hands together. “just a heads up, the theme of the routine is intimacy, so i wanna see all that charm of yours, shotaro. it’ll, uh, help me choreograph.”

you cringe at the obvious fib. meanwhile, it’s as if a switch has gone off in shotaro’s mind. his smile fades and his eyebrows knit together. “hold on, i-intimacy? does that mean—”

“that you’ll have to get a bit touchy-feely with her? yeah,” donghyuck interjects, innocently.

“y’know... i’ve really been wanting to dance with her.” he faces you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “just never thought it would be like this.”

you offer him an apologetic smile. “i know, it might be a bit... uncomfortable. you can back out if you’d like. i promise hyuck and i won’t mind.”

shotaro’s head shakes, vigorously. “no, of course not!” he must realize how quick he was to deny your offer, making him suspiciously eager to be close to you as he immediately adds, “i mean, it’s good practice.”

you suppress a giggle. “sure thing. hyuck, should we get started now?”

the boy in question dramatically picks at his nails, acting as if he had been waiting on you both for hours. “if you guys are done flirting, then, yeah.”

you roll your eyes, shooting shotaro a mildly annoyed stare. he grins, finding it to be equally amusing as it is endearing. (what can he say, the faint pout that appeared on your face was cute.)

“shotaro, how about you get in position right behind her.”

shotaro obeys, making sure to leave a significant amount of space between the two of you. however, donghyuck doesn’t seem to approve.

“closer!” he commands. “the concept is intimacy, not social distancing!”

shotaro shuffles forward, pressing his front into your back. you can’t help but notice how firmly toned his chest is. curse his dancers body, you think.

“okay, now, lemme see your hands on her waist!”

you feel the breath of shotaro’s shaky exhale on the back of your neck as he obeys, sliding apprehensive hands around your midsection. there’s silence on donghyuck’s end and through the mirror you watch him observe the two of you, no doubt acting way more pensive than he truly is. you know he’s just prolonging your flustered state by keeping you in this intimate position with the younger boy.

although, shotaro himself might know it too, considering the fact that he begins to rub comforting circles into your sides that he’s currently gripping, as per donghyuck’s request, in an attempt to calm you down. you nearly melt right then and there. at the same time, you hope he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

donghyuck calls out your name, successfully startling you and putting an end to the peaceful atmosphere. “why don’t you go ahead and lean on his shoulder. just lay your head back nice and easy— good, very good! look at that chemistry!”

if you’re being sincere, reclining on shotaro feels way more natural and enjoyable than it should. he steadily holds you in place, almost as if he secretly wishes to never let go. you wouldn’t be completely opposed to the idea either.

“alright, last thing, guys! y/n, how about you hook your arm around shotaro’s neck?”

you do so, fingers brushing softly against his jaw. he shivers beneath your touch, erupting into giggles when you shoot him an odd stare.

“i’m ticklish,” he confesses, in a whisper.

you can’t help but smile widely. “is that so? hm, i might have to exploit that information sooner or later.”

“as long as donghyuck doesn’t find out,” he replies.

his comment certainly gets a chuckle out of you. “did you finally realize how evil he is?”

“if the torture he’s putting you through right now is anything to go by, then absolutely.”

“only a matter of time before it’s your turn,” you reply. you lean into his ear to add, “by the way, this is anything but torture for me.”

“hey! no whispering!” donghyuck reprimands.

for the first time, shotaro goes against the older boy’s orders to whisper back, “it’s mutual. if anything, i think this is the best thing i’ve done since i moved here.”

your heart melts at the sincere admission. you stare at shotaro in what you’re sure is a very obvious case of heart eyes. you’re taken aback to find that he, too, returns the lovesick look. perhaps he was immersing himself a bit too much in the intimacy concept...

“stop! pause! cut!”

you and shotaro (reluctantly) untangle yourselves from each other to face a seemingly unhappy donghyuck.

“can you guys please just focus on my instructions without falling in love with each other?” he pleads. “i mean, you haven’t even gotten out of the starting position yet.” he groans, exasperated. “actually, you know what, just take five.”

[2:03 pm] hyuck: good morning

[2:03 pm] nana: it’s 2 o clock in the afternoon but ok

[2:03 pm] hyuck: i just woke up, therefore it’s morning

[2:03 pm] shotaro: good morning :3 did u sleep well?

[2:04 pm] hyuck: i slept a wonderful 27 hours, thnx for asking!

[2:04 pm] yangx2: ?????? THERES NOT EVEN 27 HOURS IN A DAY IM SCREAMING

[2:04 pm] you: LOLLL WHY WAS HE HIBERNATING

[2:05 pm] renjun: i was just gonna ignore him but i am genuinely concerned now

[2:05 pm] shotaro: woww,, well at least you’re well rested now! :]

[2:04 pm] nana: shotaro, i am begging u not to encourage him

[2:04 pm] you: all it takes is one (1) supportive person and he becomes an unstoppable force of evil

[2:04 pm] shotaro: o_0

[2:05 pm] jeno: besides ur like the only other person here with common sense besides myself and maybe renjun. i can’t lose u to donghyuck :(

[2:05 pm] renjun: ykw i’m not even gonna argue with that

[2:05 pm] yangx2: yeah shotaro is a good guy™

[2:06 pm] hyuck: i hate u guys and ur goldfish attention spans

[2:06 pm] you: sigh what do you need hyuck?

[2:06 pm] hyuck: i want boba :(

[2:07 pm] you: that actually sounds really good but idk if it’s worth being around u

[2:07 pm] hyuck: i’ll pretend like u didn’t just say that <3 what if i paid?

[2:07 pm] you: ....

[2:08 pm] yangx2: LMAO HYUCK BEING NICE IS SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR

[2:08 pm] renjun: ikr it’s making me super uncomfortable rn

[2:08 pm] hyuck: can’t i do something nice for my friends? :/

[2:08 pm] jeno: no

[2:09 pm] nana: nope

[2:09 pm] yangx2: nah

[2:09 pm] renjun: absolutely not

[2:09 pm] you: never seen it happen before so no

[2:10 pm] hyuck: u guys are so fake :( shotaro do u wanna hang out with me? if u say no i’ll scream :)

[2:11 pm] shotaro: yeah i guess i could :]

[2:11 pm] renjun: oh this just got interesting.. i guess i could tag along

[2:11 pm] yangx2: me too, i gotta be there to record whatever happens

[2:12 pm] nana: i’m in

[2:12 pm] jeno: same

[2:12 pm] you: hhhhh okay fine.. only to ensure taro’s safety

[2:13 pm] shotaro: (^з^)-︎♡

due to the fact that you believed donghyuck was going to try and officially initiate shotaro into your friend group with one of his infamous pranks, you decided to head to the boba shop. you hoped that if you showed up, you would be able to prevent whatever mayhem he had planned or at the very least, provide some damage control.

you pushed open the door to the quaint building, the bell dinging to announce your arrival. your eyes immediately lock onto the table in the far back since it was where you and your friends always sat — you had practically claimed it. you expect to see all the chairs filled but, to your surprise, only one person occupies the space.

osaki shotaro.

he beams, probably relieved to finally have some company in the otherwise empty shop. (after all, you weren’t sure how long he had been sitting there all alone.) nevertheless, you allow yourself to wonder — just for a second — if maybe he was just that ecstatic to see you. the way he enthusiastically waves you over seems to be in favor of that theory. it’s almost confirmed when you reach he table and he pats the chair beside him.

you let out a soft laugh. “the whole table’s empty, ‘taro.”

“i know,” he admits. “i just really want you to sit next to me.”

you swear you could break down in tears simply from the way he’s looking at you; like you’re all he needs. it’s pure adoration. you wonder if that’s how you look at him too. you can’t help but ask yourself if he, too, notices your longing stares.

you decide that you would be a monster if you denied shotaro his wish, so, you internally prepare yourself to sit next to possibly the sweetest boy you’ve ever known. yet, that proves to be difficult as said boy stands up to pull out your chair like the gentleman he is. you shoot him a grateful smile, mentally dethroning jeno as the most well-mannered person you know and passing the crown on to shotaro.

“so, how long have you been waiting for?” you ask, resting your elbow on the table and leaning into your palm to stare attentively at the boy to your right.

“actually, i only got here a couple minutes before you. we did agree to meet up here a quarter before three, right?” he asks, slightly confused.

you nod in confirmation. “honestly, i think we got set up.”

shotaro tilts his head. “really? why would they do that?”

“might have something to do with our ‘chemistry’,” you explain, quoting donghyuck.

the japanese boy’s mouth falls agape, as he comes to the realization. “oh, so they literally set us up.”

“mhm,” you agree, smiling ever so slightly.

shotaro must be paying closer attention than you thought because he picks up on your grin. “what’s with the smile?”

you shrug, feigning uncertainty. “i guess i just don’t feel so bad about being set up if it’s with a certain cutie i know.”

“oh?” he raises a brow, cheeks growing as he too mirrors your lovestruck look. “should i be worried about this guy?”

“certainly not,” you reassure him. “i’ve only got eyes for one.”

you see a faded tint of pink rush to his cheeks and you find it adorable how your confession flusters him. you can’t help but caress the supple skin as gently as possible. shotaro leans into your touch, his own hand coming up to cup your own, almost as if he were holding you in place. after a couple moments of basking in the intimate moment, you retract your hand.

“maybe we should try and get hyuck to include that in the choreo, huh?” you suggest, a teasing smile on your lips.

shotaro chuckles, “sounds good to me. i might even ask if i can fill his position, too. if not, i just might get jealous.”

you playfully shove him and he raises his hands in surrender. you chuckle, grabbing one of the menus that litter the table, planning to offer shotaro some help choosing an item from the list that is surely unfamiliar to him but it seems something outside the window behind you has caught his focus instead.

“looks like we have an audience.”

you take a deep breath at his words, preparing yourself for whatever it is you’re going to see upon turning around. when you finally do, all you manage to catch is five heads ducking beneath the windowsill, in a weak attempt to not get caught.

“of course,” you nearly laugh. “they’re so predictable.”

shotaro seems to find the situation humorous as well, if his amused tone is anything to go by. “to be honest, we should be thanking them. they got us together.”

“oh, so we’re together now?” you inquire, raising a brow.

“w-well, i mean, if you want to. i-i definitely want to.”

“no need for stuttering,” you reassure him, reaching over to stroke that one ticklish spot on his neck. “to quote a very wise — and handsome — young man, ‘it’s mutual.’”

he smiles at his own words being recited to him. “i don’t know about you, but i think we should seal the deal.”

“interesting. how do you suppose we do that?” you ask with faux curiosity. you certainly had some ideas of your own.

“maybe... a kiss?” shotaro leans forward, eyes closed expectantly as he taps his cheek. you resist the urge to pinch his lovely, round baby cheeks. he peeks one eye open to add, “for the audience, of course.”

you giggle, completely and utterly love-struck by the boy before you. in fact, you are so enamored by him that you decide to go the extra mile and press a sweet, chaste peck to his lips.

it seems as if he himself didn’t expect it as his eyes snap open, hand coming up to cup his lips in shock. when he finally uncovers his mouth, you see there’s a dazed, giddy grin on his face that let’s you know the smooch was very welcome pleasant surprise.

your phones simultaneously go off, alerting you of incoming messages. it’s a given that it’s none other than the group chat.

[3:15 pm] nana: that smooch was romcom worthy i’m so impressed right now

[3:15 pm] jeno: shotaro is living proof that being a gentleman has its perks! everyone in this gc should take notes!

[3:15 pm] yangx2: HERE IHAVE THE VDIEO OF THE WHOELE THIGN IF ANYOEN WANTS IT

[3:16 pm] yangx2: attachment: 1 video

[3:16 pm] yangx2: SORURY FOR THE TYPSO MY TEARS ARE BLURRIGN THE KYEBIOARD

[3:16 pm] renjun: can we get boba now?

[3:16 pm] renjun: oh wait my bad, congrats to the new couple :-)

[3:16 pm] renjun: to celebrate they should pay for everyone’s drinks.. just a thought

[3:17 pm] hyuck: ur welcome, y/n and shotaro ;)

415 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

a break.

ANGEL REYES.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @girlnovels: hi sorry! now realizing I sent a request to your main instead of here 😳 it was 5 and 8 from the prompt list for angel or any of the guys honestly and just how god tier it'd be?

❝ prompts: “Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy”. / “You interrupt my reading once more, and this book will become a lethal weapon”.

❝ words: about 750.

❝ warnings: nsfw, cockwarming.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

The workload has increased the last week in the scrapyard, joining Angel's job with the MC to create an atmosphere of loneliness inside your home. Accepting that he'd continue having to spend more time in the clubhouse, you went to a bookstore EZ recommended you to buy a book and devour it during these days, as you used to. Just in a couple of hours you had read half of it, finding the story more interesting than you imagined when you glanced over the summary before taking it with you. And you were in the best bit when the front door of your place was opened. Raising your eyes from the book, you found your tired boyfriend dragging his boots on the floor, closing the entry behind his back and just sighing. He walked towards you to place an exhausted kiss on your forehead, disappearing after that to your room.

An hour has passed since then. Angel has taken a shower, eaten something and slept for some minutes —before starting to call your attention. He has sat on the couch in front of you clearing his throat. He has put your favorite tv show on TV. He has changed his seat to the sofa you're lying on, putting your legs over his to caress them, poke them and pinch them. But nothing works. Angel rolls his eyes to the back of his head, snorting annoyed while standing up on his bare feet. He has had an idea. One that never fails. His ace in the hole.

Your concentration is fucked up when a sweet but strong male scent fills your nostrils down to your lungs. You can't help but lick your lips unconsciously, glancing at him above the written letters on the paper.

“You interrupt my reading once more, and this book will become a lethal weapon”.

“Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!” He whines, settling himself between your legs and sinking his face onto your stomach.

His tattooed arms surround your body, taking a deep breath from the smell of your shirt. It smells like him. At least, you haven't forgotten him.

“Goddammit, Angel… you're such a baby”.

“Yes, I am”. He admits between grunts against your belly.

Leaving the book away over the coffee table, you land both hands on his head to stroke his hair. Your boyfriend snakes among your legs, crawling over your body until facing you. His smile gives you goosebumps, still looking tired but not enough to spend some time with you. And that's sweet. Really sweet. Now, you feel bad for ignoring him since he came. Regretting the fact that you could have had a shower together.

“Read for me”. Angel hums in a petition, moving his ringed hands to nail them on your hips.

If he's hard, you're soaked. And you can feel it when he rocks his pelvis in a tortuous slow motion. You gulp a knot within your throat, grabbing again the book with a trembling hand, noticing his fingers touring your skin down to the gems of your shirt to be slid beneath it. Your boyfriend rolls down your lace panties through your thighs, slightly wet because of the friction against his body until throwing them to the floor. You stare at him in silence, watching Angel undress himself and discovering he was only wearing a pair of short grey sweatpants. Nothing else under that piece of clothing.

Breathing through your parted lips, you see him pumping his glorious hard dick as he bites his bottom lip, slowly lying down back to between your legs. Keeping your eye contact, Angel digs his hardness with no rush into your cunt. You feel how it forces your entry at first before a delicious pop as his glans comes in. You can't help but moan with a low high-pitched tone, closing tightly your fingers around the covers of your book. Your drenched walls adjust to his thick cock causing you pleased tickles in your lower belly, crying out his name inevitably when all his weight is on top of you and his balls-buried deep inside your pussy.

“You feel so good, mi reina”. He purrs sinking into your neck. “Make this moment perfect and read for me… I need to be inside you, hearing your lovely voice”.

If you thought that Angel wanting to spend time with you even if he's like a dead body right now, wanting to be connected with you —not in an entirely sexual way— it has reached the maximum level of sweetness.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @fanofalltheficsx @aurelie-celine

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes smut #angel reyes imagine

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leviiattacks · 4 years

Note

hi bestie!! pls pretty pls do a levi one where he takes care of a sick y/n im feeling a bit under the weather and im getting kinda scared bc of covid :<< anything to help calm my nerves pls? thank you <3

author note :: get well soon anon :-( i’m super sick rn too (when am i not tho </3) so i get how it is. this isn’t that great because i wrote it pretty quick but i hope it eases youuu :-) this is just pure fluff and sappy stuff and yup yup MODERN LEVI BC... listen i have a soft spot for modern levi word count :: some how i got to 1.4k ????? idk how i always go over the expected word count i have in my head

it’s literally been YEARS since the last time you were sick

if you really dig through the depths of your memory you’d say maybe you were last sick when you were seven???

it’s that or your memory is just not great

either way, you really do not want to bother anyone with your sickness so you decide to hole up in your room for the entire day

you don’t even tell levi about it because you know he’ll drop everything for the sake of your comfort

the only problem is that midway through the day you’ve become so bedridden you can’t even begin to fathom attending classes tomorrow

you guess you’ll be taking another day off

as that thought crosses your mind your bedroom door bursts open

“i...” levi lets out a long sigh and you look at him dazed from your pounding headache

you’re surrounded by scrunched up tissues and your cold meds have been left untouched

“i’m gonna get you sick too. back away.” you’re frowning and signalling with your hands that you want him out

your nose is stuffy and you’re sniffling but levi just rolls his eyes before he sits next to you on the floor

buried in your duvet you look a little like a burrito and he laughs at that

“do you know where the thermometer is? i’ll check on your fever.”

he’s looking at you waiting for an answer

you think for a second and then you try to rummage through the timeline of today’s events.

to be fair you’re a little disoriented but for some unknown reason you feel yourself get a little teary eyed

maybe it’s a mix of your upcoming deadlines looming over you or perhaps it’s missing a really important class today

but it’s so sudden you don’t even know why your body is making you act so irrationally but that’s what fevers do

“i think i” you sniff and then the waterworks flood out of you. your brain can’t adjust to the severity of your headache and your urge to sleep is higher than ever

honestly you don’t cry very much so to see the tears worries levi almost immediately

“im sorry i misplaced it.” you croak out, your voice is all scaly and weird, you hate it

stupidly you get upset about that too

don’t people sound hot when they’re sick?? why do you sound like an angry bear...?

this is not fair.

