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foli-vora · 4 years ago

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more than words, pt.3

A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.

“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”

His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?

He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”

“Ben.”

He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”

Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”

“That’s my bet.”

You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.

“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”

“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.

“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”

Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”

“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.

“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”

He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”

Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”

He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”

“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”

“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”

The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.

“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”

You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”

He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”

Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”

“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”

“But –”

“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”

“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”

You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.

Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?

The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.

He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.

Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.

He doesn’t.

Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.

“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.

“Hi,”

You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.

Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?

You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.

Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?

The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.

It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.

“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.

Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.

Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”

“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”

You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.

“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.

If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.

He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.

You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.

“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.

He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”

You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”

He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.

“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”

You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.

“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”

He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”

He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.

Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.

“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.

“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”

He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”

Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?

“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”

He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”

“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?

Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.

“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.

You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.

Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.

Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.

You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.

“Can I kiss you?”

God yes. Please.

Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.

At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.

His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.

You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.

Holy shit.

Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.

Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.

“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment.

He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, mystery girl.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.

Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004 @betterthanbucky @linkpk88 @afootnoteofhappiness @livilottie

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller x reader

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thebookreader12345 · 4 years ago

Text

Transference

Pairing: Blake Gallo x reader

Summary: Y/N and Blake have only been dating for a few months, and when someone Y/N saved begins to constantly flirt with her, Blake begins to get a little jealous

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: mentions of an allergic reaction and a slightly heavy makeout session

Word Count: 1,398 Words

“Blake,” I breathe out as he cornered me against the front of the washing machine, his lips dancing across my neck.

“Hmm,” Blake hummed against my skin, a sensation that sent shivers down my spine.

“What if someone sees us? This is the laundry room. It’s not exactly the most concealed place,” I point out.

“Everyone knows we’re together, so I don’t see the problem,” Blake said and untucked my shirt from my pants to run his hands up and down the skin on my sides.

“I know, but I’d prefer to do these things in private, like at your place after shift,” I suggest. Just then, the alarm bell rang throughout the firehouse, and the dispatcher came over the speakers.

“Ambulance 61, person down at 625 South Wood Street,” the dispatcher announced.

Blake groaned. “Oh come on!”

“We will finish this later,” I tell him and peck his lips before running towards the apparatus floor. I met up with Sylvie near the ambulance as I was tucking in my shirt, and together we climbed into our assigned seats. Sylvie always took the driver’s seat, and I always took the seat next to her.

“So uh, what was all that?” Sylvie asked.

“What was all what?” I question.

“Your shirt was untucked,” Sylvie noted. “What happened there?”

“N-nothing,” I stutter, my face turning a deep shade of red. “I was just using the bathroom.”

“Uh-huh,” Sylvie murmured. While everyone knew that Blake and I were together, I didn’t like talking about our relationship to our friends and co-workers. I liked keeping everything between the two of us. That included PDA and whatever else the two of us decided to do in private. So, I was not going to mention the little event that had happened minutes prior. In a few minutes, we pulled up to the correct address and grabbed our things from the back of the ambo. Upon entering the house, I heard no noise at all.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I shout into the house.

“Over here!” a man called out. Sylvie and I followed the voice into the dining room in the back of the house where there were two men, both of whom were on the floor. The one who talked to us looked fine. His friend, on the other hand, did not. His face was swelling up, and his breath was coming out in wheezes.

“Sir, my name is Sylvie. This is Y/N. What’s your name? What happened?” Sylvie quizzed as the two of us bent down.

“M-my name’s Andre. I-I don’t k-know what happened,” Andre stammered out. “Noah asked if I wanted to come over for dinner so we could watch the football game together, and after taking a few bites of food, this happened.” I glanced up at the table to see what Noah had eaten, and once I saw that it was shellfish, an idea popped into my head.

“Andre, has Noah ever eaten shellfish before today?” I ask.

Andre shook his head. “Neither of us have. We wanted to finally try it.”

“Well, shellfish is the most common allergy in the world, but very few people actually know they have it,” I inform Andre and grab the epinephrine from my bag. Seconds after injecting the epi into Noah’s arm, the swelling on his face started to go down, and it became easier for him to breathe.

