#he doesn’t even greet you or break the years worth of ice between you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rocorambles · 4 years ago

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Surprise Interview

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Verbal Humiliation, Manipulation

Summary: Kenma sees if you have what it takes to be Bouncing Ball’s newest employee.

A/N: This is for @sugawara-sweetheart ‘s Decadence Collab. So excited to be a part of this collab and to be able to indulge in such a delicious prompt and theme. Be sure to check out everyone else’s works! As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora ~

There’s a familiar peace and a new nervousness about coming back home for the holidays. Mostly because home isn’t quite the same home it used to be. You can feel warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of seeing your mom, telling her about everything and everyone (as if your daily phone calls aren’t enough), and just lounging around while she fills you up with her cooking. But you can also feel a certain shyness as you approach the house, a building that still feels brand new and strange to you.

Your mother had gotten remarried during your earlier college years after your father’s passing and you were elated for her. If anyone deserves all the happiness in the world, it’s her. You had met Mr. Kozume quite a few times and you have no qualms with the man. He treats your mother like a queen and even though you playfully gag as they sweet talk and kiss in front of you, you wholeheartedly approve of their relationship.

However, what you aren’t quite as prepared for is having a new step-sibling.

You don’t know much about Kenma Kozume. Well, not much more than the rest of the world does.

Professional gamer. Successful stock trader. Popular YouTuber. Founder of his own corporation.

You know exactly who your new brother is, but other than seeing him a few times in person at family gatherings and exchanging polite greetings, there’s no real connection. Which is why your heart races as you nervously ring his doorbell, anxiety already making your leg twitch as you wait for the door to open.

Your mother and step-father are on a couple’s vacation and won’t be returning for a few days.

(“We just want some romantic time together before we have a full house again for the holidays. Plus this is a great chance to get to know your older brother better!” You hadn’t even been able to get a word of protest in before she had laughed and hung up on you, leaving you speechless and on your own as you hesitantly texted Kenma, letting him know what day to expect you.)

Kenma is quiet as ever as he nods in greeting, silently leading you to your guest room before quietly telling you to make yourself at home and leaving to do his own thing. You let out a huge sigh of relief as the door closes behind him.

There’s nothing wrong with Kenma. He’s smart and successful. Maybe a bit on the quiet side, but that only adds to his down to earth charm. You know your mother and step-father adore him and you can’t blame them. Yet, you can’t help but feel scrutinized, seen so clearly in a way that terrifies you when his feline eyes gaze at you. It takes everything in you not to immediately scurry away whenever you’re in viewing distance of him, desperate to hide all the flaws you imagine he’s noticing and calculating. Your step-father had mentioned how Kenma used to be the strategist of his high school volleyball team, and has always been able to evaluate and accurately break down situations and people. And you believe it.

You’re just grateful the house is large enough to avoid each other and that Kenma tends to reside mostly in his home office and bedroom.

But even the founder of a company needs a break from time to time. Kenma shuffles towards the gaming room, only to blink in surprise when he sees you already inside of it, happily smiling as Animal Crossing visuals and sounds fill the space.

He had known you owned a Nintendo Switch, a piece of information your mom had shared to break the ice a bit. And it’s really no surprise that this is your go-to game. But knowing and seeing are two different things and he can’t help but let his own lips twitch upwards at how calm and relaxed you are tending to your garden, decorating your home, choosing your outfit.

Kenma’s never been good with people, has never been the one to initiate a friendship. He knows he should have made more of an effort to be friendly and welcoming to you as your new older brother. There’s a slight pang of regret in his chest when he sees how at ease you are while you’re unaware of his presence. His eyes are as sharp as ever and he locks in on the way your body slightly stiffens, fingers nervously fidgeting when you finally notice his figure in the doorway, words already stuttering an apology for using his game room without explicitly asking.

You look like a scared mouse about to flee from the claws of a cat. And it pisses him off.

He hasn’t made the best efforts to bridge the gap between you, but for you to fear him? That seems a tad unnecessary, and more than a tad insulting. It’s more than enough to make the sadistic streak in him want to give you something to be scared about.

But he’s never been impulsive and he just quietly sits beside you on the floor, reassuring you it’s fine to play, smirking when you sneak little side glances his way as you continue collecting fruits.

“Kozume, do you want to play-”

“Just call me Kenma.”

Entranced eyes watch as you grow flustered at his words, mouth silently testing the weight of his given name in your mouth. For once, Kenma could care less about playing video games when a shaky timid “Kenma” slips past your soft lips.

“Kenma, do you want to play something together?”

You have no idea how badly he really does want to play together, but it’s a game you’re not ready for. So he calls upon any restraint he has to pluck your device from your hands and change the game to Mario Kart.

It’s amusing how easily you soften besides him, brow furrowing in concentration, eyes intently and eagerly following the screen, any anxiousness quickly forgotten as you get into the game. He greedily watches as you pout when you make a mistake, as your eyes light up every time you pass someone.

If he had known how easy it would be to make you warm up to him, he’d have done this sooner and he genuinely laughs when you whine and fake glare at him as he wins yet another round.

He asks about school. You ask about work. He tells you about his childhood. You share your own stories.

It’s a comfortable rhythmic back and forth and he’s afraid of ruining it, but a certain question nags at his mind, a question he knows may ruin the entire flow of the conversation.

“You’ll be graduating soon. Have you decided what you want to do after college?”

“Kenma not you too!!!”

His shoulders relax at how well you react to the question, smiling at the way you flop onto your back and groan about how mom and dad are already on your case about future plans.

“I’ve been applying to places, but who knows. Maybe I’ll just work for you at Bouncing Ball.”

There’s a playful lilt in your voice when you say it, a giggle and teasing smile accompanying the words. But there’s nothing funny about it to Kenma and your smile falters a bit when you see how tightly Kenma’s gripping his controller, the way his eyes pin you down.

“Kenma? It’s just a joke. I would never take advantage of-”

You try to get up from your reclined position, only to whimper in confusion when Kenma’s hand on your shoulder forces you back down. And suddenly you’re pinned down by more than just his stare as he moves to straddle you, knees on either side of your body, hands next to your head, his whole body caging yours.

It’s a lighthearted joke in the family that if all else fails, you could always work at Bouncing Ball. A joke your step-father and mother always dish out when the arguments get too tense as the three of you talk about your future. But it’s become less in jest for Kenma, especially after Kuroo sent him a scandalous picture of his newest secretary kneeling between his long legs, lips wrapped around his cock.

It wasn’t the first picture, nor was it the last incriminating photo the older businessman had sent him. Kenma merely rolled his eyes before deleting the image from his phone, wondering when Kuroo would grow bored and find a new toy to play with. But he freezes when he sees the following text message from his long-time friend.

“You’re the CEO of a company, Kenma. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone convenient around? A pretty warm body? I bet that cute new step sister of yours would look really good under your desk. Doesn’t she graduate from college soon? If you don’t make a move, maybe I’ll snatch her up right from under your nose. I’m due for a change of secretary soon.”

There’s absolutely no reason for the hot anger that lances through him at Kuroo’s taunting words and he grimaces at playing right into his ex-captain’s hands, already hearing Kuroo’s braying laughter in his head if the older man saw just how much his words affected him.

But initial irritation aside, he lets himself really think, really imagine what a life with you at his beck and call would be like. And he likes what he sees. He doesn’t delete Kuroo’s photos as quickly as he used to, replacing the female faces with yours in his imagination as his hands slip under the hem of his boxers.

He knows it’s a longshot, knows there’s a high chance you’ll continue your lives as is, never destined to exchange more than a few polite greetings at family outings. But now...now hearing you voice the idea out loud yourself, hearing the way his first name sounds from your lips…

Maybe it’s not the silly pipe dream he had believed it to be.

“I’m in need of an assistant if you really do want to work at Bouncing Ball, but you’d need to prove why it would be worth hiring you.”

He almost laughs at how you perk up despite the precarious position you’re in, almost ready to launch into an elevator pitch of your qualifications flat on your back underneath him. You’re quite the multitasker already and he groans at the thought of having you cockwarm him while he tests out a new video game, making you answer all his calls stuffed full of him and desperately trying to hide the lustful tremble in your voice.

But he’s not here to listen to your carefully crafted speech. (Guess you really were practicing for job interviews like you said you were. What a good girl.) And he firmly presses his lips against yours to silence you, taking his time to immerse himself in the way your mouths mold against each other.

Your taste, your smell, your warmth. It’s all intoxicating and he slips his tongue inside your parted lips, subtly rutting his groin against your body. He can feel your body jostle as you lift your arms and he waits for the weight of your arms to lovingly wrap around his neck, only to be shocked when you weakly press against his shoulders until he finally relents and pulls back just enough to look down at you in irritated confusion.

“We- we shouldn’t be doing this.”

It’s not the words that have him clenching his fists, not even the way your palms still timidly press against him in a laughably weak show of defense.

It’s the fear in your eyes, the way you look at him like he’s some monster. It's the way he can almost palpably feel and hear your desire to be anywhere other than here, with anyone other than him, wishing to put as much space between the two of you as possible.

It’s your rejection.

It hurts to know that he isn’t enough just as he is, that he needs to resort to less...savory and straightforward ways to entrap you. But he’s not Hinata or Kuroo. He doesn’t have an electrifying personality or roguishly handsome features and charm to woo you. He only has his cunning and sharp tongue.

And he fully intends on maximizing his gifts.

“Of course, you don’t have to. You can just keep on applying and getting rejected by every company you speak to, if they even bother meeting with you after seeing your pathetic resume. Average college. Average grades. Average major. Tell me, how many interviews have you actually been reached out to for?”

He’s going out on a bit of a limb, but his suspicions are right and he cruelly smirks at the way tears bubble in your eyes at his words, no comeback or denial rolling off the tip of your tongue. He had a feeling you were struggling from the bits and pieces he’s picked up as your parents quietly talk and fret over you actually being able to find a job after graduation.

“Our parents are too nice to say anything about it, but you know they’re disappointed in you, right? Have you noticed how they always avoid talking about how school is going or asking you about how job hunting is going? How they only ask me how work is going? It’s because they know you’re just a loser whose life is going to amount to nothing.”

“That’s not true! They love me-”

“I’m not saying they don’t love you, but doesn’t that make it even worse? Making your loving and caring parents worry and stress over you when they should be preparing for retirement, an easy life? Instead of letting them finally enjoy a carefree life, you’ll be their freeloader daughter who uses up all their remaining funds. Is that what you want?”

You really are too easy and his lips curl in satisfaction at the way you frantically shake your head side to side, fat wet drops streaming down your face, adorable sniffles filling the air.

“If you become my assistant, I’ll compensate you well. You can live here with me, have your own room, a roof over your head, all the food and clothing you need and want. Think about how relieved and happy our parents will be seeing you provided for, seeing us getting along. Isn’t that what you want? For them to be happy?”

He knows how close you are to your mom, how important this idea of a perfect family is to you. He knows how insecurity and doubt about your own capabilities torment you. And he knows you’re hooked on his claws when your hands that are still pressed against his shoulders drop limply besides you, not even a hint of resistance left in you when he leans down once more to rest his forehead on yours, one hand cupping the side of your face.

“This is all you’re good for anyway. Working underneath me.”

If you notice his pun, you don’t acknowledge it, too busy wincing and squirming as he harshly nips and bites a trail from your lips to your neck as he pushes up the hem of your shirt until your chest is on full display for him. There’s something experimental, cold, meticulous about the way he gropes and fondles your breasts.Your face heats in humiliation at how he treats you like one of the many game consoles he’s reviewed for his audience.

But you don’t do anything about it, telling yourself that this is just his version of an interview as he pinches and prods at you, meanly twisting your nipples and chuckling at your yelp of pain. You obediently let him spread your legs apart, only letting out an agonized cry as he tests your flexibility, staring at him with a trembling lower lip as he sharply tells you to shut up while scrutinizing your panty-covered sex.

“You really are made for this, aren’t you?”

You whimper as he nudges the small wet spot on the thin fabric, clenching your eyes shut in denial at how hot and wound up your body feels from his touch, unable to hide your gasp as he pulls the layer aside and rubs your aroused clit.

There’s something so different about the way his fingers slowly sink into your wet pussy, almost lazily curling against your soft walls, his thumb never stopping its careful massage on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. So different from your own fingers desperately thrusting in and out of you. So different from the drunk partners you’ve hooked up with at college and their sloppy, rapid, frantic movements.

You can feel something large, something intimidating slowly rising from deep inside of you, a volcano about to erupt compared to the bright and fast to fade shooting stars you’re used to. You’re scared. Scared of the intoxicating feeling, of how easy it is to grow accustomed to Kenma’s presence, of how his cat-like eyes are all you can see and think of.

How can something feel so wrong and so right at the same time?

That’s the last coherent thought you have before your world goes blank, pleasure rocking through you as you soak the carpet and your step-brother’s hand with your juices. You’re moaning as Kenma continues to rock his fingers in and out of you, fingertips insistently massaging your clit and g-spot as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling and convulsing.

But even when the tremors slow, when pleasure becomes something sharper, more overwhelming, he doesn’t stop. You wail, begging him to stop, to let you rest, slumping in relief when he finally drags his hands away from you, carelessly wiping the mess you’ve made of his hand on your skin, covering you in your own essence.

Your heavy eyelids threaten to flutter shut as you let exhaustion wash over you, already dreading having to get up and wash yourself. But you’re shocked back to reality as something hard begins to nudge at your still fluttering entrance.

“Kenma! No! Too much-”

You break off into a sob as surprisingly strong hands dig into your hips, holding you still as he pushes and pushes until he’s fully settled inside of you, balls resting against your ass.

You’re still so tight, your quivering walls clamping around the intrusion, and he groans at the thought of being able to sink into this hole every day, multiple times, whenever he wants. His cock is already aching from holding off for so long, from watching your body and face contorted in pleasure. Kenma can feel his end quickly approaching as you scream and wail underneath him, eyes rolling back in your head, drool trickling from the corner of your mouth. You look absolutely obscene and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this side of you.

But despite the way his balls are tightening, despite the stutter in his hips, he’s determined to watch you fall apart once more, to see you shatter to pieces yet again. He grits his teeth, fingers reaching down to furiously rub at your already oversensitized clit, reveling in how your back arches, thighs shaking in overstimulation, and then you snap.

He wonders what his parents would think of their dear dumb daughter now, looking nothing like their silly angel, looking like a wanton used whore, incoherent garbled noises slipping past your lips as you twitch uncontrollably, your pussy milking him dry as he cums inside of you.

There’s only silence mixed with your pitiful whimpers as he slides out of you, grimacing at the sticky mess you’ve made of yourself and him. But that’s what your other hole is for and he orders you to suck him clean, admiring what a quick learner you are, eager to please as you noisily slurp and lick him clean, moaning at the taste of your combined fluids...

Maybe too eager and he shoves you off of him when you become too enthusiastic, his cock beginning to twitch in interest once more.

You look so lost, still sprawled out on the ground, staring up at him with wide imploring eyes as he pulls up his pants. So vulnerable and in need of guidance.

Good thing you have such a great boss to manage you.

“Not bad. Consider these next few days your internship and if all goes well, I’ll be more than happy to hire you as Bouncing Ball’s newest employee this summer. Now clean up this room and show me that my future assistant can do more than just be a slut.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kenma #yandere kenma x reader #haikyuu smut #kenma x reader #kenma smut #haikyuu x reader #sweetheart decadence #tw: yandere #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon

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nymphbnny · 3 years ago

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perfect strangers

MINORS DNI // 18+

part one; part two; part three

genre: nsfw

pairings: jean kirschtein x female reader

word count: 2.6k

tags/warnings: penetrative sex, dom jean, fingering, praising kink, slight body worship, dirty talk, sneaky.

synopsis: your recent discovery makes you certain that you won't be able to control yourself around him and neither will he, hence you decide that it was time to make an agreement that was rather spicy.

a.n: hey babies! so i finally decided to turn this into a short series since some of you were intrigued with the idea of having a continuation for the previous part i wrote. i hope you like it, enjoy <3

“How was I supposed to know?!” I yelled as soon as Jean exited our apartment. I had put on a random t-shirt to follow Connie to his room, trying to convince him that I had no idea that I fucked his best friend.

“Y/n he literally told you his name is Jean and he was attending my party. You’re acting as you’ve never seen him before!” he scolded taking off his shirt and throwing it across his room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Connie. The last time I saw Jean I was 16 and he didn’t look like that. He’s so fucking different now how was I supposed to know. And to be fair, he was studying abroad for I don’t know how many years, how was I supposed to know that he metamorphosed like that.” I motioned my arm out, my other hand resting on my hip.

He groaned, rubbing his temples before he looked back at me. “Look,” he spoke softly. “I don’t want to fight with you over this okay? You’re right, I should’ve told you that he was coming back. He graduated a year ago and was considering coming back to his hometown, here. Let’s just forget it all happened okay? It’s a simple misunderstanding.” I nodded, resting my head on his chest as he embraced me into a tight hug.

“Now go take a shower you reek of sex.” he snickered earning a punch on his arm. He winced rubbing his flesh, a proud smile setting on my face.

***

The week went by smoothly. I told Sasha and Hitch what happened and they both had different reactions. Hitch was gushing over the sex and Sasha on the other hand confessed that she forgot to mention that Jean was coming back to stay here. It’s okay though. We all passed it and I was working my ass off to finally graduate.

Connie was spending his days with Jean, which granted me a lot of peace and tranquility. At least, that’s what I thought.

I hadn’t spoken to Jean ever since we hooked up, figured that Connie already explained the whole situation and moved on.

Three knocks on my door broke my focus, a loud frustrated sigh leaving my lips. “What Connie!”

“Actually,” a voice on the other side of the door caught me off guard. “It’s Kirschtein. Can I come in?” A knot formed in my throat.

“Sure.” he turned the knob, slowly coming in. “Connie knows I’m here by the way.” I nodded, adjusting my seat.

“What’s up?” the tension was awkward. The tension shouldn’t even be present in the first place. But how could I not get aroused when he was wearing a black tank top showing off the tattoos on his sleeves with a pair of sweats. He looked effortlessly attractive.

“- and like I said it will never happen again. Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. Never happen again. I’m very sorry but I need to finish this assignment.” He chuckled and nodded leaving me alone with my thoughts. Did I just make him talk to himself because I was too busy checking him out?

I shook my head, assuming that whatever he said wasn’t worth my time. Time went by rather quickly and the assignment was done earlier than I expected. It was already ten pm, and I had promised the girls I was going to meet up with them for some drinks.

I picked my outfit and applied some makeup. Simple and effective. We were going to spend the night at Sasha’s so I didn’t make much effort to look hot.

The place was empty when I left and I assumed that Connie was helping Jean to rent an apartment for himself.

Sasha’s place wasn’t very far from mine. As a matter of fact, it only took me ten minutes to get there. Once I got there, the girls were already ordering pizza and picking out some movies to watch.

“Hey whores.” I greeted them, earning cheers from Hitch and Sasha. “Oh my god, Mikasa I missed you!” I rushed to the dark-haired girl who was sitting on the couch and engulfed her into a tight hug. I haven’t seen Mikasa since I moved with Connie. We used to live together, but after she and Eren got together, he wouldn’t leave her alone. So I figured it would be best if I left and lived with my brother.

“I missed you too! I looked for you everywhere at that party where were you?” she asked taking a sip of her soda. Hitch began coughing dramatically as Sasha giggled next to her. “Oh quit it.” I teased rolling my eyes.

I ended up telling her everything, her face displaying a plethora of expressions. “I mean, Jean did change I can’t argue with that. But didn’t he recognize you?”

I shrugged. “I changed too. Puberty hit me like a truck.”

“Cheers to that.” Hitch raised her cup. We laughed and talked for hours. I missed going out with them like that. Fortunately, college will be over soon and I’ll have some time for myself.

Movies were playing in the background but we paid them no mind. We ate our food and cleaned the living room, not wanting to bother Sasha with the cleaning since she was having Niccolo over tomorrow.

I glanced at the clock that was hanging above the door. I gathered my stuff and tucked them in my bag, drawing all of their eyes on me.

“Already? Come on stay longer!” Sasha whined. I smiled softly at her and shook my head.

“I can’t, I’ll see you guys soon.” I waved at them and walked out of the door.

***

“Connie! I’m ho- what are you still doing here?” I froze at the entrance, my keys still hanging from my index finger, my eyes fixated on him as he only stood in basketball shorts.

“What do you mean what am I still doing here. I moved in here remember?”

Silence. Nothing but intense and awkward silence. Moved in? Since when?

“I told you when I came into your room. Weren’t you listening to me?” I stared at him blankly, not able to explain how caught in thought I was when he came into my room. I was too busy checking him out to care about what he was trying to tell me.

“Why didn’t Connie tell me?” I closed the door and locked it slowly, my legs feeling weak, the idea of living with him and seeing him walking around like that making me weak. And extremely horny.

“He said he’d rather if I told you. You know, break the ice.” he shrugged and walked forward, his chest now a few inches apart from mine. “You changed a lot from what I remember.” he lowly said tucking my hair behind my ear.

“So did you,” I replied, staring at his lips. He licked his bottom lip and held my chin between his fingers, forcing me to maintain eye contact.

I was a sweating mess. I still couldn’t believe that this was Jean, the horse face. What kind of water did he drink, and how did he get so big? Look at those muscles-

A sudden feeling on my lips interrupted my chain of thoughts. I soon realized that he held my bottom lip between his brown ones. “Kiss me back y/n, I know you want to,” he whispered, his breath brushing up my face.

It didn’t take me long to pull him to me, crashing my lips on his. He was intoxicating in ways I couldn’t understand nor explain. I needed him close to me at the moment and I didn’t care why.

“Yo, Jean where did you my video game?!” Connie’s voice boomed from the hallway, forcing us apart. Realization slapped my face when I looked at him and saw his cocky smirk. I just kissed him, even though I promised myself I’d never do anything with him ever again.

“I’ll get it!” he yelled back, the same expression resting on his face, his back facing the hallway. “I’d apologize, but you pulled me back. Anyway, I’ll see around beautiful.” he winked and began walking towards Connie’s room, his back muscles flexing at his movements.

What am I doing with myself?

***

The atmosphere felt nice. I couldn’t sleep so instead I lied down on my bed and watched the stars from my window. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened hours ago and how I had to sit with them and pretend as nothing happened.

Jean was certainly not the little boy he was years ago. He got more confident and a lot more handsome. He was fucking with me and I thought, why shouldn’t I fuck with him too?

After all, I know for sure he didn’t tell Connie anything. He’s too protective of me and if he knew, well let’s just say Jean would be moving out by tomorrow. He trusts him blindly and I honestly just think he doesn’t want me to hook up with him again because he’s just like him.

He likes to mess around. Not the type to stay in the morning after. But neither was I. I sighed and dragged my legs out of bed, my body following.

“Shit now I gotta pee,” I whined stomping slightly on the wooden floor. I ruffled my hair with my hand and slipped on my slippers. I was wearing Connie’s t-shirt, so it was long enough to hide my thighs.

I walked to the bathroom when suddenly a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me into the guest bedroom. My mouth was quick to be silenced by another hand as I was about to squeal.

My back collided with the wall, my hands pinned on each side of my head.

“Jean let me go.” I struggled to get out of his grasp but he kept grinning at me. “Sure.” He let go of his grasp.

I looked around to notice a towel on his bed. “I was going to take a shower but then I heard your footsteps, couldn’t let you get there before I did.” He walked away, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

“Is that all?” I cocked my eyebrow, crossing my arms. He looked me up and down before saying: “You tell me. Need anything else?”

I looked at him briefly, calculating my next move. “An agreement. Connie can’t know.”

“Fuck yeah.” he dropped his towel and stepped closer to me, holding my face with his hands as he crashed his lips on mine. I kissed him back instantly, my fingers finding their way through his hair.

His tongue slipped in, caressing mine. His hands went down my body to squeeze my ass, pulling me even closer to him. My hands traveled across his bare chest, going over his pecs and then gliding one hand down his abs, while the other sat on his shoulder.

We pulled apart, his arms going under my thighs to pull me up and sit me onto the mattress. He walked to the door, locking it before he looked back at me.

Jean crawled over my body, caging me between his arms. “Divine.” he smiled and sat up, his hands tugging at my top. I helped him take it off and threw it on his chair. I was nude underneath him. It wasn’t the first time, yet he still looked mesmerized.

He licked his lips, his fingers tracing my cunt before dipping into my entrance. I arched my back at the sudden intrusion, trying my best to remain quiet.

“I missed your little cunt.” he chuckled massaging my insides slowly. I gasped, my hand immediately covering my mouth.

He rubbed my bud with his thumb, his pace never changing. It was torturing and slow, but I knew we couldn’t make a lot of noise nor make lots of movements that could awake Connie. We had to go nice and easy.

My legs squirmed, the combination of playing my nipples and watching him touch like he does driving me to the edge. My eyes rolled to the back as he added a third finger, my walls clenching tightly around them as I felt myself orgasm around them. “Good girl.” he praised with a chuckle, removing his fingers from my opening.

“Suck your juices off come on.” he tapped my hand, motioning me to remove it and take his fingers in. I stuck my tongue out, his ling digits finding their way down my throat making me slightly gag. “I didn’t know you were such an obedient girl.” he cooed, as I sucked off my arousal.

Jean sat back up, removing his shorts along with his briefs, his erection slapping on my lower stomach. “As much as I’d love you to suck me,” he paused pumping his cock. “I have to say that I miss being inside you.” And with that, he slid all the way in, his mouth silencing my moans.

He stayed still for a while, his eyes staring into mine intensely, almost as if he was trying to tell me something. I nodded my head, his hips moving at my signal. His thrusts were slow and deep, going over every spot. I wrapped my arms around him, my forehead resting against his, as he breathed heavily.

“I want to fuck you dumb, but he’ll hear your moans.” he taunted rolling his hips, his tip almost hitting my cervix. “So good.” I whimpered, wrapping my legs around him, my heels digging into his lower back.

“Jean…” I was close and my legs were a shaking mess. “That’s right baby, say my name.” he breathed in my ear, slightly speeding up his thrusts. I bit onto his shoulder, my orgasm ripping through my body.

I tightened around him, his strokes getting sloppier. It came to my attention that he wasn’t wearing protection, and I wasn’t about to get adventurous like last time. “Jean… pull out…”

“Beg.” was his only reply to which I complied. “Please, anywhere, just not-“ He harshly pulled out, and instead of jerking himself on my stomach, he reached up to straddle my chest and stroked himself. “Open.”

I stuck my tongue out, his hand now replaced with mine as I jerked him off, ropes of cum shooting down my throat. “Such a good girl.” he chuckled, rubbing his hand over his face.

He got off me and pulled his hair back using both hands, his naked body walking around the bed to grab some tissues. He cleaned off my arousal and handed me some to clean the corners of my lips.

“If only you could see how messed up you look,” he smirked and threw me my t-shirt before grabbing his towel and sliding on his shorts.

I put on my top and got off his bed. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and internally yelled at myself. I looked like a mess. My hair was tangled and my skin was all sweaty. Guess I have to take a shower too.

I looked over at Jean to see him staring at me with an amused look on his face. “What?” I cocked my eyebrow. He shrugged and smiled at me. “Connie and I are going out to get some lunch tomorrow. What’d you say?” he requested.

“I mean yeah sure. But Jean he can-“

“Can’t know alright.” he rolled his eyes. We stared at each other for a minute before I decided to leave his room.

As I made my way past him, his hand flew to cup my swollen cunt. “This belongs to me.”

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean x reader smut #jean x you #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein #jean smut #aot requests #aot x reader smut #aot x reader #aot fandom #aot smut #snk smut #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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myelocin · 3 years ago

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Postcards From: Kanazawa | Tsukishima Kei

Synopsis: The fear that comes with love is the realization that it isn't always just light. Love, rediscovered as both the fear and the drive that depicts the push and pull of whether it's worth it to say "I do," if the unknown is what's to come beyond the vow. In which it's a week until the wedding, and the both of you return to Kanazawa--to day one--as strangers.

Characters: Tsukishima Kei

Genre/Tags: Engagement!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending | WC: 10,200+

A/N: this is a piece commed by @tsukishumai ;w; tq for trusting me w u and ur bb boi ily to the moon n back

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commissions | ko-fi

The illusion of the soul is the false belief that love must always—always—be just light.

The truth is, it’s not. Love is many things. Primarily, love begins from desire. Then, that desire seeps into a drive that pushes you to keep wanting. Then finally, when it’s seeped in through the skin deep enough, love pools in the soul.

Love is bound to be raw at the very core. A desire. To say, “I want you,” and think it holds as much credibility as “I love you.” To look at what you know is only the tendrils of something at the very most, and trick yourself into thinking that it’s enough. A beating heart—bloody red. The line just barely hanging in-between what’s selfish and selfless, before it ultimately sways and becomes selfish sometimes.

Sometimes, being right now, Tsukishima thinks.

Sandwiched in-between you to the left, and Yamaguchi to his right, he finds his eyes flickering towards the clock a lot more often than he would have liked. Akaashi, who sat across from his seat on the table, was the first to catch on.

He quirked a brow, presumably in question earlier, and mouthed the question if he was in a rush. Tsukishima’s never been known for having too many words, but because Akaashi pauses and insists to relieve his question with an answer, he shrugs, waving him off and mouthing back that he’s alright.

“So,” Bokuto starts, his voice already slipping into somewhat of a slur. “How’s it feel to be the first to pop the question?”

You laugh, finding amusement in the man’s enthusiasm. Turning to Tsukishima, you sit and wait, expectant of a reaction.

In response, he just shrugs, but a smile breaks through and redefines the nonchalance of his expression anyway. Raising the glass to his lips, he takes a quick sip before answering smugly, “It’s nice to finally settle down. You should try it sometimes.”

Bokuto waves him off, cheeks flushed and eyes already drooping from the inebriation. “Nah,” he slurs, shaking his head. The exaggeration warrants a quick laugh from Sugawara, who sits on the other side, nursing his own drink. Continuing, Bokuto huffs and takes a slight pause before he connects the last of what he says with, “—getting married is nice and all, but I don’t know, man,” he laughs. “Just feels like I’ll end up hitting a fucking blank space after I do or whatever. Not my vibe.”

Visibly, Tsukishima shifts a little, the smile on his face maintained but the lighthearted energy that earlier fueled it just slightly more drained now.

From the corner of your eye, you notice it. Though, Akaashi’s the one who gives him a pointed stare, to which the former simply ignores.

“But—“ Bokuto continues, as if trying to remedy the cracked part of the atmosphere that isn’t even visible in the first place—“If that’s your thing, then I’m obviously not going to judge you for that.”

Tsukishima responds by his silence. Bokuto, with his head still warped around the heavy state of his inebriation, doesn’t do so much other than sip a little more of his barely filled glass of beer, Tsukishima’s apathetic expression just a blur in his eyes now.

“You seem happy, though,” Bokuto notes, then raises his glass towards you.

Blinking at being the sudden subject of his interest, you raise your own glass of water. The ice inside shifts, clinking against the sides of the glass, and slowly, Tsukishima watches. There’s familiarity in the way it moves down: trickling slow like the patience inside him that’s suddenly running by the clock. His palms just barely gripping the utensils, clammy. While his head, still whirs at Bokuto’s halfhearted words.

It’s halfhearted, he reminds himself.

The thought of hitting a plateau after “I do,” in a way is terrifying.

But he is happy, right?

The way his palms respond solely through tensing suddenly spikes the fear that maybe his ring will slip. So he looks at you, trying to find an anchor to keep the love he pushes to stay intertwined with his truth afloat as he responds, “Of course I am. I’m happy.”

You look back at him, eye to eye, though you find something waver just for a split second— wondering if there’s credibility in the saying that gold will always deliver truth.

The rest of the night flows easy.

Almost naturally, he’s quick to wave off Bokuto’s invite for more drinks at the bar just down the street, tugging your interlaced hands towards the parking lot as soon as the group found its way to the exit.

“You know he probably just wanted more company,” you laugh. Thirty minutes after making it back home, instead of jumping straight into the shower and getting ready for the night routine, you instead take out the suitcase and take your place, seated on the floor in the living room.

“We needed to pack,” you hear him respond, his voice a little distant from the bedroom down the hall.

You shrug. “Yeah, but we could have made time.”

“Sometimes we can’t just make things, if we don’t have any to make it with in the first place,” he sighs.

You chuckle. Perhaps it’s just one of those nights again. In the ten years you’ve known Tsukishima Kei, you found that he had a tendency to become a multitude of things.