“and i’m stressed.” you blow your nose but it continues to drip despite your constant attempts to stop it

nose bright red and hair disheveled levi’s eyes soften when he sees your workbook laying at the foot of your bed

notes are scribbles in random corners and your mind map is a chaotic mess but you’re trying your best given the circumstances

god, even when you’re sick you’re working hard. you’re ridiculous but in the most endearing way known to man

“alright, lay down.” he runs a hand through your hair to fix the birds nest before he adjusts your pillows and places your head down gently

“i’m sorry i’ve lost the-”

levi’s index finger presses against your lips and he shushes you

“get some rest, please.”

you comply but not before giving him a playful glare

his warm palms move to hold your face. cheeks squished together he swipes your tears away

“i’ve got some soup on the stove you’ll be good in no time.” his soft reassurance is comforting and protective

nodding you flutter your eyes shut.

you’re unable to sleep but levi’s presence is enough to ease you even if it’s just a little you do feel better

fifteen minutes pass and levi returns he’s got you a hot cup of tea and the soup is nowhere to be seen

“i had an accident in the kitchen... so have some tea instead.”

you simply laugh it off, he’s trying his best and you’re alright with not having to be fed tomato soup

tomato soup..... it’s sick and twisted it tastes so bad

you recall having to force yourself to down an entire bowl last christmas after catching a cold

never ever again will you do that

anyways, pea soup superiority it’s the only valid type !!!

levi likes tomato soup though that’s the only reason it sits in bulk in one of the kitchen cabinets

he brushes the mountain of tissues on your bedside table away, he’ll dispose of them later

placing the cup of tea where the aforementioned tissues once were you then realize he’s brought you a slice of madeira cake to have alongside it

at this your eyes brighten you love madeira cake it’s so soft and buttery and simple but it’s just REALLY GOOD???

anyway, you definitely recommend everyone to have some it’s a solid 10/10

“picked some up on my way here.”

your heart swells affectionately

no one will ever love you as hard as he does

to be honest, the little things he does keep you grounded and you don’t really know where you’d be without him

he always pays attention to the things you love, always carries you from the couch to your bed, always tucks you in, always lingers a little just to make sure you’re sound asleep

you know about that last bit because on occasion you have stirred awake on accident

every single time he strokes your hair and holds you close ushering you back to sleep

again, you don’t know if it’s your fever making you emotional or the warm feeling of being loved so HARD?? it’s like whack a mole the only difference is being repeatedly hit by bursts of affection

not really a great analogy but your brain is fried right now and it’s the best you’ve got

levi sits next to you making the mattress shift and you then plop your head against his chest

“drink up.”

he hands you the cup of tea but you nuzzle your face into his neck instead forcing him to place it back down

“what are you doing?” he asks.

one of his hands draws circles onto your back soothing you and the other hand is fiddling around with the packaging of your cold meds, he looks to be reading the description just to make sure you can take them

the feeling of his t-shirt under your cheek fades away and you find yourself staring up at him

“get here.” he softly murmurs

rather than pressing a hand against your forehead he swoops down

at first his hands feel your face and neck

“you’re burning up.” he frowns and then he does it

he presses his forehead against yours and you swear you could stop breathing and pass out right then and there

“the fever’s getting worse, why didn’t you call me earlier i had to find out you were sick from-”

“i love you.”

he freezes.

“of course you love me but that’s not what we’re talking about right now.” he snorts and looks you right in the eye.

suddenly you’re kinda just a teeny-weeny bit self-conscious about your dark under eyes but you push that thought to the back of your mind

“no i mean. i really fucking love you levi.” the expletive only makes you sound more serious especially since you always scold him when he uses vulgar language

it looks as if his mouth moves to say it back but you stop him

“you don’t have to say it again. i’m saying it because you said it first.” you explain through your drowsy state

“when did i say it first?”

the fever must be really getting to you is what he’s thinking

“your actions spoke for you.”

he ever so slightly jabs you with his elbow before he carefully places your head back down onto his chest

“you’re so sappy.” he pecks your cheek and you hum silently still unable to breathe out of one of your nostrils

“i know but you’re sappier.”

levi doesn’t respond because he knows you’re correct

:-)

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lunnybunny12 · 4 years

Text

Severus Snape X Reader (Coffee)

Request: @noah1986 (IDK why it wont let me tag this person but anyway) Hiiii hope you are doing well, i would like to request Snape with Y/n meeting in a coffee shop and speak about their interests and treats her so well and is kinda possessive with the way he touches her, then go out on a date and smut if you are okay with that 💕 Im dying for Snape, thank you so muchhhh

Word count: 1042

Warnings: b0ner and snow

Master list

It was a cold day. All days had been cold that December and it seemed like it was going to stay that way for a while. The bitter cold pulled heat out of any person that dared to exit their homes and your hands had practically turned to ice.

"I'm sorry" you said politely. "What were you saying?"

"I said, you should've worn gloves," said Severus.

"Oh. yes," you said warming your hands on the steaming mug.

The heat of the coffee shop had condensed on the glass, and a few droplets had grouped into little pools on the windowsill.

"Honestly (Y/N), If I weren't there to assist you the students would eat you alive"

"Oi I never asked you to babysit me, you just walked into my classroom one day and never left. Im perfectly capable of teaching first years by myself,"

The man gave you an all too familiar look. "What about the other years?"

"Shut your hole." you chuckled adjusting yourself to sit comfortably.

You and Severus had gotten into the habit of going out for cups of tea or coffee whenever the school season was over. Whether it be for Christmas or summer the pair of you would make time for one another and talk about your shared interests and things Severus deemed "inappropriate" to speak of in school (like your pasts).

"What do you think to this one then? Personally, I think it's horrid." Severus said taking a sip of his drink.

In all honesty, you could see why he didn't like the cafe you were in. The huge windows spanned from one side of the store to the other, allowing all of the natural light to illuminate the room. It was so cosy in there. It reminded you of American ski lodges you'd seen in muggle media. Stuffed deer heads and taxidermied birds adorned the walls (which you thought Severus would have enjoyed) and a large animal skin rug lay under your feet. What set it apart from the others you had gone to previously was that it was a Muggle owned establishment. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly Severus' scene.

"Other than the seats being a tad bit uncomfortable, I think this place is lovely" your face slowly turning into one of disgust as you took your first sip of tea. "And that's me finished with that"

"add this to your list of cafes to not re-visit"

"Will do."

Time passed and it got darker outside. For hours, the snow fell onto the un-gritted street as the pair of you talked. What about? Whatever came to mind at the time. Words seemed to escape your mouth quicker than you could think of them. The day passed quicker than either of you expected and when the shop assistant approached to tell you they were closing, you saw a glint of possessiveness flash across Severus' face.

Something about that look brought back so many memories you didn't know you had. They swam around in your head like a fish in a shallow pond but to save face you continued to smile.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"WOW, it's freezing!" "I told you to-" "Yea, yea, yea, bring gloves I get it" you said. Sarcasm lacing your tone.

You both held onto each other to avoid slipping on the frosted pathway. You needed a secluded place to apparate and not get caught by a muggle or god forbid a ministry worker. You'd had enough run-ins with them to last 3 lifetimes.

"That reminds me, You need to apparate to my house. I have that book you lent me and I've finished it."

"And why can't you send it later?"

"Because. Cokeworth is too far away for you to apparate in a snowstorm and I don't want you getting sick."

Severus rolled his eyes at you, why you cared at all for his safety hed never know but he was grateful regardless. He'd been more than grateful to have you for a long time and it had taken a long time for him to admit that to himself.

The pair of you walked in silence for a little bit, the thoughts from before slowly returning.

Eventually, you asked, " You find me attractive don't you?"

"excuse me?"

"You find me attractive. I know you do."

"What on earth brought you to that conclusion, may I ask?"

You answered" Oh please, the way you looked at that shop assistant was the same as when anyone would talk to Lily. It isn't just when we're out and about either. You do it when you're babysitting me in class too,"

"That doesn't mean I'm attracted to you"

"So you're telling me that if I had you pinned against the wall, my hands all in your hair, you'd tell me to stop?"

He paused for a second before answering with a quiet "Yes"

At hearing this an evil smile crossed your mind and without a second thought your hands latched onto his shirt as you pinned him against the nearest wall. You saw the snowflakes fall into his dark hair and his eyes went wide with surprise. Your eyes darted to his lips before going back to his eyes. He looked like a deer in headlights and his face burned when he realised that he had gripped on to you to stop himself from falling over.

With a cheeky glint in your eye, you entangled your hands into his hair and leaned yourself closer to his face. Your dry lips ghosted over his.

" Go on Severus... you know you want to" you whispered.

There was no point in trying to say it wasn't true. You saw right through him and he knew that if he didn't he would regret it for the rest of his life.

It was cold at first but the longer it lasted the warmer it got. He was so gentle and slow with the kiss, like you were about to shatter in his arms.

"I'm like an open book to you aren't I?" he smiled looking into your warm eyes.

"Luckily enough for you, you're a book I enjoy reading. So here's my next question Severus... Is that your wand in your pocket or are you happy to kiss me?"

Smut ending...

“Luckily enough for you, you’re a book I enjoy reading. So here’s my next question Severus… Is that your wand in your pocket or are you happy to kiss me?" You asked with a cheeky grin.

With wide eyes, he enclosed the pair of you in his cape and turned to you with angry eyes.

"Why you filthy little..aaaaaaa" Midway through his sentence he cut himself off as he felt your hand palm him through his trousers. He let out a few quiet whimpers into your neck at the sensation and he couldn't have stopped you even if he wanted to.

"A ah ah, now Severus, don't ruin this beautiful moment with your ugly words" You purred into his ear, pulling his head off of your shoulder and dusted another kiss on his lips.

Severus's eyes were glazed with shock and lust. You had never been this bold with him before and he had to admit, he found it extremely arousing. You were teasing him, your hand glided over his cock and he could see on your face that you knew what you were doing.

You leaned into his face and whispered "Now do you want to apparate to mine?" in a dark chuckle.

In an attempt to compose himself, he stood to attention and held both your hands in a vice-like grip. You knew the routine, he would try and be scary and act as if nothing had happened but you also knew that he wouldnt have let go unless he had to.

"I didn't know you could be so evil, (Y/N)"

Without hesitation, you yanked your hands down forcing his face closer to yours and purred into his ear " I'm just getting started darling"

#severus snape x reader #snape #severus x you #severus snape #severus #snape x reader #snape x y/n #harry potter #snape smut #snape fluff

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solarwonux · 4 years

Text

10. “I still remember the way you taste.”

31. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

villain!wonwoo x superhero!f!reader

w.c: 2.6k (it was mistake okay I got carried away we should know this by now)

warnings: fluff, talks of death, ghosts, torture if you squint, graveyards, digging up graves (don’t do that yall), angst a little, it’s hinted that the reader can communicate with ghosts. (if you’re uncomfortable with any of these themes this one is not for you)

note: I CAN EXPLAIN OKAY I KNOW YOU WANTED JOKER WONWOO BUT LIKE IT STARTED OFF THAT WAY AND THEN I GOT SOFT. Enjoy let know your thoughts please, they mean so much to me.

Also i will answer asks at some point, school is just keeping me super busy, BUT IM NOT IGNORING THEM THEY MAKE ME SMILE EVERY TIME I SEE THEM.

masterlist || drabble game

Wonwoo wiped the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand, panting slightly as he stared down at the empty grave. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Vernon asked, digging his shovel into the ground with the heel of his boot. He rested his forearm against the handle looking at Wonwoo through his sweaty bangs.

“There is no reason, I was just bored.” Wonwoo shrugged, his cheeks were dusted with dirt and his white dress shirt was anything but white. The truth was he had a reason, he needed a way to meet you halfway and causing chaos was the only way to get you out of that shiny tower in the middle of the city where all the heroes resided. But his reasoning would never be voiced out loud, especially not to Vernon and so he lied like it was second nature to him.

Wonwoo missed you, He missed getting under your skin with his snarky remarks and idiotic plans to take over the world. Or at least the city. The world was his end goal, but in order to do that he needed to succeed at taking over the city first and so far he had failed. Mainly, do to you and your teammates interrupting his plans. Though along the way something unexpected happened. He had undoubtedly fallen truly, madly, deeply in love with you. It had annoyed him at first, his mind was constantly enveloped with thoughts of you. Interrupting everything he spent years working on.

It took him months to come to terms with his unwanted feelings and if he hadn’t snuck into the masked ball held every year at the tower; he probably wouldn’t have. But the second he saw you come down the grand staircase of the ballroom wearing a dress so blue, it put the night sky to shame; he kissed you before he could stop himself. Despite the mask he was wearing you had spotted him in the crowd and led him down an empty hallway when his urges got the best of him causing him to sin. When he pulled away he was shocked just as you were, but he was definitely floored when you had cut his apology short and kissed him again.

“So you decided to dig up an empty grave for fun?” Vernon pushed his dirt stained hand through his hand, leaving behind little specks of dirt in its wake. “How did you even know this grave would be empty?”

“It’s mine...well used to be mine. Obviously I’m not dead.” Wonwoo’s nonchalant tone sent shivers up Vernon’s back. Once again he found himself wondering why the hell he always found himself going along with Wonwoo’s schemes. He knew there was a reason. Wonwoo never did anything without calculating all his moves beforehand, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the true reason, more so if he was going to find out soon anyway. His suspicions were confirmed when he caught sight of you. He should’ve known that this was just another one of Wonwoo’s ways to get to you.

Vernon didn’t understand your relationship with Wonwoo, scientifically it didn’t make sense. In simple terms Wonwoo was hated by everyone and you on the other hand were not. But the two of you had snuck around for years up until the accident five months ago. Ever since then Wonwoo’s spirits were low and he was going mad. If he wasn’t holed up in his tiny room at the apartment he was bent over a desk mumbling to himself, trying to come up with ways in which he could see you again. All of Wonwoo’s attempts before this one had failed and to say he wasn’t surprised to see you sit down, legs hanging over the edge of the grave while looking down at Wonwoo lovingly, he would be lying. Though, he supposed it had to do with the fact that Wonwoo’s grave was dug up.

“You guys having fun there?” Wonwoo jumped. He rapidly smoothed down his shirt, leaving behind streaks of dirt, and fixed his hair before turning around. A smug smile adorning his features. Vernon shook his head and rolled his eyes. Sometimes he missed the days in which Wonwoo wasn’t in love.

“Princess what brings you here?” He winked. His clammy hands grew more wet as he leaned against the shovel, before it failed underneath his weight causing him to trip. Seeing you again was like a breath of fresh air, the pictures he kept of you and looked at every night did you no justice. For you shined brighter than the stars in the night sky and it always made Wonwoo’s heart skip a beat.

“Cut the shit Wonwoo, I know you’ve been turning this city upside down at least once a week to get under my skin.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? You haven’t been answering my calls, texts or emails.” Wonwoo threw his hands up in disbelief and you rolled your eyes at his ignorance.

“Apologize, that’s all you had to do and you wouldn’t be here digging your own grave...literally.” You huffed crossing your arms in front of you, ripping your eyes away from his. Suddenly the memory of the accident came lingering back. You knew, given his nature, Wonwoo was calculated. He used his powers to affiliate pain on his victims without moving a muscle to get what he wanted. Though, he had never used it on you, until that night.

He had been blinded by rage and pain and you had never seen him use so much power in your years of knowing him. It scared you and when you had tried to coax him out of whatever state he was in. He did the one thing he promised he would never do.

He used his abilities on you.

Wonwoo sighed before hosting himself out of the hole and taking the empty seat next you. “I wanted to do it in person, but you never showed up.” He looked down at his hands playing with his fingers, twirling the ring on his pinky. His body was consumed with guilt as your screams of agony replayed in his head. Just like they did every night. He had never once felt anything but satisfaction and bliss whenever he used his powers on someone. In fact he loved the way his victims begged him to stop, that was until you were on the receiving end of his torture.

“You know where I live. It’s a big shiny tower in the center of town. Pretty hard to miss honestly.” The airy playfulness of your voice made his stomach swirl. He truly missed you and not just on nights when the two of you gently explored each other's bodies, but just in general.

“I know but you know how much I hate the others, especially Joshua. He always has to stick his nose into matters that don’t concern him.” He huffed, flicking a tiny spec of dirt off of his trousers. “And I was scared.” He confessed lowly, shocking Vernon who had now taken it upon himself to sit on the soil filled ground to watch the spectacle in front of him. Wonwoo never admitted his fears and though Vernon sometimes could feel them radiating off him. It was different hearing it come from his friend's mouth.

“Of Joshua? Dude’s only got super strength and-”

“No of you. I was scared to see you suffer and to turn me away. I was scared that if I did show up putting aside indifference for your friends just to hear you say that you didn’t love me anymore.” Wonwoo let out a deep sigh at the ending of his words. He dropped his shoulders feeling the weight being lifted off them. He felt your body shake next to him and it confused him greatly, even more so when it was followed by your laugh. Though he loved it and missed it greatly. He couldn’t deny the anger he felt towards you as you laughed at his vulnerability.

Slowly, he felt his heart close up again and brought himself up to his feet faster than he could blink. His feet moved faster than the doubt racing through his veins and your laughter came to a stop.

He now remembered why he swore to never love again all those years ago.

“Wonwoo, wait come back.” You hurried to your feet, smoothing down the creases on your leggings. Vernon copied your movements. He could sense the fear coming from your body, and it overwhelmed his senses. Behind his soft eyes he quietly told you to hurry before Wonwoo did something he wasn’t supposed to. Even though Wonwoo always did without planning ahead of time, there were a few instances where he didn’t care and acted carelessly. And he found himself fearing more for your heart rather than his friend's safety.

You sighed tugging on the sleeves of your sweatshirt before turning around and ran after the only man you had ever loved. You passed many tombstones, silently paying your respects until you stopped in the middle of a small clearing, home to one familiar tombstone and Wonwoo. His hands in his pocket, eyebrows furrowed and his teeth chewing down on his teeth.

“After she died, I promised her I wouldn’t love anyone again.” He whispered, “but then you came along and ruined it.” He turned his head, his eyes glossy with wanted tears. “Do you know how much I beat myself up every day for what I did to her. For what I did to you. I hate myself for it, I hate that I can inflict pain on everyone else but myself because I’m not one that should be suffering, not everyone else.”

By now he had finally let his tears go. They raced down his cheeks rapidly and it shattered your heart.

“It hurts me that you think that way about yourself. She didn’t die because of you, you tried to save her and-”

“I was too late.” Wonwoo snorted and rolled his eyes. He stared intently at the tombstone in front of him, reading his little sister’s name over and over again, letting it burn feverishly inside his mind. He missed her dearly and sometimes he wondered why you never told him anything about the conversations you would have with her whenever she visited you. But you had told him that it was a family secret between the two of you and he never questioned you again because you had used the word family and it made him feel all giddy inside.

“Let me talk Wonwoo.” You said closing the gap between you and Wonwoo. You grabbed his face in your hands and wiped away his tears with the pad of your thumb. He had always been there to comfort you on your lowest days. His sweet words and warmth grounded you back onto the Earth, but you had never gotten the opportunity to do the same to him. He always kept himself closed off and reserved. It had taken almost a year into your secret, not so secret relationship for him to tell you about his sister’s unfortunate death and a few more months after that for him to say that he loved you. Despite all those small passing moments of vulnerability he had never once cried in front of you.