“Oh my god. Noah! Don’t ever scare me like that again!” Andre lectured his friend.

Noah chuckled weakly. “Sorry.”

“We’re going to take him to Chicago Med just so that the doctors can examine him and make sure everything is okay. You’re free to follow us if you’d like,” Sylvie told Andre. After dropping Noah off at the hospital, Sylvie and I made our way back to Firehouse 51, and I thought I would never see either Noah or Andre again. Little did I know I’d be wrong.

......................................

Next shift had been pretty relaxing so far. We hadn’t had any calls, so everyone was just lounging around in either the break room or on the apparatus floor. I was hanging out with Blake by Truck 81, and as we were talking, a familiar face walked into the firehouse.

“Noah, hey,” I greet the man and make my way over to him.

“It’s Y/N, right?” Noah questioned.

I nodded. “That’s me. How are you?��

“I’m good,” Noah replied. “The doctors confirmed my allergy of shellfish, so now I know to never touch it again. They also told me that if you hadn’t gotten to me when you did, I might’ve died. I guess I just wanted to come say thank you.” Noah then produced a beautiful bouquet of lilies from behind his back and handed them to me. “Here. These are for you.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I tell him and take the flowers from his hand, inhaling the pleasant aroma that emitted from the lilies.

“I know, but I wanted to,” Noah confessed. “It’s the least I can do for you saving me. I uh, I actually have to go, but I hope I see you around sometime.” And with that, Noah turned around and left the firehouse. I smiled as I made my way back to Blake, my gaze still trained on the flowers in my hand.

“Who was that?” Blake asked and glanced between the flowers and the exit.

“Just some guy Sylvie and I saved last call,” I respond.

“He brought you flowers,” Blake pointed out.

“Like I said, we saved his life,” I reiterate. Blake frowned, and I sighed, taking a step towards him to place my hand on his shoulder. “He’s nobody special, Blake. I’ve still only got eyes for you.” That made my boyfriend perk up a little bit. “I’m gonna go put these in the break room. I’ll be right back.” For the second time, I believed that I would never see Noah again. But like before, I would be wrong.”

Time-skip to Next Week

Seeing Noah again was kind of weird. I mean, I had former patients stop by to thank me, but usually once they say their thank yous, I never see them again. For Noah to come back, I was getting the sense that something was up.

“Hey, Noah. What are you doing here?” I question.

“I came to see you,” Noah answered.

“Oh. What for?” I quiz.

“I feel like we’ve had a connection ever since we first met, and I can’t stop thinking about you. So I came down to see if you wanted to go on a date with me,” Noah proposed. I sighed, finally understanding what was happening here. I had heard about this a lot since I worked in a firehouse, and I guess it was finally my turn to deal with it.

“Noah, there’s this idea called transference. It basically means that someone falls for the person that saved them. I think you’ve gone over what happened to you so many times, and you’ve attached yourself to me because I’m someone who made you feel safe. But you don’t have actual feelings for me. What you’re feeling, it’ll go away sometime soon. And I actually have a boyfriend,” I add and rock back and forth on the balls of my feet.

“Oh,” Noah murmured. “I feel so embarrassed now.”

“Don’t be,” I counter. “Multiple people have been in your shoes.”

“Well, I guess I should go. Thank you though, for everything,” Noah told me before leaving the firehouse. As soon as he left, I was joined by Blake.

“What’d he want?” Blake asked me.

“He asked me out on a date,” I reply.

“He did what? What’d you say?” Blake questioned.

“I told him no, obviously. I have you, remember? He had the classic transference thing. You know, where someone falls for the person who saved them,” I explain. “Now, after this crazy week, all I want to do is make out with my amazing boyfriend, and I believe the laundry room is empty right now.”

“I thought you didn’t like kissing in there because someone could see us,” Blake exclaimed.

“Right, but I’m feeling a little risky today,” I claim. “So, you in?”

Blake smiled. “I’m so in.”

“Then lets go,” I say and grab onto his hand to drag him to the laundry room, where my crazy week would only get better.