A stranger, at the start, because that’s where every connection begins. The neighbor who lived with his grandfather across the street from your childhood home. Kanazawa was a long way from Sendai, but before his parents had whisked him off to Miyagi some years later, he had been the friend that oftentimes spent his afternoons with you.

Strawberry cake and tiny sips of boxed juice from the convenient store down the street, and not much conversation exchanged between the both of you. He’d tell you about the things on his grandfather’s old encyclopedia, and you’d listen with rapt attention, finding it nice how he seemed to carry a little bit of the stars the more his eyes gleamed. He just talked about dinosaurs, you remember. At ten, Tsukishima had always been a wonderer.

Then he moved.

From the friend who told you stories and shared his juice boxes with you under that tree, to the occasional email that would pop up on your phone, when you were in highschool and weaving your way in and out of pathways and dead-ends. Miyagi was a little like Kanazawa, he said. There was a lot of quiet in the two cities. His email would come once a week, then twice when you reckon he felt a little lonely.

You’d reply with the same kind of enthusiasm as he had established, though you still couldn’t deny the fact that the notification with his name on it never failed to have you smiling—at least just a little bit. At fifteen, Tsukishima was far from a stranger, but he was also falling just a little short in making it to the halfway mark of being a friend too.

The once-a-week emails were welcome, none the less. It stayed like that, until once a week turned into twice. Though most were just the customary how-are-yous and obligatory holiday greetings once the seasons came and went, one year it turned into emails about the little nothings.

‘I had strawberry cake today,’ it once read. ‘The one we used to share tasted sweeter.’

‘I joined the volleyball team.’

‘Winter here is a little colder. I remember your puffy green jacket.’

‘I don’t know if you want to know…or if I should tell you...but our team won, and we’re going to nationals.’

Somehow, you were managed to be convinced by one of your friends that same week to travel with your own highschool’s volleyball team to assist in the preparation for nationals in Tokyo. It was just a coincidence, you used to reason. You were there, and so was he. There was a hundred other courts his team could have played at, and your priority was assisting your own team in what they needed.

But still, you couldn’t help but wave back and cheer the loudest from your stands when he perfected the block and scored the winning point for the first set.

It was then, where you realized that perhaps Tsukishima Kei wouldn’t just be a stranger.

Kanazawa to Miyagi, but somehow Tokyo became the in-between. Childhood friends to the sort-of friends from the other ends of the country sharing a few scattered memories in slices of strawberry shortcake and random dinosaur trivia from an old man’s outdated encyclopedia.

He was the first to approach you after that match. A hand held out to shake, perhaps to commemorate the evident shift between strangers to friends—but it was nice.

Because after that, friends turned into something more.

Maybe Tokyo really was the middle ground. After you graduated and moved out of your respective cities, Tokyo became the third place of hello.

Then things just slipped into place. He was here, and so were you. He had plans to stay, and you just signed the contract that bound you to the city for the next two and a half years. The apartment right down the hall from yours was recently vacated, and he was looking for a place to stay.

His new work place, coincidentally enough, was just a stop away from the train station closest to your place.

You had always doubted the presence of serendipity and everything that had to dictate with the celestial control of fate, but the ease that came with the relief of him signing the lease the very next week almost seemed to validate what had been just a farfetched something.

From strangers, to friends, to lovers, then to this:

Ten years later, a ring on your finger, and an I do, bound to be said just a little over seven days from now.

Tokyo was kind to the both of you. His mother’s close enough to visit on the weekends, while Kanazawa was just a shinkansen away from Tokyo station. A new apartment with enough space for two, plus maybe an extra, and a bakery right down the street with the best strawberry shortcake made fresh every day.

The wedding’s just a week away. His grandfather, still living in Kanazawa was meant to travel with Akiteru to Tokyo last week, but because plans changed, the both of you were instead tasked with going there yourselves to travel with him. While Tsukishima hesitated, you didn’t. Yes was easy to say in a situation like this. Though your parents had moved to Tokyo some years ago, you were aware that his grandfather didn’t.

The house across the street was still his, while the one you grew up in just now became a summer home your family would frequent to when Tokyo became too swarmed with tourists.

You look at the half-filled contents of the suit case on the floor in front of you. The right side’s meant to hold your clothes, while the left was left bare for Tsukishima’s. You turn and look at him.

“You can just grab the stuff you need me to bring for you and I’ll fold it in. We should probably catch the first train tomorrow if we wanna get there before sundown.”

What comes as a reply is only prolonged silence.

You let what he started stay for a little, but because you had never been the type to be fond in gouging out answers from the blank spaces, you sigh, and break the impending silence before it could get a chance to even settle. “You’re quiet again, Kei.”

When he makes it to the living room, instead of coming back out with a stack of clothes, he stands by the wall with his hands in his pocket. His eyes shift from wall to wall, but skip over you.

Knowing that you’ll just prompt another conversation again the more he keeps his silence, he sighs, swallowing the hesitation and clinging onto the bits of courage that floats by him in the moment. Grasping at the very tips of it, he forces the words out of his mouth. “Are you really coming with me?”

You raise a brow. “Back to Kanazawa? Of course. I’m from there too, you know. Plus I haven’t seen Grandpa in a while.”

He shifts his gaze to the side, thankful for the blur that came with forgetting to slip on his glasses. He’s always had a tendency to give in the moment he looks at you, so the vagueness in the blur was a welcome change. “It’s just for a week,” he mutters. “I think I’ll handle the trip just fine.”

“Plus,” he adds, the hike in the tone of his voice giving away his panic. “—I heard there was a problem with the florists? Maybe one of us needs to go in and fix it ourselves just in case.”

In the ten years you’ve known him, you’ve always considered it a given that you’ve well perceived him by now. In front of you, he’s stammering. While Tsukishima has never been the face to poise and perfection—because at the end of the day he still is just a boy—you knew he only stammered when he was nervous.

Perhaps trying to manipulate the situation through a wordless exchange was his way of doing so. In your head, you chuckle. Tsukishima Kei is many things, and is witty when it counts—but he could never be blunt when it came to the things he was unsure of.

You try to gouge out his truth. Speaking straight to the point, you let him know that there’s no purpose in trying to skirt around. You turn to him, his sweater half folded on your lap. “You know I could have believed what you just said, but,” you pause, giving him a pointed look, “—you’re not even looking at me.”

“Is this about what Bokuto said earlier?”

The way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, confirms your suspicions that that it is about that, before he can muster up the courage to even say it. “Tell me,” you initiate. You’ve never been afraid to speak what needs to be said. “What’s got you so afraid?”

Once more, he hopes for the silence to speak for him. And like before—it doesn’t. Silence was never meant to fill in the blanks. What it did, rather, is add three seconds more on the clock that’s ticking regardless. Tsukishima bets on a timed clock to speak for him, and because you’ve never been the type to shrink at the presence of raw truth, you huff and poke into what obviously hits for him just a little deeper.

“You’re afraid we’ll hit a blank space after we get married, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t look away, but little by little, his body language starts slipping bits and pieces of the truth you’ve already long sensed. “I think I just need to think this through.”

“What?” you scoff. “You planned to go to Kanazawa by yourself for a week to what? Soul search? To decide if you even wanna marry me?”

“I’m sor—“

“That’s what you’re not supposed to say,” you interrupt him. “You don’t say you’re sorry for how you’re feeling, because you’re allowed to feel it how it is, but shit, Kei,” you exhale, pausing to suck in a quick breath. “You couldn’t have just said this earlier?”

He looks away again, the guilt evident on his features. “You’re mad.”

“Do you blame me?”

This time, he turns to you. “No,” he murmurs. “I don’t, but I’m gonna be blunt here��“

“—first time—“

He gives you a pointed look, but in the moment, you don’t really have much in you to care too much.

“I think I need space to clear my head.”

“Sounds like you’re contemplating on whether you wanna stay with me or not,” you respond. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

Tsukishima’s steady, this time. “Of course I wanna stay with you.”

“But,” you counter. “You aren’t sure if you want to marry me.”

He looks away. “What if—we hit a plateau after.”

“That’s still not an excuse to back out before we even try, Kei,” comes your reasoning.

“You’re right,” he sighs. “It’s not.”

Then it’s you, who shrugs this time, giving in a little and throwing him what you hope he doesn’t see as a lifeline. There’s no comfort found in knowing that an out is a means of mercy when it comes to love. Why should there even be an out?

You settle for just cracking the door open instead. Though it was never locked, the fact that it remained close must have been understood differently by him.

“Let’s go back to Kanazawa separately, then,” you propose. The open suitcase in front of you still has the right half filled with his half folded clothes, so you reach in, taking it out one by one. “You stay with your grandfather and I’ll stay at my parent’s house.”

Tsukishima raises a concern. “He’ll wonder why we aren’t staying together.”

In response, you shrug. “Just make something up then.”

“Is this just a passive aggressive way to say you’re mad at me?”

You scoff. “When have I ever been passive aggressive, Kei? I’ve said shit as it is since day one.”

He flinches, maybe because of what you said or the tone of the deliverance, but either way, you decide you can’t give much of a shit. It’s a given that you’re angry, but because being hurt just paves the path to silence more than lashing out, it’s not much of a surprise that you probably look deflated in front of him.

“What I’m saying is,” you explain. “Let’s go back to Kanazawa as strangers. Do what you gotta do, however you’ve gotta do it to get your head sorted out, and then we’ll talk. I’m not dancing around in circles with you on this. Either we get married next week, or we don’t.”

He panics. “I don’t want to lose you—“

“You’re already talking like you’ve decided that you won’t be at the other end of that aisle, Kei.”

Words feel lacking all of a sudden, so you pause. The absence of the split second brevity has Tsukishima standing still, his breath held, throat dry.

But like always, clarity seems to weave its way through the cracks in the room and find you first. “Yes or no isn’t easy to decide between,” you finally mutter. Eyes to the half folded sweaters you meant to tuck into the other half of the suitcase, you realize that you’ll need to switch to a smaller trolley now because you won’t be needing this much space anyway. “I don’t know what I should tell you, because I don’t know that we’d be having a possible fallout a week before the wedding. But at the same time—I don’t want to say you’re despicable for feeling like that, Kei. It just—“

“—fucking sucks,” you sigh.

“If you feel like you need a week to figure whatever this shit is, then okay,” you nod. “Okay. Let’s be strangers for a week and by the time we’re back in Tokyo, you give me a yes or no and be fucking blunt with it.”

Later that night when you turn your back against him and face the wall, his whisper breaks through the quiet. “Why are you still patient with me about this? You could have just left me.”

You shift, laying on your back and sighing to the makeshift glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling of your room. “Because I love you,” you sigh. “Loving someone just means you have to exhaust every other option before even thinking of throwing in the towel.”

He sleeps that night, feeling heavy.

He woke up later that morning, feeling the same too.

In a sense, things admittedly started weird. You woke up before he did this time, when he usually would be the one trying to be quiet when he slipped out of bed. Even though early mornings had never been a thing for the both of you, there was still something unpleasant in waking up to an empty bed.

The sheets on your side were done, and your phone that usually would be pinging with email notifications by now wasn’t there.

It’s odd, he thinks. While he agreed to be strangers for a week, the walk to the train station was the same. Silence was normal, but the five extra inches that added to the distance between the both of you wasn’t. You nodded his way when he pointed at the shinkansen’s direction, and wordlessly would hand him his usual brew when you stopped at the coffee shop just before going in.

Seated beside you in the train, he tries to ignore the urge to poke you on the side and make conversation. Words have always come easy when it came to moments with you, he noticed.

Tsukishima’s aware that he’s always been dubbed as the kind of person who never preferred to say too much, and while that was true—to an extent—he realizes that there is some truth to the saying that silence kills.

You’re seated beside him on the train, eyes to your phone, and earbuds in place. He resorts to just staring at you through his peripherals, caught in between wanting to satiate the want to talk to you by breaking the silence, or keeping it as is.

This is where fear grips him a little tighter. The deal was, as you had pointed out just last night, that the both of you would move through the week pretending to be strangers again. You’d stay on your side of the street, while he stayed in his.

It’s a given that his grandfather’s bound to ask about you, and so in the event that it does happen, you would just spend a few hours with them and pretend like everything was fine.

You made it clear that you’d try to exhaust all the options before resorting to that, though. And it’s easy, he thinks, doing so. It doesn’t take much to fake a phone call from work or a last minute meeting with an old friend that wouldn’t be able to make it to the city for the supposed wedding.

The lines were drawn, and the outline of what was to be expected in the next week was made clear.

He thinks of what you said before you slept. Love, as that one drive that has you exhausting all your options before even thinking of quitting. It’s fair, he thinks. You’ve always been the rational thinker in the relationship.

But then again, he doesn’t doubt your hurt either. A week was lengthy, he realizes, and to act as strangers again just a week before the wedding was a different kind of test when it came to your patience.

Still, he owes you truth.

You’ve always told him to lay things bare, and even though what’s bare is ugly, because love always pushes to try—he stays, doing just that.

Undoubtedly, this is a jump. There’s no question in the fact that the possibility of reaching the peak and coming face to face with a plateau scares him. But still, his thoughts counter, to face a drop that doesn’t guarantee a landing somehow terrifies him even more.

The sound of your phone vibrating snaps him out of his thoughts. Before you answer it, he snags a look of the name written on the screen—Akiteru’s.

Tsukishima sighs, shooting you a cautious stare as you pick up the phone and turn to him.

The tone of your voice is easy, though you look at him, unbothered. “Hey,” you answer. “Just got in the train, so Kei should be calling you in about three hours when we’re there.”

In comes a pause, before you chuckle a little. Unconsciously, Tsukishima scooches in, curious. But before he could get a chance to lean in too close, you pull away a little, looking at him curiously, an eyebrow raised. “I meant to tell you,” he hears you say, and as you look at him, he chooses to hold your stare.

“Kei and I will be staying separately for the week.”

Beside you, he shifts, fighting the urge to turn away and face forward.

Assuming that your flinch afterwards was only a response to what he’s only certain is Akiteru’s sudden outburst, the prior nervousness of his stare shifts into concern. Understanding the are-you-okay that he mouths, you wave him off. “We’re fine,” you laugh. “I just miss staying at the house that’s all, and I’m pretty sure Kei wants to spend quality time with his grandfather.”

You stay silent after that, which truth be told, doesn’t exactly help with his nerves.

“He’s right next to me,” you add. “We’re fine, I swear. Just wanna enjoy Kanazawa in different ways that’s all.”

To put it bluntly, the first day is awkward.

His grandfather’s waiting from outside the gate the second you make it to that familiar street. Nothing much has changed, the two of you notice. The gate’s rusted a little by the edges, and the door’s still got the same chip on the left side he always said he’d take a look at.

“Heard they were cutting down that tree,” his grandfather says, when it’s a little over three hours later and you’re all seated at a local restaurant for dinner. His old friend owned the place, he explained. Low lights, home cooked meals, and a family run business you vaguely remember your father talking about when you were young.

Tsukishima pauses, eyebrows rising in question. “What do you mean that tree?”

“The one you used to run off to,” he laughs.

Elbowing him, you nod towards his grandfather before pointing out, “We met by that tree, you know.”

His grandfather’s quick to responding, laughing at Tsukishima’s perplexed expression. “Seems like your grandfather’s memory is doing better these days than you, boy.”

You suppose that at the end of the day, it shouldn’t have been a big deal that he forgot. You’ve never been one to dwell too deep within the symbolic little nothings that’s bound to come with life. Rationally speaking, maybe you’re just a little miffed because of what he said the night before. And maybe that’s the reason why you’re taking this a little harsher than you would have on a normal day.

But strangers, you remember. Strangers wouldn’t care if the other forgot.

So with that, you shrug. You take another spoonful of the food in front of you and shift your body just slightly to the left—to which Tsukishima took noticed—and leaned forward. Without even saying much, his grandfather already has his attention on you, the smile on his face kind.

He’s always been kind, you remember. With a smile, you choose to keep the peace in the room at bay, willing yourself to ignore Tsukishima’s stare boring holes into the side of your head from beside you.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t remember a lot of people stop by that tree,” you comment, as you take a step into nostalgia.

His grandfather shrugs, absentmindedly nodding his head as he mulls over your word through a spoonful of broth. “It was in the middle of a residential area. Bound to get taken down if you ask me. People nowadays need a place to park.”

This time, you really feel his stare beside you almost intensify. Truth is, you can make sense of what you know he only fears. The point in life was to brave through the unfamiliar to establish a consistency in familiar grounds. To continuously rise from day one, only to hit the peak and possibly come face to face with a plateau instead of something greater than even the height of all highs—you admit that it’s terrifying.

The plateau, that perhaps works sort of like that tree.

It’s been there, so here it still is.

You’ve both been at that tree—at the start—so here you both still are. Side by side back in Kanazawa, sharing a meal like I do, isn’t hanging on the line.

His grandfather’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You’re not wearing your ring.”

Tsukishima’s voice is quick to cut into the conversation, his voice smooth. “She just doesn’t wanna lose it.”

You nod along to his lie, undecided with how to feel in regards to how smooth he seemed to have delivered his lie.

“You know, now that I think about it, it’s good that they’re cutting down that tree.”

Tsukishima speaks his mind this time. “Last week, you said you were looking forward to coming back home so you could visit that tree again.”

You don’t look at him when you answer. “I know, but your grandfather has a point. When things change, what else can you do but get rid of it?”

“Oh nothing’s changed,” he laughs across you. “Even before the two of you were born, people would always talk about how it’s just there when the space could have been used for parking.”

“Then why put off cutting it down this long?”

“Who knows,” he laughs. There’s an unfound wisdom in his eyes that read through your soul when he looks at you. “Maybe cutting down what people already see as a permanent fixture will do more harm than good in the long run.”

“Even if it doesn’t contribute anything?”

Tsukishima thinks of his fear, then of the plateau.

Through the rim of the glass, he keeps a steady eye on his grandfather, breath held as the anticipation for his words begin to really settle.

“People these days just see what’s the most obvious from the surface and consider it as the only fault then run with it. Maybe it’s not the tree,” he laughs. “Maybe it’s just the people. They want convenience so they cut off everything around them instead of adjusting to it.”

The food tastes bland in his mouth, suddenly.

“Goes to show how selfish people can get sometimes,” his grandfather finishes, as an afterthought. “A shame, really. That old tree’s done nothing but give people shade.”

At the end of the day, you really had to give his grandfather a lot more credit than what was due.

The second and third day was awkward. Even though you tried to stay inside for most of your day, venturing outside and meeting up with old friends was inevitable. And really, you should have remembered that he often started his day with a couple laps walked around the block.

On day two, he hinted that he could sense something was off. Tsukishima had been a lot more silent lately, he pointed out. First, as just a passing comment, then by the third time he’d bring it up and wouldn’t get too much of a response out of you, there came more emphasis to what he says.

He passed by the tree every time you’d round the street too. It occurs to you that passing through it was a shortcut, and contradicted his prior statements to having a route that catered towards the long way home, but you chose to not comment much about it.

The second day was curiosity, and you figured that you could live at least just a week with it.

The third day, on the other hand, gave you a little more trouble than you had bargained for.

You’re on your way home from an old friend’s house, and ironically enough, both Tsukishima and his grandfather are out by their front door, tending to the weeds of a garden that doesn’t even look remotely grown.

Tsukishima’s the first to look at you.

Stubborn, and frankly intent on upholding your end of the deal in staying strangers, you attempt to wave them off with a passing greeting as you look through your bag, feeling around for the keys to the gate.

“You don’t have to think of an excuse,” you hear him say. “He’s back inside now. It’s just you and me here.”

It’s funny how ever since you’ve made it back to Kanazawa, he’s been the one to break the silence a lot more lately.

You don’t turn. Strangers, you think. The deal was to pretend the other was a stranger.

“Cam,” he calls out again, the desperation in his voice inching more and more out of its shell. “I’m really sorry.”

You turn around, the buried anger getting the best of you in the moment. “You know the more you say that, the more convinced I am that I should just give you back your ring right now and go back to Tokyo alone. You talk like the only thing you’re sure of is the fact that you won’t be marrying me next week, Kei.”

The moment you shift your gaze from the ground to his eyes, a part of you aches at the idea that you may have to bid farewell to gold. Swallowing down the mass of emotions you hope isn’t entirely just made of anger, you steady yourself and sigh.

It hits you that it’s been a long day.

“It’s just you and me here,” you repeat, slowly. There’s a flutter in your heart that tells you it’s still love that stares back when you look at him. “Then why do you feel so far away, Kei?”

He doesn’t sleep that night.

Day three of being strangers, but he hasn’t had anything figured out. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but what only grew was the silence. The distance is really just a few feet away—across the street and through the leaves of that tree that your father would always say he’d get to.

The light from your room is still turned on, though the curtains are drawn.

8PM and it’s early. 8PM, and on a usual day, you’d usually be seated beside him in your Tokyo apartment’s living room, mulling over the nothings that went on in your day.

It’s nice to talk about the rest of the world as if all they’re meant to be is just a passing blur in the background, he thinks. He’s never been much for words, but you were.

Then again, you had always been one for truth.

Reality is, he knows he could always swallow his doubts, walk across the street, cover the distance, and apologize to you with an I’m sorry, that covers all that needs to be addressed in a standard apology. Life can be lived as easy as that. You swallow your own thoughts, adhere to what they say needs to be done in the way they tell you how to do so, and be done with it.

But he knows you just as well as he knows himself.

You’d call him a coward—and truth be told, he’ll think the same.

Present wise—he does think he is a coward.

Tsukishima sighs, knowing that blinking at your closed curtain visible from his window won’t do much of a difference. Begrudgingly, he sits up, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table.

The streets around the neighborhood are quiet this time of night. The perks about living away from the city was the silence, he thinks. As soon as he tugs on a sweater, he makes his way downstairs, carefully, so he doesn’t stir his grandfather he presumes is sleeping on the room across the hall.

He exhales, relieved at the barely audible creak the door clicks to as soon as he shuts it and turns the lock from the outside. The keys, jingling in his pockets, is the only sound that rings in the quiet.

It isn’t lonely, but it isn’t comfortable either.

Kanazawa has always been a town he’s considered as a piece of constant that’s meant to drift inbetween.

Neither like Tokyo or the towns by the outskirts of Okinawa, it stays as is. Twenty years ago, the crack on the sidewalk was there, and now, twenty years later, it remains.

There’s comfort in recognizing constants, Tsukishima admits. The tree just down this road, the crack on the asphalt, and the fact that your room is still the second window to the left visible from his on the second floor.

When he was younger, he remembers he often would stand under your window, caught in between wanting to knock on your door and ask permission from your parents if you could accompany him for the afternoon, or just wait around until you’d come down yourself.

While he left a lot of things on chance, the conscious choice to stay rooted in the spot by your window remained constant.

The gravel under his feet crackle everytime he’d take a step. The moon’s hazy behind the clouds tonight, he muses. While you’d wish for the stars, he found a temporary safety in the midnight clouds. A timelessness felt when it’s midnight, stays.

Before he turns to the corner that would lead home, he stops midway—recognizing the tree from a good few meters away.

There’s a sense of feeling an urgency to let something go, the more he stares at it. Nearing autumn, the colors start to change, and just like that, he’s reminded of the impermanence in life.

As the earth eventually changes throughout the years, he fears that perhaps in love—it would too.

“You’re out late,” is the first thing Tsukishima hears as soon as he enters the room.

From the genkan, he peers over the shelf, noticing the lights from the kitchen is what floods into the dim living room. Slipping on his house slippers and making his way around the corner, Tsukishima gets a feel of the warmth that’s radiating from the familiarity of the space.

After his grandmother had passed, his grandfather stayed in Kanazawa. Though his mother often expressed her desire for him to move with the rest of the family in Tokyo, every time, he’d only wave them off and say that there’s too much rooted here for him to just up and leave.

Walking into the kitchen, his grandfather’s the first to raise a mug his way and offer a smile. “I’d ask you if everything’s fine, but I think I’ll just wait around and see if you’re even willing to tell me.”

Tsukishima chuckles airily. “Sounds like you wanna ask anyway.”

He takes a slow sip. “Okay then,” he nods, smiling like he’s just struck a deal. “First question is—are you okay?”

In response, Tsukishima smiles, pulling the chair and taking the seat across his. He nods. “’Course I am.”

His grandfather’s eyes don’t leave him. “You’re not wearing the ring, and neither is Cam.”

Suddenly feeling like he’s caught in between a blocked exit and the spotlight, Tsukishima freezes, but wills himself not to look away. “Just needed some space, that’s all.”

“To think?”

He sighs. “To reconsider.”

“Ahh,” the older man sighs. “Cold feet. Pretty normal, if you ask me.”

He raises a brow in question. “It’s normal?”

“To be nervous, yeah,” his grandfather laughs. “But looks like it’s a different case for you.”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond, his eyes fixated towards a spot on the wall that feeds more into the blank space of his thoughts than anything more.

“You’re afraid,” Tsukishima hears, and as soon as the retaliation he tries to string together at the very last minute don’t come—he realizes the core of all the chaos in his head is meant to be just like that—

Blank.

“What are you so afraid of, boy?”

In the silence, he lets the rawness of his truth slowly spill. “What if I hit a plateau after this?”

His grandfather wastes no second in countering. “How is it life if we just keep climbing? What’s the point in doing all that work if we never get rest?”

Tsukishima laughs. “You know, by that logic it can just go the other way around too.”

He settles in his seat, trying to appreciate the silence instead of looking for company in the noise, before he adds, “What if we decide we don’t love each other anymore?”

“That’s not all there is to a plateau,” he laughs. “It’s a valid fear, but being afraid isn’t all there is after you marry someone.”

“Then what’s there?”

With a smile, his grandfather leans back, raises the mug to his lips, and relaxes—his eyes looking fondly at a faded photograph hung beside the wall clock. “Everyday,” he answers. “What’s there after I do is just everyday.”

Sensing that his grandfather means to say more, he chooses to retain his silence. Sighing softly, his grandfather keeps his smile steady as he continues to speak. “Everyday you wake up. You roll over in bed, you think about the checklist you do to consider a day done, then you come home, eat a meal, rest a little and start the whole day over the next day. Everyday’s like that.”

He shifts, leaning forward with his arms crossed supporting his weight on the table as he eyes his grandson with a smile. “Best part is, you can do all that with someone you love. Makes the boring part of the plateau a lot more bearable.”

“You wake up with them and complain about how boring the rest of your day will be, then come home and eat a meal with them. Wash the dishes, share the silence, and just go to bed knowing you’ll wake up with somebody.”

The smile on his face is honest, then he shrugs. “It’s nice, though. The plateau after you hit a certain point in life is just inevitable, Kei. You can either complain about life alone or complain about it with somebody. At least there will be two pairs of slippers by the genkan waiting for you everytime you come home. You’ll say you’ve made it home and someone will greet you. You’ll roll over in bed at 2am and someone will be there with you. The point of climbing in life is to get somewhere, not ascend past the norm.”

Tsukishima stays quiet, pondering over the truth in his grandfather’s words. “So life’s just meant to stay in the middle?” he asks, slowly coming into terms with his grandfather’s redefinition of the plateau. “Life’s meant to find a consistency in everyday,” he corrects.

A few moments pass before he stands back up, pointing to the counter with a thermos. He knows it’s yours. The old one that your mother refused to throw away, because there’s a crack by the lid and a couple faded sailor moon stickers stuck by the side.

“Look at that,” Tsukishima hears. He turns his head just in time to see the old man offer him a patient smile, the message in his eyes delivered without a hitch. “That old thing’s seen a couple of decades, but it still gets to you when you need it, right?”

It’s not so bad to have an old thing be your constant, right?

Twenty minutes after his grandfather climbs back to his room upstairs, Tsukishima’s seated on the side of the table beside the window. Peeking through the half-opened blinds, he can still see that the light from your room is still flicked on.

Without mulling over the decision, he takes his phone out, scrolling through the contacts until he taps your name. A swipe without too much pressure, because even his thumb’s memorized where your name is by now. Kind of like muscle memory, he supposes.

Bypassing the unannounced rules about what to do as the strangers you had claimed from the start of this week, it results to the lack of hesitation as he types a quick text and presses send without a thought that would counter it.

I love you, it reads.

From his spot in the kitchen, he leans back and smiles, pouring himself a cup of the tea he knows you brewed yourself on the nights where he can’t sleep.

The lights from your room stay on for a few more moments before it dims, but before the metaphoric silence could take root, the screen of his phone lights up.

Stop walking around at night. Drink the tea and try to get some sleep.

Exhaling almost in relief, it’s the slow beating of his heart that resettles him back into the love he’s known everyday.

It’s not quite the end, but it isn’t exactly somewhere unpleasant either.

Two days before you’re meant to return to the city, instead of spending the day in your room—like you had initially planned—you somehow found yourself in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s old car, with a grocery list in hand.

You sigh, understanding what his grandfather’s trying to do.

As you look down, there’s nothing much written in the grocery list. He had complained about some back pain earlier, followed up by his insistent request of desperately needing his groceries done so when Akiteru was to arrive later on, dinner would be taken care of.

Beside you, with his hands on the wheel, Tsukishima sighs. “We could have just ordered in food for dinner. It’s just Akiteru coming,” he mumbles.

Keeping your eyes to the window to your left, you shrug. “He likes making the ordinary special, I guess.”

Tsukishima stays silent after that, mentally thankful for the green light and the empty roads. The more stops, the longer silence would stay. And even after the sort of middle ground from the night before, he doesn’t know what to say to you.

After making a quick turn, he pulls up into the parking lot and kills the engine. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turns to you, with an expectant look. “You can just stay here if you don’t wanna go in with me,” he offers. “It’s a short list, I can be in and out in a bit.”

You wave him off, already slinging on your bag and opening the car door—the list on your hand. “It’s alright. I think I’m more familiar with this area than you are, so we can just meet back in the car in thirty minutes if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t need me to come with you?” he raises a brow.

You shake your head no, but upkeep the smile on your face anyway as you exit the car and close the door.

Something about what you say sticks with him, the more he thinks about it.

He can distinguish the hesitation laced each of your decisions. You look past him, but not exactly at him. You speak to him, but keep the conversations short. Though conversation was rare between the both of you this past week, the times that you did speak to him, your words often were clipped short.

It’s your means of upkeeping your end of the deal, he realizes.

You’ve always been one for communication, but then again, patience can only stretch so much.

He respects your wish for distance and walks the opposite way from the grocery store, towards a building he doesn’t really known. It’s a gallery, he realizes. Three steps past the entrance, he notices that he’s one of the few that’s in the room.

Traditional artwork line the wall, hung in frames that have rusted throughout time.

Tsukishima stares, eyes drawn to the pieces of art he recognizes from the few scattered memories in his childhood that relate to his time in the city.

A fieldtrip, when he was seven. He remembers leaving the house upset over the yellow hat he had to wear, and the rain boots his teacher wouldn’t let him change out of. Unlike the present, rain was present that day. He stood beside you in line, and had to tilt his head up at the piece of art he always thought was the prettiest out of the bunch.

And now, almost two decades later, he still thinks the same.

He smiles at the memory, finding the comfort of returning to what’s familiar, pleasant.

As if caught by an epiphany, and suddenly enveloped in a sense of a rediscovered home, here, within a room that’s familiar, he finds purpose in the permanence of love.

Love, that’s never meant to be stretched into the likeness of what the poets declare as the absolute form of love after “I do.”

Staring at the piece of art with the rusting frames, the strokes within the canvas still depict the same story. It still is beautiful.

It’s doesn’t become more—but it stays as is.

And maybe that’s what his grandfather was trying to convey.

To fear a certain phase in love is something that comes and goes, but it often never stays. It can linger, but eventually, it too, fades.

What stays is what’s rooted.

Primarily, just you. Truly, just love.

That tree in that old street, these paintings on the walls, and the kind of serenity that washes over him at the thought of you.

The fear in life comes in the form of thinking that beyond the peak lays a plateau. Beyond “I do,” what’s next to come is love, dwindling until “I don’t love you anymore,” is the only thing left to be said.

It’s fear, that spoke to him the past few weeks, so this time, as he gives in, he listens to love.

It’s quiet.

But through the smoke in the room, the message that’s meant to deliver truth comes in full clarity. Illuminated, it appears before him as it is. A painting that’s struck him as beautiful then and now, and the thought of you as the face that’s always been the first to greet him every morning for more than just a few years now.

An old man stands not too far from him, hands clasped behind his back as he stares—with a smile on his face—at a similar painting on the wall. Sensing Tsukishima’s presence, he looks over and redirects the smile his way. “Been coming here for years, and looking at this still feels the same.”

Poking at the doubts, Tsukishima responds, “Are you afraid that it won’t get old?”