“I love you and you’re stupid for thinking that I would love you any less because of what happ-”

“I hurt you though,” Wonwoo cut you off, earning a ground shattering glare from you that sent shivers up his spine. “Sorry you can continue.” He whispered.

“Thank you.” You smirked and wrapped your arms around his neck, making him freeze. You were the strangest person he had ever had the pleasure in knowing because normal people would never be as comfortable as you were in his presence. “I know the kind of person you are Wonwoo, through this cold exterior there is the most loving and sensible person I have ever known. I mean, baby, you spent a whole day sulking because you forgot to water your plant.”

“You gave me that plant for my birthday, therefore he’s our child.”

“This is exactly my point, you have the biggest of anyone I have ever known. Unfortunately, you have been dealt a bad hand in life and I really don’t understand your obsession with taking over the world. But you’re not a monster.”

“I hurt people though, sometimes for fun.” He whispered against your skin. In the midst of your speech he had given in and circled his arms around your waist before burying his face into the crook of your neck. Leaving the two of you in an awkward and uncomfortable position.

“And who are those people?”

“Bad people.”

“Exactly baby, they’re the scum of the Earth and you have helped stop them.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t make me a hero. I’m just doing what you guys can’t do. On top of that Joshua’s super strength is useless, he only gets praised because he’s hot.” Wonwoo finished and raised his head, smirking. He sent you a playful wink, tears long forgotten, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Mingyu takes forever to get ready, but that’s besides the point. You’re not a monster so stop treating yourself like one.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?” He pouted batting his eyelashes at you.

“Yes you big idiot.”

“Then...why haven’t you kissed me yet?” He puckered his lips and made kissing noises, making you laugh. “Hey I’m waiting and you know I’m impatient.” He spoke through pouted lips as he leaned in closer, his lips hovered over yours teasingly until you finally caved and kissed him. He sighed happily against your mouth and deepened the kiss. He had spent five months without the feeling of your touch and it scared him that he would forget how it felt. Yet, now as he kissed you with everything in him he realized he hadn’t and it overjoyed him to the point in which he accidentally let out a moan; making you pull away quickly and eyeing him down.

“Control yourself, your sister, her friends and Vernon are here.” You scolded making him pout.

“I’m sorry, i just...I still remember the way you taste, and I got excited.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Before he could plant his lips on yours again he was met with your hand pushing him away. He whined as you tore his arms away from your waist, his body growing cold. “Nooo, one more kiss.” He reached out making grabby hands at you like a child. Instead of giving into what he wanted you turned and started walking away, “Wait, where are you going?” He stumbled against his own feet before following you.

“Home.” You looked over at him and stuffed your hands into the front pocket of your hoodie. “You have a grave to cover up with Vernon.”

“But I haven’t seen you in five months, just give me five more minutes please.”

“Wonwoo you just didn’t look hard enough baby.” You said giving him a knowing smirk before leaning over, giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek. He felt his eyes grow in realization as everything started to click in his head. If what you had hinted was the truth and you had shown up to every single sight he had caused trouble in, then he had to give it to you. You were a lot more clever than you led on. “Don’t think about it too hard, I’ll leave my window open for you.” You smiled widely giving his cheek a pat and disappeared through the trees.

“You live on the twenty fourth floor.” He yelled after you, his hands falling down at his side in defeat. He heard someone snort next to him and suddenly he remembered that Vernon was there silently observing everything, just like always did.

“Figure it out baby, you always do.”

266 notes · View notes

reidswritings · 4 years

Text

even after all these years

word count; 7.2k

warnings; mentions of death, stalker stuff, mentions of guns, curse words, and angst angst angst

authors note; so this was like 3 days in the making, so i hope yall enjoy!! please let me know what yall think!! ignore any typos im doing my best 😁😁

two years ago;

“I’m done.” She had said after the door closed, once they were alone. Once there was no one to stop what was going to happen. Once there was no one to talk some sense into The Young Girl.

The Pretty Boy, who she had come to love more that she ever thought possible, was no longer standing pretty in front of her. His once love filled eyes—the hazel beauties that used to look at her with so much admiration now were void, cold— were holding back the tears she knew he so desperately wanted to let flow (but wouldn’t with her standing there). She knew that once she left him, he’d break down. She knew that he would spend all of his nights on the couch rather than the bed they shared for so long. She knew that he would rather die than look at the happy pictures on the walls sans the few that she had stuffed into her getaway bag. She knew him too well— she knew how he would react once she was no longer the love interest in his story.

She knew and yet she was still doing this to him. She was doing this to him— she was causing him so much destruction and pain, barely batting an eye at him. For being a profiler, he was shitty at reading people’s body language and emotions. Because to him, she seemed fine; she seemed like it was just another day. To Spencer, it seemed like she was bored. To him, it didn’t seem like she was also breaking. It didn’t seem like she was hurting just as much. Maybe if he was better, he would’ve seen. Maybe if he was better, he could’ve stopped it. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The eyes that she had fallen in love with—that she was still hopelessly in love with— were dark, almost black. He had a white piece of gauze taped against his neck, covering a once life threatening bullet hole. There was a red spot, small bits of blood seeping through the stitches holding his skin together. If she wasn’t so preoccupied she would’ve thrown up from how much the injury bothered her. She would’ve gotten so worked up that she would’ve passed out.

Her eyes burned with tears, looking at the goddamn wound that started this all. The wound that ended their relationship. She blinked and it was over for her. Her façade dropped and her tears rolled over her eyelashes and onto her cheeks. Spencer’s arm twitched before he jerked it back to his side, fingers clenched. He wanted to wipe her tears away so desperately. Despite the words that had just passed her perfect lips, he still wanted to hold her like his life depended on it— because honestly, it really did.

She was his life preserver in the wild sea that was his life.

The Boy was holding his keys in his hands, jingling the metal with his fingers in attempt to calm his heart, his mind, his emotions. They had just gotten home. He was in Texas when it happened— he was in Texas working a case when he almost got himself killed. Thankfully, The Team had flew His Girl out and she had been the first face he saw when he finally woke up.

Alex, being the wonderful human she is, had just dropped the two off, leaving only after she admitted to Spencer that she was leaving, too. They had just gotten home and she was springing this on him, out of nowhere. She was doing this to him even after all the people that had already left him. She was doing this to him the same night one of his best friends had just left him. She was doing this at the most inconvenient time— not that any time would be better, he would still be loosing the love of his life either way.

He was sure he hadn’t heard her right. He was sure that he hadn’t just heard His Pretty Girl say the words he thought she’d never say. The words she promised him that she’d never use. She was doing the one thing he was most afraid of; she was abandoning him. . . just like everyone did.

His heart was beating so fast. It was so loud, he was sure she could hear him. He was on the brink of a panic attack. His breath was hitching and he couldn’t stop it. As big as his brain was, he couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening. His mind was running a mile a minute, carrying a thousand thoughts with it— yet, none of the thoughts were helpful ones. There were no thoughts walking him through his breathing exercises, no thoughts telling him to calm down, no thoughts telling him to speak up.

The only thing on his genius mind was one sentence; She’s leaving me. She’s leaving me. She’s leaving me. She’s leaving—

So, he said, “W-What?” Breathless and choppy. He was having trouble focusing. He needed to sit down. He needed the world to pause for just one second. He needed to get his thoughts in order. He needed to sit, but his legs refused to move. He was stuck. He was stuck in this terrible, awful moment that his eidetic memory would never let him live down. He knew that he would think of this moment for the rest of his life with so much regret in all the things he didn’t say. But still, he was stuck, frozen.

Unable to fix things— unable to make her stay.

“Spence,” She paused, looked down and sighed. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t, because if she did she would wrap him up in her arms and never let him go again. She knew if he caught her eye that she would apologize until she was blue in the face. The girl refused to meet his eyes because she knew if she did that she wouldn’t be doing what she was doing. She needed to do this, she couldn’t back down now. “I. . . I can’t do this anymore.”

His voice was low, raspy and broken, “Do what. . .?” He knew what. He wasn’t dumb, he knew what she meant, but he needed to hear her say it. She had to say it or he wouldn’t ever let go. He would be stuck with her for the rest of time. He needed to hear her say it, even if that meant he would be more broken than he had ever been before. He needed this. He needed it even if it killed him.

Now she met his hazel eyes— her favorite part of him, she was committing it to memory because after this, she would never see him again. She knew that. She counted on that. “This, us. Spence, I almost lost you today. . . I can’t do that again. You’re— You’re everything, I-I— you’re my everything. I can’t ask you to quit your job, I won’t be that person. . . So, I’m removing myself. I can’t watch you get killed— I won’t do it, Spencer.”

Everything, all at once, became sharp. It was like his mind could finally form full sentences. He was full of ideas, he was full of air. He knew what he had to do. He knew how to keep her with him.

Before either adult knew what was happening, he was moving, quick on his feet, to the couch. He was throwing open his messenger bag, hands messily pulling things out. He was searching for his phone, he was searching for the one thing he could think of that would save him— save them.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked him, moving behind him, reaching for his arm, trying to see what had him so worked up. He jerked away from her, grunting in the process. And again, with no words spoken, he was moving again. He was going too fast, he was going to tear his stitches, he was going to hurt his still healing wound. He was now moving into the kitchen, still looking, hope flooding his veins. This was his last chance, he knew that.

“Spencer!” She followed him, just as frantic as the newly hope-filled boy, “Did you hear me?”

She heard him let out a chocked sob, a broken laugh following— though, no humor was tied to it. She stopped in front of him, heart wild, anxiety flowing through her body. He was typing on his phone, chest raising and falling faster than she liked. The girl asked again, “What are you doing?”

He looked up now. His eyes were wild, more so than she had ever seen. He was so worked up that his body was literally twitching with each breath that passed his lips. It scared her, she had never seen him like this. She had never seen him so manic. It hurt knowing she was the cause.

The thought of him like this did nothing for her, though. She still continued on her path of destruction.

“I’m calling Hotch. Telling him I’m done.” He was bringing his phone up to his ear while his mind planned out the words he needed to say to get off The Team. His free hand was holding onto the counter, keeping himself straight up. His knuckles were turning white; Y/N was worried he would break his hand— or the old table. Either way was inadequate. Without it, he was afraid he’d fall to the floor in a mess of tears and anger.

He was doing it, he was doing it. He had figured a way to make her stay, he was going to do it. He would do anything to keep her with him.

The phone was ringing. It was ringing and Spencer could feel his panic draining away with each passing second, his boss was going to answer and everything was going to be alright. His boss, who doubled as his friend, was seconds away from answering the phone, he just knew it.

Everything was working itself out, this would be okay— that is until she intervened.

She was ripping the phone from his hands, hanging up in the process. Spencer felt his breath catch again, his voice was wild as he asked— screeched, “What are you doing?!”

The boy reached for the phone but she whipped it away from his reach, “Stop! Give— Give it back, Y/N!”

“No! I-I’m not letting you throw your life away for something so fucking stupid, Spencer!” Spencer watched her as she began to turn around, walk from the kitchen and probably his life. He couldn’t move again. His phone started to ring in her hands. They both froze, listening to the phone until it turned itself off.

He was following her now, like a lost puppy. He would follow her anywhere. She was the one. She was it for him. There was no one else.

“Y/N. . . please. Please, don’t do this.” He was broken, voice thick with tears. Her back was to him, he stepped closer, hand falling to her shoulder.

He heard her sigh, “Spencer, don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

He begged. He was more broken than she had ever seen him. More than when he lost Maeve. More than when he lost Emily. More than when Elle left him. More than when Alex told him about her son that was so similar to himself. More than when she walked out right after. More than when he talked about his mom. This was it— this was the worst for him. This was his rock bottom. He wasn’t sure he’d ever recover.

This was it for him— there was only darkness after Y/N. He couldn’t see a future without His Girl by his side.

There was no Spencer Reid without Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“Please don’t leave me. You—You promised.”

She turned to face him, face absent of all emotion. A complete 180 from only a few moments ago. She handed him back the outdated phone, along with his crushed up heart. “I lied.”

now;

It wasn’t very often Y/N crossed Spencer’s mind, but when she did it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest all over again. Spencer’s had his fair share of trauma in his life, but by far Y/N was the one that hurt the most. After watching her walk out of his life—for ever, he’d assumed— he was sure that he wouldn’t ever recover. He did, of course.

It just took longer than he cared to admit.

It took a lot of shedding tears at the most inappropriate times (and things), more support from his friends than he ever thought he’d get, too many late nights playing that last night over and over again in his mind, and way too many calls to his sponsor.

If he was being honest, he was terrified that he would relapse. He was afraid that he would become his old self. He never wanted that; he hated that guy more than he hated anything in his life. He didn’t though— he made her a promise all those years ago and he didn’t break promises. She may have broken all hers but that didn’t mean he broke his.

He had gone those two years without ever seeing The Pretty Girl. He was grateful for that— he knew if he ever did see her again, he’d probably die. Well, not actually, but it would hurt like hell. He was more than positive that if he saw The Beaut that it would feel like he was dying. He knew this because that’s how he felt when she left all those years ago.

He tried not to dwell on that fact— he tried not to think about her.

He really did. He even tried to move on. He tried to love other girls, he tried to let himself go, he tried to find solace in women that weren’t her. It just never came— he never got the peace he so desperately craved.

She was just too unforgettable. She was everything— she was the air that he breathed, the ground he walked on, the smile that he got every time something wonderful happened.

She was everything and it was near impossible to let go of everything.

By now, he had convinced himself, with the help of his BAU family, that he’d never see her again. He had been convinced that it was really over. He was trying to convince himself to let her go. He was trying to lose that tiny piece of hope he carried in his heart with him with every day. He knew he had to let her go— he’d never get what he wanted again. It was time.

Too many years had passed, she wasn’t his anymore.

She was a pretty girl; she had probably settled down by now. She had probably settled for someone. She probably lived in some small town with a dog and a perfect boy that wasn’t him. Her life was probably everything she ever dreamed of.

He liked to think that. He liked to think that she had gotten everything she’d ever wanted. He liked to think that she was happy now. It kept him going, fantasizing about her and her perfect life— the one she created without him.

He never thought he’d see her again. And you know what? He was coming to terms with that.

That was, until the day he did. The day his heart stopped beating again. The day that his breath was knocked from his lungs. The day that he only dreamed about.

Until His Pretty Girl walked through those big glass BAU doors.

The Stunned Boy felt his body betray him. He was suddenly standing, mouth agape and eyes wide, unblinking. She had stopped too, arms clutching a ominous folder to her chest. Spencer drank her appearance in; she hadn’t changed very much. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. She looked absolutely gorgeous.

She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt— Spencer was more than positive that it was his— and frame fitting jeans. She had paired the comfortable outfit with the running shoes she had bought so many years ago. It was ironic because she had bought them to start working out, but never actually got around to doing so.

Spencer met her eyes. They hadn’t changed, they were still the eyes he had fallen in love with. He took a moment to notice that her face was void of any makeup— that was different. She looked tired too; her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, another thing that he noticed was different. She looked absolutely exhausted— he wanted to know why. He wanted to know what had happened to make her look the way she did; what had brought her back— back to him.

Both Spencer and Y/N were still unmoving, despite the world moving around them. His voice came out soft, and he was sure that she couldn’t hear him from across the bullpen. He wasn’t completely sure that he wasn’t dreaming. He spoke anyways, “Y/N?”

She blinked and then her world started again. Her breath was knocked back into her body; she was here for a reason. She needed help.

JJ walked through the doors, coffee in hand, tired eyes heavy on her face. She stopped in her tracks, suddenly awake, upon seeing Y/N. A gasp came from her lips, causing the spell between Spencer and Y/N to end. The unchanged girl turned to her old friend, the smallest smile he had ever seen on her face, “Hi.”

JJ smiled too, arms wrapping around the smaller girl before she could stop them. “Hi! Oh my god, hi! W-What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s eyes met Spencer’s again—he still hadn’t moved— then back to the blonde’s. “Um, I— Um, I need your help.”

Ever so curious, JJ nodded and led her old pal to her desk— the desk that was directly in front of SSA Spencer Reid’s. As they approached, Spencer felt his body lower itself back into his chair. Jennifer pulled an empty chair by her desk, motioning her friend to sit. Now with all three adults sitting, The Beautiful Blonde asked, “What’s happening?”

Spencer pretended to be busy, opening a case folder and staring. Y/N knew he was listening— it never took The Genius Boy more than, like, 10 seconds to read one page. Despite the listening ears, Y/N cleared her throat and began to speak.

She placed the folder onto JJ’s desk. It landed with a soft thump. The blonde flipped it open, keeping eye contact with her friend— soon to be victim of their next case. Page after page of threats laid there for anyone to see, it made Y/N feel quite exposed. She hated this; she hated that this was happening to her.

“I think— I think,” she paused, eyes flicking to Spencer, who was now watching the two girls with no shame, brows furrowed and bottom lip tucked under his teeth, “someone has been following me.”

Y/N felt her leg start to bounce in anxiety, she wished she could rewind the clock and convince herself not to come to the office. She wished she could’ve just pretended that she was safe and that nothing was happening to her. Spencer launched himself to his feet. His heart was anxiety-ridden “What?”

Both girl’s attention moved to The Frantic Boy. His mind was as wild as his curls; there was no way this was happening to him again. It wasn’t fair— why couldn’t his girls just be left alone?

“Um, yeah— I don’t know,” The Young Girl nodded, hands dismissing her thoughts. She felt dumb for coming back, and it showed. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. I know you guys are good at this stuff.”

JJ placed a sympathetic hand on Y/N’s arm, calling her attention back. “It’s good you did.”

The Blonde nodded along with her friend, “Okay, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna show this to The Team, see what we can do. Okay?” She was waving the blank folder in her hands as Y/N nodded. JJ stood, eyeing Spencer, a secret conversation happening between the two.

As soon as the girl left, Spencer claimed her seat. The boy leaned back, one leg crossing over the other— the iconic Spencer stance. Y/N’s hands were folded in her lap, eyes trained on her faded jeans, her mind willing her to be anywhere other than in front of The Boy she broke.

Spencer cleared his throat, His Pretty Girl looked up. “It’s good to see you. . . You, uh, you look good.”

He noticed the slight blush that appeared on her cheeks and nose. His cold heart softened ever so slightly. It was like a window had opened and his anger bit by bit flew out. Even after all these years he was still head over heals for her. She scoffed, tucking a piece of hair back into her bun, “. . . Shut up.”

“No, seriously. You haven’t changed at all.” More blush on her cheeks. More anger out the window.

Y/N licked her lips— a nervous tick, Spencer noticed, “Spencer, I—”

His heart sped up at her words, mind wondering what she was going to say. He hoped it was the apology he’d wanted for the past two years. He wished it was her asking for him to take her back. He wished, he wished, he wished.