__________________________________

Tag List:

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#one chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #chicago fire #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire imagines #blake gallo #blake gallo x reader #blake gallo imagine #blake gallo imagines #x reader #imagine #imagines

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mizunetzu · 4 years ago

Text

Oikawa x reader - Hypnotic Manga Page

⚠️warnings - reader bein a sneaky lil hypnotist :^), second hand embarrassment?

Pronouns - genderneutral, they/them

——————

‘Dear diary..’

(Y/n’s) hands trembled ever so slightly as their pen glided across their worn-out diary. The words “Property of (L/n) (Y/n)” on the cover in washed-out, black liner seemed to fade into the book even more. It was clearly used many times, ingrained in the hands of (Y/n) like a protective parent.

(Y/n) glanced back to where Oikawa Tooru, ladies man and popular third year at Seijoh, sat dazed and sedated on the floor of his room.

‘Today, I have captured an angel.’

———

Oikawa chuckled, entertaining his crowd of fans as usual. It never failed to surprise him how so much of them could fawn over him every day. Doesn’t it get draining? Don’t they have other things to do?

“O-Oikawa-san!” One of them stuttered. She held her closed fists to her chest as she bowed down. “For the science project assigned today...!”

“D-d-do you have a partner yet?!”

Girls started talking over each other, saying things like “Be partners with me, Oikawa-san!” Or “No! Be partners with me!” All the well ganging up on him and batting their eyelashes.

Oikawa shrugged, scratching his neck. “I’m sorry ladies, in my class the partners were already assigned. I’m with this person named (L/n) (Y/n).”

As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes lit up.

“Actually-!” Oikawa clasped his hands together. “Do you know anything about them? I don’t think I’ve ever...seen...them before. And that’s saying something.”

Some of the girls' faces turned sour, while others looked at him in confusion.

“(L/n)? Sorry, I’ve never heard of them before.”

“Oh...they’re a bit quiet, they don’t talk to anyone-they just keep their head down.”

“Yeah, they seem like a real wimp...they keep their head down so much I don’t think I’ve ever seen their face before.”

A girl chuckled at her own statement. Oikawa raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m going over to their house today to discuss the project. Wish me luck, ladies.”

It was true. There was no practice today, and they had the whole weekend ahead of them to work on the project. How fun.

Speaking of the assignment, Oikawa bid his harem farewell, heading towards the gates of Aoba Johsai.

He pulled out a piece of paper. This so-called (L/n) (Y/n) scribbled out their address onto a piece of notebook paper, and insisted that they talk there. Oikawa read over the rushed writing carefully. Maybe they were just a bit shy, and they were more comfortable doing things in private.

Yeah...just a bit shy...

——

Oikawa rang the doorbell. He found himself standing in front of a small-ish looking apartment complex, standing in front of the door marked “938”. Either their family was on the poor side, they lived alone, or he was in the wrong place entirely.

The door creaked open. Someone with (e/c) colored eyes peeked timidly through the tiny sliver of space they gave themself. Oikawa smiled his usual charming smile, and waved.

“Ya-ho!” He bent down so he was face-to-face with the peeking eyes through the door. Their eyes widened. “Are you (L/n)-san? I’m your partner, you gave me your address in class earlier?”

The door shut abruptly. Oikawa flinched, standing back up straight awkwardly. That was odd. He heard shuffling from inside the apartment, before the door swung open again.

There stood (Y/n), in house slippers and sweatpants, along with a fresh, comfy looking shirt with a tiny cat printed on the chest.

They looked everywhere but Oikawa’s face, fumbling with their hands behind their back and shifting their weight between their legs ever so slightly.

“Hey...” (Y/n’s) voice was barely audible. Oikawa smiled reassuringly.

“Hi! May I come in?”

“Of course-!”

(Y/n) stepped off to the side, granting Oikawa access to their apartment. Oikawa stepped in with a smile, bending down to take off his shoes.

“Do you live alone?”

“Mhm...”

(Y/n) watched with fixated eyes as Oikawa removed his shoes. The Oikawa Tooru was in their house. Their own house. The man they loved since middle school, the man who they’d watched from afar for years, the one who they had no virtual chance being with...

Was in their home. Taking off his shoes and smiling.

Oikawa turned around. (Y/n) quickly averted their eyes. “Wanna do this assignment in your room...?”