The gentleman laughs, though soft enough so it doesn’t echo too much in the halls. The joy lingers around Tsukishima, on the other hand. “To have something grow old with you isn’t a bad thing. Day one, this piece was beautiful, and now, almost forty years later, I look at it and think the same too.”

A beat of silence passes, but the man speaks once more.

“My wife, when she was alive, showed me this piece. Maybe I look at this and still find it beautiful after all these years because I think of her, but I don’t think trying to focus on that matters much. The feeling’s the same, even if it grew old.”

Reciprocating the older man’s goodbye with a nod to the head, it’s then where he laughs, a little bit more of the truth unraveling as each moment comes and goes. Thinking of his words, he dwells on its meaning.

Standing there, alone in the museum hall, the smoke clears, and he presents himself his words of blended truth and patience.

Love is timeless, his thoughts say. The plateau after the peak is as possible as the drop, but life’s meant to be lived in the lows and in betweens as much as the highs. Time moves in waves, and perhaps love doesn’t always grow stagnant. It can be timeless, even though the frames rust. His hair will grey, and maybe you’ll stop linking your pinky with him beneath the sheets during the rainy season’s thunderstorms, but the root of love stays.

Within the plateau, time will move, and you’ll both grow old, but the taste of the tea you’ll brew for him will remain the same.

And thirty minutes later, when he makes it back to the parking lot with you waiting by the door, the love that steadies his beating heart will be the same too.

Steady, present, and timeless.

Eyeing the dashboard, you’re the first to break the silence. “Why’d you buy a postcard?”

Rolling into a stoplight, he eases on the brakes and shrugs. “Lived here for so long, and I don’t even own a postcard from here.”

“Me neither,” you blink.

A couple minutes pass, and the car’s rolling again, but he misses a turn. Assuming that he’s just not used to the usual route, you stay quiet—until about he pulls up to a familiar street.

Parked to the side, through the windshield, you find yourself face to face with a familiar tree. “Kei.” He hums.

The coming autumn has a few leaves beginning to change its colors, you notice. The summer hues, unbalanced, as bits of red begins to bleed through the green. “You were supposed to turn there, not here.”

He shifts the gear into park, then takes his hands off the wheel, leaning back. “I know.”

It’s quiet after that, but it isn’t all that unpleasant either.

This is the part where the questions begin to poke at you, the what-ifs in love let out in the open as you voice a little bit of your vulnerability. And because the truth is daunting, you hope he understands you through the metaphors. “Do you really think they’ll cut it down?”

He doesn’t allow the silence to take more than a moment. “I think so,” he nods his head.

“It’ll be good though, I think,” you add, nodding your head.

It’s quiet in the room even though the words of your truth coaxes the unhealed wound to resurface. As it comes into light, it doesn’t sting.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder beside him in the car, the tree that witnessed the first hello stays rooted, and watches.

He doesn’t turn to you as he speaks, but in a way, you feel as if a farewell was the finale that was meant to be delivered somehow. “It’s good,” he starts. “Letting go of something that needs to be let go of.”

Tokyo

Tsukishima’s the first to speak.

“I’m not good with words,” he starts.

There’s a hush in the crowd, so you stay with it, knowing you’ll only add to the silence should you choose to respond. It wasn’t your turn anyway, so you will yourself to be still and listen.

“Hey Cam,” Tsukishima continues, choosing to begin his vow with a hello. “I think a lot about what love’s supposed to have meant, mean, or eventually mean in the long run. I thought too much about it to the point where it…” he trails off, blinking at the piece of paper before flicking his eyes up to you with a slight shrug. “—to the point where love began to scare me.”

For a brief moment, he closes his eyes, confident in the fact that when he opens them, he knows he’ll see the world in clarity this time. With the smoke cleared and the scattered pieces of all his doubts set in order, the words of his truth may not speak of the most tender poem of love—but within the lines lies his truth.

As he lays his truth on you, he holds a breath and lets it all go. “I wanna wash the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” he laughs, exhaling softly, his shoulders shaking a little. “Never occurred to me how much of a liar the downside of your thoughts are when you listen to everything that isn’t love,” he continues.

Your shoulders relax, and even through the blur of the veil, you can tell his eyes are steadily watering.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the microphone just barely picking up what he says. You nod your head anyway, wishing you were holding his hands instead of the bouquet. Reassurance comes in many forms, but you know he’s always been the type to receive it well through physical touch.

A kiss on the cheek, your head on his shoulder, or your hands squeezing his. But the smile you give him suffices for now, you think.

“I wanna wash the dishes with you for the rest of my life. I’ll wash, and you dry. Nothing much happens in our day usually, but nothing has to. I’ll listen to you talk about how shit the traffic is in the city, because I know you’ll listen to me talk about the same complaints I have from Monday to Friday anyway.”

You realize he’s written his vows in the back of a postcard—the one you saw on his dashboard a few days ago, from Kanazawa.

He sniffles a little then looks up, laughing to himself at how emotional he’s getting. Allowing more than just truth to trickle out slow is a part of love too, he realizes, so with a soft laugh, he lets the tears be and speaks again. “What needed to be let go of was let go of,” he exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for this long.

In a sense, maybe he has. Sometimes fear grips you tightly enough that it shifts your point of view from one thing to another. What’s love, becomes fear. Then what’s fear, becomes the smoke that buries the core of truth too deep within the haze.

“I let go of the thought the thought that after marriage, if nothing great would come then that would be the end of love,” he breathes. “I stared at that tree and thought of Grandpa’s words again and again then wrote my apology and I love you on the back of a postcard that only had one a couple of blank lines at most.��

He waves it for you, then to the crowd, to see. The words, jumbled up together look almost incomprehensible written so closely together, but in a way, you have a feeling that he’s just speaking the rest of his truth as it comes in the moment.

The truth in love, you realize, is that its truth comes, fully unraveled the moment the initial plan falls apart.

He puts down the postcard, and just looks at you.

“There’s a lot I don’t think I will ever understand when it comes to love, but maybe I’m here to just feel it and not try to decipher it.” He pauses, ignores the few tears that roll down, and shrugs his shoulders, admitting to himself that the truth in his love is the first thought that comes.

“Love doesn’t have to the greatest,” he tells you. “I just wanna wash dishes with you for the rest of my life and hear about how traffic was unbearable.”

You smile, and your assurance reaches him.

“I think that counts as love too,” he finishes, the smile on his face tender.

As he leans in after I do, he murmurs a question in your ear that you’ve been expecting since the start.

You could have just left, he said. How did you deal with me and still choose to stay?

Your answer was said without a hint of hesitation. With a shrug, and an honest smile, you told him, “Because I love you.”

“I think we both had to let go of the thought that to love always means to have the biggest reasoning behind it. We do things for love, and because of love. That’s just how it is,” you shrugged.

Oddly enough, it’s in that same exact moment where he remembers Bokuto’s question from that dinner a week and some days ago.

How does it feel? he recalls, and even though words have never found him first nor met him in the middle easy, he gathers what he can and just settles on the conclusion that it just feels like love.

Wherein love, is this.

An identical band on his and your finger, and the taste of I do pleasant on the tongue. I love you, as a truth that’s easy to fathom and healing to hold, and the fear of what comes next just a passing thought that goes as soon as it comes.

Later that evening his grandfather sits him down and asks him what he really thinks about why people have been putting off cutting down that tree for a few decades now.

With a laugh, the hesitation that often turns decisions is made clear to him. “You know I think that people would decide things and think they’re so solid on it before even being face to face with it. The second they get to that tree with a chainsaw, I promise you they changed their minds. You think you go there and cut off or let go of one thing, then realize you’re cutting off something else in the end. They go back to what’s been there and realize that it’s not the problem at all.”

Tsukishima sighs, and his grandfather watches, the smile on his face easy. It’s like watching some emerge from a smoked out room, he thinks. Clarity’s always been a blessing, and he’s glad his grandson’s finally found it.

“Sometimes going back to the start is the one thing you need to be reminded that it’s worth it to keep going.”

“Sounds like you’re not talking about the tree,” his grandfather comments. Looking at you, Tsukishima smiles. “You could say that too.”

299 notes · View notes

queen-haq · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 9

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9

The smile on your face was stiff and insincere as Marcus Boyd walked you back to your car. As much as you loathed the asshole, you needed him and that meant paying him a personal visit in his home in Connecticut. He was a very successful defense lawyer, on his way to becoming a managing partner in a prestigious New York law firm in a few years. Because of his career, he had access to many seedy characters which is what you were here to leverage. You needed an unregistered gun, and he had connections who could provide you one. If that meant putting up with him for an hour, you were willing to do it.

“Y/N,” he said with a slick smile, standing next to you as you unlocked your car door. “It was wonderful to see you again.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you replied. “It never is. But we do what we have to, right?”

His eyes narrowed, shifting to something menacing. “I forgot how tactless you can be.”

You gave him a mocking smile. “Here’s hoping you won’t have to see me again soon.”

“Next time you need something, don’t come to me,” he warned.

“Same goes for you.” You leveled him with a cold look. “When can I expect a call?”

“A few days.”

“Fine.” You got into your car and shut the door, feeling relieved at no longer being around the slimy bastard.

Marcus was someone you met at college in your first year. He was a rich entitled sophomore, about to flunk out. You were good at hacking into things, and had managed to get your hands on a few exams Marcus desperately needed to pass. That was the beginning of your partnership with him. You helped him graduate and he paid you a lot of money in return. Thanks to him and his friends, you were able to get your degree with minimal student loans. Although the two of you despised each other, the threat of mutual destruction meant you trusted him to keep your search for a registered gun to himself and he trusted you not to spill his secrets.

You started driving back into the city, your mind focused on the road ahead when your phone pinged. You glanced down. An unknown number was calling you. If it was like the other anonymous calls you received, they would call you a fucking bitch as soon as you picked up and hang up on you. You had no doubt that it was Adam calling, considering the calls started after he was released, which only proved how unhinged he was. A smarter man would have been on his best behaviour when out on bail but he was so filled with rage he didn’t even bother to temper his actions. You had already reached out to the prosecutor and informed them of the calls, but you doubted it would lead to anything. Most likely Adam was using disposable phones, which meant there was no direct proof he was the one making the calls. You were scared, of course you were, which was why you’d reached out to Marcus even though you didn’t like the prick. It’s not like you could rely on Trevor, the bodyguard Roger had assigned to keep you safe. He was lazy and not very bright, and even if he was good at what he did Valiant wouldn’t be paying for your protection indefinitely. All of that meant you had to take this matter into your own hands. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the only way for you to feel safe again.

Your thoughts turned to Billy, something you actively tried to avoid, but there wasn’t anything else to distract your mind away from him. It had been a week since you blocked him, and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed him. He’d been a part of your life for almost a year and you really enjoyed his company before things got messy between you two. If you hadn’t developed feelings for him and then caught him on a date with Dinah Madani, you guys would probably still be sleeping together – but you did, and seeing him with someone like her made it crystal clear his lack of feelings for you. The truth hurt like hell, but you’d get over it. You were a realist after all. You knew he was out of your league and there was nothing you could do to make Billy want you.

The speaker on your car piped up with a message notification. It was a text from Davina, reminding you of the girls night out planned for tomorrow night. It was a mutual friend’s birthday and the plan was for all of you to go to a new club that recently opened. You were looking forward to it, mostly as it would keep your mind off Adam but also because you were hoping to go out and meet someone new. No doubt Billy had already found someone else to fill your spot on his weekly rotation but you weren’t built like him and needed time to process your lingering feelings. You still weren’t over him, but you were ready to move on.

Now you just needed to get back home and come up with a reason as to how you lost your bodyguard in case Roger asked. Somehow, though, you doubted Trevor would willingly tell Roger about you disappearing for a few hours so you weren’t too worried. No one knew about your connection with Marcus and you intended to keep it that way.

***

The next evening you, Davina, and a few others were at Pravda, a new club downtown, to celebrate your friend Kiran’s birthday. You were wearing a low-cut black jumpsuit paired with silver stilettos, while your lips were painted maroon. Choosing to keep focus on the lips, you had ensured the rest of your make-up was light and dewy which went well with your straightened hair. It had taken a lot of double-sided tape to make sure your breasts were in check in your outfit but it was worth the effort. You felt like a proper goddess tonight, surrounded by your beautiful friends at a private table in the VIP lounge.

An hour later you were buzzed, giggling and laughing as you and a few others headed back to the private booth from the dance floor. After dancing up a storm, you guys were all parched and desperate for a drink. Davina was holding your hand as she led you through the crowds but you knew something was wrong when she stopped unexpectedly. You thought you heard her swear but you couldn’t be sure due to the loud music.

“What’s-” The words died in your mouth when you realized what Davina was staring at. Billy fucking Russo, sitting at your table, chatting it up with Kiran who was sitting next to him. The moment you saw them, you felt red-hot anger flood over you. While Kiran was a good friend, she wasn’t someone you confided in. She had no idea you’d been sleeping with Billy so you didn’t blame her for flirting with him. But Billy, god you hated him! There was no way his showing up at the same club as you was a co-incidence, which meant he was purposely here to flirt with your friends. To hurt you.

“Want to leave?” Davina asked, looking at you with concern.

“No, it’s fine,” you replied in a clipped tone.

“Are you sure?”

“He’s here because he wants to piss me off.”

“I thought you said he was cool about the break-up.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Thought he was.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You didn’t answer, instead taking the lead to walk past her. You returned to your seat across from where he and Kiran were sitting. Davina came to sit beside you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as his molten eyes trailed down to your breasts, lingering on you. Dressed in a simple grey t-shirt, designer no doubt, and a pair of black trousers and open leather jacket, he looked absolutely beautiful with his perfectly styled hair and trimmed beard.

“Hey guys, this is Billy,” Kiran greeted, eyeing him appreciatively. “He ordered us more champagne. Isn’t that so nice of him?”

On the table in front of you was an expensive bottle, chilling in ice. You quirked your eyebrow. Apparently Billy was in the mood to splurge on your friends. “That’s nice of him,” you remarked noncommittally.

“Billy, this is Davina and Y/N,” Kiran said.

His eyes were locked with yours, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Oh, I know Y/N very well.”

Kiran turned to look at you. “You do?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Through work.”

Billy leaned forward, his smoldering gaze holding you hostage. “Y/N and I are very good friends.”

“Acquaintances,” you corrected.

As if sensing the tension in the air, Kiran pulled away from Billy. Meanwhile, he picked up the bottle of champagne and started pouring the liquid in the empty glasses in front of him. “You’re giving Kiran the wrong idea about us, Y/N. She might think you don’t like me very much.”

“She’d be right,” you snarked, ignoring the glass of champagne he held out for you.

“I’ll take that,” Davina replied, snatching the glass from his hands.

Your friends were suddenly talking all at once but all you could focus on was Billy’s heated gaze on you. With every second that passed his eyes on you seemed to grow more wanton and lustful, and desire coursed through your blood at how he looked at you. You wanted him so badly you cold feel yourself getting wet, and you realized you needed to get out of there right away.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you whispered in Davina’s ear, making sure Billy didn’t hear you.

“Want me to come with you?”

“No. I’ll be fine.” You stood up quickly and made your way out of there, keenly aware of Billy’s eyes boring into your back.

Few minutes later you were sitting at one of the corner bar downstairs. This floor had a different ambience than the club upstairs, which you appreciated. The music wasn’t as loud and you found yourself enjoying the lounge vibe. It wasn’t long before someone crept up next to you at the bar and you turned to find a familiar face smiling back at you.

His name was Avi and you’d run into him a few times at the conferences you’d gone to. Broad-shouldered and husky, you’d always found him attractive in an adorable way.

“You just look…” he gave you a shy smile. “Wow.”

Seeing his reaction to you, you smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ve always wanted to approach you but I didn’t want to come across as a creep, you know?” he explained. “You can also be very intimidating.”

That made you laugh. “I doubt that.”

As Avi and you continued to talk, you couldn’t help but enjoy how he was gawking at you. You didn’t fit society’s mould for what was considered beautiful, so all of your past flings were a result of the guys getting to know you and finding you hot because of your personality. It was rare when a guy you were attracted to was also into you right away but that seemed to be the case with Avi. You didn’t have to charm or work for him to find you hot. Instead, he was genuinely enamored with how you looked which was refreshing.

His phone rang with a text notification. Scanning through the message, he flashed you an apologetic glance. “Shit. I have to go.”

Disappointed, you pouted your lips. “That’s too bad.”

“Would you want to go out sometime?” he asked shyly.

“I’d like that.” You reached for your phone and scrolled through to the contacts app to add his name before handing the phone to him. “Add your number.”

After you said your goodbyes, you ordered your third gin and tonic and were enjoying your drink at the bar when someone grazed up against you. Seated on a high bar stool, you were expecting Davina to have come looking for you. Instead, you found Billy sidling up to you. He looked pissed off and angrier than you’d ever seen him.

“Give me your phone,” he barked.

“Go to hell.”

Unexpectedly he gripped your stool and pulled you closer, throwing you off so you were forced to hold on to him for regain your balance. He perched his foot up on the bottom ledge of the stool, closing you in fully. “Unblock me now.”

‘Go fuck yourself.”

His dark eyes seemed to suddenly grow even darker, more monster than human. “Who was that guy you were talking to?”

“My future boyfriend.”

Billy’s lips curved into a sneer. “Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Why don’t you go back to flirting with my friend and leave me the fuck alone?”

“She was flirting. I wasn’t.”

“I don’t care. Go sleep with whoever you want, and I’ll do the same.”

Billy simply stared at you for a beat, his jaw clenched. “You’re not fucking anyone else.”

Sitting up straight, you leveled him with a hostile look. “I just met someone who was nice, sweet, and really fucking cute. And he wasn’t an asshole like you. Trust me, I will fuck him. I might even suck him off here tonight if he plays his cards right. And there isn’t a single thing you can do to stop that.”

He dipped his head towards you, leaning in closer so you were the only one who could hear him. His voice may have been flat, but his words were laced with cold fury when he spoke next. “If he touches you, he’s dead. I’ll start with his hands. I’ll break his fingers one by one for daring to touch you. Next I’ll cut off his dick, his balls, other parts of him slowly, carefully, so he feels every inch of the excruciating pain I’ll put him through. I’ll fill him with adrenaline so he doesn’t pass out from the pain. I’ll gouge out his eyes last because he needs to see that I’m the one who turned him into a mutilated lump of flesh. And then maybe, if I’m feeling nice, I might slit his throat to end his suffering.” His eyes never leaving yours, he reached for your drink at the bar and chugged it.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” you said, your throat suddenly parched. Your heart was beating rapidly, your stomach coiled into knots. Fear should have flooded over you - it didn’t. Instead, you were aroused.

“No one takes what’s mine.”

“I’m not your fucking possession. You don’t own me.” You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as your emotions – and the walls – started to all swirl together. Like always, just when you thought he might have cared enough to admit he was jealous, he showed his true colours. Billy’s anger had nothing to do with his feelings for you. Rather, it was about his ego. Shit. You felt dizzy, the drinks had started to hit you. “Why don’t you go bother Dinah and her new man? Didn’t you say she was seeing someone else? Go pull your psychopath routine on them.”

He tucked his finger under your chin, lifting your face up to meet his gaze again. The emotions in his eyes played havoc with your senses as he pressed in closer, so close you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

“I don’t care who Dinah dates or fucks.”

The air was thick with tension. It felt as if there was no one else in the bar but you and Billy, his one hand under your chin, the other pressed against the small of your back. You felt heady and light-headed with anticipation and desire, but you were also angry. Angry that you still wanted him, that he wouldn’t give you space to get over him. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

His fingers gripped the side of your face, and you exhaled a sharp breath when he grazed your forehead with his. Temples touching, his eyes held you transfixed in place. “Because you’re mine.” The possessiveness in his voice was unsettling, but it was the way he was staring at you – as if he could see right through to your core – that made your stomach flip-flop. “Mine.” His thumb swiped along your bottom lip, as if marking you as his. “And I’m yours.”

Billy was a player, an asshole, and there was comfort in that because it meant you knew where you stood with him, but now he was defying expectations, crossing the boundaries you’d carefully set for yourself, and you weren’t ready for that. None of that mattered, however, because you were suddenly feeling really, really sick. “I have to go,” you mumbled. The room was spinning as you tried to jump off the chair but your knees almost gave way. Billy was there to catch you in his arms, holding you up.

“Woah, you okay?”

You pushed him off and ran.

Part 10

A/N - As always, thank you for the support, the feedback, the likes/reblogs, and the asks. I’m stoked to keep writing this because of you guys. Please let me know your thoughts on the chapter!

If you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list, drop me a note.

Tag List.

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh @maralisa124 @tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur @nemesis729 @lysawayne @kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda @advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer @dontjinx-it @darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting--heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @bigcreatorwombatdreamer

gif-credit: @the-darkling

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher

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fandom-monium · 4 years ago

Text

For the Holidays

Summary: In which Spencer does not want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

WC: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), Morgan trying to be a good big bro (and wingman)

Spencer Reid does not hate Christmas.

“Reid, come on⎼”

“No.”

“Just listen to me.”

“I did, and it’s a stupid idea.”

No, really. Because hating Christmas would imply he didn’t care. Which he does.

Like when Garcia never fails to drag him into decorating the bullpen every year. Obnoxious Christmas music plays in the background as they bomb Hotch’s office, and it’s worth the smile on his face when he walks in the next morning.

It would mean hating Rossi and his extravagant dinner parties. And yeah, he always hosts but these are just as special if not more so. His mansion is decked in fairy lights and streamers, the food are traditional holiday recipes, and the whole place seems a little less massive.

And he doesn’t hate his breaks. He nearly spits out his coffee when Morgan grumbles about how he almost tripped and fell over from the ice. He has to scramble away as the older man bats at him.

Or when Prentiss drops off holiday-themed pastries? Mhm, just thinking of the ribbon-tied box makes him salivate.

Hating the Christmas card is completely out of the question. Henry and Michael make them every year for the entire team, and JJ makes an effort to shake them out carefully for. It has a boyish charm Spencer never had at their age, a mess of glitter and construction paper. He displays it on his desk anyway.

And you. It would mean hating all the various hot chocolate beverages you’ve made since December started.

Apparently, it’s serious business⎼the art of hot chocolate making. You’ve leaned against his desk, hands waving about as you try to articulate to him the relevance, going over anything and everything you can remember of its history and significance. Of course, he knows all of this already, but he likes you too much to stop you. He almost releases a loving sigh. Instead, he settles for nodding and grinning at you, and he doesn’t really get it but he loves it: the hot chocolate, your pensive expression as you await his critique, even though by now he’s sure you know he has no other comments except ‘delicious’.

He loves it all. He loves you⎼all of you guys. Obviously.

So, no. He does not hate Christmas.

But that doesn’t mean he loves it either.

Which is why, when Morgan leans against his desk, he greets him as normal, a smile forming on his lips as he sets his book down. There is no danger here, except Morgan’s guns. And the heinous green and red envelope between his fingers⎼

Where the hell did he get that.

Spencer’s blood froze. His collection of trauma was nothing compared to this.

Now here he is, packing away his things so he can go home to his warm, cozy apartment and order takeout like he does every year. He's not one for change. No need to break tradition.

But Morgan is acting like a child. Wait, no, even children are better behaved than this. Children at least give up faster.

“I’m telling you, it’s a good idea.”

“As a certified genius, I can say with all honesty, it is not.”

“I promise you it’ll be fine,” Morgan reassures him, voice soothing. The letter, colorful and bright and an eye sore, mocks Spencer. He wishes his reflexes were faster, so he can snatch the abhorrent cluster of sparkles and poorly printed holiday cartoons. And shred it.

Maybe if he glares hard enough, it’ll burst into flames.

“Morgan, my class hated me. The whole school hated me,” Spencer shoves another book into his satchel. It's harder than he means to, and he sends a silent apology to Stephen King; he usually handles his books with care. But not right now. Now, he's tired and exasperated and he just wants to curl up on his couch with The Doctor. "I'm sure I won't be missed."

"But you’re the life of the party!"

Spencer looks up.

Morgan winces, "Yeah, even I wouldn't believe me.” Spencer snorts, continuing to stuff his belongings into his satchel. Morgan’s relentless however. “But you deserve to show them up. You’ve got degrees⎼plural⎼and you're a hotshot FBI agent.”

“Are you not aware of the tragedy that is my high school social experience?”

“Oh, I'm very aware, and thank you for being vulnerable with me. But it's because I care that I’m telling you.”

Morgan’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder, making Spencer pause. He meets his gaze, the man’s expression solemn.

“You deserve to rub it in their faces until the only thing they can smell is your success.”

Morgan grins when that draws out a laugh from him.

Spencer huffs, “Shouldn't we be the bigger person here by not going?”

The older man grimaces, retracting his hand as if the idea offends him. “Fuck that. Be a show off! They deserve to be knocked down a peg after what they did to you in high school.”

Spencer bites his lip. Yes, he’s accomplished, and yeah, as Morgan said, he’s a ‘hot shot FBI agent’. But the memories surge in like a broken dam, cruel laughter and harsh words crashing into him as if he’s twelve years old again. He’s an adult now, so he doesn’t topple over from the impact like before, but the pain is a phantom limb, old and familiar, and leaves a pit in his stomach.

He was a child prodigy then. How would going back as he is now be any different?

Morgan's heart clenches when an unspoken pain flits across Spencer’s face, glossing over his eyes. He can't imagine how deep the emotional scars go, but he knows Spencer needs some form of closure from his past. So when he found the invite, he knew they had to seize the chance. If he wants to continue to move forward, Spencer has to learn to let go. And right now, this is his first class ticket. It’s why he’s pushing this so hard.

This is for Spencer.

But the doctor shakes his head, a strained smile tugging his lips. “Morgan, I had no friends. Even if I go, what am I supposed to do once I arrive? It'd be awkward enough as is.”

“True,” The older man contemplates, a light bulb going off as he snaps his fingers. “You know what you should do? Ask (Your Name) to go with you.”

“(Your Name)?” Spencer jolts, fumbling to catch his phone. Despite being a man of science, his eyes dart around, like you’re a demon summoned at the mention of your name. “Wha-what? Why?”

“They could act as your buffer. And you did say you wanted to be closer with them. This is the perfect opportunity,” Morgan shrugs. Like his suggestion is common sense, logical. Maybe it is.

But this is you they’re talking about. You would never. You’re too cool for a silly high school reunion.

At least, that’s what he’s convinced himself as Spencer’s face pinches. He catches his lip with his teeth. “Morgan, I appreciate the… thought, but I could never ask (Your Name).”

“Ask me what?”

… Oh no. You are a demon.

Spencer whirls around in time to see the glass door shut behind you. You stand there in all your poise and beauty, the fluorescent lights softening your expression. You're bundled up in a matching coat and scarf, the knitted beanie snug on your crown and clashing with your outfit (Garcia told you it’s not your Christmas present, but you’ve worn it everyday since). There’s sprinkles of snow all over you.

You’re not a demon, Spencer decides, even as you brush a clump off your shoulder, nose scrunched in annoyance. More like a snow angel.

You tilt your head curiously when Spencer doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a knowing look on his face as Morgan, realizing the poor guy probably won’t respond any time soon, steps up.

“(Your Name), I thought you went home already.”

You cross the bullpen. “I was. Garcia walked me down and I got to the courtyard. Then I realized she had me so distracted that I left my phone charger,” You rummage around your desk and without looking up, you reiterate, “So ask me what?”

Spencer blinks. “What?”

“You had something to ask me, right?”

Right. That. He runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “Actually, I don’t⎼oof.”

Morgan jabs his side, “Yes, there is something Reid needs to ask you.” He sends him a meaningful look.

“Shoot.” You nod to them before rifling through your desk drawers. Nope, not there. You card through files and office supplies, oblivious to the conversation Spencer and Morgan have with their eyes, shooting looks and mouthing at each other.

You bend over your desk as Morgan gestures, Ask them!

Spencer shakes his head vigorously, No!

Do it, or I'll do it for you, he mouths.

Spencer squints at him. You wouldn't.

Morgan smirks and Spencer's heart drops to his stomach. Before he can run, shout for help, literally anything, the man slings a buff arm around his shoulders, forcing Spencer to slightly bend down to his level, hugging him to his side.

He's trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Fuck.

“Reid is going to his high school reunion,” Morgan starts, biting back a grin when the nerd squirms against him. Both men boys watch, one excited and the other petrified as you disappear behind your desk.

“That’s nice.”

"Yeah. But all his classmates are older than him and married…“

“Uh-huh…” You scan the dark floors, half-listening as Spencer frowns at the unnecessary detail. He never told Morgan such a thing. He didn’t even know, so how would Morgan-?

“So, can you guys pretend to be a couple or something?”

Thud.

“What!?”

Luckily, neither of you notice the other’s surprise as Spencer chokes on air at the same time you let out a pained hiss.

Morgan lets him pull away, withholding a snicker. “You good, (Your Name)?”

“I’m okay!” Your head pops up from under your desk as you rub the top of your head. You blink owlishly. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me to pretend to be your partner?”

“Yes! But Reid’s partner,” Morgan emphasizes, slapping the doctor’s back hard enough he nudges forward.

You stand and Spencer straightens up, trying not to fidget as your gaze burns into his. You’ve known each other for quite some time now, and while Spencer likes to think he knows you pretty well, it bothers him when your expression becomes unreadable. He knows it shouldn't but it does. He’s a profiler, yet your thoughts are completely obscured by a mask. It only makes him more nervous than he already is.

His skin feels hot when your eyes trail over him, and he prays his scarf is enough to cover the flush spreading from his neck.

He's about to disintegrate when you finally answer.

"Okay."

His brow shoots up and his heart flips. You move away from your desk as he sputters, "Really? Are⎼are you sure? I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Why?” You step closer, and he can’t breathe, not without it hitting your face. You stare him down the bridge of your nose, eyes narrowed. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

“What? No, of course not!”

You raise an eyebrow expectantly. “Then it’s settled? We’ll pretend to be a couple for your reunion thing?"

A beat of silence. Spencer realizes you're waiting for his confirmation. But panic rises like bile in his throat and he hesitates.

Maybe he should back out now, retract the entire conversation and take the embarrassment like a man. Tell you he was never planning to attend the stupid reunion because his classmates were (and probably still are) assholes. Honesty is key to any relationship after all.

Especially between coworkers. Ahem.

A flicker of movement and Spencer glances over your shoulder. Morgan nods frantically at him, teeth flashing as he grins wider than before. He gives him two thumbs up.

Maybe, for once, he should pull a Morgan and just vibe it.

Yeah. Yeah!

Swallowing, he nods to you, giving you his signature white-person smile because he's sure if he speaks he might blurt out something completely inappropriate. Like statistics on workplace relationships (they’re great reading material, okay).

Your lips quirk up. "Cool. Text me the details when you get the chance.”

You brush past him before he manages a reply, your footsteps fading. Morgan waggles his eyebrows at Spencer. Spencer blankly stares after you.

“What just happened?”

“You just got a date to your reunion. A fake date, mind you, but you’re welcome nonetheless,” Morgan smirks at him. “So, you got a plan, Pretty Boy?”

His face falls, and the hearts in his eyes⎼shit, had they always been there?⎼chip slightly.

He does not have a plan.

Deleted scene:

“Did you do it?”

“It went all according to plan, Mama.”

AN: I fucked myself over and wrote 7k+ and still counting. Now it’s an unplanned holiday mini series. This kind of stems from Bonding as this uses Mysterious!Reader. Also, I seem to be into pining (fuck established relationships, suffer in silenceee). Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope you still enjoy this one shot!!

One of the biggest disappointments of CM: Spencer doesn’t confront his high school bullies. I read several fics of him doing so, but a lot of them have the bullies be just as much of an asshole as they were to him in the past, but he deserves more closure.

This will be my take on it. It’ll be a lot of pining but I hope to focus on the his hardships in a less angsty, dramatic way.

Hope you enjoy it!! There will be at least 3 parts?

Also, spread the usage of the term ‘partner’, which can be used for same-sex and opposite-sex relationships.

#spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg fic #my writing #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds

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chelleztjs18 · 4 years ago

Text

Lost in Assistance - Ch. 4

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

GIF: I do not own this GIF. Found it on gifimage.net

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

All chapters

Today is Wednesday but not just a regular Wednesday. It’s the day of the meeting with Elizabeth Olsen and her manager, Jane Vernon.