“—Y/N, we’re ready for you now.” JJ’s voice interrupted the girl. Both Y/N and Spencer turned to The Blonde who was standing in the door of the round table room. Her hand was clutching the door as she leaned out. Y/N could see in the room, thanks to the floor to ceiling window directly next to Jennifer. The entire Team was inside, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen any of them since she did what she did to Spencer. She wondered if they held any anger towards her. If they did, she deserved it. After what she did to Spencer she deserved everything unwelcoming and bad.

The Boy Wonder sensed her anxiety. He stood up, encouraged her to as well. Once she did so, he led her into the room, all their eyes landing to her. Spencer and His Pretty Girl came to a stop in the room, standing side by side. Y/N could feel the warmth radiating of the boy next to her, it calmed her nerves. She missed that— The Spencer Effect.

“It’s so good to see you again, Y/N,” that was Emily. Emily Prentiss; best friend of Spencer Reid. Her eyes, Y/N noticed held a bittersweet tone, “Wish it was under different circumstances, though.”

Her eyes looked at each and every member of The Team— none of them held any judgement or anger. Sure, some held sadness, others held understanding, but mostly, she saw compassion. She should’ve known; she used to spend every weekend with these people— she should’ve known they wouldn’t hold anything against her. She should’ve known.

Holding the pages that Y/N had printed out, JJ spoke first. “Well, it looks like its all been online?”

The victim nodded then coughed, “Well. . . actually, last night, I found this outside my apartment.” Out of her purse, she pulled yet another folder. Handing it to Spencer, she rocked on her feet. Inside the folder was picture after picture of Y/N. Many were captured when she was in the public eye, doing errands, hanging with friends, walking her pup. The part that caused Spencer’s blood to run cold were the few at the end.

Whoever was terrorizing Y/N, had managed to get into her apartment and capture pictures while she was sleeping, showering and even lounging on her couch— though the last bunch were from outside a window, most likely on her patio.

The boy tossed the pictures on the table in anger, the rest of The Team all began to sort through them. Surprising Y/N, and The Team, he did a full 180 and stormed from the room. Against her better judgement, she watched him go. Her eyes followed his every movement. Even after all these years, her eyes still watched every move her boy executed.

Before she could protest, her feet were carrying her to Spencer. He was pacing in front of his desk, hands nervously rubbing over one another. A tick that she remembered Spencer often doing.

“Spencer?” She asked. It was soft and innocent. It was everything Spencer had missed and that pissed him off.

“Y/N?” The tone surprised her. It was harsh, different from how he was treating her only a few minutes prior.

“Are you okay?” He laughed but didn’t answer her question, so she tried once more. “What’s wrong? . . . Spence?”

“No—!” He turned to face her now. His outburst surprised her (and apparently The Team too, as they had all stopped what they were doing to watch the horrific scene unfold. Yet none of the six moved to help The Broken Girl. She deserved that— she deserved the harsh words that were leaving the boy she loved so much), he continued, “You— you don’t get to call me that anymore. You lost that privilege when you left.”

That hurt, but she let him get it out. She knew it was years in the making— she knew it was healthy for him to express himself, even if it was all the anger he accumulated the past two years. He wasn’t yelling anymore, but his tone held all the anger he had been holding for the past two years. The boy’s hands made their way into his curls, pulling at the root. Y/N’s eyes were wide, mouth stuck open.

“Spencer, I-I’m sorry!” Tears were stinging her eyes, causing The Beautiful Boy to go blurry. She was absolutely positive that Spencer could see her unshed tears and she hated herself for it. She felt so fucking stupid. She shouldn’t have come— it was stupid to think he would ever help her.

“Yeah? Well, it’s too late now, Y/N.” He stepped towards her, she took a step back. His heart took the bullet, but he didn’t let it show. And before he could stop the word vomit, he brushed past her, knocking shoulders and said, “You shouldn’t have come back.”

She watched, blurry eyed, as the boy who she still loved ran up the BAU steps and back to the round table. She felt her breath hitch and then she felt her body lower itself into the chair that just so happened to be Spencer’s. She needed to get a control on her emotions. She couldn’t break down— she needed to help The Team help her.

Finding a stalker was hard work, apparently, because it was nearing the late hours of the night and there was still no face to the tyrant who so badly wanted Y/N’s attention. The Team was beginning to burn out, frustrated with the lack of answers. With the lack of safety for their old friend. With the lack of anything that wasn’t naked pictures of Spencer’s Old Girl and threats directed from some deranged place of love.

After Spencer’s meltdown, the two hadn’t talked— let alone made eye contact. It wasn’t without effort though, Y/N had been doing her best to get The Boy Wonder to look her way. Unfortunately though, he seemed to have his own thoughts on the matter. He had kept his back to her for the last three hours. Instead, focusing on the white board in front of him.

Taped to one side of the board were pictures of Y/N as well as the threats she had received in the past few months. Spencer could barely look at that side— he had been focusing his efforts on the left bit. His eyes had been locked on the few leads they did have. Which, to be summed up, was nothing. The Team had The Victim look at the men on the wall— none of which she knew, to their disappointment. This discovery drove them no farther than they were when the girl first walked in.

It was when Y/N was growing antsy again when Hotch’s rough voice spoke up. “We’re not getting anything done here. I think we take the night and come back with fresh eyes. Yes?”

A moment passed, then two. No one moved to disagree with the boss. Y/N stayed put in her seat, watching as her old friends began to pack up their belongings and file out— not without a few comforting words in passing. The Young Girl sighed, standing too, until she noticed a certain genius still staring at the wall, arms crossed.

He had abandoned the sweater that he once wore and was now sporting his well-fitting button down. And damn, it looked good. It was this deep maroon color that he wore so well (Her eyes committed the image to memory, not wanting to forget what a handsome hunk he was. Because, honestly, she knew after all this was done, she’d never be seeing him again). He had rolled the sleeves up to his bicep and unbuttoned the top two buttons, as well as losing the tie that once brought the whole look together. His beautiful curls were aggressively frizzy, sticking up in all the wrong places. It took everything in her not to reach up and fit it, like she used to.

She wanted to speak, she wanted to reach out to the boy. She knew that he hated her— she knew that he was beyond angry with her. She had so many things she needed him to know— needed him to understand. But, now wasn’t the time. Now definitely wasn’t the time to get into the nasty bits that was their past. No, now was the time to save her from the impending doom of this goddamn stalker.

“Spencer?” She asked, before she could stop herself. The boy turned, aggravated— with her, with the situation, with everything. His arms dropped, hands stuffing themselves in his pockets. He bounced on his feet, eyes tired. She continued, “I-I know that you hate me—”

“— I don’t hate you,” It was a lie. She knew that. She knew he was lying, she knew that he was just saying things to make her feel better.

So, she said, “Look, I, um— do you think— could you—”

The angry boy, who’s anger was once again draining with every breath— she had that effect on him—sighed and let the tension leave his body, “Do you want me to take you home?”

Sheepishly keeping the eye contact she had longed for, for so long, she nodded. The girl pulled her arms into her chest, “That would be really great. . . only if you can, though. I don’t want to put you out.”

Another sigh and another bullet to the heart— only this time to Y/N’s and not her ex lover’s. Spencer collected his few things and placed a soft hand on her back, leading her out. And just for a moment, for a moment, it felt like old times. It felt like everything was okay and that they were going back to their place and that everything was perfect.

Sadly though, life was no fairy-tale for the two and there was no perfect ending. The two once lovers sat in the boy’s car, silent and awkward. They were only a few streets from Spencer’s—their old place— place, stopped at a red light. The light was finding it’s way into the car, flashing a beautiful hue on the boy next to her. One of his hands was holding tight to the wheel, the other was laying on the arm rest between them. It took every bone in the girl’s body to not reach out to feel him— it had been so long. She missed his touch.

Maybe it was that feeling that made her do it. Maybe it was just how beautiful he looked that made her say it. Maybe it was the love that she still carried for him (even after all these years) that made her tell him.

“I’m afraid to be alone.” It was quiet and it held all the emotion she had been hiding all day. Spencer’s heart, though ever angry, broke a little for her.

The boy looked over, his mouth opening to ease her in whatever way he could. Before a word left his mouth, the light turned green and the spell was broken between the two. He pushed through, foot pressing on the gas, “You, uh, you can stay with me, if you want.”

“Really?”

“Well, i-it’s just until after we catch this guy.” He paused, blinker on, car passing, turning left, “Then, you go back to whatever life you created.”

“—I didn’t—”

“And then, I’ll go back to pretending you didn’t break me.” Yet another bullet to the heart. She deserved that though, she knew it too.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Another pause of conversation, another blinker and another turn. Then they were home— they were back to Spencer’s. The walk to the small apartment wasn’t a long one. Especially with her body leading the way— muscle memory. What surprised her most was that he hadn’t changed much. Books still cluttered the tables and floors, globes and maps still sporadically placed around each room. The only thing that caught her eye was the lack of photos on the walls— what used to be a map of their relationship was replaced with a white wall.

“Looks the same.” she nodded, unmoving from her awkward stance by the door. “Looks like you.”

He snorted— though, there was no actual humor bedded within. Y/N watched as he stripped his bag from his body, then slipped off his shoes and off with his jacket. They stood together, wishing it was different. Wishing they could go back. Wishing there was no anger. Wishing, wishing, wishing. They’d be wishing for the rest of time.

Like before, like the last night, he was moving fast, breath hitching, “How long?”

“How long?” She echoed him, moving too. Still under the spell, she’d follow him anywhere.

“How long have you—” The boy cut himself off, hands in his curls, pulling them apart—unmarrying the best ones. “How long have you had this problem and not done anything?”

Before she had a chance to tell him, he was whirling on the poor girl, eyes wild, “You should’ve came to us— came to me.” His voice broke at the end, and Y/N could’ve kicked herself for causing him all this pain.

The heartbreaker sighed, “Spencer—”

“Y/N, I’m not playing around. How long?”

A sigh, a look to the floor, then back at him, “I don’t know, really. Maybe six months?”

Another sigh, this time from Spencer. He was sitting on the couch now, defeated, head in hands. “Maybe?”

“I’ve kind of had other things on my mind, Spencer!” It was bitter, angry, but not at him. It was directed at the jackass that had been stalking her. She joined him on the old seat, leaning back and pulling her legs off the floor.

A moment passed between the two— it wasn’t angry or awkward and didn’t hold any resentment, it was just comfortable and that surprised the two considering they hadn’t seen each other in over two years. It was just so easy to fall back into what they used to be.

She looked over at her boy. The window’s curtains were pushed open, the street lights making their way in. Spencer had turned on a lamp in the corner, as well. It was mixing with the lights from outside and casting a beautiful glow on her boy. He was looking down at his hands that were folded in his lap. A pensive look had made its home on his face.

“What’s goin’ on in that big brain of yours?” Y/N laughed, quiet and everything he had missed. The girl bumped shoulders with the boy next to her. He managed a smile, small, but still it was there. Y/N counted that as a victory.

The smile was gone as quickly as it appeared. Spencer cleared his throat and said, “Did you know that sixty-eight percent of stalking victims reported that their stalker physically harmed them?”

Another beat passed. Spencer had turned to look at her now, eyes heavy. Y/N was looking at her knees now, trying to ignore the fear that wanted to bubble up. “And?”

“A-And?” His whole body turned now, one leg folded between the two. His arm closet to the couch had made home on the top of the sofa back, fingers tapping— nervous tick. He had placed other hand on Y/N’s knee, trying to be comforting. She accepted his attempt, thankful for him. “Y/N, I’m saying that could’ve been you. You should’ve come to me when this first started.”

Y/N finally let her eyes meet his. And god, she could’ve cried right then and there. He was so beautiful. She missed him so much. Breaking her spell, she shook her head, “Spencer. . . I didn’t want to ruin anything you might’ve had going on.”

“Ruin any— Y/N/N, you’re not ruining anything by asking for help.” The boy sighed, looking away. His hand tightened once on her leg and her stomach erupted in the same way it always did with him around. Quieter, so quiet she almost missed it, he said, “The only way you’d ruin anything would be by leaving.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” The girl caught his eye again, shaking her head. Tears blurred her eyes again. Her hair, now out of it’s bun, fell into her face. With a shaky hand, Spencer batted it back behind her ear. A blush rose on her cheeks, as Spencer’s hand moved to wipe the few tears that had managed to fall. Her voice was thick with tears and it broke him. “I really am, you know?”

A sigh, then a nod from her boy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Always, Spence.” The name struck a cord in his heart, but he let it slide. He had no more energy to fight with her, no more energy to stay angry with his girl. He had nothing left. He was giving up his angry phase— he was letting it flow from his body like sand through sieve. He was giving in to her and the small bits of love that he still held for the beauty in front of him.

“Why’d you do it? Leave, I mean.”

Yet another bullet to her heart. “. . . I don’t know.”

He was moving again. His hands pulled away from her body as if she had burned him— because honestly, she might as well have. With that bullshit response, she might as well have slapped him— to him, there would’ve been no difference and the outcome would’ve been the same. He stood up, back to her. His hands came back up to his hair and she willed him not to pull apart the remaining curls. “That’s bullshit, Y/N! And you know it. . . I-I’m sorry. Just, just don’t lie to me anymore.”

Y/N stood too, arms up in surrender. Arms open like he had a gun pointed at her— because to her, there was no difference between the weapon he wore on his hip everyday and the weapon that spilled from his lips. His back was still to her, so she reached out to touch his shoulder. Careful, not to startle the boy. She wanted to see him, she needed to see him. For a second, her breath was gone, her mind taking her back to that night. She could’ve laughed at how similar the situation was, only reversed. Only now, she was the one begging to be touched, to be listened to. Only now, she was the one who was broken.

Instead of jerking away like he did all those years ago, he turned, sadness present on his face. Y/N’s heart broke for him. Y/N’s heart broke for herself. Her heart broke for the both of them. “I was scared, okay? I was just so scared.”

He turned fully, hands mindlessly finding their way to her hair. They tangled themselves in, tilting her head up. His voice was lower than she had ever heard. It was just barely above a whisper and she fucking loved it. If they were in a different situation, she would’ve been weak in the knees. “Scared? What, Y/N/N?”

She sighed, “I don’t know. . . Scared I’d lose you, scared you’d get hurt and I wouldn’t be there in time. I was just scared, Spence.”

Maybe it was her words that caused his reaction. Maybe the truth he could see behind them. Or maybe it was the emotion that felt so genuine. Whatever it was, he felt himself loosen. He felt the remaining anger dissipate, he was suddenly forgiving her for everything. Because he finally understood. He, for once, wasn’t having to jump to conclusions. For once, he felt they were equals. And because of this, he was pulling her closer, never wanting to let her go. And she was holding him just as tight.

“I’m sorry.” The words were spoken, truthful. Only this time, they weren’t coming from her. No, this time, they were coming from The Tall Genius. And she was pulling back.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

The boy laughed, true and genuine. For once, she could see it reach his eyes. She’s always loved that about him— the fact that he was always able to smile through it all. Through all his pain, he was still able to find the happiness. “I’m at fault too, you know. One person can’t cause all of the destruction.”

“No, you’re perfect.” She believed it too.

“Trust me, I’m not perfect.” He paused, then added. “At all.”

Her hands made their way home— to the sides of his face. She noticed the way he leaned into her touch— he had missed her just as much. Maybe even more. “You’re perfect to me, Spence.”

He laughed again— music to her ears. She wished she could listen to it for the rest of her life. So, she said, “Don’t ever let me go, okay?”

He nodded, suddenly serious, “We’ll get this guy, and then I’ll never let you go again. Not until the day I die.”

And like she had wanted to since she had seen him earlier in the day, she pulled him to her. A kiss shared between them wouldn’t fix everything, but it sure was a start (and that’s all that mattered). “Not even then.”

A dazed look in his eyes. The same one he had after every shared kiss and every time she said she loved him. Though mind far off, he nodded and agreed, “Not even then.”

Then he kissed his girl again— like his life depended on it.

Because, even after all these years, it probably did.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #dr spencer reid

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heyitsyn · 4 years

Text

Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. 3

a/n: uwuwuwuwu this is an au since yanno,,,, they didnt really make it to nationals :(

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

GUESS WHOS BACK! BACK AGAIN!

anon:

may i request a scenario where seijoh made it to nationals and atsumu flirts with reader🥺

CAN WE BLS STOP THIS SANGWOO/ATSUMU TYPA BEAT BC I HONESTLY DONT VIBE W IT AND IT LOWKEY SCARES ME A LITTLE :o

OMLOMLOML YALL MADE IT TO NATIONALS

to be honest, it was,,, unexpected

you were sitting there, on the bench and gripping it in anticipation as seijoh and shiratorizawa were once again at a match point thanks to kyotani’s angry spike

going past 31, they were now 31-30 with seijoh in the lead

you could tell ushijima was getting antsy despite him covering it up and encouraging his team with a one-liner

your own team was buzzing with both nervousness and hope and iwaizumi was clenching and unclenching his fists in anticipation for the last toss

when the ball went up, oikawa’s eyes flashed, arms moving to set and the red-haired spiky guy was now watching which spiker he was going to give it to

however

he tossed it to no one

instead, oikawa’s hand flicked and he dumped the ball

it was like in slow motion and as shiratorizawa’s players scrambled to the floor,

it was too late

the ball bounced on yellow polished floor before rolling away, completely unaware of what just happened and the lives it just changed

your mouth hung open, eyes trailing after the rubber ball like every single people in the gym

then it finally hit you

‘YOOOOOOOOSSSSHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

a scream from iwaizumi lit the candle of happiness and you didnt even care, running out to the court to jump on your captain, tears flowing down his face and his arms squeezing you tightly against his chest

‘AKLDFJJSHKFEOIOWIHFSKESIFOEWIHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

it was all a jumbled noise from everyone, your team, your coaches, the fans in the stand, and even from that orange boy and his team

the boys were hugging each other and crying and sobbing but oikawa’s hold remained on you, your own tears mixing with his sweat and coating his neck

‘you did it, oikawa-san. you did it’

you whimpered and he laughed and you felt him nodding

‘we’re going to tokyo. nationals!’

he choked out

‘OIKAWA!’

the entire gym rumbled and you basked in the joy that the entire team radiated before having to stand with the coaches so they could shake hands with shiratorizawa for a good game

the locker room was loud, even much louder than the gym, with kindaichi’s loud sobbing and mattsuhana’s loud celebratory singing and iwaizumi’s joking shouts and eventually joining in

iwaizumi held his arms out for you and you giggled, crashing straight into him

you wiped his sweat filled face and he sat down on the bench, with you standing between his legs and his large hands gripping your waist

‘it’s not a dream, right?’

he whispered, eyes closed at the gentle feeling of you caressing his face

‘no, iwa-san. nationals is ours’

you soothed and he let out another loud laugh before pulling you close and burying his face in your stomach, probably crying again but this time, out of joy

for years theyve tried

and now, they succeeded

well,,, nationals should be a good thing, right?

hmm,,, maybe the honor of going

but the other players??

oh god

it was obvious when miyagi’s representative entered through those doors and eyes immediately went to their manager

it wasnt like you were the only female manager but you were an unfamiliar team so you have never been seen before

uwu youre so pretty like bow down to the goddess

oikawa’s hold on your hand was tight and his eyes flitted to everyone who looked at them, as if signalling them to back off and you were his

‘wahh, oikawa-san! kageyama told me that the best of the best are in here! he told me to look for fukurodani and nekoma!’

seijoh’s eye twitched at the mention of your new-found friend who you’ve been texting back and forth and him secretly teaching you everything about volleyball since your own team has been too busy preparing for nationals

they watched you try and stand in your tippy toes to find the apparent red and black jerseys and the black, white and gold jerseys

hmm,,,, it seems everyone had the same colors

‘ne, y/n-chan, you trust our team, don’t you? if anything, we’re part of the best of the best! you got the best setter right here!’

oikawa grinned but you nodded distractedly

‘come on, we got to go unpack and train’

iwaizumi nudged so you had to stop looking and you followed your captain, who still held your hand

but this is a typical fanfiction ladies and gents

as you were walking towards the locker room, there was a team that wore maroon colored jackets and were walking towards you

again, this is seijoh’s very first nationals so nobody really knew of them

they were more familiar of the white and purple jackets of shiratorizawa rather than the mint green and white of seijoh

however, oikawa seemed to know them

‘ah’

he whispered out, making you look up at him but his sights were straight towards them, a hard and cold look

‘ara? fresh blood?’

you cringed at the weird analogy and the guy with the black tips, who you infered to be the captain, elbowed him

‘excuse us’

he nodded in greeting and you noticed the guy with the bleach hair and you did a double-take, blinking rapidly

‘oh sangwoo?’