(Y/n) wordlessly nodded, and beckoned Oikawa down the hallway. Opening the door to their room, they sat down on their bed, while Oikawa sat down on the floor. (Y/n) cleared their throat.

“Um...I forgot to take notes today in class, sorry...uh...do you have the notes we took today?”

Oikawa mused out a “Of course!”, and shedded off his backpack. He opened it lazily, and pulled out notebook after notebook. After shuffling through the bag, in the process he pulled out a colorful looking manga volume.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, this?” Oikawa stopped digging in his backpack and held up the book. “It’s manga I borrow from a girl every week.”

“...is she your girlfriend?” (Y/n) balled up some of his bedsheets in his hands sheepishly. Oikawa shook his head.

“Nope. But there was a weird chapter in it this week...” Oikawa shuffled through the pages. (Y/n) tentatively dropped down from their bed to look over Oikawa's shoulder. “Found it!”

Oikawa shifted the book to give (Y/n) a better look.

“...Hypnosis?”

“Yeah, the protag of the manga got hypnotized by the ‘love interest’, this page is just one of those extra filler pages they use to separate the chapters. I totally think the ‘love interest’ is the villain, though...”

Sure enough, the page displayed a fun little step-by-step guide on how to hypnotize your friends. (Y/n) looked at the steps, then back to Oikawa’s beautiful face. He was saying something, and his voice was angelic and perfect, but he couldn’t register a thing he was saying. (Y/n’s) eyes flickered back to the hypnosis page.

The main character...was hypnotized by the love interest...

“Oikawa-san...” (Y/n’s) voice was soft as they plucked the book out from his hands. Oikawa stopped mid-sentence, and hummed in response.

“We have time...why don’t we try out this hypnosis thing?”

——

And that was the story of how Oikawa ended up silent and tranced on the floor of (Y/n’s) room. Each time (Y/n) would look back up from their diary, they would nudge Oikawa with the tip of their foot, and each time they gained no response. Oikawa was really hypnotized. They could make him do whatever they wanted.

(Y/n) snapped their diary shut, and crawled towards Oikawa. They leaned their face in real close, examining Oikawa’s face. Oikawa didn’t move or shrink back, he didn’t even blink as (Y/n) looked at his face. His beautiful brown eyes were cloudy and dull...and his delicious lips were parted ever so slightly...

(Y/n) eventually pulled back, with an idea coursing through their veins. It was kind of taboo, and wrong on so many levels, but nonetheless, (Y/n) picked up Oikawa’s borrowed manga and flipped through the pages.

‘Once I snap my fingers, you will be my lover! You will be deeply in love with me!’ A girl said, waving her hands around a boy’s face. She snapped her fingers, and the boy suddenly awoken. He immediately clung to the girl’s arm, nuzzling her hair and exclaiming his love for her.’

(Y/n) shut the book.

They turned back to Oikawa, who hadn't moved an inch since he’d gone under trance. He was staring at the floor ahead of him with a dull face.

“Oikaw...Tooru-kun...” (Y/n) inched toward Oikawa, before sitting down in front of him. They waved their hands in front of his face, grabbing Oikawa’s attention and making his eyes follow them absentmindedly.

“When I snap my fingers...you...” (Y/n) hesitated, swallowing thickly, before going on. “You will believe we were dating for...months, and you will be deeply in love with me.”

(Y/n) waited and swayed their hand side to side a second longer, watching Oikawa’s relaxed eyes follow them around obediently like a dog. (Y/n) brought their hand to the middle of Oikawa’s face, and snapped their fingers.

Oikawa jolted awake. (Y/n) flinched back, backing up shyly as Oikawa blinked and rubbed at his eyes. (Y/n) watched him with an expression akin to a deer in the headlights of a truck, in the middle of a street.

Oikawa’s eyes landed sleepily on (Y/n). They stiffened.

“Ah! Did I fall asleep on you? Ehehe, sorry, (Y/n)-chan.”

The use of their first name made (Y/n) shrink up more. They were sure their cheeks were on fire. They didn’t have time to blush however, as Oikawa began crawling towards them.

(Y/n) sputtered, and began moving back. Oikawa trailed towards (Y/n) with a confused expression as they slinked back bashfully, until they were backed up against their bedroom wall.