Your phone alarm sounds break the silence in your room slowly but sure it gets louder enough to motivate you to start the day. You woke up with mixed feelings. Excited yet nervous at the same time. You turn on some music. Sunset Lover - Petit Biscuit starts to play and you get ready. After a fresh shower, you put on just enough nude color makeup then you go to your walk-in closet to pick a close-fitting button up white shirt with burgundy stripes and black slim fit women's suit and trousers with burgundy open toe high heels that match with your nails color since it’s your favorite color. You get your side parted wavy medium length burgundy colored hair done that makes it flow down to your shoulder. You may be the type of girl who doesn’t really like to put on much makeup, but you take your hair, clothings and nails pretty seriously as well as your perfume.

As soon as you are all ready and putting your heels on while sitting on a little sofa in the middle of your closet, your phone rings. You guessed that it’s Mitchel and you are right.

“Good morning darling.” You answered as you continued to put on your shoes. “Oh wow, that's the spirit! Good morning love! Are you excited for today? Are you ready?” said Mitchel on the other end. “Well, yeah but no but also yeah that I’m all ready to go.” You replied while you took another look in front of the mirror and slowly twirled to make sure you looked good. Then you spray a little bit of perfume and you are ready to go downstairs while still on the phone. “Okay great. I will see you over there, I want to say hi to Jane. Everything will be okay. Don't be nervous, okay Y/n?” Mitchel tried to make you feel better. “Thank you Mitchel. I appreciate it. I’m leaving soon so I’ll see you there. Bye.” You grab your medium size leather purse and go downstairs.

As usual, your mom is already awake, sitting on the big living room couch. “Morning Ma. I have a meeting this morning. It shouldn’t be that long but you know Mitchel, he might want to have brunch after that but just call me if you need anything, okay? Love you Ma.” You gave her a hug and went to the garage. “Okay hun. Good luck. Love you too.”

You put on your prescription aviator style sunglasses, blast some music to amp you up started by White Lies - Odesza then start driving. The sun was up but not too bright, the traffic wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be so you arrived there a little too early.

As you walked into the lobby you saw a coffee shop so you decided to get some ice coffee for you. Just when your order is ready and you are about to grab it, you notice a familiar face whose order is ready too. It was Lizzie grabbing her order. Eye contact was caught between you two and you gave a smile just to be friendly and she replied with a nod and small smile. You recognize her even though her long dirty blonde hair flawlessly covers both sides of her face and she is wearing sunglasses that were intended to cover her face so she won’t be recognized. You both walk towards the elevator and blend in with a group of people in the elevator. You saw her pressed the floor button then she dived back into whatever she was doing with her phone. The elevator stopped on your floor, some people went out to go to other offices which are on the same floor as Vernon’s office. Lizzie went out as well but she stopped in front of the elevator to answer a phone call so she didn’t know that you both actually have the same destination to meet Jane.

After you greeted and talked to Aaron, Jane’s assistant, he informed you to wait in the waiting room. Few minutes later, you heard that Lizzie came in and was told the same thing as you were. She is sitting on the chair across you talking on the phone with her best friend about the plan to meet up after the meeting, while you are browsing on your phone and enjoying your ice coffee you can feel that sometimes she takes a quick glance once or twice at you without knowing who you are and why you are there.

“I don’t even wanna be here. I still think it’s a stupid idea to get me another personal assistant. This already made me upset to begin with and it’s just gonna make me not like this person already even though I know it’s not her fault to get hired by Jane.” She tried to talk as quietly as possible but not quite enough for you not to be able to hear it. Aaron came and told her that she can come into the meeting room. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later after the meeting. Bye.”

She hangs up then proceeds to follow Aaron to the meeting room. After what you heard, you can only chuckle to yourself knowing this is not gonna be easy work between you both. Aaron comes for your turn. “Ms. Y/l/n, they are ready for you. You can come this way.” Aaron guides you to the meeting room. You smiled and thanked him as he opened the door for you.

You come into the meeting room that has large windows around it that give natural light and a pretty sky view decorated with clouds and top of skyscrapers of L.A with the trails of the streets and cars that look so small from up here. You see Lizzie is sitting next to Jane with Mitchel sitting in front of them, parted by a big rectangle glass table.

“Y/n darling! You made it!” Mitchel came to you and gave you a cheek to cheek kiss as always. “Hi Mitch. I’m glad to be here.” You smiled.

“Come, let me introduce you to these fabulous ladies. Jane, Lizzie this is Y/n Y/l/n. She is my best friend slash the best personal assistant you are looking for. Y/n, this is Elizabeth Olsen and her manager Jane Vernon.” Mitch proudly introduces you to them.

“Nice to meet you Y/n, Mitch talked a lot about you once he knew I was looking for a professional assistant. I hope you don't mind me calling you by your first name.” While Jane offered her hand for a friendly handshake yet felt so formal, you can see from the corner of your eyes Lizzie’s jaw dropped a little, looking at you up and down realizing you might have heard what she said on the phone earlier about you. “The pleasure is mine Mrs. Vernon and yeah I don't mind you calling me by my first name” You gave a firm professional handshake and smiled. “You can call me Jane.”

You then slightly turn your head to Lizzie and her beautiful green eyes are now so easily noticeable by you without her sunglasses on. “Ms. Olsen, It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled and tried to stay professional even though you know how she feels about this meeting and about you. There is an awkward vibe from Lizzie towards you since she thinks you heard her conversation but her stubbornness about this whole thing is bigger than the awkwardness itself that made the friendly Lizzie respond a little cold to you. “Thanks, same here.” She gave you a quick handshake but you can feel the softness of her skin even though just for a few seconds.

The four of you take a seat. “So Y/n, this is not an interview because practically you are already hired because I read your resume plus the reference from Mitch here. I gotta admit, it’s pretty impressive. Lots of years of experience working in this field, you have worked with big names in Hollywood. You speak five languages and that’s another big plus. We have this meeting just so we can sign the contract and agreement. I believe Mitch already gave you the details of Do’s and Don'ts and our expectation specially from Lizzie here.” Jane explained while she was looking at your resume then slid some papers in front of you on the table for you to take a look at it.

“Well, to be honest what I wanted was actually simple, I don’t want any new personal assistant but Jane insisted on giving it a try, so here I am. So, I hope you are as great as your resume Y/n to make my try worth it.” Lizzie said it in a quite firm tone with the best pretend smile she can do. Deep down she hoped what she just said would’ve just made you change your mind.

“Ha Ha Lizzie was just joking. Isn’t she funny?” Jane laughed awkwardly and tried to give Lizzie a look about what she said.

“Is that so, Ms.Olsen? Don’t you worry about it. I hope the way I work and the way I do my job suits you.” You gazed at her eyes before you gave a fake smile. You tried to remind yourself in your mind that you respect Mitch and don’t want to put him in a hard time with his client even though Jane is a good friend of his otherwise your reaction would be different.

“This is the contract, it will be only for two years but it might be for less than that. If it does change to less than two years, there will be a notice in advance. It can also be terminated early if there is a mutual decision by both parties. All of this is written in it. It says you acknowledged and agreed with what I just informed you. You can sign on every section that’s marked X” Jane explained all the details while she showed each point. You read everything, gazed at Lizzie’s mesmerizing green eyes and gave a little smirk to her then signed each section. As you can see, this clearly upset Lizzie.

“Okay, everything is good. In this envelope, there are all Lizzie’s schedules, addresses and numbers. Plus all lists what she likes and dislikes. Sometimes you need to drive with her, sometimes you don't have to. I’m sure you know the drill, but just a friendly reminder that everything is confidential, especially all Marvel related. You can start on Friday. I guessed that’s all. Welcome to our family Y/n. We are thrilled that you joined us here, right Lizzie?” Jane finalized everything with another handshake with you and Mitchel. “Yeah, sure. Now if you guys excuse me, I gotta go right now. Sorry.” Lizzie put a tiny smile in the corner of her lips, waved goodbye then left in a rush and looked upset.”

As soon as Lizzie left and the door was closed, Jane apologized. “Ummm, Mitchel, Y/n I’m truly sorry for how Lizzie acted earlier. Trust me, she is actually a very sweet, genuine and friendly person. That’s the reason I have been her manager and agent for years, she’s like a sister to me. It’s just that she sometimes can be very determined or stubborn with what she wants or what she doesn't want and not afraid to show it but I’m sure she will slowly understand why I need to have Y/n’s help. She just has anxiety when she has to adjust or deal with new people. I hope you guys can understand.”

“Don’t worry about that Jane. I have met Lizzie and I know how sweet she is. Like I told you before, Y/n has her own way of working and don't be surprised with how straight forward she is plus she doesn't sugar coat things. She is eccentric in a good way. Right Y/n?” He nudged your arm and smiled.

“Haha. yeah sure Mitch.” You answered jokingly. “I guess we better get going. Thank you Jane. Nice seeing you as always.” You and Mitch bid farewell to Jane and left. “Bye guys. See you again.” Jane walked back to her office room.

“Mitchel, what the hell was that? Why did she act like that? On top of all, why didn’t you tell me that she actually didn’t want an assistant?!” You tried to whisper so nobody at the office heard as you both were walking out of the office.

“Yeah about that, I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry. “ Mitch squinted his eyes waiting because he was worried how your reaction was gonna be.

“You are lucky we are best friends otherwise I wouldn’t sign that contract and would’ve said NO on the spot after what she said. I already don’t like her. This is not gonna be easy.” You said it jokingly but it has a little bit of truth in it.

“Haha. I love you too!” Mitch replied happily, knowing you would help him no matter what. Both of you parted, continue with your days.

Ch. 5

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen fanfic #lizzie olsen #lizzie olsen x reader #lizzie olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen fluff #lizzie olsen fluff #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fluff #scarlet witch x reader #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn

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clarawatson · 3 years ago

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It Only Takes A Taste (3)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [Fem]!Reader (GN pronouns, fem coded stuff, but I’m not sure where this is going as a larger work so we’ll say Fem!reader to be safe) Summary: Jack comes for dinner, I guess. W/C: 2345 Warnings: none yet! A/N: this one got a little long, oopsies. AO3 Where am I in this series? 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

The bed had been so warm and comfortable you hadn't wanted to get out, but the thought of seeing Aaron again made your heart grow three sizes. You'd been texting back and forth for the last couple of days, just small awkward stuff. He likes to text emojis. He's precious. Of course he's precious.

He comes in as you're serving your first customer of the night—a sobbing thirty-year-old man who can't even order his pie without spluttering in tears. Is it favouritism to get excited by Aaron turning up? Yes. Is it worth it? Yes.

"Hello," you smile. There's a hundred things you could have called him, but he's too cute and your brain doesn't want to work.

"Hi," he grins back. "Can I have a coffee, please. Here."

"Yes you can." Aaron splits his bill between the counter and the tip jar. "How was your day, Aaron?"

"Boring paperwork. Couldn't concentrate."

Concern furrows your eyebrow. "Is something wrong?"

"Huh? No! I kept thinking about seeing you." There's that sunshine smile again. You might even match it yourself. He points to the cake that's still in the display tin. He's in earlier in the night than usual, so there's a lot more range to choose from. "Is that carrot cake?"

"Sure is. Do you want some?"

"Please."

You serve him a slice and let the coffee machine splutter and fight with you. He stabs his cake with his fork and looks like he has an out of body experience the moment the cream cheese icing hits his tongue. That's a face you want to see again under different circumstances.

"Joe?"

"Me! And Joe's recipe. I sort of mixed it together and prayed."

"Then mark me a religious man." Aaron smiles. You can't held but smile back at him.

"It's a bit early for you to be in," you say. It's not an issue, just means you got the earlier shift. Finishing at 1am instead of 7am. Plus, Aaron looks nice in the daytime. Very nice. The afternoon light suits him.

"Didn't have a case," he shrugs.

You've googled him since getting his business card. “Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner, Section Chief of the BAU”. The fuck did that even mean? BAU was the Behavioural Analysis Unit, which was still mainly a mystery, but you think it’s maybe just an over-glorified way of saying ‘they look inside people’s heads and hope for the best’. He’s got a handful of news reports that you’ve practically memorised.

Okay, that’s a little obsessive. Don’t admit that to him.

He wasn’t the ‘untouched by darkness’ that you’d thought of him before, his work face held all the darkness his smile did not. You hoped you never had to see the serious man who stood before the cameras.

“How’s Rita?” Aaron asks. He’s cut the top off his carrot cake, saving it for later. He looks at it longingly every now and then, then he scoops just a little bit of the cream cheese and lets it rest on his tongue.

“She’s good. Restless. She’s happy for the due date to arrive.” She’d also asked you to be the baby’s godparent. Rather forcefully, actually, it had felt a bit strange. That was the only reason you hadn’t jumped at the opportunity. You’d do anything for Rita, but saying yes in that instant would had felt strange. Almost… wrong, maybe.

Aaron knows you’re thinking about it. He puts his fork down and shifts in his chair, waiting for you to continue. He doesn’t fill the silence between the two of you. You think about telling him, but then Lola’s bustling through the door and grabbing her apron.

“Hot stuff, when can I go for a smoke break?” is the first thing Lola says to you. She pulls chewing gum out of her mouth (yes, pulls. She sticks her fingers in her mouth and pulls it out as far as it will go without snapping) and Aaron moves his cake around his plate a bit. Does he not like it? Don’t be silly, he asked for it. Requested it. Whatever. You put his three cookies into a plastic bag and slide it across the counter to him.

“Lola you only just came in.”

“But I want to know,” she whines like she’s a teenager with an after school job, not a thirty-five-year-old woman who works at the diner full time. “Hey, Rita’s been acting weird, right? Is that a pregnancy thing, or?” Lola rubbed her nose on the back of her wrist and sniffs. An action you’re all too familiar with by now, and of course she was doing illegal substances in the bathroom before she started her shift when there’s a legitimate federal agent in the diner.

“Oh,” Lola says as she looks at Aaron. She looks at you, raises her eyebrows, and nods like she’s impressed. “I take back telling Rita she was a liar." Even without knowing the context of Rita and Lola's conversation, you know Rita had told Lola how pretty/handsome/gorgeous Aaron is. "I’m going to go clean some tables.”

She grabs the cleaning supplies and heads out into the dining area. The door swings open, banging against one of the booths, and you’re immensely glad Lola doesn’t scream 'watch it’ at them. A curly haired blonde woman (gorgeous, mind you) touches Aaron’s shoulder and he sits up straight, smiling, and your heart plummets a little bit. Just the tiniest amount.

“Jack insisted we switch over here before I go to parent/teacher interviews.” As if on queue, a well mannered, sandy-haired boy sits next to Aaron and grins too much like Aaron. Aaron’s son. You can put two and two together. Profiler or not.

“How was school?” Aaron asks. Jack shrugs.

“It was school.” He learnt that from his dad, there’s no question.

“Well, in that case. Jack, this is my friend Y/n. Y/n, this is Jack.” Jack extends a hand to shake in greeting and looks really shy about it. You shake it quickly so he doesn’t feel like a kid who’s been roped into doing adult things. There’s a pile of colouring-in pages Joe’s printed off at the local library beneath a cup of crayons that Jack’s eyeing off.

You grab a sheet and a crayon, raising an eyebrow in invitation as you turn around to Jack.

“Yes please,” he says, grin growing across his face. “Thank-you.”

“You’re welcome. Wonderful manners.” Jack grins even bigger and you think he, too, might combust just like his dad. Stardust! That’s the movie you were thinking of. When Yvaine sees Tristan she shines, literally, the star inside of her just can’t be contained. That’s Aaron and Jack, and the way they look when they smile.

Aaron’s sister-in-law looks at you with a cocked head, like a curious cat. Like she’s waiting to pounce. But… curiously pounce. Like she's sussing you out. She extends a hand in greeting.

“Jess. Aaron’s talked about you.”

There’s no response but to look sheepish. This seems to greatly please Jess, who smiles softly and rubs the back of Aaron’s head affectionately. They have a long history together, it’s too familial to be just a relationship born through marriage.

“I’ll see you later then, Rockstar,” Jess says.

“Bye,” Aaron and Jack say together. Aaron rests his cheek on his hand, watching you as Lola hands you three orders she’s taken while you’ve been talking to Aaron. Jack leans over and whispers to Aaron about his homework (it’s a whisper that belongs on a stage) as you wrestle with the coffee machine.

It’s been grinding it’s way down to not working for a while now. Ever since you met Aaron, actually. Joe’s said he’s going to fix it, or get a new one, but everyone’s in a state of non-commital until Rita has her baby.You’ve got no idea why, it’s just the way things are. Good luck, maybe? Or luck in general?

Somehow you get Aaron talking about Shakespeare. It might have been Jack’s doing, to be completely honest, but one moment you’re trying to make the froth… well, froth… and the next you're listening to Aaron talk animatedly about Othello. Jack's young enough to not think his Dad's passion is embarrassing.

"Have you watched Othello?" Jack asks, a question that Aaron's neglected to ask you. "I'm not old enough to yet."

"I haven't seen that one yet, but I've seen Much Ado About Nothing."

"Is that the one with the olive gardens?" Jack asks. Aaron frowns, eyes searching for the answer in that big beautiful minds tonight.

"Yes," he says finally. "That was the one with the olive trees."

Jack giggles. "There was kissing in that movie."

"Lots of it," Aaron agrees. You're not sure you're talking about the same film, but it's cute to see the two of them interact.

"With the guy who plays Lockhart in the second Harry Potter movie?" You ask. Jack laughs just like his father. It's all light and mirth. He nods in confirmation.

"His name is Kenneth," Jack says like he's familiar with him. When Aaron smiles, you know Jack's his whole world.

It’s not long before Aaron realised he’d brought Jack in without asking if he wanted anything. The afternoon rush had died down, leaving you in the space between out-of-work and dinner. You make the most chocolate-y hot chocolate you can for Jack when Aaron says he can have one. Well, Jack says the best bit is the froth, so it’s more child-size-hot-chocolate-in-an-adult-mug-full-of-froth. Jack loves it. He slurps at the chocolate, which leaves a giant frothy mustache over his top lip that won’t go away no matter how much he licks at it.

When he’s done you let him come around to the kitchen to wash his face, because no amount of wet napkins is going to fix that mess. Jack can’t reach the sink, so you fashion a step out of old milk and bread crates. Joe gives him cake batter to taste before realising that he actually has no idea who Jack is. Aaron watches from the kitchen door with a smile on his face. You don’t catch it until Jack jumps off the crates and takes your hand, leading you back out. Aaron’s fingers brush your hand as you pass him. Electricity sparks between the two of you that's completely unavoidable. The two of you recoil involuntarily.

Aaron gives you a small smile of apology. You give exactly the same one back. Lola legitimately gasps like she too felt the electricity between the two of you. Surely that was just something that happened in movies? Or in books? That’s not a real thing, right? But Aaron brushes past you again, as if he’s making sure as well, and it’s there again. Only it’s like your whole arm becomes pins and needles, not just a quick lightning spark.

If it’s like that every time you’re with him, your not sure you could even go beyond lusting after him and giving him coffee and meals every now and then. Aaron drops his gaze, then follows Jack to the front of the counter.

They stay for dinner (because Jack insists, he wants the nachos) but the rush comes early and there’s really not much time to talk to them, so you almost miss them leaving. Almost. You’re serving the angry couple at table three (are they angry at you, or each other? Who knows, you don’t, but they’re taking it out on you) when Jack taps your hip.

He’s very patient as you finish the order (somehow you figure out what they want between the curse words) and bend down to him. He hands you a folded piece of paper.

“This is for you,” he says. “I did it.” You’re about to unfold it, but he insists that it belongs in your apron pocket until you can look at it with no rush. That’s a kid who knows what it’s like to have a very busy parent. So you tuck it away safely and mess with his hair, which makes him grin from ear to ear.

“See you later!” Jack yells as he runs to Aaron, who’s waving goodbye with a doggy bag full of Jack’s unfinished dinner.and his keys between his fingers.

“I’ll see you later,” he mouths as the noise in the diner starts to rise. Without thinking you blow him a kiss, which he catches effortlessly and kisses the fist closed around it before slipping out.

When you get to the kitchen Lola’s already in the midst of teasing you.

“You like him,” she says with all the confidence in the world. There’s not point denying her, so you just nod. It’s met by a chorus of ‘ooo’s which, to be honest, you really didn’t need. It made the diner feel far too small.

When everything dies down you remember the paper Jack had given you. You wipe the milk and spaghetti sauce off the counter, then make sure it’s dry, and unfold Jack’s page. It’s the generic colouring page Joe’s printed out, but Jack’s tried to make the generic waitress look like you. Well, you if you had purple hair and green skin. It’s a start, you guess, there’s an apology from Aaron on the back. Makes it worth it.

You move a couple of postcards on the corkboard aside and put Jack’s picture there instead. Joe pretends not to notice, but when Lola goes out the back with one of her customers, Joe comes round the front and presses a finger to the page.

“Good kid,” Joe says. He nods a couple of times then turns to you. “You know he and his dad come as a package, right? You fuck up one, you fuck up both.” Joe’s first wife had three kids that weren’t biologically his. He’s still mad at himself for not taking the kids seriously and only turning up for their mom.

“I know,” you say.

Joe strokes your cheek as he passes and kisses your forehead. It’s all the praise you need.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist (if you want to get added, just inbox me, and if I’ve missed you I am so sorry): @willowrose99 @genevievedarcygranger @maryosprinkle @kleff03 @yoshigguk @samanthareid06 @typical-leo @leilanixx

#It Only Takes a Taste #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #Diner!AU

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simpsiren · 4 years ago

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the familiarly unfamiliar stranger;

na jaemin x reader

He is the guy that’s kind to basically everyone. No one has ever disliked him. He’s always had that “friendly guy but doesn’t have a group of permanent friends” type of aura. Despite that aura of his, he’s never seen hopping from one friend group to another either. He’s just... there. He only has his DNYL fraternity that I would consider to be his only friends.

genre. angst, fluff, childhood friends meeting after a long time becoming lovers

warnings. none!

word count. 16.3k~

description. Would it be possible to meet that particular stranger that you made a sudden connection with in the span of two months when the two of you first met at a beach house party? I didn’t really try finding the answer to that after we parted way and never to cross paths again. Instead, the answer came to me when I went to college and realised that Jaemin was studying there as well. Just when I thought my unsaid feelings could finally be released for him to hear, I got to find out that he joined a fraternity called ‘DNYL’, meaning that they’re people that want absolutely nothing to do with love.

READ PART II HERE

!as they should materlist!

“Get your ass out of this couch and come with me!” Johnny plopped himself down next to me. I kept my eyes on the TV screen, not giving a single care about Johnny's constant persuasion to take me to some beach house party.

“Are you serious right now?” Johnny lets out an exasperated huff. “We’re at the beach for God’s sake! You need to enjoy summer break here to the fullest. One way is to get out and party!” He grabbed onto my wrist, tugging it with every word to emphasize his points. I used my free hand to scoop a handful of popcorn from the bowl. “I still have two months here. I can admire the beach whenever I want. Just not with complete strangers.” I rolled my eyes as I chewed, words muffled due to the fact that I stuffed my mouth till it was full.

“Can you please?” Johnny whined, shoulders shaking from left to right. “Ah! I shall make my wish now.” I turned to him, arching a brow in a questioning look. “What the hell are you talking about?” Johnny giggled and a wide smirk crept up his face creepily. Whatever Johnny’s about to mention is going to force me to stop saying no. I just know it.

“Remember you said you’d grant me a wish since I gave you the credit for coming up with that idea for your art project?” Yup, knew it. Thanks to the idea that Johnny gave me, I was able to get an A for my end of year art coursework. Supposedly, we were needed to credit everyone, and I mean everyone, who contributed in any way. But Johnny offered to give me full credit for the most important part of the project, which I’m greatly thankful for. But unfortunately, it’s now about to stab me in the back.

“I literally treated you to bubble tea for that!” I retorted, eyes narrowed at Johnny as he shook his head vigorously. “That doesn’t count.” I let out a loud defeated sigh. I could never beat Johnny in this. Even if I did, he’d still go on to pester me every second. Not wanting to push this matter any further and having to put up with Johnny’s stubbornness, I plopped another popcorn into my mouth, whispering a “Better be worth my damn time.” after I swallowed.

We were living in a trailer during our stay by the beach and had to walk by the seaside to reach, wherever the beach house was. I followed beside Johnny closely, being absolutely clueless since I have yet to look around the place when we came. It’s only our first day. Can’t expect me to be exploring it immediately. I needed time to get comfortable. But Johnny clearly didn’t get that memo.

The moment the beach house came to view, loud chatters and laughter of glee could already be heard. There were many people hanging by the outdoor restaurant, which was made by colourful planks and decorated with fairy lights that illuminated the entire place beautifully, hung loosely from plank to plank that were placed far apart from each other as the roof, giving you the clearest view of the night sky. Some people were by the hammocks situated just beside it, and the actual beach house itself above the outdoor restaurant.

The place was jammed pack the moment we stepped in. Johnny had to hold my hand as we squeezed through the crowd. The reeked smell of alcohol and burnt barbecue entered my nose, making me scrunch it up the whole way till we entered the beach house. “I shouldn’t have come.” I said dryly to Johnny while he took me to meet his friends. “Go grab some food.” Johnny said as we ended up in front of a room. He opened the door, suddenly a bunch of low screaming was heard as they greeted Johnny. I stood behind him quietly, thinking that his tall figure would cover me.

“Who’s she?” One of them asked. I mentally sighed as Johnny pulled me out from hiding behind his back. “Just a friend I had to drag here to enjoy herself. Isn’t that right?” Johnny said with a playful tone. I threw a sharp glare at him in a split second and turned to the group of guys that were sitting around the large bed, forcing a smile and nodding my head. “Enjoy yourself. Cause’ I’ll be leaving the moment I get my food.” With that, I left to head over to the food pantry.

After zooming my way through the crowded area of the beach house, I finally made it out at the restaurant. I walked to the lines of tables that were filled with food. Barbecued food and desserts. I guess this was a positive decision to come here. I get free food after all. I grabbed a plate from the side and placed practically one of every food that was available till my plate was full. I got myself a cup of iced cold lemon tea and removed myself from the chaotically crowded area.

When I stepped out of the place, I actually didn’t know where to go. I stood there for a moment, food on one hand and drink on the other. My eyes scanned the scenery in front of me. It was just the beach with nothing else on sight. I licked my lips and my legs began to move. I didn’t know where I was going, but I’ll go anywhere that’ll bring me away from all this.

My legs ended up taking me to the rocks at the end of the beachside. I climbed up after placing my food at the top. I sat down and got comfortable, letting my legs dangle freely over the edge. I took in a deep breath, taking in the smell of the sea air that cleared my nose and put me at ease instantly. I looked up to the night sky, my hand reaching for a chicken and took a bite.

The sky that had very few stars to be seen was dark, a blank sky of nothingness. The sea however reflected the light of the moon, the waves glistening under the moonlight each time it hits the surface. Not to mention the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks below me. “Mind if I join you?”

I flinched and turned around immediately at the voice behind me. I didn’t give a reply and instead inspected him up and down. He had blue hair, which I found was weird at first, but I realised that it went well with his face that was extremely attractive, and seemed to be around my age. He’s wearing a plain white loose tee with black jeans and boots, the entire outfit making his perfectly proportioned body prominent as well as his bright blue hair to stand out.

I have yet to given a reply, too caught up with looking at the stranger as he simply shrugged and take a seat beside my food and drink, my eyes following him with every move. “I’m assuming you came from the party.” He said, eyes staring down on the food. I nodded my head silently. “Just wanted some freah air.” I replied.

I grabbed my drink and take a sip, sighing softly as I swallowed. “Were you from there too?” He laughed and nodded his head. “Since evening. Everyone’s currently drunk and crazy. Just didn’t feel like putting up with that.” He hugged his knees close to his chest, chin resting on his forearm. “How long have you been here?” I took a bite of my chicken and quickly swallowed it down to answer him. “It’s only my first day. I’m staying till summer break’s over.” The boy hummed in reply.

“Same, actually.” Although I had my eyes fixated at the sky, I couldn’t help but take quick glances at him, his eyes being covered by strands of his blue hair and his sharp jawline that could possibly cut through anything. I noticed how he kept his eyes on my food, though he wasn’t trying to make it obvious. “You can have some.” I said, downshifting to the food.

He smiled softly, looking up at me. “Thanks.” He whispered before taking a snack at random and placing it in his mouth. “Is this your first time coming here?” He questioned. I puckered my lips. “Yeah. I mean of course I went to the beach before just not staying here for two months.” I kept silent, thinking of what else to say. I noticed how he was looking at me, as if fully attentive to my words.

“Johnny pulled me in on this, saying I should enjoy a different environment rather than the air of the city breathing down my throat and suffocating me.” I added on, saying exactly what Johnny told me before coming here and looking down to my legs that swayed lightly in the wind. “You mean Johnny Suh?” My brows furrowed as I looked to him. “You know him?”

“Yeah. He’s friends with my brother Jaehyun.” He lets out a weak laugh. “My mother forced me to follow him here to enjoy myself. I’m not a big fan of...” He turned around and motioned his hand lazily to the beach house. “That.”

“Guess we’re here for the same reasons and share the same opinion.” We kept quiet for some time, letting the silence get comfortable between us. Funny how I didn’t feel the slightest bit of awkwardness next to him, as if we’d be able to never know each other yet still feel like we have since forever like the closest of friends do. The cold wind blew gently against our skin, only our light breathing and munching to be heard.

I didn’t know what time it was, nor did I care. But whoever this guy was, he somehow made me want to stay here for longer that I needed.

I didn’t see him at all after that one night. I ended up having to go home myself since Johnny came back to the trailer the next day extremely hungover when he rang the doorbell annoyingly at seven in the morning. Two weeks have passed. And the stranger never left me mind. Not because of how he looked, though that was one of the reasons, but because of the the fact that I felt the sudden comfort when I was with him. It was just one night. A mere few hours. And we were just there. A little chit chat here and there followed by long minutes of silence. But it didn’t feel bad at all.

“Where are you going?” I asked, seeing Johnny wear his leather jacket while walking over to where I was at, once again on sitting comfortably on the couch for my movie night. “To see my friends. What else? I’m not a homebody like you.” He rolled his eyes at me, going to the kitchen counter to grab his wallet. “Hey, John?” I suddenly asked, curious about something.

He turned around and hummed in question. “Are you friends with a guy named Jaehyun?” His eyes widened slightly and nodded his head. “I do. Funny you mentioned him. I’m meeting him at the beach house later.” His face slowly turned into a mischievous one. “Why? You wanna meet him?” I squinted my eyes at his assumption. “No. I’m just...” I trailed on, but never got to think of an answer, not knowing how to explain to Johnny that I wanted to meet the boy that I knew absolutely nothing about.

“Asking for a friend.” Johnny smacked his lips. “Tell her he’s unavailable until she gets my approval.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “What a friend.” I commented in a sarcastic manner. “I’ll head out too.” I said, grunting as I rose from the couch. “And where are you going?” Johnny asked curiously. “Hoping to enjoy myself.” I said, my lips forming a thin line as I went to get ready. If Jaehyun’s there, could his brother be as well?

By the time I finished getting ready, Johnny has already left and I assumed he did a long time ago. I shrugged and left the trailer. I made my way to the beach house. It was still as lively as ever. I did make occasional trips there for the food since they were in fact still delicious. I assumed they were about to have another party. It was already evening. Once again my legs didn’t know where to go and made the unconscious decision of taking me to the rocks.

As if miracle had dawned on me, I was surprised to see him sitting there, his back facing me while he held a guitar on his lap with a small notebook and pencil beside him. I silently walked up to him and sat down, legs crossed. He didn’t say anything for a moment when he noticed me. “We meet again.” He simply said, trailing his eyes from his guitar and to me. I chuckled and smiled softly. “Indeed, we have. My legs just carried me here.” I lied, placing my hands on my thighs as I thought about how he has never left my mind since that night.

“What are you doing?” I asked, jerking my head to the guitar that sat comfortably on his lap. “Writing a song.” He said, smiling gently back at me. I probably didn’t notice this that night since it was dark and I didn’t get a clear view of his face, but his smile was effortlessly beautiful. It made his whole face glow and he didn’t even have to smile fully. My heart did a leap, quickly my mind captured his face, his bright blue fluffy hair that moved in the strong winds of the day, his nose and his lips, lightly tinted pink that looked soft and smooth.

He began to strum on his guitar, making gentle and calming sounds flow into my ears. “Being here gives me inspiration.” He grabbed his notebook from the side, writing down something that I couldn’t take a peek of since his head covered the page. “Are you free today?” He suddenly asked, looking up to me and closing the notebook shut with his fingers clasping it. I hummed in reply, my mind starting to wonder why he would ask that out of the blue. “Well I actually have a movie night to get to but it’s not important.” It used to be until you asked, I thought to myself.