KSLDFJKDLFJSLDK KILL ME ALREADY

watari coughed, knowing exactly what you meant and it seems nobody else did except for the sangwoo look-a-like

and he raised an eyebrow in interest

‘hm? you called?’

another guy with gray hair, who looked exactly like him, rolled his eyes and he pulled him forward to walk after their captain

but he didnt let off yet

as he passed you by, he leaned close, breath fanning your ear

‘but its miya atsumu, baby girl’

ON GOD I WANT TO COMMIT WITH HOW GROSS HE IS LIKE BLS

kyo, who was behind you, growled at him and pulled you behind himself

‘she has name, fcker’

atsumu faked a surprise and backed away with his hands up

‘alrighty, then. didnt know you had a bodyguard, girlie. but maybe,, later on, we could get to know each other. alone’

YALL THIS IS GOING TO GET BETTER LATER I PROMISE HES NOT A WEIRDO PERVERT AS HE SOUNDS

osamu was annoyed and dragged him away, leaving you with your team, who were also extremely pissed off, especially oikawa

‘heh, the best setter in the country and yet he acts like a horny dog’

oikawa seethed, a pointy smile etched on his face

‘eh? best setter?’

you wondered but not given an answer because your captain would be damned if that atsumu decided to show up again

the locker room was actually the same back home

but kindaichi was sobbing again

‘t-this room! the best of the best! i cant-too much-’

you were busy hugging him and wiping his tears to notice the third years huddling over by the corner

oikawa was sitting on the bench while iwaizumi was changing into his practice jersey and the other two were flanked beside the captain

‘of course theyve got their eye on her now’

oikawa mumbled, fingers laced together and touching his lips

‘what can you expect? y/n-chan is an extremely pretty girl’

mattsun shrugged

‘but ugh, if i see that cheese face again,, i will fight’

iwa threatened, angrily slipping his arms through the holes

‘he reeked nasty! gross!’

makki agreed

‘so we’re agreeing to keep her in our sights right?’

they agreed to oikawa’s question and were going to stick by that word

but,,,,

what can you expect from star-struck players?

maybe its because theyve worked for so long to reach this point that the fact that they’re even standing in the tokyo stadium felt like a dream

‘guys, i need to go and fill the bottles really quick’

they mumbled distracted agreements so you sighed and lugged the crate of bottles

thank god there was a fountain nearby and as you were capping the last one, a familiar voice rang from behind you

‘oh? baby girl?’

you flinched at the weird nickname and thought that if you stayed quiet, hed leave

‘chibi? hey?’

he asked and made his way to your side, you closing your eyes and looking off to the side

atsumu thought you were interesting, not like every girl who would spread their legs at him and press up to him

the fact that you even AVOIDED looking at him was so foreign to him and your dismissive attitude made him so drawn to you

‘look, im sorry if i made ya uncomfortable earlier’

he,,, apologized?

but you didnt know who he was so you didnt know how out of character it was for him to even say ‘sorry’

'miya-san, hello’

you mumbled, eyes now opened but still focused on the bottle you gripped

he cracked a smile and was he,,,, nervous?

usually, hed say something dumb or sarcastic to cut the tension, but it was like he was even,,, careful,,, with what he wanted to say next

‘how-um-you like it ‘ere?’

if osamu was to see him now, he’d think his brother was kidnapped by those aliens oikawa swore up and down were real and was replaced by some opposite dimension version of atsumu

you gulped, mustering up a small smile before turning to look at him

‘miya-san, dont take offense to this, but just know i have a very loud voice and i can lift 80 pounds. and im the first one to ever beat iwa-san in an arm-wrestling match’

you puffed your cheeks in intimidation with your eyebrows furrowed but accidentally looking more cute rather than scary

were you,,, threatening him?

atsumu paused for a second to assess the situation and really understand the underlying meaning of your words

then he laughed

a real hearty laugh that made him go for a whole minute

‘-ahahaha!! whew, chibi-chan, ya’r a rare one’

wait i dont know how to type you’re with an accent !!!!!

he let out a few more chuckles then wiped a tear that fell

you just stood there 🧍‍♀️

‘you think its funny, miya-san? yahaba-kun and i also have a supernatural telepathy phenomenon-’

‘chibi-chan, i swear i wont hurt ya’

he promised but you backed your face away, an eyebrow raised

‘thats what they all say. if anything, youre scaring me more so i’ll-’

‘wait’

he held out a hand out but he quickly curled it, pulling it back to his chest

‘i,,,, listen i know how basic this may sound but,,,, youre the first to ever be like this to me’

you rolled your eyes

‘you think i havent heard that before? i have oikawa-san in my team, for god’s sake! ‘youre one of a kind’ ‘youre not like other girls’ yadda yadda’ try harder, miya-san’

you tilted your head with a crooked smile

were you,,, playing hard to get?!

atsumu’s eyes shined, wanting to finally do the chasing rather than being chased

‘well, first off, chibi-chan, i need to know your name’

he leaned forward with his hands buried deep inside his maroon jacket pocket

‘my name? what good will that do? you already call me something else dont you? a name is meant to help people call each other and youve been calling me ‘chibi’ so what’s the point of giving you my birth name?’

even with a straight face, atsumu right away knew of your teasing as your eyes were shining brightly and had a hint of amusement in them

oh my god hes in love with you

he was in disbelief of your attitude towards him so he nodded slowly and laughed again

‘what can i do to earn that name then, chibi-chan?’

ehehehe kuroo,,,,, im in danger

you crossed your arms and pouted, leaning forward

‘ehh? why do you want it so bad? do you call others ‘chibi’ too?’

your expression of suspicion was so adorable that he couldnt stop himself from lunging forward and squeezing your cheeks between his fingers

‘so cute. youre my only chibi, chibi-chan’

you hummed, swiftly wiping his touch away from you

‘doubt it. ive only met you today and you’re already acting like this. what makes you think i think youre genuinely interested in me, miya-san?’

‘fate?’

this time, you chuckled, head leaning down

and as you looked back up, your heart stopped

by the distance, there was a familiar-looking haired boy with golden eyes and an also familiar black hair and steel blue eyes

oh dear

your emotions went sour but you saw the black and white-haired male laugh and the steel eyed male shake his head in disapproval but had the hint of the smallest smile

they,, were now happy

‘fate, you say’

you mumbled distractedly

‘fate instilled magnets in us so i just cant help but be drawn to ya’

atsumu grinned but you averted your eyes to look at him, a soft and genuinely happy look

‘would those magnets be strong enough to draw us together, even if we were in another life? if we were fated, would we meet again?’

you looked up at him, your eyes still glistening but this time, with the slightest bit of hope

atsumu sent you a confused glance but he still shrugged

‘i guess so, if i’m so drawn to you right now. maybe in our past life we were,,, together?’

he tested out, expecting you to roll your eyes and walk away but you laughed

‘well, i just witnessed it happening so maybe its possible?’

you wondered out loud

atsumu blinked again, getting more and more interested in you

‘chibi-chan?’

he asked you and you jumped slightly to look at him with a smile

‘say, miya-san, what if i told you that i remember my past life? and what would you say if i told you that you were in it?’

you grinned but atsumu scrunched his face together before smiling

‘hmm, i dont know what youre sayin but it proves my point!’

he exclaimed but you cocked an eyebrow, a sad smile resting on your lips

‘now what would you say if i told you that you were my nurse?’

a/n: omg i actually hate how this turned out like bls blast me on this

a/n pt 2: during my break, i actually re-read ‘in another life’ and i wrote this up after i finished it again and can i just say? I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CREDITS TO LITTLELUXRAY ON AO3

a/n pt 3: hewwo im back again and since no one replied with a link, i can,,, guess??,,, that the book is gone??? or taken down?? but anyways, i just really wanted to post something and tbh, stuff like this cant be helped but i really do hope that it’s gone and if its not, dkasjdfkslf again send me the link

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chironshorseass · 3 years

Text

part 1 read on ao3

“So you’re telling me that you haven’t Iris Messaged Annabeth in a month?”

“She was with her cousin, Ma.”

His mother stopped the car right next to Goode—the high school he would (hopefully) be attending in August.

She turned to look at him, that motherly stern look that always came up when she knew he wasn’t telling her everything.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you say. But physically, you haven’t seen her since last January! I’m just worried that—”

“We emailed each other, though—”

“Yes, but it’s not the same.” At Percy’s roll of the eyes, she held her hands up in surrender. “All I’m saying is to…see if there’s anything wrong. I have a feeling she didn’t want to IM you for some other reason. And I know you, Perce. You have the same feeling as I do.”

He did, but that wasn’t the point. So he kissed his mom on the cheek and stepped out of the car.

“Good luck on your date! And with, um, school!”

He threw her a thumbs up and shouldered his backpack.

Too bad that luck wasn’t on his side that day.

She saw him before he saw her.

He’s grown, was the first thing that came to Annabeth’s mind.

His clothing peppered in burn holes, the smoke wafting further back, and the pretty girl chasing him was registered later.

She saw him before he saw her, and so Percy bumped into her in the alleyway. Her hands went to his shoulders, steadying him.

“Whoah!” she said, laughing. “Watch where you’re going, Seaweed Brain!”

Maybe he thought he’d be late for our date. That’s why he’s in such a hurry.

It didn’t matter. Because he was here, and he was just a bit taller than her—his hair was longer than she remembered, but his green eyes were the same, beautiful color, and...

Then she caught his panicked look. Then she caught the girl behind him and the smoke and his burnt clothing.

“What happened?”

Before he could reply, the redhead called out, “Percy! Wait up!”

Her flip-flops echoed across the relatively quiet street, interrupting Annabeth’s thought process.

“And who‘s she?”

Percy turned to the other girl and waited until she arrived next to them. He glanced at Annabeth, wincing. “It’s uh…it’s a long story.”

“You promised to explain,” the girl insisted, breathless. “About the monsters and the gods and everything.”

“Wait,” Annabeth said. “She’s a demigod?”

“No.”

At the same time, the girl tilted her head and said, “So you’re one of them, too, huh?”

Annabeth felt her mouth fall open in disbelief. She met Percy’s eyes. “You told some mortal about us?”

“My name’s Rachel.”

And my name’s I-don’t-give-a-fuck.

“She can see through the mist,” is all he said.

She shook her head. Out of everything that could happen today…and this was what Fate had decided on.

“Come on.” She tugged on Percy’s arm. “We’re leaving before whatever attacked you comes back.”

He followed her, but not without gazing back at Rachel as though he wanted to stay with her. As though it were easier than being with Annabeth. There was something bubbling in her stomach at that, something that boiled her insides.

“Wait!” Rachel shouted. “You promised to explain!”

She sprinted toward them and took out a sharpie marker she’d sprung out from thin air. Annabeth rolled her eyes. Rachel grasped Percy’s arm and began writing something that looked like numbers.

She wasn’t rolling her eyes anymore.

“My phone number,” Rachel explained. Then she winked at him. “Whenever you can, call me.”

“What was all that about?” Annabeth said. She’d already stormed ahead, taking the lead.

He tried to explain. He’d gone to Goode’s orientation tour, just like she knew he would. There, he’d been attacked by empousa cheerleaders, and thanks to Rachel’s Sight, he’d survived.

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for her,” he said, eyeing his marked arm. “I have to repay her in some way.”

“So now you have her phone number,” she said lightly.

“Uh…yeah.”

“She’s really cute.”

Percy stopped in his tracks. She stopped as well and looked back, realizing that he was staring at her exasperatedly.

“Aw, come on, Annabeth. You and I are literally dating, and I just saw her today—well, except for last year—”

“You’ve met her before?”

He scratched his head, shifting from one foot to the other. “I, uh…yeah. Last year at Hoover Dam.”

Right. When he was looking for me.

She kept walking again.

“Are you seriously upset because of her?” He tried to grab her hand, but she pulled away. “‘Beth, I never—”

“Anyway, I don’t think we can go on our date anymore.” Her tone was scathing, like sharp, twisted knives. But she didn’t care. The gods hated her, apparently, because she and Percy could never be a normal teenage couple.

“Oh, so now you can get all angry with me when we couldn’t even call properly because of your cousin? Not even a single call?”

“That empousai said that the camp would go up in flames, we need to—”

“Don’t change the subject.” He ran up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, making her halt. The few baby fat he’d still preserved back in winter was gone, replaced with the hints of someone older; with a harshness akin to his father, the Sea God. “How much time did you actually spend with your cousin? Honestly. He couldn’t have been with you all the time, and I tried to be nice and understanding, but did you really—”

“If what that empousa warned you about is true, then we need to head to camp. Right now.”

She left before he could talk about anything else involving her pathetic lies. Left before he could see her blinking back tears. She ran directly into Argus’ van, and once Percy had closed the door, she told the bodyguard to drive directly to camp. No detours.

They didn’t talk on the way there. She stared out the window, watching the passing farms and the cotton sky.

Her first meeting with Percy after months apart and it couldn’t have gone better.

The thing is: Annabeth had changed her mind about camp. In her plans, she’d stay in San Francisco for longer than usual, just to be as far away from Camp Half-Blood as possible. Then, she’d go to New York City, and her and Percy would be taken to camp by Argus.

But plans changed.

Her mother had come, weeks before Annabeth would leave as initially intended. For some strange reason, she’d knocked on her door like Luke all those months ago.

A spluttering Frederick had answered this time. Annabeth trailed behind him, cautious for anything.

Cautious for anything didn’t mean she’d thought Athena would ever consider stopping by.

“Mom?” she’d said, eyes wide.

After greetings were made, Athena had insisted she go to camp immediately. “They are counting on you to be there, Annabeth. You must go. Before it’s too late.”

Annabeth recalled what she’d told Luke:

“People are counting on you—on me”

But hearing it from her mother, seeing her so insistent—enough so that she’d come, personally, to her porch steps—made Annabeth reconsider.

Anyway, this was Athena. Her mother. Who was she to displease her?

So she buried all her worries about Luke and Percy and followed her; in the blink of an eye, she’d arrived at camp, Athena nowhere to be seen. Annabeth hadn’t even had the chance to ask her about why she’d decided to help, out of the blue.

But Athena was right; camp needed her. Apparently, Clarisse’s top-secret quest from last winter had to do with venturing into the Labyrinth. She and Chiron had rescued Chris Rodriguez, an ex-camper who was scouting it in the hopes of finding an entrance to camp for Luke’s army. He’d fallen victim to madness in those dark, underground walls. No one knew why—only that he needed help.

Not only that, but throughout those few weeks, she’d felt as if her mother’s face was implanted in her mind like a brand; she swore she saw those grey eyes everywhere. While she got familiar with Quintus and Mrs. O’Leary. While planning with Clarisse and Chiron. While hanging out with Silena. While scouring the forest with Grover and his new girlfriend, Juniper—searching for an entrance to the Labyrinth.

It got to the point where she lit a match and watched as dozens of olives burst into flames, in the hopes that Athena would respond.

“What do you want from me?”

“Please answer.”

“What do you know that we don’t?”

Everything.

That’s what she’d say, probably. But Annabeth would never know, because Athena never answered. She nearly burned down cabin seven because of this. In her frustration, she scooped up the remaining olives, stomped across camp, and threw them into the sea.

“Thanks for everything,” she muttered, watching the waves greedily drag the olives away.

She didn’t feel eyes burning into her neck after that, but coming back with Percy restarted the process all over again.

An owl was perched on Thalia’s tree. She ignored it, only for it to come back while her and Percy both sat to hear what the Council of Cloven Elders had to say about Grover’s search for Pan.

“Mom. What do you want?”

“Lovely way of greeting your visiting mother, I see.”

Annabeth sighed.

After reasurances to Grover that, ‘Everything will be alright. Don’t worry. I know you’ll find Pan before the Council’s deadline,’ she’d taken to the trees. To where that grey owl was perched.

The owl disappeared, however. Replaced by the goddess of wisdom. So now both mother and daughter stood, a few feet apart, while everyone else gathered on the other side. No one noticed the secret meeting.

“You prayed to me,” Athena said. “Of course I would answer. Even if you did throw the offerings away.”

To where Annabeth threw them away was left unsaid; Athena knew. She knew, and she’d likely come because of it.

Annabeth shrugged.

“You’re angry with me,” Athena observed. “Anger must be controlled, or else unwise decisions happen. Like throwing a prized possession into the sea.”

“Well, Mother,” Annabeth said, jaw tense. “You haven’t exactly been clear about why you’re following me around. Or about why you wanted me to go to camp early in the first place.”

Athena was rarely quick to anger. She calculated everything, patient and firm, just like now.

“Knowing the intentions of the divine can either be a blessing or a curse.”

“But you’re about to tell me something. About to answer me. Am I cursed, then?”

Athena cocked her head, considering.

“No,” she finally said.

There was a glint in her eyes, something that told Annabeth that she was holding back.

“Well, then...I am asking again: why are you here?”