Oikawa pouted, examining (Y/n’s) extremely flustered expression. He sighed dramatically, and buried his face into (Y/n’s) neck. (Y/n) squawked, as Oikawa relaxed and sighed into their shoulder.

“Why are you running away from meee...” Oikawa sulked. “I thought my (Y/n)-chan loved meeee...”

(Y/n) froze. They silently breathed for a second, trying to take everything in. Oikawa Tooru was currently nuzzling into their neck, hypnotized, while they sat cornered against the wall of their bedroom.

“I-“ (Y/n) almost felt guilty for saying this. Almost. “I do love you, Tooru-kun! I love you so much...”

Oikawa grinned into the crevasse (Y/n’s) neck.

“...Is it because I’m your super cute boyfriend?” Oikawa stuck his head up from (Y/n’s) shoulder to stick his tongue out cutely. (Y/n) nodded tentatively.

“Yay~!” Oikawa chuckled, burying himself back into (Y/n). He was practically laying on top of them with the way his body covered their own like a lanky blanket.

They laid there for a second, before Oikawa reluctantly sat back up. He stretched out his arms as he gave a little groan.

“Anyways...ehehe..we should probably get to work—“

“Actually-!” (Y/n) shot up, grabbing onto Oikawa’s shoulders, with a sudden burst of confidence they didn’t seem to have three seconds ago. Oikawa blinked.

“We...have all weekend...why don’t we go on a date? I’ll pay, my treat for my lovely boyfriend~” (Y/n) smiled sweetly. They pushed the guilt and morals down their throat just a bit longer to watch Oikawa’s eyes glisten at the mention of a date.

And who was he to say no to his wonderful lover?

——

(Y/n) shoved the icky feeling down inside their throat as they entered a small restaurant, hand in hand with their ‘boyfriend’ Oikawa.

“Gosh, these chairs are so small…” Oikawa said, slipping into a small booth opposite to (Y/n). (Y/n) sat down quietly, picking up a menu provided to them by a waiter.

“That’s only because you’re so damn tall..”

Oikawa chuckled. “I am, aren’t I? But you still love me~”

(Y/n) gulped.

“Yeah.”

Ordering quickly, Oikawa started chatting about whatever came to mind at the moment. All (Y/n) could do, however, was stare. Stare as Oikawa Tooru, hypnotized, sat across from them on a date he was forced to go on. (Y/n) wanted to enjoy it, they really did, but the consciousness that Oikawa deep down was probably confused as to why his body was moving and talking and acting on its own ate them up from the inside.

Eventually, the food arrived, and (Y/n) stuffed their mouth with food to avoid saying anything embarrassing. Oikawa found it cute, though.

“Slow down, food’s not goin’ anywhere.” Oikawa laughed. (Y/n) hunched their shoulders in embarrassment, swallowing down a thick piece of food.

“Sorry.”

“S’ok, cutie~”

Oikawa munched on his food for a bit, before furrowing his brows.

“Y’know,” Oikawa slouched back in seat. “Even though we’ve been dating for months, this feels like the first time we’ve ever really went on a date.”

(Y/n) choked on their food. Oikawa watched as (Y/n) broke into a cold sweat, trying to swallow the lump in their throat. He raised his eyebrow nonchalantly. “I don’t think I can recall a single time we went on a date.”

(Y/n) coughed quietly into their sleeve. “Uh...don’t you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“You told me that you didn’t want your fangirls knowing about us some time ago, and that’s why we never went on any dates.” (Y/n) tittered, a confident face back on their face. “So technically this really is our first date, huh, Tooru-kun?”

“Since I’m so unpopular and weird and stuff...and you’re all popular and pretty...we didn’t want your reputation to suffer…” (Y/n’s) mouth was overflowing with lies. Though, they were kind of shocked how quick they were able to lie on the spot. That didn’t mean they didn’t feel bad, though.

“Ah. I suppose so.” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head with a breathy laugh. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Mhm.” (Y/n) stuffed their mouth with food once again. Maybe if they kept their mouth plugged, no more lies would seep out, and they wouldn’t end up lying their way into something they can’t get out of. In all actuality, (Y/n) didn’t even know how the hell Oikawa believed them so easily, too.