“Oh then it’s fine. You should enjoy your movie night with your friend.” He blurted out quickly, shaking his head and letting out a weak chuckle, facing forward to the sea. I widened my eyes and shook my head vigorously, my hands doing the same in front of me chest. “No! I’m fully free. I meant a movie night with myself.”

“I’m fully free.” I repeated again, slowly as a way to reassure him while hoping that I’d get to spend some time with him tonight.

We ended up having a small picnic, ordering two boxes of pizza while we sat by the seashores, the waves just hitting inches away from us where the sand as still dry. “The sunset’s pretty.” I whispered, looking up at the beautiful shades of red till yellow that painted the sky.

“Have you made any friends here yet?” He asked, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a bite. I sighed quietly, my chest puffing up ever so slightly. “I only have Johnny, but he’s always hanging out with his friends so.” I cut of, not needing to finish the full sentence. “You?” I questioned him. He gave the same reply, sighing. “Never really got along with anyone here.”

“But you’re getting along well with me.”

“Then I guess that’s a first.”

The two of us laughed. It felt nice. This whole thing. Again we were met with silence. It’s as if that day was repeating itself, only in a different setting. What was it about this that had drawn me in so deep? The peace that soothed me just from doing this, just by having him next to me. He’s a complete stranger. I forgot about asking his name, he never bothered asking me for mine either. We were just... there, admiring each other’s unknown presence. We didn’t bother digging into knowing who we are, we just had to have each other to feel that state of serenity.

This time we got to chat a little while longer. I got to find out that he was staying here for two months as well, just like me. He told me he liked writing songs a way to express how he feel, unsaid words that no one would understand if he were to say it normally. “Then what about the song you are writing now? What’s it about?”

He retrieved his eyes back to the sunset, which colours were slowly losing their force to welcome the night. “It’s a work in progress. It doesn’t have a specific meaning to it either. I’m using my time spent here fully to know what to write, which is why I’m planning to add in new lyrics when I feel like it till the end of this trip.” I hummed in reply. Though I didn’t fully understand what he meant or what he was doing that for, I carried on with it anyways, wanting to hear his voice that never really broke the silence, but settled nicely in between.

“What do you think it’s going to be about?” That rhetorical question had him off guard. He didn’t answer, staring into blank space thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. But I somewhat have an idea.” He suddenly took out something out of his pocket, realising that it was his notebook and pencil from last time. He was quick to open a page and scribbled something down. His handwriting was messy and unrecognisable which made me frown slightly since I was curious as to what he wrote.

“Sorry. Something popped up in my mind for my lyrics. I had to write it down since I’m scared I’ll lose it.” He said, cracking a smile. “Can I hear it once it’s finished?”

“I think you’ll be the only person to ever hear it.”

It was three in the morning. Johnny was peacefully sleeping above me while I’m wide awake, my mind never wanting to put me to rest as the very day from years before kept repeating itself in my head. And each time it did, I felt the feelings that came with it as well like it was the first time.

Being restless and wanting something to shoot me flat out, I decided to head to the twenty four hour supermarket Johnny and I went to when we had to buy groceries for dinner. When I reached, I stood in front of the entrance, clueless. Again I didn’t know what I came here for. I just wanted to get anything that’ll take my mind off it. I walked in, and there was barely anyone to be seen. Only the cashier who seemed to be sleeping on his stool. I took quiet steps, not wanting to disrupt his sleep since I knew how hard it was working the night shift, especially as a high school student.

I grabbed one of the worn out yellow baskets from the stack beside the counter and went straight for the chips aisle with the mentality of “Just get whatever you want and indulge yourself in it till sunrise.” I ended up dropping two bags of chips, a whole bunch of milk chocolate bars, specifically Cadburry and KitKat. I wasn’t too scared about them melting since it’s always extremely cold here at night.

I wondered around the supermarket, thinking of what else I could get. I ended up going to the wine aisle, rows and rows of different kinds wine bottles that I’ve never seen or heard of. I wasn’t like those high schoolers that gets drunk every weekend so I didn’t have the widest knowledge on it. The only one I could recognise was the one that Johnny’s friends bought once when they had a sleepover at our house. Me being curious I tried it with the tiniest of drops the bottle had left after they went to sleep. I remembered it to taste fine and didn’t have an impact on me at all since my intake of it was just mere drops.

I grabbed it off the shelf with a lazy hand but gripped onto properly when I forgot for a moment that the bottle was heavy. I placed it inside the basket that was at the end of the aisle when headed for the cash register. “ID?” He asked after scanning the rest of the items and placing them into a plastic bag.

“Here.”

I flinched and jumped around. I was met with his body close to mine. I leaned back in shock, my eyes protuberant at the sudden appearance of him. “What are you-”

He handed the cashier his ID. “Thanks dude.” He said, handing me the bottle of wine while he carried the plastic bag. He looked down on me, raising a soft smile. ‘Let’s go.” He held my wrist and walked me out of the supermarket. When we got out I was met with the cold air. I was too lazy to wear a jacket and now I’m somewhat regretting about leaving the trailer with just my sweater. “And how did you end up here?” I asked with curiosity, stopping after we walked a few steps. “I wanted to buy some midnight snacks.” He then lifted the plastic bag in front of him. “But I guess I don’t need to do that.”

I chuckled, glaring at him and faking my exasperation. “It’s not meant for you.” I joked, hugging the bottle of wine in my arms as I walked with him catching up and matching my steps beside me. “The rocks?” He asked, head tilted as he sped up in front me and began walking backwards. “You know it.”

We were at the rocks again, same place, same atmosphere. “Are you going to offer me food like you did last time at the party?” He questioned me in a cheeky tone, a soft giggle following after. I adverted my attention from the sky and to him. He was wearing a thick grey hoodie, hood on that covered his face, which made me sad for a moment, not being able to admire his face.

“Should I?” I asked back with a slight smirk, digging out a Cadbury bar from the bag and opening it. It still felt cold to the touch. Before wanting to take a bite, I sighed playfully and handed it to him. “There.” He looked down at it for a moment. Instead of dipping down to take a bite, he held my thing wrist, his fingers curling around it gently with his cold palm against my skin. That simple touched sent an electric shock throughout my whole body, as if he’s a lightning that had struck me with the simplest of things.

He guides the chocolate bar in my hand to my lips, pushing at my bottom lip with the end of the bar. “It’s fine. It’s yours anyways.” He whispered, letting go and leaning back with his hands supporting him from behind. I blinked twice, one to my lips where the chocolate bar was still on my lips, and the other to him. My body froze and I couldn’t move. I simply stared at him as he closed his eyes. Soon the chocolate started to melt at the contact of my lips, making me take a bite and licking my bottom lip.

“So...” He started, head tilted back but his eyes fluttered open to look at me. “What were you doing at the supermarket buying junk food at three in the morning.” I glanced down at my phone when he mentioned the time. 3:20AM. Why does time move by slowly when I’m with him? It feels as if the world’s telling me to enjoy such moments like these while I can. It was kind enough to slow down time for me.

I didn’t give an answer, my mind going back and forth as I contemplated on whether to tell him. In the end, I did. It’s not like he’ll remember what I say anyways. “Today’s the day my first love broke up with me.” I confessed, smacking my lips and nodding my head. “That’s... sad.”

With a chuckle, I bit down on the chocolate bar. “That’s not even half of what makes this day so depressing.” I sighed loudly, running a hand through my hair that got tangled due to the strong wind. “I found out that he wasn’t normal. He had a problem that didn’t allow him to feel anything. Pain, happiness... and also love.”

I looked to him. He had a blank expression. I couldn’t tell what he thought about it. Yet, he kept silent, in a way to tell me to continue if I had anything more to say. I exhaled sharply before resuming. “So he didn’t love me at all. Not a single drop of it. I remembered when he told his friend one night at an abandoned house that he never loved me. He never felt anything towards me. I was hiding behind a wall. I felt so stupid that I quietly removed myself from the house and ran to the farthest place I could go to.”

Unconsciously, my tears started to well up in my eyes, my vision starting to get blurry as I brought my hand up, fingers shaking tremendously as I took a bite of my almost-finished chocolate bar. “I couldn’t sleep since my mind kept making me think about. It’s not him that’s made me hate that day, but the fact that all the days before that were the happiest times of my life. So to find out that it was all fake...”

My voice began cracking under the pressure. I could feel it all coming at me in one go, in one giant wave. I broke down, my tears instantly flowing out like rivers as I covered my mouth, wanting to muffle out my cries. I suddenly felt an arm around my shoulders, pulling my body close as he began to embrace me, eventually wrapping both arms around me and letting me sink into his warmth. I gripped onto his hoodie and balled my fists, my face digging deeper into the fabric.

“Sh... It’s okay, it’s okay.” He whispered ever so softly as he placed his chin on top of my head and rubbed my back. “Johnny took me here knowing that. I guess he hoped that I won’t remember it while I’m here.” I croaked out, gulping and taking in deep breaths.

As I began to calm down, I started to think about how gentle he is. He hugged me as if I was a fragile sensitive baby that he had to protect at all costs. He hugged me as if giving me comfort was his only main purpose. His warmth and touch curled around me like a fluffy blanket, a place I’d never want to leave.

Though I was done crying, I stayed there in his arms that held me perfectly. He didn’t bother pulling away either, as if he too didn’t want to let go. “Do you want me to make you forget?” He asked softly, pulling away slightly with his hand still on my back while I had mine on his chest. I let out a weak chuckle. “Can you?”

He laughed for a short moment. “I’ll be...” He looked up thoughtfully. “Your fairy godmother.” He flashed a cheeky smile that got me to burst out laughing. “My fairy godmother? I’m not Cinderalla.”

“But I’ll give you a day like the ball night. I’ll grant you whatever you want, and we can do anything you’d like. How’s that sound?” I looked into his eyes after my laughter died down. His eyes were the softest thing I’ve seen in a person affer a long time. It was filled with gentleness and kindness, perhaps even love that could cover the entire world.

“Perfect.”

We planned to meet the next day at the rocks. We didn’t have a clear idea of what we’re going to do though we freed our entire day for this. But that’s the beauty of the idea, isn’t it? Having to wonder around without a clear goal in mind. Sailing in the ocean’s wave without a destination, and having the waves do its thing to take you to wherever it wants you to be.

He came walking towards me with a tropical button up and light washed jeans along with slippers. My eyes can never take themselves off his blue hair. It’s seriously the second thing to stand out the most other than his face. “Hey.” He called out, lifting a hand up to wave. I took a few steps to him, wearing a happy smile. “What should we do first?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You know this place better than me.” He chuckled nervously, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck while the other was shoved into the pocket of his jeans. “Mm I have plenty of nice places to show you.”

He leaned forward, meeting me at my eye level as our eyes locked sights. My heart started to race quickly and I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks. Looking at him upclose, he really was more good looking that I thought he was. How did anyone this attractive even existed in the world? My stomach started churning out butterflies that fluttered uncontrollably and my eyes got wary, switching from looking at his one eye to the other.

“Can you handle it all in one day?” I blinked my eyes rapidly as his words hit me. Wanting to not show him my seemingly embarrassed face, I pushed him away by his arm, turning around. “Try me!” I shouted, laughing as I ran away. I placed my palms on my cheek. They were definitely burning. I scrunched up my face at the thought. I heard him running from behind, catching up to me quickly with an adorable giggle.

We ended up going to many places that day. He took me to places that I never even knew existed since I didn’t bother exploring far alone. Days and weeks flew by, our meetups began to be more spontaneous and impromptu. One moment one of us would be hanging out by ourselves and the other would suggest to go on a full blown adventure the next.

“You never tell me you had such dance moves!” I said, panting heavily as I placed both my hands on the sides of my hips to catch a breather. “I mean I do dancing as a side hobby to writing music.” He breathed out. I punched him on the arm, pouting with angry eyes. “I’m never playing with you again! You absolutely trashed me.” I grumbled, folding my arms. He laughed and held both my hands. “Don’t get all grumpy with me when you defeated me at the arcade hundreds of times.” He rolled in eyes in exasperation.

“Well you’re right. But you forced me to give you my plushies!” I shouted as he pulled my close with a tug of my wrists. “I’ll give them back once they starts to smell like me.” He gave off a playful wink as he giggled with mischief. I scoffed loudly and threw him a sharp glare. “Mm sure.”

“This cake is so...” “Fluffy!”

I didn’t even need him to finish my sentence. He read my mind as the two of us hummed in satisfaction, letting ourselves sink into the cake’s flavour and taste like a bath. “Thanks for giving me the idea to try the strawberry flavoured cake.” He said with immense greatfulness as he closed his eyes, a happy child-like smile plastered on his face.

“I’m surprised you never tried it despite coming here often. It’s my favourite flavour.” I smiled to myself and took a sip of plain water. With my lips still on the straw, I looked to him who looked so bright. “Can we get ice cream later?” I raised both my brows and gaped my mouth open. “We’re having cake and now you want ice cream?! You have such a sweet tooth.”

“I’ll treat you to strawberry ice cream.” I slammed my palm faced down on the table. “Deal.”

“You’re at a beach and you can’t even swim!” He shouted as he swam farther into the sea while I stood in the water that only came up my chest area. “Don’t leave me!” I cried out, watching him swim around happily while I was too scared to take another step that would lead me the water level rising up to my neck.

I turned around for a moment and when I looked back, he was gone. I didn’t know where he was but I simply assumed that he was swimming under water. I didn’t find this fun at all. He kept teasing me constantly while he forced me to change into a swimming costume that we had to buy today itself since I never thought of bringing one in the first place.

Just when I wanted to make my way back on the shores, I felt something grab my ankle. Out of pure shock and fear, I screamed at the top of my lungs and tried running away, which failed instantly as I fell into the waters. Scared, I scurried around trying to get my head above for air.

I was suddenly supported with a hand around my waist. He got out of the water, splashing some on me as he flicked his hair back. He pulled me closer, hands still around me waist with a look of worry in his eyes. “A-Are you okay? I’m sorry for scaring you like that.” His eyes were shaky as he looked my face. I stared back, placing my hands comfortably on his arms. I had to wrap my legs around his hips since I wasn’t tall enough to touch the sand.

“You’ll regret doing that once we get out of here.” I retorted, clinging onto his body since I was that scared. “Alright, alright. But I’m going to teach you how to swim. How can you not know?” We made our way back to the shore with him struggling to carry my body. I found it cute how he tried to mask the fact that he looked like dropping me with each step. “My family don’t go out doing stuff, you know? We’re just at home most of the time.”

“That’s a disappointment. Be glad that you got me to teach you basic survival skills.” I gaped my mouth open widely, scoffing. “Shut up.” I pushed him away by the chest only to have him come at me with his laughter, which only made me laugh in response.

How was it already my last two days here? Johnny reminded me to pack up my stuff before I left to meet him yet again. This time we promised to spend the entire day together, morning till night, never leaving the other’s side till the last minute.

“You’re leaving after me?” I questioned, head on his shoulder while his arm wrapped around my waist that sat perfectly. “Yeah.” He simply replied in a gentle voice, the two of us staring up to the night sky, looking at the stars that we spent pointing out and making up our own constellations with them.

“Hygge is still shining brightly.” I whispered, pointing upwards and drawing its made up constellation. “It’s shining because of how we’re at peace right now.” He brought a hand up to my head, carassing it lovingly as he threated his fingers through my hair, expertly getting rid of its knots.

“About the song...” I turned my head to him, humming. “I’ll have it done by tonight and sing it for you tomorrow before you leave.” I dug my face deeping into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent that I grew to get used to very quickly during my stay here. “I’m glad I’ll finally be able to hear it. Can you still not tell me what it’s about?” I whined softly, putting on a frown that made him chuckle.

“You can figure that out instantly once I sing it to you so don’t worry. I’m not some philologist.” He slowly dipped in to plant a light kiss on the crown of my head, his lips staying there while I could only assume he had his eyes closed to take in one of our last moments together before we part ways.

The next day I went to the rocks first thing in the morning. He was sitting there, guitar in hand, his legs dangling over the edge. He wore his white tee again, resembling what he wore the first day I met him. I didn’t know why, but every moment I had with him kept reminding me of the first time we met. He came at me out of the blue, yet he didn’t need to do much to makd an impression that stuck on me.

“Alright. Play it now, play it now!” I said, immediately after sitting down next to him. He turned his gaze to me, laughing as he flashed his eye smile that I absolutely adore. “Jeez calm down first!” He strummed on his guitar, taking a moment to check if everything’s ready. He then looked to me, his wide smile growing into a softer and smaller one as he began to play.

The more I listened, the more I realised what he meant by the fact that I’ll know what it was about. Or rather, who. It was about me, about us. He sang about our trips and outings, and everything about me. From being the most beautiful being to the weirdest, he sang about it all. My heart ached in the most amazing way possible. It fluttered as I felt the love and sincerity expertly imbued into each note, each word he sang. He didn’t break his eyes off me either, as if opening my soul with his voice that only drew me in deeper into his being that I knew all too well, but also didn’t.

I knew him, head to toe, front to back. I knew him well like my favourite book where the plot, characters, the plot twists were all etched in my brain. I didn’t even need to think to know what happened next. That’s how much I knew him in the span of two months. Yet, I never knew basic information about him. His name, age, where he went for education. We silently decided not to tell that information of ours to the other, simply thinking that we’re strangers that have known each other for years.

That was the last time I saw him. After that day till the moment Johnny drove our trailer away. He never left my mind and it was only then when the beach left my view that I started to feel the regret of not asking him who he was. Why was I so stupid not to ask? For forgetting that we’ll part ways and never meet again unless we had some form of connection. Why did we spend time together in our made up dream thinking that for a moment fate would bring us together when we’ve completely forgotten about reality hitting us right after?

I was at the lecture hall for my art major. It felt as if a whole year went by just from listening. I glanced down at my phone. Ten more minutes. On top of my coursework which I had to hand in by week nine, there was also going to be an exam on the study of visual arts. I hope to at least get some rest before I push through how many all-nighters just to get it all done and over with.

Finally our professor ended his lecture. The lecture hall now filled with sounds of everyone keeping their materials and heading straight for the door. I decided to hold back for awhile, not wanting to have to push myself through the large crowd trying to get out through the small doors. Majority of the people have already exited after I scrolled through my phone and just as I was about to stand up to leave, I heard a loud slam on my table. I instantly turned to it. There was a sticker on my table. I looked up and scanned my surroundings, wondering who pasted it there. A guy in a black hoodie with his hood on zoomed past me at the back since I sat at the last row, making his way to the exit and leaving.

I adverted my attention back to the weird sticker that was being pasted on my table by God knows who. I was able to peel it off from the table since the adhesive on it wasn’t strong. I gripped it in between my index and middle finger, bringing it up close to my face. “DNYL...?” I whispered to myself, reading the letters that were large and in a red cursive font that was dripping from the bottom in a heart. I blinked my eyes rapidly, proceeding to turn it around so that I could look at it from all angles. There’s nothing else, nothing to tell me who gave the weird sticker to me.

I stuck it on the back of my phone, not knowing exactly where to place it. Throughout the day I kept glancing at it with a bunch of questions surfacing each time. I was now back at the dorms. The first thing I did was opened up my computer to search up whatever the hell DNYL stood for. But nothing popped up. I started to think it was something that’s within the school. Some kind of club? Or an organisation?

I’ve thought about it for so long that the time I had to rest had already passed by and now I had to start work. “What the hell even is this?” I questioned myself yet again before throwing my phone to my bed and began taking out my art materials to resume my coursework.

The next day I was sitting in the hall before lecture started, my eyes glued to the door as I tried to find whoever that gave me the sticker. They had to be taking this course to be here anyways. But, the longer I stared at the door, the longer I thought to myself “Why did I even think that he’ll wear the same hoodie as yesterday?” I shook my head, placing chin on the palm of my hand as I let out a quiet sigh. A few poeple were wearing black hoodies, but they weren’t like the one I saw yesterday. They didn’t have that body type either.

I scratched my head, fully distressed about this trivial matter that I shouldn’t even be questioning much about, especially when I had a whole workload of things to do that is way more important than some sticker. Yet, my curiosity could never seem to shake it off. Nothing has happened after that. No stickers, weird guy, nothing. However, my senses were always on the edge, ready to catch the person if I were to ever encounter myself with the same sticker.

Due to my roommate suddenly having a party at our dorm with her group of friends, I decided to head over to the study café, not wanting to be stuck in my room and having to deal with the noise from outside. During my time there, hours have already passed by. It has always been like this whenever I do art. So much time yet so little accomplishments. Luckily I was able to complete what I wanted to for tonight and decided that it was a good time to look for books that could help me with my research for my study of visual arts assignment which would eventually lead to my exam.

I head down to the first floor where the library was. It was dark and secluded with only the lamp from the desk being the only thing that illuminated a small part of the library. I took silent steps to the bookshelves, my eyes scanning up and down with my finger following it as I tried finding a book. I was about to switch to the other side of the shelve when something at the side caught my eye. I stopped in my tracks and turned a sharp ninety degrees.

Just below the sign that indicated the books’ genre, there was a familiar shape. Slowly, I took out my phone and turned on the flashlight. As expected, it was the heart shaped sticker again. It had the same design, same letters. This time however, it looked worn out, like it’s been here for more than a year with his edges fraying like someone tried to tear it off, along with the discolouration.

“What even...” I whispered to myself. Upon further inspection with squinted eyes, there was something that resembled a quote that was placed along the rim of the sticker. “Don’t.... your. What does it say?” I couldn’t help but wonder, the fraying of the edges mot giving me a chance to even guess what the quote was.

With this new information, I laying on my bed, still in my pyjamas and not wanting to leave my bed till afternoon since I had no classes for the day. I turned my phone to the back where the sticker was. There wasn’t any quote on it like the one at the library. Whenever I tried thinking of possibilities of what the full quote could mean, I could only assume “Don’t Need Your Love.” to be the only plausible answer.

“Hey, Sierra?” I asked the moment she came walking in after she was done showering. She turned around, the small towel draped over her head while drying her hair. “Is there perhaps... a fraternity here called DNYL?” She turned to me, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t know about what happened?”

I copied her expression. “What do I not know?” She turned to the full length mirror beside her bed as she grabbed her earrings off her dressing table. “My senior said it used to be a fraternity for anyone that doesn’t want to be in love. Basically for those who’ve been through heartbreaks and shit or anything related to love that they don’t want to associate themselves with.”

“But the college thinks that it’s not something to be promoted so they disbanded the fraternity.” Sierra shrugged while wearing her earrings. Her eyes trailed from herself and to me, the reflection of myself looking at her. “Why’d you ask though?”

I gulped, shaking my head and cracking a soft smile. “It’s nothing.” I whispered, looking down to my phone case with the sticker. I forced a smile, looking back up and seeing Sierra grab her bag. “Have fun during lecture.” She laughed and nodded her head. “Have fun resting while I suffer.” With that, she left the dorm.

I went on with my day and decided to not be lazy and actually make my own breakfast instead of ordering the unhealthy McDonald’s breakfast like I do every morning. At the kitchen, it felt quiet. Too quiet for my liking, with only the sound of the pan sizzling the moment I added the pancake batter to be heard. It wasn’t like the silence at the beach. The silence I shared with him. Nothing could compare to that. I felt lonely, and distant.

My mind slowly trailed back into my memories of him. I began to remember the song he sang to me on my last day, remembering the tune and every lyric. Like I said, he never left my mind. Him and everything that went along with the trip was just filed in the back of my mind. It was only now that it began to surface as I started to feel the emptiness of his absence. Not being able to bear it, I turned to my phone and switched on the radio, specifically our college’s radio studio that has their own podcast airing every morning. I never really bothered listening to it till now.

“Alright, we’re going to have a short break so let’s enjoy this song called Don’t Need Your Love by NCT DREAM together before we talk about our next topic.” I didn’t pay attention to his words at first, it came in one ear and went out the other, being too focused on getting my pancakes to not burn. Due to my lack of cooking experience, this part of getting it to cook really got me anxious and on full concentration mode.

The song began to play, and it was cathy. The rhythm had my bobbing my head while I had my eyes cautiously looking at the pancakes. You think it’s my heart you’re holding. You still think you’re all that I need. I placed my pancake onto my plate, getting ready to make the next. The song began to pick up its speed, the drop coming in and making me bob my head harder due to the addictive nature it had before it hits the chorus.

I don’t need your love. Don’t need it. Don’t need it, need it no. And that’s when it hit me. The title of the song, the lyrics. Why haven’t I noticed it at all? I turned to my phone, looking at the screen that showed the same heart shaped logo the sticker had. I gaped my mouth open, immediately picking up the phone as I brought it close to my ear. I’m definitely hearing it correctly. I brought my phone in front of me. The same logo the fraternity had.

Millions of questions came up. If the fraternity doesn’t exist anymore, then why did they suddenly approach me by giving me the sticker? Were they trying to recuit new people to revive the status of the fraternity? And how was this song even playing if the college didn’t allow it to be promoted?

I'm going crazy, please, because of you. I can't sleep. What are you thinking? No, don’t say it. Aside from you. I have many other things to lean on. I don't wanna go back. My eyes widened at the voice who sang that part. It was him. It’s definitely him. It was his voice. I remembered it vividly from when he sang to me at the rocks. I couldn’t have been mistaken.

I turned off the stove, adverting my attention back to the music as I tried to listen to the rest of the song to see if I could pick up his voice again. Unfortunately, I didn’t. That was the only part I got to hear before the music stopped and the guy’s voice came back. “Um actually there was some error. That song wasn’t supposed to be played. Uh l-let’s listen to Long Flight that was written by our very own student council president Lee Taeyong, shall we?” Just like that, the music began playing.

I stood there, completely frozen. “What just happened...?” I whispered to myself, slowly putting my phone back down on the table. I lowered the music as it settled in the background while my mind went deep into my thoughts. “I couldn’t have heard it wrong. I’m sure it was him. I’m not going crazy, am I?” I paced back and forth in the kitchen, thinking if I was actually going crazy from desperately trying to figure out who he was.

I tried pushing the thought away. But it always came back no matter what I was doing, casually creeping back into my mind. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I had to know. I had to be sure. I grabbed whatever belongings I needed and headed to campus.

I brisk walked my way over to the recording studio where supposedly they recorded live for the radio. I pushed the door open, immediately greeted with the head of the radio station team, Moon Taeil, looking at me while sitting on the black swivel chair, legs crossed. “Excuse me?” He questioned, head tilted just a few degrees as his eyes looked me up and down. It felt as if I was being scrutinised by his stare.

“Um I’m sorry but I just have a quick question.” I slowly closed the door behind me and walked towards him. Looking around, there were the other members of the team sitting down at a table and discussing something. “And what’s that?” Taeil asked again with a firm tone which sent a shiver down my spine. “The song you played for the radio. Don’t need your love? Uh who was it written by... And who sang it?”

Taeil licked his lower lip, breaking his eyes off me for a moment as he looked around with uncertainty. He eventually placed both his elbows on the arm rest, arms standing up with his fingers interlocking just below his chin. “It’s written by our alumni Harvey. And who it’s sung by, I honestly don’t know. They just called themselves NCT DREAM and submitted the song anonymously for it be played.”

He lets out a loud sigh for a pause, pursing his lips into a thin line. “But I got a message form the student council that it shouldn’t be played so I had to stop it. It was a good song though.” He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh... I see.” I whispered softly, looking down to my feet. “Is that all you need, dear?” He asked, a soft smile forming on his face as I shot my head back up from the flood. “A-Ah yes. Thank you so much.” I rushed out the door.

On my way back I kept thinking about what Taeil said, trying to connect the dots with whatever knowledge I’ve gathered. Yet, I still had other questions that were yet to be answered. Who is NCT DREAM? And why have I never heard of them during my time here in college? I wasn’t that person who’s not updated on whatever’s going on on campus anyways. Was playing that song part of their plan to promote their unofficial fraternity?

I was completely distracted for the days that followed after. I couldn’t fully concentrate while studying, the song being replayed in my head over and over again, specifically his part. The most impossible possibility came to my mind. “Is he in this college?” I lifted my head up from the papers, my eyes narrowing down to one spot on the wall. I laughed to myself and shake my head, taking a quick sip of my coffee.

“Don’t be stupid. Coincidences like that only ever happens in movies.” I looked to my phone. Slowly, I reached my hand out for it and flipped it over, my eyes meeting with the bright red sticker. “Can you please stop stressing over this? Get your priorities straight!” I half-shouted, groaning as I dropped my head on the table. My eyes began welling up and my vision got blurry as I thought of wanting to hear his voice sing me to sleep, my tears streaming down my face in a matter of seconds.

Sierra and I went our separate ways to our building departments after walking to campus together. I entered the lecture hall. It wasn’t empty as I thought it would be. More people seemed to come earlier today. Like any other day, I paid attention to my professor, taking down notes and listening attentively yet dying slowly as each minute passes by.

“Don’t forget your coursework is due in a week’s time!” He shouted one last time as everyone made their way out instantly after lecture ended. I sighed tiredly, getting up from my seat and walking to the door. This time I decided to just go with the crowd, the desperation of wanting to go back to the dorms and take a nap before driving myself insane through the night with my workload again.

I was squished between people with them bumping into me every which way. I began regretting I chose this decision. But perhaps not when I suddenly felt a hand being placed on my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder. There wasn’t anyone that looked like they relied their hand back. I tilted my head down to where they placed their hand. It was the sticker. I instantly ripped it from my jean jacket after I finally got out of the mess. I observed the crowd at walked past after leaving the hall. None of them looked suspicious in any way.

“If you’re interested, head over to the abandoned play room in basement one today once you finish lecture.” I read the note that was written over the sticker. With both brows raised, I turned back to the doors, which was now empty and secluded. I instantly nodded my head with determination as my curiosity started to fuel, walking to basement one.

Making my way there, more emotions began to dance around in my heart. I felt the excitement and hopefully satisfaction since I’ll finally be able to know whatever the heck that has been going on and I wouldn’t need to feel the stress of pondering about it any longer too. However, I also felt nervous. I didn’t know the reason for this fraternity disbanding. What if there was something more dangerous behind it? What seemed to weird me out the most is the fact that this fraternity is somehow connected to the stranger from the beach, which was probably the biggest reason for my eagerness to find out.

I’ve only been to the basement once or twice to get free art materials that have no longer been used. It was dark, secluded and eerie. The coldnees wasn’t making my journey there any better either. I got closer to the play room. The sign was glowing a bright yellow and illuminated the surrounding area. There was also light coming from the play room through the glass door. I licked my dried lips nervously and placed my hand on the door handle, entering with my heart thumping out of my chest.

The moment I entered, I was met with the eyes of four people. Six guys, to be exact. They stared at me, and I stared back. It was complete silence while I had a staring competition with them. “Ah! You’re here!” I shook my head and broke eye contact with them, my attention adverted to the voice. It was another guy who came out from a door that led to another room I assumed.

“Look I’m not interested in joining. Just curious about something.” I put it out there immediately before they tried to do anything that’ll persuade me. All of them gave weird looks. A look that said “You didn’t even bother giving us a try.” The guy walked up to me, bringing his hand up in front of me. “I’m Haechan.” He introduced himself with a bright smile, just like the sun.

“_____.” I forced a smile. Though I was here for answers, I didn’t expect to be in the presence of five guys. If I’m being honest, they did look familiar. Students that I’ve probably seen only once then never again. “Who was the one that gave me the sticker?” I immediately turned to the others sitting on the couch. Haechan placed his hands on his hips and scoffed. “Jeno did you seriously used the sticker method?”

Another guy that had a smaller figure but looked tall with blonde hair gaped his mouth open, looking to his mates as they all stared down on him with looks of disappointment. “I did it like how Harvey recruited us.” Jeno retorted nonchalantly. “But that’s not a good- Urgh who am I kidding we had other jobs to do anyways” Another guy came to view. He was another blonde head. “Guys! Stop the fighting.” Haechan shouted beside me. His scream making everyone flinch, especially one who almost fell off from the couch.

“Can someone please explain what is this unofficial fraternity and why was I even pulled into this mess?” “Renjun go.”

“Huh?” Haechan looked to another that had a smaller figure than Jeno. “Explain.” He arched a brow and scoffed. “You’re getting a beating from me later for bossing us around just cause’ you’re the head.” Renjun rolled his eyes and stood up, going to what seemed like a projector and turning it on. “Oh before we get to that, that’s Jisung and Chenle, Biology department. Renjun, Psychology department. Mark, Science department. Jeno, art department and I’m part of the History department. Then...” Haechan introduced them one by one, pointing to each of them but stopped, making me look up at him with an arched brow.