“Because I foresee that you shall lead a quest.”

A pause. Her comment was precise, abrupt as a frigid wind. Annabeth felt herself gaping like a fish. Quickly, she clamped her mouth shut. That was all she wanted, wasn’t it? To lead a quest? But then why did she feel such a profound sense of dread?

“I came to warn you. It won’t be easy.”

She restrained the urge to roll her eyes. “Quests aren’t meant to be easy.”

“Never stray from the plan,” Athena said, ignoring her comment. Her eyes were grey as granite, face hard as marble. “I know that you can…manage your hubris, but this time, it’ll be the ultimate trial for what you can or can’t do. If you can yield or not. You and Perseus both. Hubris can be controlled, but if control itself is the problem...that is very dire, indeed.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I may have made a mistake in assuming Perseus’ fatal flaw. Maybe not. In any case...you must be careful.”

“You assumed what his fatal flaw is?”

Athena regarded her carefully, like one does when studying an ancient scroll. “You can ask him about it. Since you two are...close.”

She said close as if it was a foregin word on her tongue, something she wanted to get rid of.

Of course she knew.

“About that, I don’t care what you—”

“I give you the benefit of the doubt,” Athena said, an eyebrow raised. “My children are known to make wise, rational decisions. I can only hope that you won’t become an exception to that rule. I do not approve, but it is your life. Your choice.”

Annabeth’s mouth felt like sand. Choices. She’d begun to hate them, now.

“What’s Percy’s fatal flaw?”

“Even to me, it’s uncertain.”

“But you have some idea.”

“As do you, my daughter.”

“I thought knowledge is power.”

“Yes. Knowledge is power. But how do you know that the knowledge you possess is true? How do you know if it’s not? Fate, however, is already decided; all we can do is prepare for the worst.”

“What’s going to happen, then?” Annabeth felt like she was barely able to grasp for something to hold on to, waiting— begging —for the ground to steady itself. “What will happen to Luke? What’s my role in all of this?”

Athena only shook her head. “Knowing something and having the wits to use it are two separate things.” Then she turned around, her time at camp over as well as her vague and unreliable warnings. “I must go. Good luck, Annabeth, on your quest.”

“A quest no one has even mentioned —”

“And watch for Percy Jackson.”

She vanished into the canopy, morphing into that same, grey owl. A single feather fell from the sky and settled quietly into the ground next to Annabeth’s sneakers. It mocked her, that feather. She kicked it away, then thought better of it and rubbed it into the dirt with her heel, destroying every single trace.

Your choice.

Neither her nor Percy mentioned their earlier fight. It became a discarded page, ripped off and torn into pieces like an old math textbook. It gave her space to breathe, to start over. A part of her knew that it wasn’t right, and that eventually, they’d have to talk about it—but that was eventually. This was now.

During the “now,” she filled Percy in on the Labyrinth.

(The Labyrinth will be the quest your mom mentioned. It can’t be about anything else)

He listened to everything she had to say and stayed even while Clarisse was there, too.

(Probably because they’re friends. They just hate to admit it.)

They ignored the catcalls and the teasing. She expected it, anyway.

(“So the rumors are true,” Malcolm said, wiggling his eyebrows and making her roll her eyes. “You and Percy are a thing, now.”

“Uh…yeah.”

“And you never thought to tell me? Like, I’m not surprised or anything, but—hey! Don’t hit me! Okay, fine, everyone knew since you two held hands and made gooey eyes at each other and stuff last January—stop hitting me!”)

Later, her and Percy sat together by the warmth of the campfire, roasting s’mores. She enjoyed laying her head on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. She laughed at his horrible singing and held his hand later that night, swinging their arms up and down as they walked toward cabin three.

Joking around and taking comfort in the sound of the crickets, Annabeth understood what it was like to love someone. It was a different kind of love than that of Luke. She watched him smile wide, watched the way his eyes crinkled as she rolled her eyes about Clarisse and Silena. That’s when it crossed her mind: their friendship hadn’t changed. Not really.

Even though they hadn’t seen each other for six months or so, and even though their newest step to their relationship had started weeks before that, their esense stayed the same. He was still Percy and she was still Annabeth. And that would never change.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Percy said, squeezing her hand.

“Oh, um. Just...thinking.”

“Well duh.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned at her, even as she shoved him off.

“No but seriously,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed. Her meeting with Athena had slipped into her mind like passing sticky notes and secret messages. “I want to talk about fatal flaws.”

She felt his hand tense. “What about them?”

“Just, I dunno, like...do you know yours?”

He was looking straight ahead when he said, “Your, uh, mom told me. Is personal loyalty even considered a flaw?”

“That’s what she said? That your fatal flaw is personal loyalty?”

He shrugged. “Guess so.”

So it’s true. She thinks she’s wrong.

“I mean, personal loyalty is considered a flaw, but...do you think it could be something else? Maybe?”

They locked eyes. The faraway hearth lit up his face, sharpening his features.

“Do you think it’s something else?”

“I don’t know.”

Another lie. Or was it? Could personal loyalty be his fatal flaw or could it be something else? Was Athena right? Was she wrong?

Percy raised his eyebrows. “You know something. You have that planning face look.”

“I don’t have a—”

“Uh, yeah you do. But whatever. It’s not like you know what my fatal flaw is.”

“I’m...yeah. I was just wondering since, well, I know about mine. And we’re so close to the Great Prophecy, and if you don’t know by now what your fatal flaw is, well—”

“It’s good that I know, then,” he cut in. “Good that I know my fatal flaw by now.” His eyes flicked to her. “Right?”

“Yeah. Right. Good.”

Nothing else was said after that. He stopped by the porch steps of cabin three and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes, comforted like she had throughout the singalong. Comforted by Percy.

Until he closed his door and left her in the dark.

The next day, Quintus’ strange game involving scorpions and ribbons began with her being paired up with Percy. It was just their luck that they’d stumbled into the Labyrinth, of all places .

“So we’re stuck here.”

“Yep,” Percy confirmed.

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m only here for moral support. You’re the brains of the relationship.”

“Am not,” she grumbled. “You’re smart; stop pretending you aren’t.”

It was no use, anyway. She couldn’t find the mark of Daedalus in the darkness. They took a break from searching and calling for help to sit down, bunching up against a wall and leaning against the other.

“I never apologized.”

Percy’s voice in the hollow chambers nearly made her jump. She lifted her chin and tucked it into his collarbone.

“For what?” she said.

“The Rachel thing.”

“To be fair, I’d nearly forgotten.”

“Exactly. So I just…want to clear the air before it comes up again. And to say sorry for doubting you about your cousin.”

She shut her eyes tight. The truth was coming like undigested food; she was ready to spill it all out. But she swallowed the words instead—hating herself and loving this beautiful, selfless boy all at the same time. Round and round. Round and round it went.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“What are you sorry for? You were right to be angry with me. Like, all this time apart and suddenly a girl writes down her phone number on my arm , and then we can’t even have a normal date because I seem to mess that up, too.”

You’re perfect, she wanted to say. You’re perfect and I’m the one who messed everything up. Not you.

“We both reacted in stupid ways,” she said instead. “And anyway, I should’ve found the time to IM with you.”

He kissed the top of her head and mumbled into her hair, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

He pulled away from her. She could feel his gaze but couldn’t see him clearly. “Something’s bothering you, Annabeth. What’s wrong? What’s actually wrong?”

She pursed her lips.

“What if…what if we don’t make it?”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper, but in the drifting silence, it sounded like ringing bells, there for everyone to hear.

( “What if you don’t make it?” She could never dare to say that out loud, however. )

She felt Percy lace his fingers through hers. “We’ll be together. That’s something I know for sure.”

They chose silence after that. Annabeth rested her head against his shoulder once more, listening to the constant creaking and shifting of the Labyrinth.

“Hey,” Percy murmured.

She glanced at him. “Hmm?”

Suddenly, she was aware of his hand resting on her arm, of his breath warm against her cheek. She froze, just for a second.

“Can I kiss you?”

Now that she thought about it, they’d never kissed properly—just a quick peck here and there. She nearly laughed at how nervous Percy sounded, at how this was just like last winter as they asked permission for a simple kiss like the awkward teenagers that they were.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and leaned in. He didn’t need to look far, not even in the darkness; she was already inches apart, closing her eyes and feeling their breaths slip by.

When their lips met, she decided that surrender tasted sweet and pure, something she’d willingly do over and over again. He kissed her and nothing else mattered, not Time or the dark or choices.

He was the first to pull away.

“We’ve, um, we’ve been in here for too long,” he said. “Let’s keep trying to find a way out.”

It wasn’t long until they did.

By the time they’d managed to slip out of the Labyrinth, hours had passed. Night had fallen like autumn leaves, though she swore that they’d been in the maze for thirty minutes at most.

By the time the campers and Chiron found them, she already knew that a quest would have to be made.

Just like her mother had promised, she was chosen to lead.

From what the oracle told her, she wished she could hide in her cabin and never come out. She wished that all of this was a dream and that absolutely nothing would happen—to anyone.

“The child of Athena’s final stand,” she’d said, repeating nearly all of her prophecy once Chiron asked her about it.

She paused and didn’t say the last line. The worst line. That line had cut to her bones. A rusted knife against her throat.

“And lose a love worse than death.”

She gazed at Percy. Innocent green eyes gazed right back at her, unwavering. What a terrible person she was, that she’d lead him to this fate because she couldn’t leave without him. How weak.

“Will you come?” she breathed.

He agreed without a second thought.

He found her in her cabin. They were alone, for once. And when he asked her what was wrong, when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t take it anymore. She surged to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly and secure, so he could never go away.

She breathed in his scent, feeling tears already trickling into his shirt.

“Hey, it’s—it’s okay. We’ll survive.”

“But what if we don’t?”

His hands drifted up to her back, steadying her.

She lifted her eyes, pulling away slightly, if only to see him clearly. A varying amount of emotions crossed his face. Concern, fear, love. Until he settled on concern and flicked away her stray tears with the pad of his thumb ever so gently. His eyebrows were pinched together.

“I just…” she said, looking away. “I just don’t want anything happening to yo—to any of you.”

“I’ll be here,” he said softly, cupping her cheek and moving it in his direction so that she could understand. “We’ll be okay.”

She wished she could believe that. Wished she could believe it with the same amount of heart that she poured into the kiss that followed. Her hands tugged at his hair, lips moving along with his like they never had before. They were warm and sure, his lips. But they could easily turn blue and cold, as easily as a flame could cease to exist. So she kissed him with everything she had so that his lips would stay warm like this, forever—passed her oxygen to him until there was nothing left to give.

Annabeth also chose Grover and Tyson to join her quest. With two more people, the quest team turned up as four instead of three; a feeling told her that she needed them all.

But three is a sacred number. Not four. This is why Zoë and Bianca passed on.

Three, not four.

And lose a love to worse than—

She strolled past the moving walls, the footfalls of the rest echoing behind her. Until she stopped. They were in a lavish room with a muraled painting of the gods, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the two doorways, the two paths.

“So?” Grover asked. “Which one do we uh…which one do we pick?”

Before she could answer, a man formed—or rather, a man with two faces. They stood in between the pathways, leering at her.

“Yes, Annabeth,” said one face.

“Which one do you pick?” said the other.

She kept mulling it over, what Hera had said. They’d encountered Janus, the god of doorways and beginnings and endings. And choices.

“Choose,” they’d said.

Instantly, images had painted themselves in her mind. In one, she was looking for Daedalus alongside Percy and Grover and Tyson. In the other, she was looking for Luke. “He can be saved,” her imaginary self muttered as she trudged through the Labyrinth alone, on the brink of madness. “If I save him, there will be no more death.”

But then more flashed through her mind. Choose one pathway, and she’d lose Percy, and soon after that, she’d lose Grover and Tyson. Choose the other, and she’d lose Luke instead.

“Choose.”

Everything had come to a pause when Hera arrived. She wanted to help them, apparently—only that that wasn’t true. Gods didn’t help. They only left you confused and disoriented, spinning around with no control.

She hadn’t helped, not that it surprised her.

None of them had any clue how to navigate the Labyrinth, only that supposedly Percy knew the answer. And also that they had to search for Hephaestus if they wanted to find Daedalus.

As a parting gift, she’d said, “I delayed Janus’ visit, but be careful, Annabeth. Your choice will come soon enough.”

“Let’s rest here,” Percy said, sensing her waning steps.

Despite her exhaustion, she insisted on taking first watch. She had to think. Pray. Slowly, everyone else fell into a slumber, but her mind was wide awake, gazing at Percy’s motionless form.

Prophecies had double meanings, didn’t they?

Her world was turned upside-down once she heard the explosion, once she went airborne for a few seconds only to hit her shoulder on a jagged rock. Immediately, she felt the sharp sting of pain. She clutched her shoulder, biting her lip. Her hand came back slick with blood.

“You chose this,” the two-faced god taunted her.

Then she heard a strangled scream. Percy’s scream. She inhaled sharply and scrambled to stand up, ignoring the scuttling spider that was getting farther and farther away and the stabbing pain traveling from her shoulder to the rest of her body.

“Percy!”

She ran in the direction from which she’d come from. Too late. Searing heat slapped her in the face before she understood what was happening. Another explosion came, and this time, she wasn’t so lucky.

Her body stumbled back, rocks caving in on her.

The sky. This is like the sky—

And everything went dark.

The darkness formed into a memory:

“No! I can’t leave you!”

“I’ve got a plan—promise!” he insisted. “You follow that metal spider to Hephaestus' lair, tell him about what’s going on.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

This was the choice; leave him or stay. Stay or leave.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. From the look in his eyes, Annabeth knew that she couldn’t convince him. He was decided. “Besides, we’ve got no choice.”

Yes, they did have a choice.

No.

Yes.

She kissed him instead. A quick kiss, a promise.

“Come back to me,” she said, fighting back tears. She pulled on her Yankees cap and left, then ran.

Her sobs escaped from her rib cage by then, finally free.

She woke to that memory and nothing else, head pounding like drums. The spider was long gone, and she stumbled around, drunk with grief. It was a miracle she found Hephaestus at all.

Hephaestus, thank the gods, understood her unintelligible blabbering. He took pity on her, perhaps, because he healed her physical wounds and dropped her off at camp. Never mind that Grover and Tyson were gone, on their own path looking for Pan. Never mind that Percy…

She broke down crying for the thousandth time that day when Chiron asked her what had happened. Why she’d staggered into camp all alone. Her heart, her entire being, spilled to the floor like water from an overfilled cup.

“Four went in and one came back. Only Annabeth came back,” the campers whispered among themselves. She saw their faces, saw their horror at realizing that Percy was likely dead, Grover and Tyson gone as well without much of a trace.

It drove her to hide. She stayed in bed for the next three days, not daring to close her eyes in the fear of what she may find there.

She thought that she’d run out of tears long ago, but they came anyway. She clamped her mouth shut so as not to alert any of her siblings who were asleep.

Your choice.

For the first time in the past two days, her eyes fluttered closed. She didn’t dream of anything at all.

Clarisse came barging into cabin seven the next morning.

“Come on, Princess,” she said, staring down at her. “You’ve gotta eat.”

Malcolm stood behind her, likely the one who had told Clarisse to come in the first place, since Annabeth hadn’t listened to any of her siblings about eating.

She tried to protest, to fight. But Clarisse was strong and had a purpose; Annabeth had nothing at all. So she sat in the dining pavilion, taking her time with her breakfast and ignoring everyone’s eyes on her.

Clarisse sat next to her, making sure she finished her food.

“Slowly, okay?” she said, then murmured, “Gods, when was the last time you ate something?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Annabeth snapped.

A few minutes passed in relative silence before Silena came to their table, offering solace.

“Hey, girlie,” she said. “How are you?”

Annabeth didn’t respond. Silena softly laid a hand on her shoulder, then decided better of it and pulled her in for a hug.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” she said gently.

But it was.

Annabeth chose to leave him.

It took everything in her not to break down in Silena’s arms. Annabeth gave her a weak smile once she proposed to do something to pass the time. Like weaving, something she knew Annabeth enjoyed, being Athena’s daughter and all that.

So they did. Silena was good at it—good at making beautiful things. In the arts and crafts station, they spent most of the afternoon knitting and sewing as well, with Clarisse begrudgingly accompanying them.

She felt herself forget, her hands the only thing working. Not her mind. Not her subconscious or her guilt or her worry and fear.

It lasted only a moment. Because then she saw what she’d been working on for the past hour. Subconsciously, Annabeth had created a shroud. A beautiful one at that, with different hues of blue and green—just like his eyes. Just like the sea.

As if sensing her distress, the two girls looked up from what they were doing.

Clarisse said, “Is something wro—”

She didn’t need to say the rest, because Annabeth found her legs already moving, racing out the door.

“Let her,” she heard Silena say. “Give her space.”

She didn’t look back, sprinting to the one place where she knew Percy’s presence still thrived. Where she could be reminded that he would come back, just like he promised.

“I’ll be here.”

Cabin three didn’t look like much. Granted, she could barely focus on anything but her breathing—which was rapidly increasing its pace—but even so, she was reminded of how simple yet welcoming cabin three was in comparison to Zeus’.

It smelled like him. Like walking down the beach on a sunny day. Everything was as it always had been—clothes splayed haphazardly on the ground, bed unmade, stray papers adorning his nightstand.

She crumpled to her knees on the worn wooden planks. A great sob escaped her, and she covered her face with shaking hands

“He’s gone, Poseidon,” she cried. “He’s gone, and—and I’m so sorry.”

That night, she threw up everything she’d eaten.

“It is time,” Chiron said, his eyes dim with pity.

He preferred demigods dead, it seemed, than to try and look for them. She’d begged. Pleaded. Fallen to her knees until they bled. But it was no use; her teacher was convinced he was dead, and by the time the second week passed without Percy showing up, he was declared as such.

“He’s powerful,” Clarisse had told her. “I trust your instincts. He’s not dead. Can’t be, or else I’d have to beat him up.”

She helped Annabeth try to talk Chiron out of the funeral but to no avail.

And he wasn’t. Annabeth knew, in her heart, that Percy wasn’t dead. Barely anyone believed her, however. She didn’t blame them; no one knew about the last line of the prophecy for her quest.

But a pestering voice reminded her of something else: Percy was not, by any means, her only loved one. That voice sounded eerily like Janus.

What if it’s Luke?

He was nothing to her, now. She swore that he wasn’t.

What if Percy is dead?

That’s when Silena squeezed her shoulder, repeating what Chiron had told her the day prior.

“It’s time.”

Everyone who had gathered by the Amphitheatre waited for her to give out her statement, grim-faced. Chiron stood at the center of it all, the shroud she’d made at the arts and crafts cabin in his hands.