There’s just some things (Y/n) would never understand about hypnotized people, huh?

——

(Y/n) felt guilty that they enjoyed that date more than they should’ve.

They knew they technically brainwashed Oikawa into playing boyfriend with them, but they had to admit, talking and linking arms with him all day was like a dream come true. Even if it was all a game of forced pretend.

(Y/n) fumbled around for their apartment key while Oikawa played with their hair. “Tooru?” Their voice was weak, and a bit strained from how terrible they felt on the inside. Oikawa hummed, noticing the pained features on (Y/n’s) face.

“What’s wrong, cutie?” Oikawa jutted his bottom lip out as he followed (Y/n) to their room. “Do you feel bad that we didn’t get any work done for our project after all? Because like you said we have all weekend-“

“N-no, it’s not that…”

Oikawa watched as (Y/n) plopped down on their desk’s chair, huddling up into a small ball of culpability. Oikawa pouted once more. “What is it, (Y/n)-chan? You’re worrying me.”

“Don’t call me that-! That’s...that’s only something lovers do-!”

“But,” Oikawa gestured to himself, chuckling. “We are lovers, are we not? I’m literally your boyfriend?”

(Y/n) felt their chest tighten. “Oikawa.”

“Hey-we’re using last names now-?”

“Go to sleep.”

In seconds, Oikawa’s face fell and his shoulders slumped forward. His eyes, half-lidded as they were, focused on nothing in particular, staring straight ahead with the most dull expression on his face. (Y/n) stood up from their chair, and guided Oikawa down to sit on the bed with a heavy exhale. Oikawa obediently sunk down.

(Y/n) stood in front of him, sighing and rubbing their face. “Uuuu...I’m such a terrible person...”

They eventually turned back to the dazed Oikawa sitting on their bed, making up their mind and huffing. They raised their hand up to trace Oikawa’s vision back and forth like it did in the manga, and how they did the first time.

“Oikawa-san...I’m really sorry...and I hope you’ll forgive me...and I hope none of your fangirls saw us...” Oikawa didn’t respond, only following (Y/n’s) waving finger with his eyes lazily.

“You...” (Y/n) bit their lip. “You don’t really love me. We were never dating. When I bring you out of this, uh, trance, you’ll be back to normal and not hypnotized anymore.”

(Y/n) once again brought their fingers to the middle of Oikawa’s vision. They hesitated. Some evil part of them was screaming not to, Oikawa would be mad and would want to switch partners, and that this was the moment they’d been waiting for forever. And they were just gonna give it up like that?

They shook the devil off their shoulder. It was wrong. Period. They’d rather have Oikawa hate them than have him be internally forced to be in a relationship with someone he doesn’t even know for the rest of his life.

They sighed. Their hand was beginning to feel heavy holding it up infront of Oikawa’s face for so long. At least that one ‘date’ they had would stay in their heart for forever. As a little memento of how wonderful Oikawa is as a boyfriend, and how horrible of a person (Y/n) was.

(Y/n) pursed their lips, but before they could snap their fingers, they heard chuckling. Looking at Oikawa, he was laughing and covering his mouth, seemingly trying to silence his fit of laughter.

“Pfft-ahahaha-! I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Sorry...A-ahem, lemme just-“

Oikawa tried to resume his ‘I’m-hypnotized-and-helpless’ blank face, but in a matter of seconds he broke back into a smirk and sputtered into laughter again. (Y/n) stood there dumbly.

“H-Huh...?”

Oikawa wiped at his eyes, momentarily looking up at (Y/n). He stood up, making (Y/n) step back, and stretched out his arms with a big yawn. “Damn, pretending to be hypnotized really takes a lot outta you, huh?”

(Y/n) opened and closed their mouth repeatedly, trying to find the words to speak but ending up looking like a fish out of water.

“Oh, right.” Oikawa smirked, leaning towards (Y/n’s) face and pointing to himself. “I was awake the whole time. I just found it cute how you thought you had so much control.”