“Jaemin’s not here again?” Mark asked, pinching the nose of his bridge while shaking his head. “Don’t tell me-”

“He’s either sleep deprived, going crazy or staying up for another three days with his fifth cup of four shots espresso coffee.” Jeno finished Haechan’s sentence easily. I gaped my mouth open, scoffing in disbelief. “F-Four shots of espresso?!” I half-shouted, my hand on its way to shut my jaw close.

The room was filled with sighs and groans of disappointment due to their mate’s reason for his absence in the play room. “Who’s Jaemin...?” I asked curiously. “I swear he comes to our meetings like never.” Chenle grumbled, clearly ticked off. I took in my surroundings. The tension suddenly became tough and firm after the so-called “Jaemin” was mentioned. I began to wonder what was it about this person that got his members to be so worked up other than not attending the “fraternity’s” meetings.

“Wait. Jeno’s in the art department?” I turned to the guy who had his head phone, looking at his phone before shooting back up to me. “Oh, yeah. I am.” I clicked my tongue. “Never knew you existed till now.” Jeno placed his phone on the table before meeting my eyes again. “Means I’m doing my job well.”

“I’ll force him here next meeting. Anyways, he’s in the architect department. He usually needs to stay up to complete his assignments. Explains his extreme addiction for coffee and staying up for days on end.” Haechan made known, trying to sound reassuring. I simply nodded my head, turning to the screen that projected a video that has yet to be played. It showed someone standing on a stand, leaning into the small mic in front of him. Haechan nodded his head to Renjun, signaling the video to be played. With a press of a button, the video began.

“Mic check 1,2,1,2. Can you hear me?” He had blonde hair and wore a red jacket. “Dear fellow students. The sun is shining, it’s a beautiful day. So the reason I’ve turned on this mic today is to talk about the coolest club on our campus. DNYL, Don’t Need Your Love.” He motioned his hand to the screen that showed their logo, along with a group photo of people I didn’t recognise.

“Now, for those that have been dumped, had a breakup or dealing with a broken heart, this is the perfect club for you.” He paused for a moment, scanning his eyes over the crowd as if wanting to engage each and every one of them.

“Have you been cheated on? Do you feel down from all this unrequited love? Are you tired of waiting for that call from your ex? I definitely am.” A bright smile began to crack on his face. “Well, there’s no more of that. You don’t need any more worries and simply let it all go with us. So let’s just have a great time. DNYL, come join our club, and let’s have some fun!” Just like that, the video ended.

“That’s Harvey, our senior.” Haechan pointed his finger to the guy on screen before dropping his hand back down on his side. “The club immediately got disbanded. His batch was the last one to have the club being official.”

“We want to carry on with his club. He recruited all of us, randomly pasting stickers on our desks and chests before he graduated, hoping we’d rise it up again.” Haechan folded his arms as he explained further. I nodded my head as the information sank in. “Then... Why am I being recruited?” I asked the most important question.

Renjun walked up to me, standing firm with placing his weight on one leg, hands shoved into his jean jacket. “Because we’ve noticed how you seem to look like a sore loser during the whole of your time here.”

“Renjun! That’s rude.” Jisung cried out, shaking his head with a big frown. Renjun simply shrugged at his friend’s comment. “Bold of you to assume I’m being a sore loser because of love.” I cocked a brow, which resulted in Renjun looking away for a moment scoffing before locking his intimidating eyes onto mine. “Then why are you a sore loser?”

I couldn’t reply. I was fully taken aback. He was right. Ever since I began college, though my life has been fine for the most part, I was lost. In a daze, in a blank space of nothingness. As if I was being put in a huge desert with no map and no guidance. I didn’t bother making friends either. I had a neutral relationship with everyone in my major, but never one that I’d consider and actual friend. I was lonely. Too lonely to the point where I didn’t feel anything else. I was simply stagnant. And it was all because of him.

“That’s what I thought.” Renjun went back to the couch with a smug smirk on his face, plopping himself in between Chenle and Jisung. “But why have I never seen you guys before?” I questioned. “Because we’re trying to keep a low profile while promoting so the council wouldn’t catch us.” Chenle replied instantly. “Jaemin has no problem doing that. He’s holed up in his dorm twenty four seven. Literally.” Jisung commented.

“So.” Haechan turned to me sharply and confidently. I blinked my eyes rapidly at the sudden action. “Do you want to join us?” I looked around the room again. Everyone’s eyes staring at me with anticipating looks. I bit my lower lip. “I’m given time to make a decision, right?” Everyone turned their heads to each other and nodded with looks of reassurance and hope. Haechan placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“The fact that you’re considering is already a huge thing for us.”

I was in deep thought late at night, sitting at my study table with the tip of my pen in between my lips as I bit down it, thinking long and hard about joining the club.

It seemed like a good place. Though it felt extremely intimidating, I picked it up from the get-go that they’re extremely close with each other, meaning that their love for the club is stronger than ever. Throughout, I couldn’t stop thinking of him. And the more I did, the more I began to realise that I’ve been holding onto someone that could possibly never cross paths with me ever again. I was holding on so tightly to the impossible, blinding myself with delusion to the point where I even considered the fact that he could be in this school.

I couldn’t be holding on forever. I had to let go. I needed to accept the fact that he’s someone I’ll meet once in a life time, that short period of time where that person has given me a heaven that could never stay forever. I’ll force myself to let go, leave it all behind, and move on.

Though I thought I already had my mind made up, I ended up staying in bed for the rest of the day. The plushie I won with him during the trip on one hand, my phone with Haechan’s contact number on the other, waiting for my thumb to press the call button and confirm my recruitment. I thought I could forget, but I never. It never went away, my memories of him. But it always made me crave for him when he’s not there, only making me suffer on the bitter end. I kept telling myself that maybe I’ll slowly let go when I join the club. I was having a battle in my mind, a whole warzone playing out as my contemplation settled comfortably in my mind as if it wasn’t doing any damage to me.

“Fuck this.” I whispered angrily to myself, lifting my body up slightly to throw the plushie under my bed, laying back down and giving Haechan a call. No turning back, I guess. Haechan told me to meet at the play room with the others right after our classes. They didn’t have an exact meet up time so whoever’s there first would chill and wait till the rest arrived.

I walked into the play room the next day after lecture. Seeing no one, I assumed I was the first one here. I decided to explore the play room for a bit and the first place I decided to go to was the room where Haechan came out from when I first met him. Entering the room, my jaw hung low, mouth open as I saw the sight before me.

It looked like a gaming cafe. There were arcade games on one corner, a lounging area with a comfortable looking couch with fluffy blankets and pillows, followed by smal shelf of books. There was even a large pantry on the left corner. The room was painted a bright muted yellow and the decorations made it look very aesthetically pleasing. “You like it?” I turned around, flinching slightly as Jisung came in and walked past me, holding a large box in his arms.

“Yeah. It’s quite cool actually.” I whispered, still at awe in the room I was in. I looked to Jisung who was at the pantry. He opened the box and it revealed a whole stock of small packet chips. He proceeded to take them out and place it in baskets on the pantry table. “Can I have one?” I asked. He threw me a packet, to which I had quick enough reflexes to catch in one hand.

“Looks like we’re the first ones here.” Jisung said after emptying out the box and shoving it below the table, grabbing one chip packet and opening it. “Mhm.” I replied, popping a chip in my mouth. “I’m surprised you accepted it in one day.”

I shrugged, walking to the couch and placing my tote bag down before taking a seat. Jisung followed behind me, sitting down on the empty space next to me. “I have my reasons.” I nodded firmly. I then turned to him. “If I may ask, why did you decide to join the club?” I questioned out of pure curiosity.

“Could say I have a rough time with relationships growing up. I always had crushes, people I fall for too easily. Had to constantly deal with unrequited love.” He pursed his lips into a thin line. “I actually had one girl in college that I liked. But when I found out she completely fooled me I had a breakdown at the back of the school.” Jisung took in a deep breath before continuing. “That was when Harvey came up to me and talked about DNYL. I have never regret joining.” He lets out a soft chuckle.

“I’m glad you’ve found your place here.” I complimented amicably. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with us.” He flashed a kind and soft smile that didn’t make me hesitate to reciprocate the gesture. “Ah shoot!” Jisung rose up from the couch. I looked up at him with a surprised expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to drag Jaemin here.” Jisung groaned out loud, running a hand through his hair and ruffling it on the crown of his head. “Actually- I’ll just let Jeno handle him.” Jisung said. “But I’m craving for some coffee. Want me to get you anything?” I gave an eye smile in response. “Strawberry tea would be nice.” Jisung breathed a chuckle and downshifted his head. “Alright. Be right back!” Jisung ran to the door and exited, closing the door carefully and quietly.

I smacked my lips, my fingers unconsciously digging into the packet as I continuously shoved chips into my mouth like a machine. I finished it within minutes and threw it in the dustbin. Not knowing what to do, I decided to get my laptop out and finish whatever I can for my coursework. and doing more research. I realised that there was a speaker on the table and decided to use it, blasting hyped songs for me to vibe through my work.

“Jaemin!” Jeno shouted as he slammed the door to Jaemin’s dorm wide open. Jeno stared at Jaemin. He’s in his grey hoodie and sweatpants that Jisung assumed he never changed out of. He had cups and cups of empty Starbucks all laid across the table along with his stacks of paper. Jaemin had his body leaned against the easel where the large piece of paper that had his layout propped on it.

Jeno huffed, walking up to Jaemin and shaking his shoulder vigorously. “Jaemin, wake up. How long have you been like this?” Jeno asked worryingly. Jaemin fluttered his eyes open halfway, looking around lazily and rubbing his eyes before his friend of five years came to view. “Time check?” Jaemin whispered, closing his eyes back for a moment.

“Wednesday, five pm. Jaemin you’ve been up for days. Get some rest at the play room, will you?” Jeno pouted looking at his friend who was completely worn out to the core and obviously concerned for his health due to the amount of coffee he’s been indulging himself in for the past three days.

Jaemin sighed, pulling his hood down and looking at Jeno, forcing a sincere smile to make him look the slightest bit awake. “Can I skip today’s meeting? I can just sleep here.” Jaemin forced himself out of his uncomfortable position against the easel and went for his bed, dropping his almost lifeless body onto it and sinking into the sheets. Jeno sighed quietly, smacking his lips. “Alright. Please just sleep. And clean your damn room it reeks of coffee.”

Jaemin hummed in reply, slowly nodding his head while pulling his blanket over his body and getting comfortable. “I’m just about done with my project. Maybe two more weeks? Then I’ll be back to normal so tell them to not worry about me.” Jeno scoffed, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge. “I think they’re more furious than worried, Nana. They kept complaining when you weren’t there yesterday.” Jaemin exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “How’s the promotion coming along?”

Jeno glanced upwards thoughtfully before answering. “It’s... I don’t know. We tried playing our song on college radio but Lee Taeyong called it off halfway and played his song instead. But! We have a new member.” Jaemin’s eyes shot open at the mention of new members. He looked at him, blinking his eyes rapidly. “How many?” “One.” Jeno quickly answered, making Jaemin let out a ‘tsk’ and closing his eyes back. “Just one? Harvey was able to recruit all of us in one go.”

“Tell that to jisung.” Jeno scoffed. “But I mean at least it’s a girl.” Jeno folded his arms and shrugged nonchalantly. Jaemin furrowed his brows. “Girl? Isn’t DNYL suppose to be an all boys club?” Jeno rolled his eyes at his friend’s comment. “Change of rules now that Haechan’s head. Plus, it’s not just the guys that have a rough time with relationships. Girls suffer too. And the club will help them.” Jaemin scoffed in reply. “He used the sticker method?” Jeno hummed in reply.

“And I wonder just what is the girl’s reason for joining the club.”

Jeno raised a brow at his friend, who now seemed to be wide awake and intrigued due to the conversation. “I mean barely know her enough to ask but maybe she will if all members come by.” “Yeah no.” Jeno groaned and rose up from the bed, making his way for the door. He turned to Jaemin, who already had his eyes closed with his chest going up and down soothingly

“Don’t continue being like this, Nana...” Jeno whispered, glancing to Jaemin one last before going out and closing the door behind him.

Once Jaemin heard the door close, he got up, sitting straight and leaning his back against the headboard supported by pillows. After staring into blank space for a moment, he slowly reached for his guitar that was propped beside his bed. He began to strum mindlessly while deep in thought.

Jaemin’s fingers got ready after he made sure that the guitar sat comfortably on his lap. He began to play a common tune, not knowing what song to play. But it didn’t take long for his fingers to play the tune of the song he wrote for her, as if they had a mind of its own. But he couldn’t sing it. It pained him too much that he never saw her again after that trip.

“Fuck I’m stupid.” Jaemin whispered after singing a lyric with a shaky voice, lips quivering with each word being sung out. He leaned his head back on the headboard, biting his lower lip hard to hold back his tears as he continued to strum, his being slowly crashing down and falling apart at the thought of her.

After about slightly more than half an hour later, Jisung came back with our drinks, followed by the rest of the members entering behind. “Thanks.” I said, taking the tea that Jisung handed out to me. Everyone gathered around in a circle around the couch, some jamming to the song I was playing. But I decided to stop it since I didn’t want to seem rude and have it as a distraction during our time together.

“Jaemin’s sleeping?” Renjun asked. Jeno nodded his head in reply, lips puckered. “He looked so drained and dead. He said that he’ll be done with his project in two weeks time so I guess he’ll be there by then.” Jeno said, leaning back and having his body supported with his two hands behind him.

“Don’t you think there’s something going on with him though?” Mark questioned, which suddenly led the room to complete silence for a split second before Jisung coughed to break it. “Well we don’t know for sure. Jeno, do you know?” All eyes turned to Jeno. I could only listen and take in information, not knowing the context behind the conversation.

“No. He doesn’t even want to tell me though I’ve been his friend for five years.” Jeno explained. “What’s wrong with Jaemin...?” I asked nervously, afraid if my question was too disrespectful or an invasion of privacy. The air that surrounded us was thick, as if everyone’s on edge and not thinking straight. It didn’t take me long to realise that Jaemin has always been a big factor of this club, having the ability to put his club in such a state even with his absence.

Haechan licked his lips, looking around as if trying to come up with a way to phrase his answer. “He... Ever since the start of college, we just feel as if he’s here, but also not.” Haechan paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “He never shared why he wanted to join this club. I mean clearly we want to know but we aren’t that nosy to the point where we want to force it out of him. We respected the fact that he didn’t want to share.”

“But we always felt that it was something that impacted him greatly because despite having us, it seems like he’s using work as a way to cope. Again explains his constant indulgence of coffee. He’s been quite closed off to us for a long time but he’s getting better... I guess.” Renjun added on. I could tell that the last part was filled with uncertainty, him not being fully satisfied with his explanation but refuses to add on any further. “He’ll come around. We can just hope. But for now...” Chenle trailed on, taking a seat next to me and wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulders. “Let’s have a fun welcome party for our new member.”

We ended up watching a movie. Specifically a scary movie after we ordered take out. “You guys are serious scaredy-cats!” Haechan laughed, taking a bite of his chicken and leaning forward closer to the TV screen while all of us had our eyes covered by the pillows we were holding up. Renjun smacked a pillow on Haechan’s head, making everyone laugh and have the room filled with lightness out of simple humour.

“Don’t act so brave, idiot.” Just then, a jumpscare came up, making everyone jump on their seats and Haechan screaming at the top of his lungs out of pure fear which made Jisung fall of the couch from shock. “Haechan!” Jisung shouted, groaning as he went back up to sit on the couch. Haechan turned around, forehead creased and face scrunched up. “Not my fault!”

“Shut up you literally acted as if you weren’t scared like one minute ago!” Chenle fired his words at full speed. And everyone, especially Mark’s laughter really lit the room’s atmosphere and making me feel a whole lot better already. Haechan told me that the club didn’t have a specific goal or anything, we were all just here to have fun, forget our problems.

It was a long night. After movie time we played arcade games, which was just all of them being extremely competitive except for me and Mark who were simply laughing in the background like spectators watching an intense scene with many complications that we couldn’t help but laugh at. We did everything that the play room offered. And throughout the whole time, I really felt happy, truly happy. I wasn’t stagnant. I actually felt the joy from hanging out with them. It’s as if I’ve forgotten the fact that I’ve felt so alone all this time, and opening up to feelings that I’ve never experienced in a long time.

I checked the time. It was one in the morning surprisingly. We all huddled around the couch, I was wrapped in the blanket while the others hugged their pillows. They dimed the lights and I swear I could doze off in any second due to the night we just had. “Hey, _____?” Jisung called out to me, making me turn to him and humming in question.

“Why did you want to join this club? I mean I know you didn’t come willingly but what made you accept our offer?” I puffed my cheeks, blowing them out after a moment. “It’s a long story but to cut it short, I met someone while I was on a trip at the beach. We connected so much. But we didn’t get each other’s names, or numbers, anything that’ll lead us back to each other once we parted ways.” I chuckled to myself, running a hand down my face.

“And I simply felt that I couldn’t be mindlessly searching for him without anything to lead on. I was wasting time, waiting for someone that’ll never come back. I guess I just wanted to join to forget.” I raised my shoulders up, the blanket covering half my face i. doing so. I would’ve cried and broke down if I were to tell the story in full. I was shocked at myself for not even breaking a tear or cracking my voice.

“How were you guys dumb enough not to exchange numbers? Even names! Isn’t that a basic thing to know about someone you just met?” Chenle asked, sounding concerned and intruiged as if wanting to know more about the whole ordeal. I laughed, shaking my head, thinking about how ridiculous it is going to sound out of my mouth.

“I don’t know how to explain exactly. But I guess we made that silent agreement to stay as strangers as a way for us to be who we want to be in front of the other without being judged one bit. We didn’t know each other’s backgrounds, so whatever we wanted to portray to the other was what the other got to see. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“But we showed, so much of ourselves to each other. Our relationship grew so deep in the span of two months. He was like... a familiarly unfamiliar stranger. If that makes any sense.” I moved all my down to fall on one shoulder, combing my hair with my fingers as I pursed my lips into a thin line.

I suddenly realised that we were in those “deep late night talk” vibes. It felt somewhat comforting, having a place where I could just let it all out. They made me feel safe and secured, everyone nodding their heads and letting my words sink in. “That’s a much more deep reason than what any of us have.” Haechan whispered, everyone nodding their heads firmly with affirmation.

“Well I can’t be dwelling on the past forever.” I smiled, one that I didn’t have to force out. “What time do you guys’ classes start tomorrow?” I asked with a raised brow of curiosity. “We all start in the afternoon.” Jisung suddenly gasped, making everyone’s heads turn to him. “Can we have a sleepover since we’re all here and cozy?” Jisung’s face lit up in such an adorable manner that made me laugh softly.

“Should we?” Jeno asked copying the smile I had on my face while we all exchanged looks. “I don’t mind. I have an eleven am lecture but I can go back to my dorm before then.” Jisung clapped his hands in excitement, shaking his body around happily. “Great!”

And that’s what we ended up doing. We kept up with the late night conversation, talking about anything and everything, going deep with our emotions and pouring it all out in our circle to be kept within us and us only. I was surprised at how much they shared with me despite it being my first day in the club but I liked that I was being trusted, it made me feel important. Eventually all of us slowly drifted off to sleep. But Jeno was wide awake. He couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the girl that had her head thrown back lazily as she snored softly in her sleep. With folded arms, his eyes narrowed down on her intensely, deep in thought.

“How am I going to tell him if it is what I think it is...?” Jeno whispered ever so softly, almost inaudible to himself. His head was spinning, countless of thoughts running through his mind. He was in a daze, not sure of what to do as if sandwiched between two options that he so desperately want to remove himself out of but can’t, for his best friend.

Digging deeper, he began to wonder what would be the aftermath of the different options he had laid out in front of him. This only sent him further down into the loophole of contemplation and confusion, not to mention the fact that he might be late for classes now due to staying up this late.

Morning came. I woke up, eyes half opened and just barely awake. I looked at the time on my phone. 9:05. Perfect amount of time for me to head back and get ready before class. I looked around, the room still dark due to the fact that there was little to no sunlight pssing through the cracks of the door. I slid myself out of the couch slowly and carefully. While trying go shimmy myself through the boys, I noticed a post it on Jeno’s shoulder. I leaned in, squinting my eyes to get them to focus.

“Wake me up before you head out, thanks.” My eyes flickered back and forth from the note and to Jeno who was sleeping peacefully. I puckered my lips, poking his shoulder gently. “Jeno? Wake up?” I urged with uncertainty. Jeno was quick to shoot his eyes open, glancing sideways before squinting his eyes to get his focus on me. “Thanks.” He whispered, sitting up and snatching the post-it from his arm to crumple it and throw it out in the dustbin.

“You could’ve woken up way later.” I said. Jeno hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I didn’t have the best sleep last night. Was scared that I’ll be late for class.” Jeno smiled softly at me, a tired but sincere smile. “Have a good day at class.” I bid him goodbye with the downshift of my head, exiting the play room and coming out of the common room to the basement.

Just as I was walking, I had my eyes glued on the floor. But I saw a figure speed walked pass. I glanced over my shoulder, the figure disappearing in a flash as they took a turn and entered the play room. I stopped for a moment, taking slow steps backwards till I reach the door, eyes squinting as I tried to think about who the person was. I peeked my head ever so slightly, not being able to get a clear look due to the darkness. However, I could tell it was a guy wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants. Having his hood on, his identity was completely concealed from the world’s view.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here. Go sleep at-” A slam of the door was heard right after, cutting Jeno’s words off entirely with the room falling silent again. I blinked my eyes rapidly. “That was Jaemin?” I asked myself, slowly walking in the direction I was headed before.

In the play room, Jaemin dropped himself face first into the couch that was empty now that she’s gone. Jeno pushed Jaemin’s leg to give him space to sit at the edge. “Why’re you here? I told you to sleep in your dorm where it’s comfortable-”

“I just wanted to sleep with you guys here.” Jaemin cut the other’s words quickly with a mutter. Jeno rolled his eyes, looking at how Jaemin had his hood up so much that it was covering half of his face. “You do know that _____ just left, right? Didn’t you see her on your way here?” Jaemin gave a light shrug, hugging himself with his arms wrapped around his torso.

“_____? Note taken. I genuinely didn’t care enough to notice.” Jaemin replied with much ignorance. Jeno clicked his tongue, shaking his head at his friend’s behaviour. “Jaemin, she’s a new member. At least talk to her soon. Also...” Jeno began, making Jaemin look to him slowly with uncertainty. One word from Jeno and he knows it’s be something serious. “You obviously won’t believe me but...”

“I think she’s the one.” Jeno whispered as he stared at Jaemin, their eyes locking its contact with each other. The air between them was nothing but silence, Jaemin resonated Jeno’s words ever so carefully in his mind, making sure he heard that correctly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one can be her.” Jaemin shot back with full denial, refusing to believe Jeno.

“But Jae-”

“Please, don’t talk about her. My heart can’t bear it at all.” Jaemin’s eyes grew soft with his words. Jeno could tell that he was breaking, slowly and silently. As much as he wants to help Jaemin, he can’t do anything if he refuses it, shutting the world out and dealing with it by himself. It was big enough of a surprise that Jaemin shared what happened with Jeno. He couldn’t possibly ask for more.

“Alright. But I’ll be saying ‘told you so’ once you meet her. That I know for sure.” Jeno slouched into the couch more, closing his eyes and wanting to rest them before class later in the afternoon while Jaemin was already asleep and snoring softly.

However, despite Jaemin’s eyes being closed, his mind was wide awake with his gears turning in his head. She can’t possibly be in this college. It couldn’t have been her that he walked past mindlessly moments ago. For some reason, he wanted to fully denial it. He didn’t want to believe Jeno at all. But how could he not? Jeno’s his best friend so why would he even lie? What was the reason for Jaemin’s strong delusion? The longer he thought, the more he realised that it was maybe the fact that he was too afraid to face her if she were to ever stand in front of him. Who knows what could have happened to someone you didn’t see in years? People change, and Jaemin was afraid as to how she did.

I wasn’t over at the play room everyday. But if I was, there’d always be someone there for me to hang out with. It was only during the weekends when the whole group would gather together and spend the day free of worries to escape from their realities. Two weeks have passed, and I have yet to encounter the Jaemin that everyone kept worrying over. I was holding in my curiosity for far too long.

“Hey, guys?” I asked after placing a card down. We were playing Uno. I nudged on Mark who was sitting beside me, telling him to place a card. Everyone turned their heads to me, some humming while others had their brows raised. “When can I meet Jaemin? I’m getting quite impatient.” I said with a frown on my face, hearing Mark slamming his card down and shouting, “Plus four, Renjun!” Renjun groaned, sliding one card at a time off the center stack. “He should be here any minute now.” “What do you mean?”

“We sorta guessed that on top of his busy schedule he seems to be avoiding you. Not sure why but we had to lie that you weren’t here so that he’ll come.” Haechan shrugged, it was now his turn, putting a card down. I leaned back slightly, stretching out my back since we’ve been sitting here for hours playing different board games.

“Uno!” Just when Chenle shouted, the door flung open, our heads shooting to the direction. I couldn’t believe what stood at the doorframe. “Jaemin there you are!” Jisung wanted to run up to him but Jaemin pushed him away lightly.

I was met with his eyes. I was in too much of a shock that my mind went blank. I wasn’t able to process any of this. It’s as if time stopped the moment we locked eyes. He’s in front of me, the stranger from the beach. Many emotions began to flood my mind. It was a mix of everything. Happiness, fear, anxiousness, confusion. He’s right in front of my eyes, yet he looked so different. He had jet black hair, his style completely changed too. He had a stoic face, not like the bright and cheerful one I’ve always seen.

“So you’re Jaemin...?”

“_____...”

Jaemin took wobbly steps back, his pupils shaking with his lips quievering as he ran right out of the door. Jeno blinked his eyes rapidly and instantly chased after his best friend. The room was filled with silence, everyone’s eyes still at the door as I was still frozen stiff from whatever that just happened. It went by too fast. My blank expression didn’t show emotions that were overflowing in my small mind.

Outside, Jaemin was running as fast as he could, wanting to not belive whatever he had just seen. She was there. She was in the same room. It took him a matter of seconds to see that she hasn’t changed. He didn’t need time to look at her to know that. But that wasn’t why Jaemin was running away.

“Wait! Jaemin!” Jeno reached for Jaemin’s wrist and forcefully turned him around. “What is going on with you?!” Jeno asked, concern imbued into his tone.

“What do you think, Jeno?! She’s in the fucking room. And the reason why I joined this club was to get over her. Now you’re telling me she’s in the same club which whole purpose is to not fall in love?! H-How do you think I could even stay in that god damn room without breaking at the sight of her? I told you before. I fucking fell in love with her. And seeing her after two years, it just makes me want to fall and melt into the floor since I can’t bare to face up to her after suffering for so long at her absence next to me, okay? I just... It’s too much to handle.”

Tears were pricking Jaemin’s eyes, but for the sake of his pride, he wanted to claim that not a single one fell, releasing Jeno’s grip on him and running. He didn’t know where, all he thought about was to continue running. He couldn’t stand still, he had to do something. And that something was to run away, not wanting to accept that he has to bear all the feelings and everything that comes with having to see her more often, especially in a club where falling in love was forbidden, having it to be the whole reason for the club being made in the first place.

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mello-jello · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday Hange - A Levihan Drabble

Gift giving was one of the easier ways Levi learned to express feelings, be it gratitude, love, or something else.

It is a yearly ritual now. Levi made chocolates for Hange that one time and she never let it go. She’d beg Levi to make her sweets and Levi would always relent. Her joy upon receiving it was always the best part for Levi. After all these years, she must just expect it by now, but she’d act with the same unadulterated enthusiasm every time.

It was always worth it. It was worth the time, the money, and the dishes. All worth it to see Hange smile.

Onyankopon had the car for the day- not that Levi would drive it- but Gabi had her licence now and would always jump at the chance to chauffeur. Gabi would have dutifully wheeled Levi to anywhere and everywhere he wanted. She would have, if only he had asked. Even without access to the car, Levi’s trip would have only been a couple of hours.

He spent the day in different bakeries, multiple farmers’ markets, and countless shops. His wheelchair certainly made the journey more difficult but he was in no rush. He took his time comparing the ingredients for Hange’s Birthday cake, wanting the best Marley had to offer.

Levi trudges through the door and Onyankopon greets him from the living room, where he sat with a book and glass of whisky.

“Hey, Levi, where have you been?” He hollers.

Levi doesn’t answer as he was struggling with the bags. Onyankopon peeks around the corner and smiles knowingly. “Oh I see, is it that time already?”

“It would seem so,” Levi replied dryly.

Onyankopon watches Levi hobble over to the kitchen. Past experiences taught him not to offer any help. This was Levi’s yearly project, his leg be damned.

“What flavour this time?” He asked.

“Lemon Raspberry,” Levi stated.

“Ah, Hange’ll love that,” he said with a smile and returned to his reading.

Once Levi unpacked all the ingredients, he donned his apron, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work. It’s late, but he should be done in time.

He measures two round segments of parchment paper to line the cake pans with and greases both sides. In a large bowl he takes all the wet ingredients and mixes. He adds in the eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition, and scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. It is tedious work, but anything for Hange.

He can’t stand for very long, but the tall kitchen stool is tall enough for Levi to continue working.

Next, Levi whisks together the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients and folds them into each other until everything is just barely combined. Levi fights the urge to get all the clumps out, but this recipe calls for lumps and dry streaks.

“Tch.” Stupid Four-Eyes. Of course she’d like this weird recipe.

In a separate bowl, he washes and gently tosses fresh raspberries in some flour. He adds to the batter and folds them in, again, being careful to not over mix.

He then divides the batter evenly between the two pans and puts them in the oven. Time for a tea break. He slowly sips as the room is filled with the smell of fresh baked cake, a hint of the crisp raspberries and lemon. He is already quite satisfied with the way it smells. Now to get started on Hange’s favourite part: the frosting.

It is a thick cream cheese frosting, and Levi’s arms are sore from all the mixing. He constantly switches because his non-dominant arm is less comfortable but his dominant hand is missing 2 fingers. He adds in lemon zest, lemon juice, and salt. He remembers when salt was a luxury in Paradis. Now it sits on his dinner table. He continues beating the frosting until it’s very light and fluffy. He dips his pinky into the batter and licks it, testing the taste. His face scrunches up at the sweetness. Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He checks the cakes, making sure the tops are a nice golden brown. He sticks a toothpick in the centres, and is content when they both come out clean. Levi takes the cakes and puts them on a rack to cool.

He is not one to leave a mess for very long, and so he gets started on the dishes. Levi is feeling hot, with the exertion compounded by the heat of the oven. He wipes his brow and decides to shower while he waits for the cakes to cool off. Onyankopon is in bed now, and Levi realizes how late it’s getting. He’d better make this quick, or else he was going to miss it.

Feeling refreshed from his shower and clean clothes, Levi returns to the kitchen. He brews a fresh pot of tea and gets to work on decorating.

He spreads some frosting along with chunks of raspberry on top of one of the cakes, and layers the other on top, pressing down lightly to seal them together. He uses a knife to shave the sides so they are even with one another. The double layer dessert is starting to take form.

Levi meticulously smoothes out the thick icing on the top and sides of the cake, making it completely unblemished. He garnishes the top with a handful of raspberries around the perimeter and a lemon slice in the middle. It looks just like the one he saw in the bakery a little while back. He looks up at the clock. It’s almost time.

He can practically hear Hange’s whoops of excitement. She’d scruff up his hair and make some joke about how something so sweet came from someone so salty. He can already feel her arms around him in an embrace of gratitude. Levi smiles to himself as he places a single candle in the center of the little cake and lights it. He watches as the delicate flame dances in the dark. He takes this moment to reminisce, remember, and mourn.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimes, indicating it was midnight.

“Happy Birthday Hange,” Levi says to the candle before blowing it out.

#levihan #levihan drabble #levihan fanfiction

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whump-town · 3 years ago

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The Paths to Revenge

Warnings: same old, same old... just some stabbing

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Summary: Doyle nonsense but make it Hotch/Morgan for the fun of it.

Clyde goes first.

“No one else can know,” JJ had whispered feverishly. She’d looked nearly insane, had come unattached in her months away from them and now pulled back into the whirling black hole of the mess he created by force, cruelly unnatural. “He will kill her. If he—” she’d choked on the words, tears starting to fall down her face. She had looked up at him with a wordless inquiry, sadness and disappointment laced in the fingers she wove into his. If this wouldn’t break him, what would? If he couldn’t cry now, for his best friend, would he ever cry again?