She hated that shroud with all her being, but she took it anyway once she stepped the last of the stairs. The fire next to her kissed her cheeks like the warmth of the sun. But inside, all she felt was cold. His body hadn’t been found…yet the shroud that she clutched in her hands would burn with Percy’s life.

“He…” Her eyes drifted to the shimmering cloth. How could she ever describe Percy Jackson? How could she ever put him into words? “He was kind,” she began. Her voice was unrecognizable, even to her. “He was probably the bravest friend I’ve ever had, and…”

And then she saw him, grinning like an idiot behind everyone else.

“Bravest friend you ever had?” was the first thing he said, after their bone-crushing hug.

She wiped her tears away and laughed. For the moment, she didn’t care that he hadn't answered her frantic questions.

“Where have you been?”

“What happened?”

He was here and he was alive. Her arms still clung to his neck; she wasn’t sure she’d ever manage to fully let go.

“You’re my friend above everything else, Seaweed Brain. And yeah, I guess you’re pretty brave.”

A question formed at the tip of her tongue—the one asking once more about what had happened in that explosion, where he’d been all this time; she knew that Percy could tell.

He was about to say something when Chiron interrupted them.

“My boy,” he said, mainly addressing Percy. “We need to talk.”

Percy’s demeanor changed like the shock of icy water to the face.

“Uh, yeah.” Something passed through his eyes; he glanced at her, then at their teacher. “I know how to navigate Labyrinth.”

Her relief became a ghost of the past once he explained himself. He told them the plan for the next part of the quest—for finding Grover and Tyson and finally Daedalus—but all she could hear was her ears ringing.

“I was marooned on an island.”

“I uh…I stayed there for some time, healing from the explosion.”

She was almost certain about where he’d been. And then he’d mentioned his plan to find Rachel, the pretty redhead who wrote her phone number on his arm. Supposedly, she could help them.

“A clear-sighted mortal,” Chiron had said. “Clever, indeed.”

Only it wasn’t. It was her quest. Her choice. Not his.

Annabeth stood from her chair. The screeching noise made Percy wince. “I can’t believe you! You’re asking me to go to that mortal for help?”

Chiron’s eyes were soft when he said, “Annabeth, calm down—”

“No, I’m not calming down, because Percy here wants—”

“It’s the only way,” Percy said, hands wrung together.

“Ohh don’t tell me what’s ‘the only way’ and what isn’t when you could’ve easily come back sooner.”

Percy opened his mouth, but she talked over him.

“You think I’m stupid? You think I’m dumb?”

“No, ‘Beth, I—”

“You were with that goddess,” she said, her voice taking a hard edge. “Calypso, isn’t it? Was she nice company for you? Did you have a good time while I sat here, waiting for you, as my life spiraled out of control because one of the most important people in my life was gone?”

Percy stammered, “‘Beth, please…just—just let me explain.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re not denying it, either. That’s why you didn’t recount the entire story of your fun little vacation in a beautiful island with a beautiful goddess who was probably all over yo—”

He stood up then, leaning over the table, face inches apart from hers. “Don’t act so high and mighty with me when I know you lied to me about your cousin.”

“Percy, this isn’t even about—”

“No, no. You’re hearing me out. Okay? Hey, stop. Look me in the eyes. Nothing happened between us. Okay, nothing. She liked me, yes, but that is literally her curse! I knew you’d react that way because I’m realizing that you don’t fucking trust me!”

“What? Percy, I trust you with my life—”

“Then how come you never told me what was bothering you?”

“Because I don’t know what was bothering me!”

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you! You know exactly what bothers you. But guess what? You won’t tell me! So like, don’t even dare accuse me of not revealing where I was when you do the exact same thing, ‘Beth!”

Annabeth felt like falling, but this time, she found no branch to hold onto and crashed to the ground, bleeding out and breathless.

Meanwhile, Percy kept talking, throwing javelins her way. “When you didn’t want to communicate via IM last semester, I agreed because I wanted to give you space to whatever the fuck was going on with you—and something is still going on, but you won’t tell me—and like, all that time while I was with her on that island, I wanted to go!

“I wanted to be with you! Shit, I don’t even know what I’d do without you, but I couldn’t fucking leave because that place is cursed! And when I did, it’s because she’d…she’d fallen in love with me! But I…but all I wanted was you!”

Silence fell over them with the remnants of Percy’s hard breathing. She blinked a few times, telling herself that she would not cry.

Chiron saved her before that could happen. “Now, children. Settle down. Percy. Give Annabeth some space to think about this.”

He obliged, much to her relief.

“This time, it’ll be the ultimate trial for what you can or can’t do. If you can yield or not.”

It all came down to that, to her mother’s words. She understood what they meant, now.

With just enough drachmas in her bag and a bluster assuring her that she would not fail, she grabbed Percy by the hand and crossed the camp border. Argus was waiting down below.

#pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #pjo au #the battle of the labyrinth #look mom i can write #omg me updating?? so soon?? unheard of

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sparetimeimagines · 4 years

Text

Intolerable | Todoroki Shoto

Tags; Smut, Drunk Sex, Oral, Old Lovers

Masterlist

One shot, two shot, three shots go.

You watched as your coworkers downed the shots of tequila after a long day at the office. Your boss was a dickhead and all you wanted was to forget the day.

“Ok. Your turn, Y/n.” The blonde coworker passes the shot closer to you.

“No... I can’t.” You reject the shot and your company grumbles in disapproval.

“What? Why not?” She nudges the shot closer to you and you shrug.

“I’m not really into tequila.”

“Well how about this.” Your coworker hands you some cash. “Go up to the bar, order one of those cocktails that you like so much. You’re drinking with us whether you like it or not.” She teases and ushers you to the bar. “You better not come back without a drink.”

You roll your eyes pulling yourself into the empty bar stool, not noticing anyone but the bartender and the bill in your hand.

“You’re kidding me.” You hear after moments pass, the bartender busy making drinks after drinks. Cocking your head to the right, you see a face you haven’t seen in a very long time.

“Yn?” The low voice clears his throat and you catch an eye. Red and white hair, blue and brown eyes.

“Todoroki Shoto.” You let out a smug smile and he returns it. “What a surprise.”

“You’re telling me. How are you?”

You catch up on the small talk with the heterochromatic professional hero, learning that he too is trying to survive the hectic work week.

He buys a drink, a cocktail that was directed for you to return to the table with, however you found better company with the hero.

“Are you seeing someone?” He sips from his dark liquor and you shake your head trying the drink.

“Is that too hard to believe?”

“Well, I mean, do you want me to answer honestly?” He eyes you from your face, down your legs peaking from the navy blue dress to the very tip of your heels.

“Only if it’s in my favor.” You wink and he flushes.

“Im sure you’ll catch on.”

The small talk turns into flirtatious teasing, bringing up old memories before the prohero got in to the academy on recommendations.

“Why didn’t you go into the hero force?” He asks and once again you shrug.

“There’s not a huge desire for sleepovers as an adult.”

He looks confused as he finishes his drink.

“You forgot my quirk didn’t you.”

“I’m sorry.” He calls over the bartender as you catch up with him.

“I heal while I sleep. I heel anyone I touch while I sleep.”

“That’s right!” He orders two more drinks for the both of you.

“Yeah. It’d be hard to catch villains if I’m sleeping.”

“That’s fair.”

The flirtatious teasing then turns into drunken words and super friendly petting.

“Shoto I don’t know where I live.”

“Oh no... what are you gonna do?”

“I guess I’ll just stay here.”

“No... you can’t do that.” He shakes his head. “You can come home with me.”

“With you?”

“Yeah of course.” His hand holds your waist up as he calls a cab. “It’s not the first time, Babe.”

“True.”

The cab ride turns into heavy making out in the back seat. Your waist in his, you’re grinding against his waist, his cock twitching in his pants while his hands dip into your dress feeling your tits to their perfection.

The ride is cut short and he throws the cab driver a handsome tip before taking your hand and inviting you into his home.

Before you have a minute to adjust, he’s throwing you up against the wall.

“Those damn legs.” He hikes your leg over his waist, hoisting you against the wall. “You look so sexy.”

The lust fills his eyes, kisses making his way up and down your neck as his hand pets your pussy wet.

“Shoto...” you moan as he attacks your neck.

His hands pull away the fabric of your dress letting it fall down your chest.

Shoto’s hand hovers over your breast before taking it in his mouth sucking on your nipple. His tongue circles rings around it, looking up at your reaction before kissing you in between switching your breasts.

His finger traces up your neck outlining your lips, thumb pressing against your bottom.

Lips spreading for him, you allow his thumb in your mouth, he pressing it against your tongue.

Shoto switches breasts once more before returning to your lips.

“Let me make you feel good.” He moans biting your lip.

“Mmm how are you gonna do that?” You slur into his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you.” He’s kissing your lips repeatedly leaving you breathless.

“You’re gonna fuck me?” You moan and he grabs your ass.

“I’m gonna fuck you.” Shoto hoists you over his waist, legs wrapping around him until he brings you into the bedroom throwing you on his bed.

“You’re so pretty.” He kisses down your neck, over your breast down to your core. He flips you over briefly, unzipping the dress throwing it across the room.

He pulls your waist into him, ass in the air letting the heat of his hand bring a hearty smack to your cheek.

“Your body...” He moans leaving another heated smack. “This ass.” He kisses your cheek earning a moan. “Straight perfection.”

His lips smear over your skin, your body wanting to spread for him with the help of the alcohol.

“Can i taste you? You’re so wet for me.”

His fingers feel your slit through the fabric, petting for your approval.

A hiss leaves your lips as as he lightly rubs a pattern into your cunt. Pressing harder on your clit feeling your bud strain under him, he looks up at you waiting.

“Baby Doll.” He hums still letting his fingers play with your slit. “I’m waiting.”

You arch your hips down to him and he chuckles.

“I need to hear you.” He rubs your cheek tugging at the hemline.

“Yes.” You moan against the mattress biting your lip.

“Yes what?”

“I want you to taste my pussy.” Your breath catches your exhale looking into his heterochromatic eyes from behind.

His finger tugs at your panties pulling them to the side. You hear him let out a long sigh of satisfaction before leaving a lengthy strip along your drunken cunt.

“Mmmmfuck.” You let out a long moan with your back arching lower.

“Yes Baby.” He mumbles against your skin.” That’s what I like to hear.”

He leaves a few extra strips before clutching your hips and flipping you over on your back.

Shoto kisses your thigh, rubbing it a few times, coming closer littering kisses until he finally removes your panties.

“Just as I remembered it.” He moans with a swift inhale. “So pretty.”

Memories of the last time you two had relations flashed into your head.

Young and sixteen. You didn’t know much about sex, but being horny teenagers and fifteen minutes was all you needed to have your hearts racing wildly.

His fingers spread your lips gently, letting the tips play with your slick.

Rubbing soft circles into your clit; he watches your reaction. How your neck stretches out and your chest heaves with a deep inhale. How the ends of your lips curl upwards into satisfied smirk.

His strong arms pull your hips down closer to him while watching you relax onto him.

Shoto’s two middle fingers continue to rub in circular motion, watching your eyes flutter with desire.

“You like that baby?” He moans, his cock forming in his pants. Your nod is lazy but he lets you slide. “That’s right. Relax baby. Let me take care of you.”

The low voice sends a different reaction to your cunt.

His middle finger dips below your clit into the folds, feeling your muscles tense below. Shoto slides in and out brushing against your clit into the velvet walls.

Covering more ground with his soft touch, he gradually goes lower into your pussy with long even dips of his fingertips.

“You’re getting so wet.” Moaning, Shoto draws his fingers to his lips. “And your taste...” He sucks on his fingers. “You taste so good.”

He returns to your clit with his fingers, rubbing with more aggression; this time dipping his middle finger deep inside your tight hole.

“Mmm baby you’re so tight.”

Slowly pumping his finger in and out of your hole begging for a reaction from you;

he glances at your face. Cheeks red with arousal making his cock twitch, he leans forward kissing your lips sloppily.

Down to your breast then your thighs, finally he’s on your overstimulated clit.

Shoto’s tongue flicks your bud and instantly your hips buck into him.

Your fingers tighten in his hair and walls around his finger; fucking you with faster speeds.

He twists his finger inside you, circling his tongue much like he had with his finger.

Heaving chests and a tight sobbing pussy, he knows you’re ready to cum.

“Aww baby, already close? I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He mumbles against your cunt. His tongue focusing on your high, he adds another finger to overthrow you. Hips arched into him, you can feel his smirk against your clit.

“Cum for me baby.” He slurps your slick twisting his fingers. “Cum on my tongue.”

Intolerable moans break from your lips as he clutches your hip with his free hand. You pull his hair in thick strands, feeling your thrusts aid the cum covering his tongue.

“Fuck. Fuck baby.” You convulse panting. “That dirty mouth.”

“Yes baby.” He licks his wet lips kissing your clit sending electricity through your body. “Get her ready for me.”

Shoto reaches into his pants releasing his cock. Head red and dripping with precum, He strokes his length slapping the head against your clit.

“Mmm fuck, Shoto.”

“Yes Baby. Say my name.”

“Shoto please.” You moan pulling his neck into you. “More. I need more.” You wrap your legs around his core sucking his lips into yours. Needy kisses and hungry bites onto plump lower lips, you need him. You need to feel it all.

You reach down to his cock, feeling him for a brief second before he pulls back.

“No no no...” his finger rests on your lips. “I want to last.”

Kicking his pants off, he crawls over you with his skin touching yours.

Skin to skin, touch to touch.

He hovers over your body, with each muscle in his body flexing in perfection. Hero training has always been a blessing in disguise.

Perfect core chiseled to its peak, you scope his body not believing you could catch someone like him.

“Like what you see, Baby Doll?” You bite your lip looking him in the eye with your quiet nod. “Good.”

Shoto reaches down to his cock stroking it to his perfection, lowering it on between your legs.

He presses against your folds looking you in the face before sliding into you.

“Oh shit.” You gasp, his size building pressure as he fills your fully. Your jaw drops and he smirks leaning into you. His lips press against yours as he begins slowly moving his hips.

He’s passionate, open mouthed kisses, slow and in the moment, focusing on how you feel as he thrusts into you. His hand cups your jaw holding you in place with his thumb caressing your structure.

It’s meaningful to him. For Shoto, it’s not just fucking. To him it’s more than that.

It’s an emotional connection. It’s a piece of him he’s giving to you.

Another long thrust, he’s bottomed out to stretch you full.

Your hands wrap around his wide shoulders, one in his hair as he kisses into your neck.

His thrusts gradually pick up, feeling your breath in his neck with a moan slipping up.

“Mmm yes Baby. Tell me how you feel.”

His teeth graze the tender skin on your neck, pulling in a bite teasing a moan once again.

Shoto rolls his hips switching each spot he sucks on until you gasp loudly.

“Baby.” He pulls back to look at your face. “You’re so spoiled. Can’t take a little bite?”

“You’re mean.” You slur rolling your eyes trying not to drool.

“Well, you’re a brat.” He thrusts harder this time, your hips clashing as he resumes a full motion.

Shoto’s lips clasp yours shut ramming his hips into every last bit of space. His heated hand massages circles into your breast, his cock red from pleasure bottoms into your sensitive walls seeking your moan.

“Shoto...” you gasp. “Right there.”

Your heart beats wildly, already overstimulated from the alcohol and the dual action of Shoto.

“Yeah? Baby likes what she feels?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your drunken haze matches his; pink cheeks and cloudy eyes.

“You feel so good, Baby.” He kisses you once more, looking his lips on to yours powering through building his high.

Shoto pulls your hips into his, a steady grip on yours with your legs on each side of him.

His breathing is heavy matching yours.

You can hardly keep your eyes open watching the hero’s cock slide in and out of your swollen pussy.

“Mmm shit.” Your high is rising faster than before. “Shit Shoto.” Your walls clench around him and your clit firm as he hits your spot perfect. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum- fuck.” Your breath catches in your throat, eyes clamping shut and your jaw open. No breath coming out. You’re silent.

You feel his twitch inside you, a few quick jolts when a gasp leaves his lips.

He pulls out from you, leaving your cunt leaking with his white cum.

His body quickly losing its composure, he collapses beside you on the bed.

“Wow.” He catches his breath and you nod. Your chests both heaving, you stare at the ceiling in your high.

All you hear is your heart in your ears, the post coital clearance in your brain and the overwhelming satisfaction in between your legs.

An open mouthed loose smile and heavy dazed eyes follow you to a yawn.

You swing your legs over the edge catching the attention of Shoto.

“Where are you going?” He raises a brow.

“Home I guess.” You drunkenly look around the room when strong arms grasp your waist.

“Nuh uh. Not like this.”

“What?”

He pulls you into his body, lips kissing your shoulder.

“You’re drunk, Babe.” He says in between kisses. “Not to mention naked.”

You let out a moan leaning back into him.

“You don’t mind me staying?”

“I don’t want you leaving.” He chuckles against your chest. “You don’t have to.”

You turn in his arms facing him.

“This pussy make you fall in love with me?” You smirk as he kisses you.

“More like that ass.” He smirk as you gasp. “I’m kidding. You’re beautiful and you know that.” He pulls your head into his chest. “Just sleep it off right now. Nothing else matters.” He kisses your forehead pulling up the covers. “You can’t be wondering around naked, you drunk.”

#todoroki shoto x you #todoroki fluff #shoto todoroki #todoroki #my hero academia fluff #todoroki Shoto smut #bnha shoto todoroki #bnha imagines #mha todoroki #mha imagines

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orionwhispers · 4 years

Text

Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

(A/N - hello. so basically, i had a dream about chris evans, and then i modified it into this tommy imagine. it was supposed to be a drabble but i physically cannot write anything less than 12k words so thats great. honestly this is very similar to ‘fools gold’ but hey, im in the mood for some angsty fluff and fighting with our main guy tom. next tommy imagine will be the lolita wedding and that will be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. thanks for everything, PLS let me know what u think. see you soon! stay safe!)

trigger warnings: fighting, tommy being a douche, everyone being a dumbass, tommy getting jealous and implied sex.

You saw him on a Saturday night, at a bar on the outskirts of the city.

It had been three months, and you had hoped you would have managed to slip through the cracks; pass through the night like the foxes that roamed in the back alleys - but you had never been that lucky, especially not when he was involved.

It was your friend’s birthday, and you tipped back glass after glass of expensive champagne that bubbled and burned at the back of your throat. The lights were blinding, twinkling chandeliers and the smell of cigarettes and french perfume, something like bergamot and vanilla, lingering in the air.

Your dress was cherry red, your hair tied back with a sequinned headband and your lips and cheeks painted in rouge, but you had never felt so awful. It had been bad enough trying to find something to wear, the contents of your wardrobe tipped all over your floor, a mess of mesh and feather and lace, almost everything reminding you of him, as if he had been stitched right into the fabric. You had ended up curled in a ball on the floor, wiping your tears with the Chanel blouse he had bought back from a business trip in Paris.