“I mean,” Oikawa threw back his head, chuckling. “Hypnosis? Ahahaha! I don’t think a measly manga page is gonna teach you how to hypnotize someone for real! Like-I was just playing along because I thought you were gonna make me do something stupid, but-“

Oikawa stopped when (Y/n’s) knees buckled, making them fall to the ground pathetically. He crouched down, amused, while (Y/n) curled up into a ball and covered their face in pure humiliation.

“Gooooosh, I’m so...” (Y/n) whimpered. Oikawa snickered, playing with a strand of (Y/n’s) hair. “I wanna die...god, I’m so sorry-“

“Don’t be. I thought it was cute. I think you’re cute~”

(Y/n) peeked through their fingers with a confused expression. Oikawa sat back on his behind, and smiled.

“Huh?”

“I mean, you ‘hypnotized’ me into being your boyfriend, right? You don’t need hypnotism for that.”

“Next Saturday at six? After we do the project? We can go on a real date this time.”

(Y/n) looked at him blankly. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Dude, I literally just manipulated you into being my boyfriend and took you out on a date that could’ve ruined your reputation, and you’re asking me out on a date?”

Oikawa shrugged. “Yeah. Seems about right.”

(Y/n) sunk back into the floor. “This is too good to be true...it’s not real...not real at all...”

“Well, I’ll let you dwell on my offer, (Y/n)-chan~” Oikawa poked at (Y/n’s) cheeks, before crawling over to his backpack.

“But we should really get started on our project.”

——

‘Dear diary.’

(Y/n) scribbled down in their black notebook. They had to keep hiding the page they were writing on from Oikawa’s prying eyes, though that was to be expected since they were literally laying across Oikawa’s lap while they discussed their project.

‘Today, I really did capture an angel.’

——————

how was it ahahaha pls comment yer boy is desperate for feedback

#hq x male reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu y/n #haikyuu boys #haikyuu Oikawa #tooru oikawa x you #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa #oikawa x male reader #oikawa x reader #Oikawa Tooru x male reader #oikawa x y/n

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magickastiel · 3 years ago

Text

Somewhere Off in the Dark (Dean/Cas) 7.3k

It’s easier to be with Cas in the dark.

Dean hasn’t got to see those eyes at full brightness, boring into his soul. Instead he can just talk and not worry about the embarrassment scalding his face or the discomfort twisting his spine.

It’s dangerous being with Cas in the dark.

Gift for @jackttwist for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! ✨

mild warning for a scene during early s13 so dean is very self-destructive and doesn't care about his own life. It's along the same times as the show but if you're triggered by that, skip from: 'Dean is sick' and pick up again at: "The Empty?" Dean whispers, feeling cold' for the cute stuff!

a03 or keep reading 💖

Dean will never get used to waking up and seeing eyes peering back at him.

He starts awake, half-reaching for the gun tucked under his pillow before he can pull himself back. He glares and throws the blanket off his lap, immediately regretting it when the cool night air hits his legs.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, voice dry and face impassive. He watches without shame as Dean clambers to his feet, eyes skimming over his legs, his rucked up t-shirt, the scowl on his face.

A chill shoots up Dean’s back and, not for the first time, he wonders how many pairs of eyes Castiel really has. He walks from the couch to Bobby’s kitchen for something to do with his overly observed body.

“I’ll shoot you one day.” He says over his shoulder. “That’ll show you.”

“What will that show me?”

Dean wants to be annoyed but instead he snorts with laughter. Castiel seems to have this affect on him.

“Nothin’. Forget it.” His eyes itch with fatigue and he rubs them with the back of his hand. “You want coffee?”

“I have no need for - ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dean turns to lean his back against the counter and almost jumps again when he sees that Castiel has silently followed him to the kitchen. He can count the number of worn tiles between his bare feet and Castiel’s shoes. He has to swallow before he speaks. “Didn’t ask if you needed it. You want some?”

The angel’s eyes travel over him again and Dean feels like an ant under the hot glare of a magnifying glass on a sticky summer’s day.

“Yes.” He says eventually.

“Right.” Coffee.

He potters about, feeling eyes on him wherever he goes. He doesn’t let his hand shake.