“You can’t tell Derek.”

It’s not their first secret. Hotch severely doubts it's their last.

The grace with which Derek Morgan seems to live has always bewildered Aaron. There is something about the way that Derek breathes gentleness, cupped hands so gentle his fingers could pry apart and life would still be captured in his hands. The fluttering of delicate butterfly wings twitching in his warm palms. Torn between desires, Aaron could never understand if he wished for those palms to close around his throat. To solidify him as something wretched, so undeserving of Derek’s endless, gentle love that he might stifle it once and for all. In another breath, he wishes he could curl himself up to be something so small and so delicate that Derek might hold him like that. Like something worth preserving, worth loving.

Those hands do not wrap around his throat, applying crushing pressure until Aaron is no more. They come to frame Aaron’s face, their warmth seeping into the bone chill of his body. Thumb stroking along a worry line stretched wide by his deep frown. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Derek whispers, he’s desperate to be them again. For Aaron to settle back down and find him, to lean into his touch. Hotch’s weary but tense with panic and restlessness. Not sleeping. Hardly eating. Derek can’t keep watching this and he’s not sure how much longer Aaron can keep it up. “I can see it in your eyes, I can always tell.”

Before their relationship, Derek had been jealous of everything that Emily and Aaron had. At the time he hadn’t known it for what it was, his unrequited love making him bitter. He had just seen the way they looked at one another, the way they worked and he’d wanted to be that person for Aaron too. Emily’s intuition had lead her to find Aaron after Foyet’s attack, all based on nothing more than a feeling. While Derek had felt boiling rage and the inability to so much as look at Aaron while he suffered alone in that hospital bed. Derek had been jealous of how easily they spoke with one another, in a language no one else really understood. How Emily could comfort Hotch — she was allowed to touch him and hug him and press a kiss to his cheek or even drag him down several steps by the ear to reprimand him like a child. While even comforting gestures Derek attempted seemed to piss Hotch off.

But now Emily’s dead and Derek wishes she was here. So that he can hear Aaron laugh again. To argue loudly and pointless about Sean Connery vs Daniel Craig — how Aaron’s never cared about either but he gets all soft around the edges listening to Emily and Derek bicker more and more as the night goes on. To be happy and close.

And, maybe, Derek just misses his best friend too.

Both of them.

It starts with Clyde. National television doesn’t pick it up, it’s the sort of affair that’s quickly suffocated to prevent mass media from getting word. It reaks with the proper stench of death, Clyde Easter bound to a chair in his London flat. His own blood in a pool at his feet, head hung in the final submission of death. Severally tortured. The strain of an entire week of torture, hunger, and exhaustion taking its toll. Died of a heart attack. Aaron doesn’t need to be told what’s happening, he couldn’t even talk about it if he wanted to. He’s only given what he’s needed, a warning that he’s next and to watch out.

Aaron just prays Derek isn’t there when it happens. He’s allowed this one small grace.

“Ice cream,” Derek says more to the room than to Aaron, the idea had dawned on him so suddenly he’d spoken it out loud. Having spent another weekend inside, moping from their bed to the couch to the kitchen back to their bed, Derek is buzzing with energy he needs to do something with. Grief and this lie Aaron holds sucks him rather dry of the will to do anything. It seems the energy he’s supposed to have has gone to Derek, makes him worse. “Ice cream,” Derek repeats with a clap of his hand. “I’m going to get ice cream and you don’t have to come with me but I’d really like you to.”

Aaron looks up, hair a mess on the top of his head and shoulders sinking impossibly low in their joints as exhaustion sweeps over him. He’s incapable of so much as looking at Derek, having to see how hopeful and how loving he’s being looked at. All he’s ever wanted was to be loved and now he’s got it and he can’t face the vulnerability that cracks through his sternum every time Derek touches him. How every demonstration of love is such debilitating proof of how broken he is. How hopeless.

“I’ll bring you back a tub of Rocky Road.” Derek slides his jacket on, he’s not annoyed. No matter how convinced Hotch is, Derek isn’t even bothered. He knew he was going to get ice cream alone and, though he’d rather not do it alone, that’s okay.

Once his feet are shoved into his sneakers he comes back around the side of the couch and kisses the top of Hotch’s head, messing further with his hair. “I love you.”

Derek couldn’t remember what the last thing he said to Emily was. It kept him up at night trying to piece together every last second he had before she was taken from him before the nurses pulled them in opposite directions. Did she know he loved her? How glad he was that she was someone that not only he could trust but that Aaron had too? It’s the sort of thing that weighs down heavily on him. Now he can’t leave anyone without saying it.

Aaron has the opposite problem. Pulls away so that in case this happens again he won’t get hurt.

“I love you too,” he answers but hoarsely and to the sound of Derek walking away.

Jack is with Jessica. She takes Hotch’s emotional distance with grace, allows him this little period of reprieve while he tries to get back into the swing of things. He’s lost both of his best friends in a year’s span of time and is still really struggling to understand how to integrate himself fully into his relationship with Derek.

Life, it seems, has been throwing hard balls and it’s not getting any easier.

Derek kicks his shoes off at the door, more Aaron’s habit than his but he’s learning to uphold it. “I got rainbow sprinkles,” he calls out. “I know you have a reputation to uphold but I also know you love them—” Derek tosses the bags up onto the counter, smirking even in his slight confusion. He’d figured Aaron would have come looking for him once the front door opened. He’s vigilant about that sort of stuff. Even if he does know logically it’s just Derek. “Hey—” he’s greeted by the dark living room. It’s undeniably odd. “Where’d you—” Derek smirks when he sees Aaron’s back, even bowed and distressed it’s still undeniably him. “Aaron?”

A gun cocks at his head and Derek freezes, eyes never leaving Aaron’s. “Sit down.” Derek opens his mouth, going to argue or fight but Aaron looks away. Gaze sinking to the floor as his head rolls down, chin on his chest. “Sit down!” Derek listens, not out of fear of the gun just in his line of sight but because he can’t think past the sight of blood smeared across the side of Aaron’s face. The way his right eye is red with blood, his temple drooling angrily down his cheek. “I have to admit,” the dark of the room caves to what little light is in the house, and Derek tenses. Recognizes him immediately.

“You fucker—”

The gun is moved, away from his head and to Aaron’s bowed temple. “Sit. Down.”

Derek hadn’t even realized it, he’d just stood like he could do something in the face of a gun. Now he certainly can’t, being the cause of his own life’s end is one thing but to hurt Aaron is another. He sits back down, eases his way back to a sitting position with his hands on the table. He won’t do anything fast.

“You know what I want.” Ian Doyle stands in their house, smirking at the wet sound of Aaron’s blood dripping on the floor. “Tell me where she is.”

Derek opens his mouth to answer, a snippy — “she’s dead” — but Aaron looks up at him. The look they share is laced with mixed truths and the bold lie woven between the three men. His bloody eye, pupil blown wide staring back at Derek with all the answers he needs. Emily had died for them. She’d chased down her past and fought it all alone for them. Derek wondered if that meant she didn’t trust them, didn’t think they were capable of undertaking this threat with them. Looking at Aaron, watching his chest rise and fall in choking breathes, Derek wishes he couldn’t understand the solemn warrior trope. That he didn’t know the truth.

“She’s dead,” Derek mumbles but he’s not so sure about that anymore.

Ian smirks, unfooled. “See,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s what your friend here keeps telling me.” Ian shakes his head, taking the muzzle of the gun and grazing it across Hotch’s head. Trailing it through his hair. “I remain unconvinced.”

Aaron looks hopelessly up at Derek, a tear sliding down through the blood on his cheek. Caught on his eyelash, trailing over the duct tape on his mouth.

The knife comes out of nowhere. Slammed down into Aaron’s thigh with no warning. The duct tape obstructs his breathing, leaves Aaron gasping, struggling to breathe. He groans, sucking in air through his nose but it’s not enough. Aaron’s eyelids flutter, his head tilted back as he trembles. Face drained of color, his breathing getting worse. More strained, shallow.

Derek jerks his head away, clenching his teeth when Doyle jerks the knife back out of the wound. Aaron makes an awful sound, pained and unconscious.

“Tell me!” Doyle slams his fist down on the table. Completely ignores Aaron’s noises, his pained cries as he wheezes around the ducktape. “Tell me or I’ll kill him.”

Derek shakes his head, “no, no—”

“It’s not that hard,” Doyle sneers, patience is gone. “Her for him, choose!”

Derek shakes his head again, his own tear falling down. “I don’t know,” he whispers. Derek starts to tremble, rage replacing hopelessness. Angered to the point of tears. “She’s dead! We buried her!”

Doyle shouts, “fine! You want to keep playing games?” Doyle raises the knife up between them, letting the blade punctuate the question. “You will always lose Agent Morgan. Always—”

“No!”

Aaron’s eyes fly back open, a scream muffled by the duct tape. “I’ll find her,” Doyle promises. “It doesn’t matter what you do.” Aaron’s head falls down to chest, eyes falling shut. “And when I find her, there’s nothing that you’ll be able to do to stop me.” Doyle reaches down, fingers slick with Aaron’s blood, and pulls the knife from Aaron’s chest. “Last chance,” Doyle whispers with a grin. He steps back, “last game, last question: me or Agent Hotchner?”

Derek doesn’t wait for Doyle to get out of sight, he moves immediately to the other side of the room. He steps behind the chair Hotch is tied to, seeing for the first time the ropes wrapped around his arms. The way he’s constrained to the chair, unable to move. “Aaron,” Derek lifts his head up, his fingers under Aaron’s chin. His skin is clammy, cold against Derek’s palm. “Aaron, hey! Look at me, keep your eyes open. Aaron?” His head is heavy, limp in Derek’s hold. “Aaron, please. Stay with me.”

He stops breathing in the ambulance, airway preserved by the tracheal tube bulged in his throat. His heart beats too quickly, pounding away in his ribcage. Derek feels like just yesterday he was living this exact horror movie, Emily’s cold hand unresponsive in his. Dark hair a crown on poignant contrast. Life held in the balance, raw existence. Again, Derek feels the pitter of a heartbeat against his fingertips. Again his breath is held as nurses pull him one way and his heart is torn from his chest.

What will JJ have to say this time?

Will the same tears shine in her eyes? The same trepidation? Their lie is bleeding out on a stretcher being pushed down a luminescent hallway. As pale as the death they created. Perhaps this is the price one pays when meddling with things beyond control. Things that are not to be messed with. The evil Derek’s mother forbade him from playing with. Worse than the handmade ouija board under his bed, death’s creator laying on his chest.

Lying dead in his arms.

Derek Morgan sits for six hours, entirely alone in the waiting room. Each breath could be the last he shares with Aaron and he won’t know for several more to come. They labor on, Aaron’s controlled by machines and Derek’s by the flood of emotions weighing him down. He can only control himself for so long, holding down the bitter failures of the last few days. His anger is intense, uncontrollable.

“You lied.” It’s the middle of the night, Garcia’s hair still pulled back in pigtails and JJ’s in a clip at the back of her head. The waiting room isn’t full of special agents, dressed to the nines ready for a fight. Derek sees only their family, leggings, and sweatpants, and he can’t take it.

“You lied,” Derek repeats to the floor. “She’s not dead and now Aaron—” his voice catches. Derek rubs his hands down his eyes, looks up at them unashamed of the tears falling down his face. Her fault. JJ and her stupid lie. “I’ll never forgive you. If he dies… If he dies because of this stupid shit, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Derek—”

“Not now.”

Sixty-two hours. Over two days of sitting and measuring machine regulated breathes. Three nights of sleeping in a chair, falling asleep to the sounds of machines and thin blankets pulled to his chin. Aaron twitches and each time Derek thinks he’s going to wake up but his pleas are meant with more silence.

It’s sitting. Waiting. Watching. The waiting room has become his third home, where he’s kicked to when Aaron’s getting another test or scan. He’s left with only the anxieties of the unknown. He spends hours just drumming his knee, head in his hands. That’s a long time to sit and think about all things you’ve said in the past.

They hunt him down, attempting to softly fill in the holes with medical jargon. Stammering and averting his gaze to the tiled floor under his feet. “Uhm,” he rubs at his eyes. “I--I don’t want to know.” He doesn’t care that the doctor looks stunned, entirely caught off guard. “Someone else,” he mumbles, head still ducked as he steps into the room. Leaving the doctor in the hall. “Tell someone else when they arrive.” He just can’t do it. He can’t hear all that medical bullshit and still have this blind hope that everything will turn out.

He grabs a chair from the ones lining the wall across from Hotch’s bed, pulling it right up to Hotch’s side and throwing himself into it unceremoniously. Derek looks everywhere but Hotch. He got a glance in and he knows what there is to see. Tape twisting Hotch’s lips around the tube down his throat. All pale skin, still hands, and machines. Derek huffs, shaking his head, and picks at his cuticles. They’ve all been through so much but Hotch…

They never really get a break, do they?

He wishes he could go back to when it was just the three of them. Hotch, Gideon, and himself against the world. When it was Hotch’s desk he kicked his feet up on, watching him eat his lunch or snack in a certain order. Thirty years old and still saving his dessert for after his sandwich and carrots. The only person Derek’s ever met that cared or noticed the apparent lack of yellow and green M&Ms compared to the other colors. Also, the only person Derek knows who sits and sorts them out. Putting them in a neat line and two of each color-- one M&M for each side of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes sting and he rubs them roughly, shaking his head and forcing himself to pull it together. He’s not going to cry over Hotch sharing those odd M&Ms with him. Not going to think about how close they used to be, how things have changed for the better and the worse. He’s not going to die, so there’s no need to think like that.

They’ll be fine.

Everything is fine.

Garcia finds Ian Doyle, he never left Virginia.

Emily’s already on a plane coming over.

Killing Clyde Easter was revenge. It had been personal. For creating Lauren Reynolds and then for taking her away. Hurting Aaron was just convenience. Doyle knew Clyde’s death would sting but it would be no reason to come home, no reason to bring Emily home. There would be nothing she could do about the affair by the time she got word of his death. Hurting Aaron, though. Hurting one of the people Emily had supposedly died to protect, would work like a charm. It would draw her out.

Ian Doyle hadn’t planned for Derek Morgan. Not fully. He knew Derek would arrive when he needed him to, with enough time to keep Agent Hotchner sparingly alive. To make sure Doyle made it clear he knew Emily Prentiss is alive, to stir the team. Pin them against one another. Even against their downed leader. Take out the strongest first -- and that’s where Doyle hadn’t really known them. Aaron is fearless, he’s stupidly brave, but he’s not stupid. He won’t be blinded by his feelings. What Doyle did was stifle their logic, he disabled the one person who would have allowed Doyle to escape. What Doyle did was piss off five agents tired of losing the people they love.

Aaron gets worse on his own.

Garcia stays home, someone needs to be there in case Hotch wakes up. It’s not hard to figure out why they’d want to leave her behind. She’s stronger at home, has what she needs. And Derek’s terrified something will happen.

Ian Doyle finds Declan, it’s all the same story. Confused children and manipulative adults. There are no bittersweet reunions -- not between biological father and son and not between Emily and the others. Doyle and Emily have set fire to the families they had. Held a lighter over the portrait and watched the color melt to grey and then to black. Piercing a hole in the heart.

The airstrip lights up in heavy gunfire.

Derek doesn’t fire a shot. He wishes he had, for his own selfish fire starving out. He doesn’t shoot for Aaron. This isn’t what he’d want. This mess that they’ve all made. Aaron’s morals are always getting in the way of things but as Derek lowers his gun he’s flooded with relief. His anger abating, exhaustion seeping in. Ian Doyle dies on the tarmac. Spread out on his back and choking on blood. It takes four minutes.

It doesn’t feel long enough.

Not after everything he’s taken.

“Derek?”

He can hear it in her voice.

“I think-- Oh God, I think something is wrong.”

Emily had died. Derek had watched the monitor run-flat.

She’s a ghost and Aaron’s dying. This time no matador’s cape will dance, shaking free the threat with deadly precision. No magician to pull up the curtain, to show them the trap door.

“How is he?” Emily asks

“Alive,” JJ mumbles. “They’re not sure for how long--” she shrugs and Reid makes a choked sound, blushing and wiping his face clean of the tears still dry on his cheek. JJ just glances at him. “He’s holding on, Morgan’s with him.” The dismissiveness in her tone is not a reflection of how she feels, truly. It’s just a protective measure to ensure she doesn’t break. If she stops for even a moment she will cry and she’s still trying to convince herself that this is going to work out.

Aaron can’t die now. He’s laced hesitation into Derek’s logic. Changed too many things about him -- taught him the magic of rainbow sprinkles and how to cut hair with nothing but kitchen scissors and the bathroom mirror. Derek’s learned the magic of loving his best friend. Hating the person he shares a bed with. Being unable to sleep without the heat of Aaron’s body close by, no more than a breath away.

With those gentle hands, meant to capture thrashing wild things, Derek Morgan cups Aaron’s face. “I can see what you’re thinking,” he whispers. The intubation machines are gone, one step forward. Aaron lays flat on his back, an oxygen mask over his face. Across his bare chest are machine leads, pads left stuck to his chest. His heart is giving out. “Don’t--” Derek shakes his head, clearing his throat. He uses the back of his hand to push away a tear. “Don’t leave me, Aaron. Not now.”

Every muscle in Aaron’s body is stiff with pain untouchable by the maxed-out morphine. Cold sweat streaks across his body, makes him shiver, and clench his teeth down when the small movements spike worse pain. The thin sheet across his hips does nothing. It feels colder than the rest of the room, not even the reassuring pressure of it seems to help. His muscles ache from the tension. From the rounds he’s lost against the crash cart.

If he could force his jaw open, unclench it from the pain, he’d beg Derek for a blanket. Something warm or comforting. For relief. Anything.

He wakes to movement. It takes him too long to realize it’s his body being moved. “Easy.” Aaron looks up, confused by the sight of Emily and Derek standing side-by-side. “Here--” They work together, moving his body slowly. They try not to hurt him but he feels lit up inside. A pyre in his chest set ablaze with a match. Agonizing. He closes his eyes tight, detached enough to lose focus of where their hands are on his body.

“Aaron?”

When he can open his eyes again, he’s looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey, there sleeping beauty.”

There are pillows under one of his sides, another tucked under his thigh.

“Don’t--” He’s not even aware he’s doing it, not until he’s looking at the hand Emily’s just smacked. “Are you an actual child? Stop touching everything.” She stands and he watches in amazement as she bends over him and fixes the oxygen canal under his nose. Her hand grazes his cheek and she’s real. She’s here. When she notices his confusion she smirks, “seeing a ghost, Hotch?”

“Emily.” Oh, Derek. Hotch looks over at him, a dopey smirk he’s not even aware of spreading across his face. When Derek sees it, he loses his tension. The sting of his reprimand, who still thinks it’s too soon for Emily’s dead jokes, is gone. “How do you feel?” he asks even though he’s not sure Hotch has managed to find his words. His answer is that smile, growing wider as Derek kisses his cheek.

Aaron closes his eyes the second he sees Derek freeing his hands, sighing contently before Derek can even lean over and cup his face in his hands. They’re warm from the coffee he went to get, familiar in all the safest ways. “I missed you,” Derek whispers. Derek kisses him again, on his smiling lips. Unbothered that Aaron’s too out of his mind to work his mouth, just hums back, turns further into Derek’s touch.

Recovery will not be fun. Aaron got his wish. His best friend and his boyfriend back and it hardly cost him a thing. They'll both smother him, taking turns bossing him around.

He's never been so relieved to hear them arguing this early in the morning.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanficiton #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #ian doyle #hotchgan #mortch

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

Love and Medicine ~ 6

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,710ish

Summary: Val throws a party. You remember the date.

Warning: talk of sex / I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.

The morning came and you laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling. You really wanted to go meet Steve for breakfast, but you knew you probably shouldn’t. With a heavy sigh, you turned over to look at your bedside clock. There was 30 minutes until it was time to meet Steve. You could make it in time, if you went. You also had the day off so if you didn’t go, you wouldn’t run in to Steve today anyway.

After another five minutes of debating, you heaved yourself up and hurried into your bathroom. You got ready quickly, not going too overboard with trying to impress him. As you ran down the stairs, you shoved Clint out of the way.

“Woah!” He exclaimed. “What’s the rush?”

“Sorry, Clint!” You replied, not stopping. “I gotta go!”

When you finally got to the cafe, you were a few minutes late and Steve was already at an outside table. You noticed that he looked a little nervous. He was sketching in a notebook, knee bouncing under the table.

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, having walked quietly up to the table.

Steve’s head snapped up. He looked a little surprised and relieved to see you standing there. “Uh, no,” he smiled. He motioned to the seat across from him. “Be my guest.”

“Thank you,” you pulled out your chair and sat down. He handed you the menu. You took it before looking at the notebook on the table. There was a sketch of you on the open page. “Wow. Did you draw that?”

Steve quickly shut the book and set it in his lap. “You weren’t suppose to see that. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, it was really good.”

“Thank you.”

“Why didn’t you go into art?”

“Doesn’t pay the bills. Plus, brains are more fun.”

You laughed. “I guess so.”

The two of you order food and sat there for a few hours talking. It was mostly him asking about you and you telling him extremely long stories. You had just finished one about you and your parents that left him laughing.

“You’re parents sound amazing,” Steve said, finishing off his laugh. “I would love to meet them some day.”

You stopped, immediately looking sad. Just the thought of your parents caused you to remember something. The date. It would be the first anniversary of their deaths in two days.

“Y/N?” Steve broke you out of your trace. You looked at him, a furrowed brow and worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I… I should go,” you stood, scraping your chair against the ground as you did. Steve quickly stood up as well, surprised at your sudden need to leave. “I really need to go.”

You hurried out of the cafe’s fenced on section. You didn’t make it much farther before Steve’s large hand was around your bicep, stopping you.

“You’re surprising fast,” he tried to joke. You clearly weren’t having it. “What’s the rush?” He tried to study your eyes, they looked pained. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll see you at work, Steve. Please.” You tugged away from him. “I have to go.”

He stood there, watching, as you hurried off to your car and drove into traffic.

~~~

You went straight to the hospital, willingly taking someone’s shift to get your mind off everything. You did not want to remember it and you definitely didn’t want to drown yourself in grief. You were going to work it off.

By the time your intern friends got to the hospital, you had been there for 20 hours. You ate and caught sleep when you could but it was never very much. Valkyrie immediately came up to you and told you about a party she wanted to throw for her girlfriend that was coming into town. You agreed to it, absentmindedly since you were so tired, on the condition that it wouldn’t be very big.

Before you knew it, the day of the anniversary arrived, and you were doing everything possible to avoid thinking about it. Thankfully, you hadn’t seen Steve since you hurried away. You really didn’t want to explain it all to him. It was early morning when Dr. Banner pulled you into a surgery. You were holding the heart as he worked, with your fellow interns watching from the gallery.

“I wish I could hold a heart,” Scott whined.

“A monkey could hold a heart,” Natasha responded.

“You’re just mad that Banner didn’t ask you.”

“Has anyone noticed that Y/N’s been acting strange lately?” Clint asked, eyes trained on you below. “Like, more than usual.”

“I haven’t,” Natasha shrugged.

“She’s probably just having a bad day,” Scott said.

“Clint!” Val came into the gallery. “I need more ice and chips.”

“Who else did you invite, Val?” He asked.

“Val, we said the list was jocks only. Surgery, Trauma, Plastics.”

“I invited a few of the people from Peds.”

“Great!” Natasha scoffed. “You invited the kindergarteners to Y/N’s place. The next thing you’ll say is that you invited the shrinks.” Val winced. “You invited the mental defects? This party’s going to suck.”

“You know that Y/N thinks this is just going to be a little, small, meet-your-girlfriend cocktail thing, right?” Clint questioned.

“Yes. I’ll tell her the change in plans though. I promise.”

“Why are you wasting the only weekend your girlfriend is in town on a big party?” Natasha asked. “Is she bad in bed?”

“No,” Val chuckled. “I just want her to meet some of my friends.”

“Right. Sixty some odd geeks in scrubs are your friends.” Her pager went off, causing her to look at it and get up to leave. “Bad sex, sucks for you.”

“Did I hear correctly that there’s a party at Y/N’s house tonight?” Peter asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Oh really, a party?” Natasha responded, playing down.

“Uh, news to me,” Scott added.

“Yeah, no party,” Clint said.

~~~

The surgery was long, but amazing. Though it still didn’t help get your mind off the day.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, coming up beside you as you headed to the elevator. “I heard you did a CABG with Banner.”

“Yeah,” you responded.

“Did you get to hold the heart?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s an amazing feeling. You never forget your first time.”

“It was pretty great just to watch,” Clint said, sliding in between the two of you. “Vicarious thrills, you know?”

“Yeah,” you replied again, too caught up in your mind to do anything else.

The elevator dinged and you and Clint walked on. You turned around to see Steve, still standing outside the elevator, looking concerned.

“I’ll see you later,” he commented, the furrow of his brow never changing.

“Bye,” you responded as the doors shut. Clint was leaning back against the wall, watching you. It was eerily silent until you finally spoke. “My parents died a year ago today,” it was a whisper.

“What?” Clint stood up straight, coming towards you. “How—“

“They were driving in a canyon. The road was icy…. Dad lost control of the car… it dove off the cliff.”

“Oh my goodness. Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“I’ve never told anyone what happened before.” A single tear slipped down your cheek. “My parents… they were famous surgeons. I… I changed my last name after they died.”

“Y/N, who were they?” The elevator doors opened.

“I’ve got to go.”

You rushed out, quickly disappearing in the crowd of doctors and nurses before Clint could follow you. You weren’t watching were you were going, in search for an on call room to break in. You rammed into someone, stumbling back. The person’s hands quickly landed on your biceps, holding you steady.

“Woah there,” Dr. Stark chuckled. “What’s the rush?”

You looked up, teary eyed and embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Stark,” you rushed out. “Let me just—“

“Now, hold on a damn minute.” He got a good look at your face, there was clearly something wrong. “What’s going on?”

“Dr. Stark, I really don’t think—“

“Here.” He pulled you into an empty on call room. “Talk.”

“Dr. Stark, this isn’t appropriate.”

“Neither are the giant heart eyes my friend Steve has every time you walk by. You’re clearly upset, and I want to help. I was also friends with your parents.”

“What?”

“You’re parents are the reason I’m alive. I had an accident a few years back, shrapnel too close to my heart. They saved me. So, I owe it to them to watch over you.”

“You really don’t, Dr. Stark.”

“The name’s Tony.”

“Tony. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know what today is. I’ve been dreading this day for a week now. I can only imagine how you must be feeling.” You looked up, trying to blink away the tears. “Did you change your name because of the accident?”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of living in my dead parents shadows… it was too much.”

“Understood… does Steve know?”

“No.”

“You should tell him.”

“I don’t want people to know.”

“Yeah, but Steve isn’t people, is he?” You didn’t answer so Tony sighed. “Look, I have no right to tell you who you tell or don’t tell. But… Steve’s a good person. He’s been through his far share of struggles. He’d be just willing to listen, if that’s all you wanted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Tony.”

“Anytime.” He walked to the door, opening it to head out. “Oh and, by the way,” he turned to look at you, “I’m totally rooting for the two of you.”

~~~

Natasha was standing at a nurses station, filling out some paperwork, when a cup of coffee was set beside her. She glanced over to see Dr. Banner, sipping his own cup, looking back at her.

“Just coffee,” he said with a nervous smile.

Natasha looked confused. “Good,” she responded.

“Okay.”

Bruce gave her a nod before walking away. Closing what she was doing, Natasha hesitated before picking up the coffee and drinking it. Unknown to her, Bruce and Tony were peeking around the corner and watching her. Hiding back behind the corner, they high fived.

“Look at what taking my advice can do, Bruce,” Tony exclaimed.

“Alright, alright,” Bruce agreed. “Maybe I should listen a little more often.”

“Damn right you should.”

“Dr. Stark,” Dr. Potts called, heading towards the nurses station. “Please watch your language around the patients.” She began filling out a chart.

“My deepest apologies, Dr. Potts. We were just celebrating victory.” She still did not look impressed. “You know what would be even more worth celebrating? You, finally accepting a date from me.”

“Okay,” she replied, not bothering to look up.

“You’ve given me that excuse before, and it hasn’t stopped me— wait… did you just agree?”

“I did.” She handed over the chart to the nurse before facing Tony. “I’m only free Friday night. Will that work?”

“Um… yeah…”

“Pick me up in the lobby at 7.” Then Pepper strutted away.

“Look at you go, Tony,” Bruce laughed, putting an arm over his friends shoulders. “She finally said yes.”

“Yeah, and I have 3 surgeries and a meeting with the chief Friday night.”

Bruce grimaced. “Well, you’ll either have to cancel everything or just wine and dine her over a boob job.”

“I’m definitely going to need it covered.”

~~~

After your talk with Tony, you focused on helping a few patients. You were getting a file from the nurses station to help your next one when Steve walked up to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, still concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure? Cause you seem not okay.”

“I’m fine. The CABG was just long.”

“Well, let me take you out to dinner tonight. You can tell me all about it. Real food, waiters, big chunks of carbs in a basket.”

“I can’t.”

“Forget about the party.”

“You know about the party?”

“Your friends will be at the party. You and I can be alone somewhere else.”

“How do you know about the party?”

“Thanks for not inviting me, by the way. That felt good.”

“I didn’t— it’s supposed to be a small get together. Nothing big.”

“Sure doesn’t sound that way to me. Anyway, dinner. Think about dinner.” His pager went off. He looked down at it before looking back at you. “I’ve got to go. But, think about it.”

~~~

Natasha, Clint, and Scott were sitting in the abandoned hallway as Val walked in.

“Okay, so the beer’s coming at 7,” she told them all. “And some of the floor nurses are bringing wine.”

“You invited nurses?” Natasha asked.

“Did you clear this with Y/N?” Scott asked.

“A few more people isn’t going to make a different. Okay? A party’s a party.”

“But it will,” Clint said. “She’s having a day.”

“And the bigger the party, the less time for bad sex with the girlfriend,” Natasha added.

“Would you stop saying that?” Val was getting annoyed. “Britt and I have great sex.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“All the time.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“In fact, we’ll probably have sex during and after the party.”

“As long as you clear the party with Y/N,” Clint cut in.

“Britt just needs to realize that doctors can have fun. That we’re not all workaholics with god complexes.”

“We are workaholics with god complexes.”

“Just please tell tell Y/N before the party,” Clint continued. “Just… please.”

~~~

Having a few moments to breathe, you sat in the lobby, staring out the window. You were flipping your cell phone in your hand. The few people left who knew you and what day it was had kept trying to call you, leaving long, saddened voicemails and texts. You were ignoring all of it, not wanting to try and make the others feel better when it was your day to be off.

“Hey,” Steve plopped down in the chair next to you. “I heard.”

“You heard what?” You were immediately scared about what he could have heard.

“That you and Tony had a talk.”

“Oh… did he tell you what we talked about?”

“No. He just told me that I should talk to you and let you have the day to not be okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. But that’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and stood up from your chair. “We’re adults,” you started walking backwards so you could still face him. “When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?”

Steve stood up. “Y/N—“

“I’ll see you later, Dr. Rogers.”

You took your leaving, heading straight for the locker room. You had decided that you were heading to the cemetery, or to the bar across the street. It was time for you to head anyway.

~~~

“You paged me?” Clint questioned Val as he walked up to her.

“I’m gonna be a while,” she responded. “Do you think you could get home and sign for the beer?”

“Why don’t you have your girlfriend sign for it?” Peter asked, randomly showing up.

“You have a very annoying way of sneaking up on people. And you’re not invited.”

“I wouldn't come anyway. I hate big parties.”

“Is Y/N the only person in the medical center who doesn’t know the size of this thing?” Clint asked.

“I’m telling her,” Val said. “I’ll page her now.”

“You can’t,” Natasha said, walking up. “She’s gone already.”

“What? Already?”

“She’s been here for almost 48 hours. It was time for her to go.”

“You don’t think Y/N’s really going to mind about the party, right?”

“When you tell her, I want you to make it very clear to her that I had nothing to do with this party,” Clint responded. “Nothing.”

“Why? Do you—you like her!”

“N-no!”

“And not just as a roommate!”

“I’ve got to go.”

~~~

You decided to drive around instead of going to the cemetery or the bar. You headed to your house, knowing you’re late for the party. As you drove up, there were cars lining the street and lots of people heading into your house.

“Val, I’m going to kill you,” you murmured.