Stupid fucking boys.

You could hear the girls talking around you, high pitched giggles and exaggerated voices as they gossiped about something or other that faded into static around you. You had spent the past three months holed up in your flat, only leaving for work or the street market on Sunday, stocking up with bread and wine and cheese, everything carb filled and rich to fill the hole in your heart.

You weren’t used to the company of others or the hustle and bustle of a crowded room, and you sat back against the plush cherry velvet seats, dreaming of climbing into bed and devouring the slab of dark chocolate you had been saving.

Your close friend Emma, the one who knew the reason you were staring into space and not laughing and drinking with the rest of the girls, placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, and tilted her head slightly.

“How are you holding up?”

You snapped out of your trance.“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed you lightly, her voice as soft and playful as ever. “At least you came out! It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Yeah - I’m sure everyone missed having me bawl like a baby and mope around.”

She elbowed you, “Stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself and have a shot! Christ! You can spend the rest of the week wrapped up in your duvet, but tonight - suck it up, and have a drink!”

She handed you a glass of something dark, and you brought it to your lips, tipping it into your throat with a wince. It felt as though you were drinking petrol.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. All that matters is that it’s top shelf and it came from those fellas over there.” She pointed towards a group of men huddled around the bar. They were shooting quick glances and sly winks towards you and your friends. Sure they were relatively attractive, most likely handsomely rich and dressed in suits that looked finely tailored - but they made your skin crawl.

You hated the way that you would always be comparing other men to him, and you especially hated how they would always come up short.

An hour later and whatever liquor was coursing through your bloodstream had done its job, and everything seemed infinitely brighter. You even found yourself laughing at jokes and stories that you only caught halfway through, the alcohol wonderfully dizzying your brain.

You were so caught up in the rush of being drunk and finally feeling somewhat happy for the first time in forever; that you didn’t realise you had caught the attention of one of the men across the bar. You felt him sidle in next to you, following his friends who had snaked their way into your booth, their arms slung around the girls shoulders, whispering sweet little sentiments into their ears.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, so close to you that you could smell the sour whiskey on his tongue, your nose wrinkling.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps you had spent so long being ‘Tommy Shelby's girl’ that you had forgotten what it was like when you were being hit on. You had spent so many nights safely tucked under his arm, his hands possessively wrapped around your body, an unspoken threat sent out to everyone and anyone around you - it had been a long time since a man had tried his luck with you.

Perhaps you were so infatuated with him that you never noticed anybody else. Your mind forever filled with visions of oceanic eyes and three piece suits, his Birmingham accent ringing through your ears like a gospel. He invaded all of your thoughts and infiltrated your dreams, and you loathed and loved him for it. The way that he filled your brain and heart like smoke, clouding your decisions and judgments, like some kind of magical elixir, blurring everything but the shape of him.

The man beside you didn’t concede. He cleared his throat, running a finger over the rim of your glass, ignoring the way your eyebrows furrowed and lip curled.

“Let me get you a drink, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

It sounded so wrong. It was never pretty girl. It was - darling, sweetheart, princess. It was - my love, honey, kitten. It was said teasingly and exasperatedly, it was whispered in your ear and buried into the space between your thighs. It was never said in the sticky corner of a club, from the greedy mouth of a stranger undressing you with his eyes.

“I’m - ” Taken. But you weren’t, not anymore, and you hated the way the thought of him made your lip wobble. It’s had been three goddamn months, why did the memory of him still make your body go up in flames?

Emma stiffened beside you, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman speaking to her, and turned to face you and your unmoving suitor.

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

A flicker of annoyance. His fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white, his tongue running across the ridge of his front teeth. He obviously didn’t take rejection well, and he was doing a shitty job at hiding it.

“Are you sure? It looks like she could do with another drink.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes rolling back at the way he dismissed you and spoke as though you were incapable of thinking for yourself.

“I’m fine.” Your words were curt and clipped, a clear indication of your disinterest, but he refused to back down.

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Really? What kind of man would leave a pretty little thing like you all by herself?”

“The kind of man that would punch you in the fucking teeth for speaking to her like that.”

You froze.

Oh Christ.

A million irreverent, evil, blasphemous phrases hurtled inside of your mind, and you knew that if Polly somehow ever caught wind of what you were thinking, you would be on the receiving end of a sharp slap around the head.

He was here. Of bloody course he was. He had a knack for showing up out of the blue and knocking all of the wind from your lungs.

It hurt like an open wound, feeling his eyes on you, the same ones that had looked at you with love and humour and gentleness, and not being able to fully meet his gaze - knowing just how much it would hurt if you did.

“She’s with me.”

His voice was firm, laced with the same sort of dismissive irritability he used to use whenever somebody tried their luck with you. This time was different however, you couldn’t roll your eyes and kiss him, you couldn’t put your head in the crook of his neck or mutter that you were his under the golden chandeliers, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore, because you weren’t.

The man seemed pick up on the tension, clicking his tongue slyly, unaware of the consequences his words would have. “Doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Get the fuck out.”

The penny must have dropped for the rest of the boys. The booth going silent as they realised just who the handsome shadowy figure towering over them was. You felt them slowly inch away, head down and gazes low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. A few hushed mumbles of “holy shit! That’s Tommy Shelby! One of those blinders!” hurtling around the tables beside you, not completely drowned out by clatter of the jazz band.

“I have every right to be here.” The ballsy stranger said, stiffening up beside you. His spine curled as he tried to make himself bigger. “Who says I have to leave?”

You huffed at his words, exhaling like a balloon. “That’s enough.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. You were exhausted, the night taking such a sudden turn you felt like you had whiplash, and the alcohol sat deep in your gut like a rock. You just wanted to get home, away from the man you wanted so badly your fingers ached to hold him, and crawl into your bed with your cat and a mountain of chocolate.

“Well, considering I own the fucking place, I think that I do - and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

That seemed to do it.

You kept your eyes focused on the mans paling face, the grim look washing over him like salty sea air, you didn't dare turn and face the man you could feel burning holes in your neck.

“I.. I...” The man spluttered almost incoherently, rising to his feet and stumbling out from beside you. From behind you you heard Emma giggling coyly into her glass. “Sorry.” He mumbled quickly, his knees buckling when Tommy clapped a hand around his shoulder, holding him in place like a dog.

Tommy’s voice was still, almost too controlled, and you knew that his words were deadly. “If I see you around these parts again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your skull.”

He gulped and nodded, darting into the sea of bodies in the crowd.

You kept your eyes low. Fumbling with the pearl clasps of your purse you squeezed Emma’s hand in parting and rose to your feet, wanting to leave as painlessly as possible, not even daring to look up at the face staring you down.

“I should go.” Was all you said, sliding out of the booth and onto the marbled floor. You saw the way the rest of the girls were watching the scene unfold before them, and you knew that by Monday you would have a lot of questions to answer, but right now you needed nothing but the safety of your flat.

You didn’t even let your shoulders brush against him. You coiled around him like a snake, your feet moving so fast your embroidered shoes were nothing but a blur of scarlet. You only made it to the hallway, he let you go far enough that you were in private before he reached for you, a familiar, large hand curving around the dip in your shoulder. You hated the way your body reacted, goosebumps rising to his touch unconsciously.

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn��t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can’t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #orion writes

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kisekinodrabbles · 4 years

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helloo! i'd like to request something for the prompt game please :D kasamatsu + band!au + strangers to lovers + dialogue number 14 if that's okay? thanks, sam! and welcome back~

ofc!!! i tried to keep it shorter but im a bit rusty w my kasamatsu hehe hope u enjoy! wc: 2.3k

Kasamatsu admits that balancing his band and college work isn’t exactly an easy task. Between late evenings spent at gigs and all nights at the library, he is on the brink of his sanity, standing right at the tipping point. He yawns as he enters his nine am mandatory calculus class, another mistake made in his overconfidence that he would somehow be able to get his shit together.

You, on the other hand, are a closeted fan of his band, sitting three rows behind him in class. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you watch him drag his feet in and his hand lifting to his mouth in a yawn. Quickly, you duck behind your book as if Kasamatsu would ever give you the time of day. The brunette is well-known on campus with his successful group and good looks, not to mention he also dabbles a little in basketball while also maintaining a decent grade point average across all his classes. Triple threat, they call him.

When you first came into class and saw him there, shocked is an understatement. You’ve been following his band his high school from across the country. To see him in the flesh, so real and so human with his tired eyes, it almost feels like a dream. One you hope nobody would ever pinch you awake from. Thus, you made it your goal to be there before him every morning, which is a feat in itself. Kasamatsu may be grinding through the night and falling asleep in lectures, but he’ll be damned if he shows up late to class.

Throughout several weeks, you’ve seen girls come up to him left and right, shot down almost immediately by his intention to focus on the professor’s words. He lets them down easy and makes it clear that he pays thousands of dollars to study, not play IRL Tinder. This man gets sexier everyday.

You take your time packing your things when class is over, mainly because you’re too distracted watching Kasamatsu do the same. He is blind, or chooses to ignore, the whispers and shy glances thrown his way. Perhaps this is why you haven’t approached him yourself. You’re just one of his many admirers, a stroke in the massive painting of his life. Sighing, you pick up your pitiful self and make your way to the dining hall where you’re supposed to meet your friend for breakfast.

When the two of you settle on a table, you begin your weekly rambling about how beautiful Kasamatsu looks in the morning. Moriyama, being the good friend that he is, nods and listens intently.

Moriyama is an intriguing character. The two of you met because he had tried a line on you. In your perpetual state of flustered embarrassment, you had stupidly confessed to him: “Sorry, my heart belongs to Kasamatsu Yukio.”

In another twist of fate, he revealed that he had actually gone to high school with the guy and knew him pretty well.

“You know I can introduce you to him, right? No need for all this pining and drooling from three feet away.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue, “he’s practically a living legend on campus. I’m too intimidated to even breathe in the same air as him.” Your obsession has perhaps taken you too far, but if you expect to continue being his fan, the last thing you want is to scare him away.

“You’re so overdramatic,” Moriyama rolls his eyes. Coming from him, this sentence means a lot.

“What? It’s not my fault Kasamatsu’s so hot. He could bang me so hard backstage then pretend I don’t exist and I would still pay to watch his next show,” you groan, spooning yogurt into your mouth.

In that moment, several things happen. Moriyama’s eyes widen and fly behind you. Footsteps sounding at that same spot suddenly cease completely. You, realizing what possibly just happened, feel the heat flare up your cheeks.

Kasamatsu, in his sleep deprived state and probably completely delirious, had stopped in his tracks. His head whipped around to the source of the comment, finding Moriyama sitting with someone who looks distinctly familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Kasamatsu—”

Before Moriyama can even finish his sentence, Kasamatsu is already blurting out. “Okay, maybe I’m crazy but did I just hear you say that out loud?”

You want to crawl into your hole six feet underground and never see the light of day again. Ducking your head, you don’t even want to chance a glance up. The utter mortification is chewing away at your bones and you wish you could just evaporate into thin air.

Moriyama quickly interjects with a quick laugh, “Hear what? Also how have you been, man? I haven’t seen you in forever. Come join us for breakfast.”

Kasamatsu’s brows pucker. Maybe he really is going insane. And horny. Which is a very bad combination. Nevertheless, he slides into the empty seat next to Moriyama. He stares at you for a few seconds, squinting, before snapping his fingers. “Oh, I remember now. You’re in my calculus class.”

He knows you? “How do you know me?” you squeak, cursing your fangirl self for losing your voice. You never speak up in class, always choosing to come up to your professor for questions at the end of lecture. You’re quiet and tucked away behind him, so you never expected him to recognize you.

The smile he sends you is blinding. Even with shadows under his eyes, he still looks gorgeous. “You’re always first to arrive and last to leave. Figured you’re a hard worker in class and probably acing it.”

Your mouth dries. Kasamatsu noticed you. He actually noticed you. “Oh, um, I’m okay. I’m okay in class, I mean.”

“The question you should be asking is her name, Kasamatsu,” Moriyama scolds, smacking his back.

Kasamatsu pinks sheepishly. “Sorry, yeah. I’m Kasamatsu Yukio, by the way.”

Idiotically, you blurt out “I know” before your name. When you finally introduce yourself, you also clarify, “I’m a huge fan of Blue Devils. I mean, I’ve been following you guys since like high school. Absolutely love your music.”

The man actually reddens even further, but still he beams proudly. “Thank you! That’s crazy. Have you been to our shows?”

Almost all of them. “A couple, yeah.”

“We have one tonight in an actual venue. Are you coming?”

“Ah, it was sold out before I could get a ticket, actually.”

Kasamatsu blinks, “Oh, you’re more than welcome to come. I can get you a pass. Both of you—if Moriyama’s interested.”

“That would be amazing!” You grin, “Is there anything I can get you in return? I don’t want to just accept a gift from you for free.”

“Well, if you are good at calc, I wouldn’t mind some extra tutoring,” he suggests with a teasing grin.

Moriyama rolls his eyes, “Just ask her out instead of using tutoring as an excuse.” The two of you sputter, face colored a dark shade of red. You’ll kick his ass when you get the chance.

—

That one mistake turned out to be the greatest opportunity of your life. In addition to attending his show that night and meeting all of his bandmates, each one more good looking up close than then other, you manage to have weekly study sessions (you’re holding off on calling it dates) with Kasamatsu. The two of you take turns booking rooms at the library to cram, which mainly consists of you reexplaining concepts to the man. Although he isn’t a bad student, he’s also still struggling a bit to keep up.

“Hey” is what you hear before you feel a warm surface press against your cheek. You look up to find Kasamatsu with a steaming cup in hand. Gratefully accepting it, you catch a whiff of freshly brewed tea. You take a sip and smile. Black tea, no sugar. “Just the way I like it.”

“Noticed you never add anything to your tea,” Kasamatsu says almost proudly.

You raise the cup to him in thanks. Both of you go through your usual routine—you focusing on reviewing material for next week while Kasamatsu pores over his notes from this week, occasionally poking you to ask questions.

Honestly, a big part of you still wonders if this is all a dream. This guy you’ve been crushing on for years is sitting in the flesh right across from you. You peek at him from time to time, watching the way he frowns at his book. His blue, almost grey, eyes shine underneath the flickering lights. Even the way his lips curl unhappily is cute.

When he catches you staring, you quickly drop your gaze back to your laptop, missing the way he smiles quietly.

“Will you come to our show this weekend?” He asks as the two of you pack up.

“Ah, I have a shift at my part-time job.”

He looks surprised, “That late?”

You shrug, “Food never sleeps, I guess. It’s at the burger diner by campus.”

“Oh, are you guys open late?”

“Close at one.”

He nods, “Maybe I’ll see you there after then. The guys usually get really hungry after a gig so we can drive some business your way. I’ll make sure they tip well too.”

Your heart warms at the thought. It’s a thoughtful gesture but you’re even more thrilled at the prospect of seeing him. “Sounds good.”

True to his word, Kasamatsu brings the guys to your workplace at midnight after their show ended. They order quite a spread, practically everything on the menu. Kasamatsu goes as far as to help you carry orders to their table. You shoot him an appreciative smile.

Over the time your friendship has bloomed, Kasamatsu has been nothing but a gentleman. He walks you home to your dorm if you’re studying late into the night. He meets you in class with a muffin or a cookie from his early Starbucks runs. Surprisingly, he begins placing himself next to you each session. “This is better anyway,” he mutters. “Two birds, one stone.”

His vague words had you tilting your head in question.

“I don’t have random people coming up to me to sit with me and, well, I get to enjoy your company.” It’s a nice thought—him enjoying your company, that is. He had blushed a little when he realized what you said, but chose to direct his attention to the slides pulled up before him, missing the way you hide your smile behind your sleeve.

Now, you hear the rowdy boys chattering on as they devour their meal as if it’s their last. They speak through mouthfuls of burgers and fries, but you find the sight endearing, mainly because you’ve never seen Kasamatsu so relaxed. It’s quite refreshing really. Your attention is piqued when you hear one of them ask: “So doing it tonight huh?”

Kasamatsu retorts with a “shut the fuck up” and flings a fry his way. The way the other guy wiggles his brows suggestively has you freezing. What if he was meeting up with someone tonight? What if he was going to do the deed?

Somewhere in the distance, you hear the faint cracking of your heart. Of course, Kasamatsu is popular. It’s no surprise he’s got his nights covered as well. You sigh dejectedly, feeling the hope inside you crumble into dust. The rest of your shift goes by rather uneventfully, but you try to avoid going to their table too much, lest you hear more details about Kasamatsu’s planned tryst. The man himself steals glances your way, wondering if you’ll be checking on them anytime soon.

“Your check,” you smile as you set the bill on the table, “I got the owner to give you a discount since you guys ordered a good amount.”

All of their eyes seem to sparkle as they thank you in unison, their synchrony almost puzzling. As you move to pick up the bill and change, Kasamatsu catches your hand before you move away. “What time does your shift end?”

“Half an hour. Why?”

The other guys are already packing up their things and giving you little waves as they exit the restaurant, leaving the two of you alone. “I’ll walk you home, it’s late,” he murmurs, fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

“Oh, you don’t have to! I usually take the bus back anyway so it’s no big deal.” You want to confirm whether he had plans that night anyway. You’d hate to be in the way of that.

He shakes his head, “I insist. Also, um, are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Catching up on studying most likely.”

“Oh,” he pauses, “if you have time tomorrow night, do you want to catch a movie with me? Maybe dinner after?”

You blink at him in surprise. Now that you’re looking at him properly, you notice that his cheeks are several shades darker than the red neon glow of the diner sign. He’s shifting on his feet and his other hand finds purchase on the strap of his bag, fidgeting with the material. “Um, like a date?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters slightly, his throat moving as he swallows. “Sorry, I probably should’ve made that clear,” he coughs, “b-but if you don’t want it to be the we can also go as friends.” Perhaps you’ve tortured the boy long enough but you can’t help but relish in his awkward chuckle as his hand lifts to rub the back of his neck nervously.

Biting back a huge grin, you nod. “It’s a date.”

Kasamatsu’s eyes light up and a pleased grin spread across his face. “It’s a date.”

The hollering outside the building has the two of you whipping to face the window where his bandmates have their faces pressed up against the surface, laughing and smiling to congratulate and embarrass their friend. Kasamatsu flushes, “I’ll see you later to pick you up.”

You nod but he’s already out the door, leaping to kick his friends away. “You stupid idiots!”

Laughing, you watch as the group makes kissy faces at Kasamatsu all the while the man fruitlessly attempts to shut them up. He really is cute.

#kuroko no basket #knb #kuroko no basuke #kasamatsu yukio #kasamatsu #knb drabbles #miffythoughts

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