After finally finding somewhere to park, you walked into the house. There were people everywhere, and you didn’t recognize any of them. It was clear, as you walked through the crowd, that most of them were already drunk. The music was making the walls shake. Eventually, and thankfully, you found Clint.

“Where is Val?!” You shouted.

“She didn’t clear it with you?” Clint responded, holding a bottle of tequila.

“This was supposed to be a meet-the-girlfriend get together little thing!”

“Val has a lot of friends.”

“Val definitely doesn’t know this many people.”

“I told her to clear it with you.”

“I really can’t handle this right now.”

“You want me to kick everyone out? I’m gonna kick everyone out.”

“Y/N, baby! You made it!” A drunk Natasha exclaimed, dancing up to them. “Woo!”

“Screw it,” you gave in. “Give me this.”

You ripped the tequila bootle from Clint’s hand and took a big swig of it. It burned but you didn’t care. You started dancing with Natasha. Clint soon joined the two of you. After the three of you were more drunk, you escaped into one of the empty side rooms.

“Why did we want to be surgeons anyway?” You wondered, laying on the floor.

“Surgery is a very serious business,” Clint responded before letting out a burp.

“Surgery is stupid. It’s stupid…. It’s stupid.” You took another long sip of a drink.

“Give me that,” Natasha took your drink from you. “You’re drunk.”

“I'm not driving. I'm not on call. I'm in my own house. My life is crap. And it's my party and I'll get drunk if I want to.”

Suddenly, a beautiful blond woman peeked her head in. “Is, um, Val here?” She asked.

“Oh, you must be Britt,” Natasha laughed, standing up. “You’re very model-like. And, no, Val’s not here right now.” She stumbled passed Britt and out of the room.

“You and Valkyrie are very beautiful,” Clint stated.

“Val said she was going to be at home,” Britt said, clearly uncomfortable as she looked around. “She didn’t say there was going to be a party.”

“Which, I promise you, pisses both of us off,” you slurred. “Tequila?” You lifted the bottle up. “It helps.”

“When do you think she’s gonna get here?”

“Don’t know. But… I do know I’m low on tequila, Britt.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. We’re interns, Britt. The hospital owns us. It’s what we do.”

Britt gave a fake smile before leaving.

“Bye!” Clint shouted after her.

“Nice to meet ya!” You added. “She was hot.”

~~~

Not too long later, you ended up in the front of your house, swaying drunkenly. Steve was out front too, hands stuffed in his pockets as he leaned against his car and watched you.

“You know,” he called out, bringing your attention to him, “in some states, you could get arrested for that.” You headed towards him. “So you blew me off for a bottle of tequila. Tequila’s no good for ya. It doesn’t call, doesn’t text. It doesn’t write. And it definitely isn’t as much fun to wake up to.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pulled him in for a kiss, which he definitely wasn’t refusing.

“Take me for a ride, Steve,” you whispered.

Holding onto your waist, he opened the passenger seat car door. He sat down before pulling you onto him and shutting the door. You straddled him, kissing down his neck as he leaned back the seat. Your hands soon found the way to his shirt. Tugging at the ends, he got the hint and took it off. You lost your breath for a moment. You had seen him before but you had forgotten how gorgeous the man beneath you actually was.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asked, softly caressing your cheek.

“Nothing,” you responded. “I just…” You trailed off before kissing him again, this time getting more heated.

~~~

After a good round of sex, even from the passenger seat, Steve pulled his shirt over your shoulders.

“You know…” he started as you leaned in and kissed his bare shoulder, “it sounds like the party’s winding down.” You slowly started trailing kisses up his neck. “Listen to me,” he laughed, pushing you to sit up. “We should probably sneak inside.”

“I actually think we’ve done enough sneaking for the night,” you replied. “It was good sneaking, but enough.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “I’d say we’re pretty good sneakers.”

He pulled you down for a kiss. You were quickly interrupted by a tapping on your window. As you hurried and separated, you saw that it was Gamora.

“You mind moving this tail wagon?” She asked, clearly annoyed. “You’re blocking me in.”

“Apparently not good enough,” Steve said as you groaned and rested your head on Steve’s shoulders.

“I’m so fired,” you muttered.

~~~

You woke up in the morning with a splintering headache and a trashed house. You couldn’t deal with either immediately though as you were going to be late to work. Going downstairs with Scott and Clint, Val walked into the house.

“Holy mother of destruction,” she exclaimed, looking around.

“You missed doctor-palooza,” you responded, heading to the kitchen to find something to eat.

“Apparently, you all didn’t.” She observed the tiredness of the three of you.

“I should probably never speak to you again.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea it was going to get so—“

“It’s fine. Really, I don’t care. What would I be doing anyway?” Clint handed you a bottle of water before him and Clint headed out of the house, with you following. “I’m not cleaning this up though!”

~~~

Natasha was walking down the hall when she noticed a tired Doctor Banner enter an on call room. She slipped in, locking the door behind her. Bruce looked up, having already taken off his shoes and shirt.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Natasha said.

Getting a surge of confidence, Bruce walked over and kissed her. Beginning to kiss more passionately, they undressed each other.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce mumbled.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #valkyrie x reader #clint barton x reader #scott lang x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #peter quill x reader #pepper potts x reader #bruce banner x reader

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blahkugo · 5 years ago

Text

Biggest Fan

DABI x HAWKS x READER

Music! AU inspired by THIS photo set...or, the one in which Dabi, Hawks, & Endeavor are a famous rap group, and the reader gets VIP treatment.

NSFW begins after the ~~~ for those of you who don’t care for plot!

Warnings: 18+!, SMUT, cursing, threesome, rough sex (? not sure what your definitions of the word are but they do be slapping you around…), just pure filth basically

You’ve been squealing into the phone for the past ten minutes. Honestly, you can’t believe the words coming from your best friend’s mouth, even after asking her to repeat them a fourth time.

“Babe, even if you weren’t my agent, I would have found a way to get you in,” Rumi scoffs into the speaker, unphased by your relentless questioning. Though she’s always been a bit impatient when it comes to your antics, she knows how big of a deal this is to you. “How could I not? You talk my ear off about them.”

“I owe you for the next thirty years!” Your screech turns the heads of a few other customers, and you can feel the irritation radiating off the glare of one particularly peeved woman seated near you. But who cares? You’re too excited for a few middle-aged drags to dampen your mood.

“Remember what you just said the next time I try to skip out on an interview,” her laugh echoes loudly; she must be at the studio.

“Yes! Whatever you want, Twinkle Toes. It’s yours!” She begins to grumble at the use of the old nickname,

“How many times have I told you not to-” You catch the scowling woman turning towards you.

“Got-to-go-text-me-the-details, love you!” The parting phrase comes out a hurried ramble. Unbothered as you are by a few stares, direct confrontation definitely isn’t worth the trouble. You’re out of the bistro and in your car before anyone can open their mouth.

The cup of iced coffee you press to your flushed face does nothing to curb the elation threatening to bubble over from inside you. Rumi really has outdone herself this time. Being that she’s both a long-time best friend and client of yours, you know just how hard she’s been working to book a job of this caliber. Images of the two of you icing sore feet after hours of grueling practices spring to mind, making your bad ankle throb. If you could tell your younger selves who they are now— an internationally acclaimed dancer and a talent manager with a novel’s worth of influential clients— they wouldn’t believe it. And the work was paying off in more ways than one. Soon, Rumi will be making her music video debut...and you’ll actually be in the presence of your favorite artists, Suns of Icarus.

The rap trio’s been all you can talk about forever. No, like really, forever. Even back at arts school, Rumi had to talk you out of choreographing dances to their music practically once a week. You can still hear her promising you that your 70 year-old ballet instructor did not, in fact, want to see you pirouette to a song that's chorus consists of Hawks saying the word “pussy” over and over again. Usually the memory would drown you in embarrassment (especially considering the story is Rumi’s favorite icebreaker), but now even that can’t hamper your mood. You sigh cheerily, pulling into your reserved parking space. Tomorrow, you’ll be surrounded by your idols.

“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask for the third time in an hour, tugging at the hem of your silk tank. Though you’re wearing your favorite suit, you can’t help but feel out of place in the large dressing trailer. After all, it’s not every day that you accompany your clients on their gigs. Your job is getting them the gigs, and usually you prefer it that way.

“(Y/N), quit stressing! If you looked any hotter the guys would have a heart attack,” your best friend bellows loudly. “Doesn’t she look smokin’?” She questions the hairdresser who, apart from a nod and reassuring smile, you can’t quite understand over the sound of the blow dryer. “Who’s the bad bitch that got me this job in the first place? Oh right, that was you,” she pumps a manicured finger towards you to echo the claim, “so woman up!”

She doesn’t put her finger down until she sees your face soften. It’s not like she’s wrong. “Professional smooth-talker” is basically your job description. In Hollywood people are afraid of you, the woman who can make or break a career. Who are you to let a couple of talents get you riled up? You allow your body to relax in your seat. Even if those talents are the group of boys that you’ve been crushing on since you were 16. Recalling that fact has you scrambling out of the trailer, face beet-red yet again.

“I’m going to grab something from the coffee cart. Be right back!” The door shuts behind you with a loud thud. Rumi should be spending this time going over the routine, not talking you down from the ledge you’re attempting to throw yourself off of over a few stupid guys. Besides, you’ll probably receive a polite greeting at best. The world’s favorite musicians have more important things to do than indulge your fantasies.

Having iced coffee and a bagel in your hands is all you need to feel the tension in your shoulders dissipate and your smile return; truly a working woman’s comfort meal. The spring in your step is restored as you walk back to the trailer, too entranced by the savory goodness to properly hear the voice that hollers from your right. You do, however, hear the scolding that follows the catcall,

“How many times have I told you not to hit on people that work for us, birdbrain.” Your entire body swings towards the familiar nickname and a piece of bagel nearly falls from your mouth. Not even a few feet away, Dabi holds your favorite vocalist in a one-handed headlock, attempting to ruffle the blonde’s hair while keeping a cigarette balanced between his own fingertips.

“Not the hair, man! The stylist’s already had to touch it up twice today!” Hawks’ shrieks are muffled beneath the bicep of his counterpart.

“Go apologize,” The lanky man shoves Hawks towards the spot your feet are now cemented to. Though he’s reprimanding him, you swear you detect a hint of amusement in his tattooed face. “I’m sorry about him, sweetheart,” he calls, lips contorting into a smirk that should be illegal. You feel your thighs press together on their own; the situation isn’t made any better by the pretty boy walking towards you, hands threading through his golden locks in an effort to fix the havoc Dabi wrought.

“My bad,” he flashes you an award-winning set of teeth you’ve previously only had the pleasure of viewing through your laptop screen; somehow they’re even pearlier in person. The glimmer of a tiny gem catches your eye and you notice one is sealed to his canine, only dazzling you further. “I meant what I said though, you’re gorgeous,” his hand moves from his own hair to twist a piece of yours between his fingertips. The lack of boundaries leaves you feeling stupefied, but he doesn’t let up, going as far as wrapping the lock around his polished index finger. God, even his hands are pretty...What if they were trailing the inside of your thigh and— Your mind shouts at you to behave, a fruitless undertaking when the object of your adolescent desires is touching you ever-so softly.

“Um- I- Thank you?” The stuttered phrase comes out confused. Where the hell is the professional smooth-talker side of you when you need her? “I’m Rumi’s agent and uh- I-I’m a big fan!” Heat blazes through your face and chest; you’d slap yourself for the outburst if they weren’t here.

“Oh, really? She told us all about you!” He waves a hand towards Dabi. “Oi! Matches! She’s not an assistant, she’s Rumi’s manager!” The gloomier man extinguishes his cigarette before making his way towards the two of you, smug expression wavering only when he glances at Hawks. A short wheeze leaves the blonde when his chest is smacked lightly by his partner.

“I told you not to call me that.” Dabi turns his attention towards you. “(Y/N), right?” He sticks a hand out to shake and you quite literally drop the remains of the bagel to reciprocate the motion, a move that makes you redden and him snicker. “Rumi told us you’re our biggest fan,” his sly grin tells you your loud-mouthed best friend had probably spilled too much information their way. Oh, she’s definitely going to get an earful later.

He doesn’t drop eye contact the entire time he’s speaking to you, and you find yourself enchanted by the deep sea-blue of his irises. You would literally swim in those pools if given the chance. Only when Hawks clears his throat do you realize you’re still shaking his friend’s inked hand. After dropping it rapidly, you urge yourself into composure out of pure distress.

“Sorry, I’m honestly a bit starstruck. I’m sure Rumi told you how much I love your music,” you finally sound a bit like your usual self.

“She didn’t really mention our music, did she Matches?” Hawks chirps, dodging Dabi’s fist this time.

“No, I don’t think she did, dipshit,” he spits the insult through gritted teeth as a final warning. “But I do remember her telling us something about being your first two crushes...or was it your ‘sexual awakening’? I can’t really remember the term she used…” Your knees almost buckle at the obvious teasing, and you silently swear to murder Rumi when she’s done shooting this video. It’s evident that the mockery is highly amusing to them— the glints in their eyes border on ravenous.

Because you’re not typically someone whose presence is taken lightly, the thought of being toyed with by a few arrogant men has your blood boiling. You’ve already dealt with too many pretentious assholes who don’t believe women, especially younger ones, belong in management; you didn’t claw your way to the top of the industry for all of that hardship to go to waste. Ever the more perceptive of the duo, Dabi seems to realize the shift in your mood.

“Relax,” he reaches a hand towards you before thinking better of it, choosing instead to tug at the thin, silver piercing adorning his bottom lip. “We’re only teasing. She didn’t say anything like that, obviously.” You stare at him incredulously, arms crossing your chest. “Why don’t we give you a tour?” Though he’s the one who makes the offer, it sounds as though he’d rather be doing anything else.

“We’re not really assholes, promise,” Hawks jumps in, crossing his fingers over his heart in a show of good faith. “This one just gets too big headed around beautiful women,” he points at the heavily-inked man, who simply rolls his eyes at the accusation. You’d thought the blonde was…well, nothing more than the stereotype his hair color implied, but he’s sharper than he seems. It appears that unlike Dabi, who comes off curt and ungenuine, Hawks’ wit stems from his charm.

You can’t help but think of how the two of them compliment each other beautifully. That’s probably why their entire fanbase thinks they should be dating. With that ludicrous thought, your exuberance returns. After Hawks assures you they don’t have to be on set any time soon, you find yourself taking them up on their offer. They seem to be a handful, sure, but how long have you dreamt of spending uninterrupted time with your favorite members of the group? Besides, it’s only a tour. What could go wrong?

It’s apparent only five minutes into your time together that Hawks (despite his insistence you call him Kiego, it’s difficult after years of referring to him by the stage name) does not know the meaning of personal space. He spends the better part of the tour hooking an arm through yours, touching your hair, or pestering Dabi. While some may take this over-familiarity as a sign of disrespect, it feels more to you as though he’s simply comfortable in his skin.

Rude or not, his bold actions do nothing but spur your heart to beat out of your chest. Every time he guides you towards an attraction with a cheerful comment, you swear his fingers purposefully dash under your layers of clothing, brushing faintly at the skin of your waist in a way that makes your heart (among other parts) flutter.

“And as I’m sure you know, we’re filming this music video mid-tour,” his hand flits away as swiftly as it skimmed you, prolonging the torture of wondering whether his movements are purposeful or a figment of your twisted imagination. After showing you most of the fabricated scenery— and even the gorgeous, cherry-red convertible that was rented— for the video, you’ve arrived at the group’s infamous tour bus. You once read that most of their concerts end with the vehicle being mobbed by ruthless fans, one of the sole reasons you’ve never attended a show. Someone as busy as you doesn’t have time for all the horrid traffic the mobs cause. “Wanna see inside? It’s actually pretty roomy.”

You nod, eyes trailing towards Dabi, who’s busy stomping out the most recent cig he’d been puffing on. Aside from the occasional chuckle at your flustered blunders or annoyed curse thrown towards Hawks, the taller man had kept mostly to himself. His indifference confuses you, makes you wish you hadn’t reacted so bitterly to the loose smile and banter he offered you upon first meeting. At the same time, part of you is irritated by his standoffish personality. From what you’ve seen so far, his remarks serve the single purpose of humiliating others for his own amusement— a stark contrast to the misjudged softy he’s portrayed as on camera.

You’re guided onto the bus and Dabi follows, cursing under his breath at something or other. Sociable as he is, Hawks begins to chatter again, seeing no issue in being the center of your attention. You realize the space is much roomier than it seems. State of the art technology allows the bunk beds to fold back with a press of the button, leaving room for a decently sized couch. It’s also much cleaner than you would expect three young men living on the road to allow.

“And the lowest one was my bunk, just in case you’d like to see it again later,” he whispers the sentence as though it’s his best kept secret, wagging his thick brows exaggeratedly to key you in on his joke. “Hey, why are you laughing? I’m totally seriou–” The doors swivel open and your giggles are cut off by heavy footsteps and a booming voice,

“Oi! Keigo! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You have to crane your neck to see the pillar of a man’s scrunched, stoic face. Endeavor, the pyrotechnic-obsessed “hype man” and third part of Suns of Icarus’s trio, stands a few feet from you, clearly exasperated by something his bandmate has done. Hawks must know precisely the reason for the bottle-redhead’s tone, because his face pales.

“Enji, we made a new friend!” He pulls you into his chest in an obvious attempt to shield himself from the giant, but your face heats at the close contact regardless.

“You were supposed to be on set for your solo scenes ten minutes ago,” he crosses his sculpted arms, “so let’s go.” The lively man is being whisked away by the larger one before he can utter a word of rebuttal. “Nice to meet you,” he calls casually to you over his shoulder.

“Dabi, keep (Y/N) company! I’ll be back!” Hawks shrieks with a dramatic flare. The man was truly born to be an entertainer.

An unbearable awkwardness envelops the two of you once you’re alone. Without his best friend around, Dabi drops any semblance of amiability, but it’s not as if he was trying very hard before. He plops down on the couch and pulls out his phone. You sit as far away from him as possible, but realize you don’t have your own device to keep you busy. After a few nervous minutes of twiddling your thumbs, you attempt to break the silence.

“So, Haw– Keigo and Endeavor use stage names, why don’t you?” You spout the first question that comes to mind, hoping it’ll spark an interesting conversation.

“Dabi is my stage name,” he answers curtly, without looking up from his cell.

“Oh...but– even your bandmates call you by it?”

“Yep. Don’t care for my real name,” his eye roll sends ice through your veins.

“Excuse me,” you snap, “have I done something to offend you?” The frustration in your tone wins you eye contact, at least.

“Nope.”

“Unbelievable….I’m going to need your publicist’s information.”

“Huh?”

“Well, anyone who can make you seem like the world’s most ‘misunderstood heartthrob’ on camera certainly deserves a pay raise, dontcha’ think?” His eyes drop to send a steely glare your way, but you’re too fed up to feel intimidated. You smirk at him, a single eyebrow raised in twisted satisfaction. There’s the bitchy self you know and love.

“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me,” he sits up, “but I know everything I need to know about you.”

“Oh? Enlighten me then, sir.”

~~~

“You may think Keigo likes you, but he likes everyone. You’re, what, thinking you’re special because he’s throwing some attention your way?” Dabi inches closer. “Hoping he’ll get in your panties?”

“It’s not like that at all–”

“Don’t lie. The idea of being with someone you’ve idolized for years is thrilling, isn’t it?” The heat that rises on your cheeks is enough to confirm his suspicions. “He doesn’t like to see people for who they really are, but I know your type...just another tramp that’ll use him and move onto the next,” his smug expression returns after that little rant. Paired with the tattoos covering most of his face, he appears every bit as wicked as the skeleton his ink emulates— devilish, even.

“You’re wrong.” You can’t think of a proper argument when he’s so close to you, basically breathing down your neck.

“Am I?” His hand trails up your clothed thigh, and an unwelcome shiver crawls up your spine. “So you’re going to stop me when I do this, right?” Then, he kisses you.

It’s not at all soft, or compassionate, or anything resembling your naive teenage fantasies of the artist in the slightest. Rough, slender fingers wrap around your jaw and yank your lips to his. He doesn’t stop at a peck either, choosing instead to assail your mouth with all of his pent-up rage. The cool, hard metal of his lip ring strains against you, a pleasant contrast to the quick heat traveling the rest of your body. You want nothing more than to prove him wrong— to throw him off you, tell him to go straight to hell— but he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and- God, it just feels so good. Your mouth parts in a breathless moan and Dabi takes the reaction as an invitation to swipe his tongue against your teeth. With your bodies melding together violently, the make out feels simply a continuation of the intense argument you were having moments before.

Pulling you between his lap, he shifts you so that your back is flush across his chest. Nimble fingers make quick work of your clothes. You just barely raise your hips so that he’s able to take your pants off with ease, but you’re sure he notices the eager movement. When you’re left in nothing but your panties, you feel the rumbling of his solid body behind you as he laughs, the sound bitter and pleased all at once.

“Oh you really are a whore,” he chides. “Who’d you wear these for, hm?” He runs his fingers across the band of your red lace thong.

“Not you,” you bite back, feigning disinterest towards the dangerous position he has you in. The asshole’s not going to get to actually hear you admit defeat so easily. One of his hands kneads your chest and the other grabs your cheeks harshly, pushing them together so that you’re unable to speak.

“Not me? Take a good look at yourself, sweetheart.” He lifts your head upwards and your breath hitches; the entire ceiling of the bus is covered in a dark, reflective surface. “Who has you naked in their lap right now?” he whispers onto your neck, licking a long stripe upwards until his teeth graze your ear. You watch fervently as he strokes his digits across one of your perked nipples, tweaking the bud roughly. “Who are you being such a slut for?” He’s aware he won’t get a response because his left hand still grips your face, demanding you watch his every move.

Dabi then snakes his fingers down your midriff tortuously slowly, brushing lightly in a way he hasn’t touched you yet; as if the skin there is delicate, worthy of his valuable adoration. The ink traveling his arms makes him appear so ethereal, so sinister and compelling, that you can’t help but let out a muffled mewl. Once he reaches your panties, his fingers dart beneath the material and the tender moment is lost. An onslaught of pleasure wracks your body when he begins to draw quick circles on your clit. He lets go of your cheeks, now sore and reddened from both pressure and bliss.

“I’m going to ask one more fucking time,” his fingers glide against your soaked slit, “who are you being such a dirty slut for?” You contemplate not giving him the answer he’s looking for, and part of you is sinfully curious about what may happen if you enrage him further; however, that idea is put to rest immediately when he snaps his head up to look at you through the mirror, blue eyes pooling with lust and a hint of something animalistic. That stare, paired with the relentless strokes across your clit, provokes your moaned answer,

“F-for you, Dabi.” He uses his free hand to insert two, thick digits inside you.

“Say it again.”

“I’m- fuck– a s-slut for you,” you practically sob out. You press the back of your head into his shoulder harder, squeezing your eyes closed and biting your lip.

“Not going to keep your eyes open? Fine.” The fingers are removed from your clit and you’re about to let out an unsatisfied whine, only for him to grab the back of your head and mash your swollen lips to his once again. Then, after another brief caress of your abdomen, he’s back to touching your sensitive bud. All of your moans are silenced by his mouth, and you feel the vibrations of a low groan from his own throat when your ass grinds against his clothed member. When your stomach pulls taut you know you’re seconds away from feeling that all-encompassing pleasure, the tidings of an orgasm so close to washing over you.

“Oi, Matches! You didn’t throw her out did you?” Hearing Hawks’ voice call out from the front of the bus has you reeling your lips away from Dabi, and though he slows his movements, he doesn’t remove his fingers from your core. Rather than push you away, he takes the other hand off your clit to hold you tightly against him. “(Y/N)? Dab–”

For a few seconds, the only sound you can hear is your own heart beating out of your chest. Takami takes in the scene in front of him— your bare body splayed across his best friend in the lewdest of positions. You know your face is blooming in embarrassment as you wait for a reaction, for his face to drop in disappointment, anger, anything. Instead, he smirks.

“Starting without me? That’s no fair,” the golden-haired boy actually pouts, but there’s something deeper swimming in his eyes, something almost bloodthirsty. Though this is happening right in front of you, you can’t truly believe it. Dabi relieves the pressure of his arm from your chest.

“Look Kiego, the whore’s fucking drenched for us,” he lifts his fingers towards the beautiful man in front of you proudly, as if showing off a trophy or a new toy. Then he pops the damp fingers in his own mouth, humming at the taste of you. Hawks’ tongue dips out of his mouth, darting across his bottom lip.

“I want a taste,” he leers at your bright panties, now soaked through. You think you must have died and gone to heaven, what with the two Adonises staring at you as if you’re their last meal. Hawks kneels at the foot of the couch, brings his face right up to your navel, and licks a long, cold swipe. His digits toy at your waist like they were earlier, except this time the movements are decisive and fierce. Just as he’s about to tug your panties down and place his mouth where you want it most, Dabi seizes his jaw and pulls his partner into a long, sloppy kiss. You let out a sigh at the view and— teases that they are— the sound doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“Is watching us turning you on?” Dabi taunts cruelly.

“Looks like she’s a bit of a pervert, hm?” Hawks retorts, sliding a finger across your clothed slit. The movement causes your entire body to quiver, your senses on high alert. Without another word, he leans down again, shifts your panties to the side, and takes your clit between his lips. The way he laps at you hungrily makes you believe your initial judgment of him was completely inaccurate, and when he inserts two lengthy digits inside you, the thought is confirmed. Hot, white pleasure consumes your body as your core clenches around his digits. He simply cocks an eyebrow at you and chuckles darkly, holding you tightly against him by your waist so that you’re unable to wriggle away. Gone is the lovable persona you were introduced to, replaced now by someone entirely foreign, deviously lewd.

“Fuck, Hawks,” you whimper, greedy for more.

“Thought I told you to call me Keigo,” he scolds beneath you, biting the inside of your thigh so that a sharp gasp leaves you.

“I-I’m sorry, K-Kei–” You’re cut off mid-moan when Dabi kisses you, wrapping one slender hand around your throat and squeezing. His other one threads through your hair and tugs harshly. A painful hiss leaves you but the sound only makes him pull harder, smirking against your lips.

It’s as though they’re competing for your attention. If one of the men evokes a sob or whimper, the other attempts to outdo him— and they have no regard for your body, becoming instead the battleground for their lascivious rivalry. You lose yourself in the intense sensations, unaware of time or its passing, instead focusing solely on the coil tightening in your abdomen. Every gasp, every moan, only pushes them further, and soon your legs are shaking as you feel yourself nearing the delicious edge.

Just as you’re about to let go, allow yourself the mind-numbing relief of an orgasm, Kiego withdraws his fingers. Rubbing your bruised thighs together is a desperate attempt at friction, but the momentum is completely lost. Your core clenches around nothing, and you cry out, hopelessly bitter at the emptiness between your legs.

“Sorry, princess,” his hair is sticking up, golden locks tousled from the harsh grip of your fingers. And yet he still looks perfect. He wipes your juices off his chin with a thumb, “but that’s for starting without me.” Despite the apology, he sounds absolutely delighted at your loss. You whine again, hoping it’ll change his mind. “What do you think, Dabi? Should we let her cum?”

Hearing his name, the tattooed man takes his attention away from your chest and the onslaught of purple marks his lips’ were just peppering on your throat.

“I don’t think so,” he tweaks at one of your nipples, eliciting a soft groan from you. “I want the bitch begging for it.” Dabi pushes you away from him and stands to unbuckle his belt. “Besides, don’t think she’s done enough to earn it.” You should be outraged at the way they decide your fate as if you’re not even present, but in reality it only thrills you, your clit throbbing at the lack of control.

“You’re right,” your idol sneers, canines bared and gleaming as he unzips his own pants, “and I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around me.”

They switch places, shifting you so that your breasts are pinned against the couch between Kiego’s legs. Dabi grinds his hips against your clothed center, and you mewl at the long-awaited friction, hard member straining against his briefs.

“Get to work, princess,” Kiego calls to you, boxers down to his knees. You can only balk at the sight in front of you. His cock is thick and long, essentially everything you could’ve ever hoped for, but that’s not it.

Rather, it’s the shiny, silver ball pierced through the shaft and poking out from the top of his head that stops you dead in your tracks. He notices your eyes widen at it, but only snorts, wrapping your hair around his hand and yanking you roughly towards him.

“Oh, that little thing?” Now he’s shoving you against his length, using your face as nothing more than a means for friction. “Just a drunken dare from Matches.” The nickname provokes the other man into leaving a stinging slap against your behind. And just like that, the angered man drives himself into your cunt.

“I told you,” slap, “not to,” slap, “call me that.” With each thrust into you, Dabi releases an onslaught of pent-up anger onto your rear, the biting pain causing you to cry out around Kiego’s member.

“Yeah sweetheart, just like that,” he leans his head back against the couch with a deep groan. “Such a pretty little whore, choking on my cock.” One of his free fingers shoots out to wipe at your tears, hand moving ever-so-lightly to cradle your jaw. The gesture might have been sweet if his other hand wasn’t forcing you down further to swallow him whole.

“Mmmph–” you scrape carelessly at Kiego’s thighs in an attempt to secure yourself, moans coming out garbled with his cock down your throat.

“Not done with you yet, slut” Dabi still pounds into you relentlessly. You’re overwhelmed with the feeling of being stuffed from both ends, knees on the verge of giving out until he fastens his hands around your thighs, pulling you into him with even harder plunges. “Fucking take it.” Something hard and cold grinds inside you, and you’re acutely aware of the ridged piercings now pressing against that perfect, spongy spot in your heat.

When he reaches an arm around to rub furiously at your clit, you’re sobbing. Kiego’s deep, golden eyes watching you, Dabi’s unrelenting fingers and thrusts, it’s all too much.

And then you’re finally letting go. Legs shaking, mind wracked with white as you clench your eyes shut. Your mouth moves away from Kiego’s shaft, only concerned with riding out your high. The tattooed man behind you doesn’t stop his movements either, still pressed deep inside you until your tongue lolls out of your mouth and you’re tapping furiously at his waist. Kiego smiles, taking himself in his hand and slapping his cock against your cheek while he strokes himself.

“That’s it, baby,” he smooths your hair back, grunting. “You look so pretty when you cum.” He pumps himself a few more times before he finishes, sticky liquid spurting across your lips and into your hair. You reach around to grab at Dabi’s waist again, willing him to stop. He removes himself from inside of you only to flip you around and your cunt clenches at the feeling of emptiness.

Pulling you into a long, winded kiss, he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip to taste Kiego’s release. Then he’s pushing you to your knees once more, hands threading through your hair roughly.

“Suck,” he scowls down at you. Though you’re breathless, still reeling from your orgasm, the simple command spewed at you has your lips wrapped around him in a second.

He isn’t as girthy as Kiego, but just as long. A trail of piercings go down his length, and your tongue brushes against the cool metal while you wrap your fingers around the area you can’t reach. You stare up at him through thick lashes, piercing blue eyes ogling you as you take him further in. His hand is still perched on your head, but he makes no movement to push you down— instead, basking in your slow seduction.

You’re sure you look a mess, dried mascara down your cheeks and still covered in Kiego’s cum, but Dabi only revels in the power he has over you, positively thrilled at the way you no longer fight for dominance. He breaks eye contact only when the blonder man tugs him into a kiss, deep and passionate, and the sight only urges you to swallow him deeper.

“I like her with her mouth so full,” Kiego whispers against Dabi’s lips.

“Just as long as the bitch isn’t speaking,” the other man groans, rutting into your mouth so that you know he’s close.

Soon he’s pulling out of you to pump his shaft, your mouth wide open so that the head of his cock brushes against your tongue. Kiego reaches down to move Dabi’s hand, grabbing at his partner’s length so he can stroke it himself. It doesn’t take long after that for the brooding man to cum, head thrown back in a loud grunt while the tantalizing male next to him coaxes him through the orgasm. Kiego angles him so that his hot, white liquid gushes onto both your face and tongue; you suck at Dabi’s head until he forcibly pushes you off him.

“Fuck,” he sighs, running a hand through his sweaty locks. “Knew you were good for something.” With that final statement, he turns away from you, pulling his pants back on and returning to his spot on the couch as though he wants nothing more to do with you.

Kiego walks away as well, and you’re sure you’re about to be kicked out now that they’ve had their way with you. A part of you is angered, but a larger part is still processing what just happened, savoring the earth-shattering orgasm the pair blessed you with.

You look for your discarded clothing, trying to compose yourself so you’re able to get out of their way as quickly as possible. Kiego walks back into the common area, wet rag in hand. He doesn’t speak until he pushes you into the couch, rubbing the clean towel over your face softly.

“So, you’re coming to our concert next week, right?”

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