By the time they’re sat back on the couch with two half-empty mugs, Dean’s body has loosened as he becomes accustom to the silent scrutiny. There’s no looming threat and no harsh judgement because Castiel is as he always is – curious. Every movement is apparently fascinating to him, every sentence Dean says is worth contemplation and every sip of coffee is a new experience to mull over. Again, Dean is surprised how little it annoys him.

“You remember the first time you woke me up here?” He says after a long pause. “You threatened to throw me back into Hell. Real nice of you.”

In the dark, Dean has to rely on Castiel’s voice to judge his expression. “Yes.” The word sounds solemn, like he’s disappointed that Dean remembers it. “I did say that.”

Dean takes the last glug of coffee to think. There’s an obvious question that’s been lingering between them for the last ten minutes.

“Why did you come here tonight?” He asks and doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be.

Even though he can’t see him properly, he’s sure Castiel is staring straight at him even as he ponders his answer. It’s another reminder of how alien he is. He doesn’t have that need to look away, to hide his face as his mind races to find the right way to say the right thing. Dean envies him that.

“I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise for what?”

When he speaks again, his tone is unnervingly soft. “Your friends.”

Ellen. Jo.

Dean’s heart clenches and he feels the urge to move, unable to sit still in his grief. His knee knocks against Castiel’s solid thigh but the angel stays perfectly still.

“I should have been with them.” Castiel continues his voice low and smooth. If it wasn’t for the subject matter, Dean might think he was being read to sleep like a troubled child. “I should have protected them.”

“Not your fault.” He mumbles and means it. It never occurred to him to blame Castiel. He’s been too busy blaming himself to consider anyone else’s actions.

“I arrived with them and I should have stayed with them. I let them down. I – I let...”

Castiel is hesitating. This is new behaviour for him and it’s dangerously human.

“I...let you down.”

Dean feels like he’s been doused with cold water. He doesn’t blame Castiel for not wanting to say that. It’s so ridiculously untrue and so goddamn weird to say that he let Dean down specifically. It’s too much focus on him, on them.

“You didn’t let us down, man.”

“You are being kind.” Castiel says in neither admonishment nor gratefulness. He just states it like it’s a sure fact. “Thank you. But I shall endeavour to make it up to you.”

“Oh.” Dean says feeling dumb and strangely warm. “Right. But like I said, nothing to make up for.”

“You are not sleeping.”

He almost gets whiplash at the sudden change in conversation. “Uh well, no, not right now. You did wake me up.”

“Allow me to clarify: you do not sleep enough.” The still air is disturbed by the rustle of his trenchcoat and the sharp clack of the ceramic mug being placed on the table.

“Kind of a lot going on, dude.” Dean says, trying to protest as Castiel pulls his mug from his hands and places that on the table too. “Uhhh, what are you doing?”

“Lie back down.”

Dean does as he’s told but frowns too. He tells himself it’s a good compromise. “You gonna stare at me until I fall asleep or something?”

“I could but I believe that will be unnecessary.” He stands and looms over the couch. He looks intimidating from down here – tall as a skyscraper and dark as a void. Dean clutches at the blanket for something tangible to hold on to. “Your body still hasn’t recovered from the physical and emotional trauma of the last week. And when you sleep you have nightmares thus reliving the pain. You must rest completely to correct this and regain your full strength.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, yeah? So what you gonna do – zap me to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Wait – ”

Two fingertips brush his forehead and he sleeps.

Dean can’t stop looking.

Even as Benny regales them with some batshit story, even as he eats his handful of berries, even as he wanders the perimeter of their little camp.

Cas is here.

Like, actually here.

He hadn’t let himself lose hope but it had been slipping. Just around the corner, he’d think. One more fight and he’ll be there. On and on.

And then there he was, alive and washing his face like he’d just woken up after a bad night’s sleep at a motel.

Dean’s eyes flit over to him again. He isn’t used to it yet. They only found him a few hours ago. Man’s gotta bask in having his best friend back.

“Dean? You hear me?”

He sighs and turns back to Benny who, to his credit, doesn’t even look annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Sleeping, shifts, food.”

He snorts. “Got the gist, at least.”

“I’ll take the first shift. Gotta...” He glances over his shoulder at Cas again. He isn’t quite sure what he’s got to do, but he knows it involves Cas.

“Like that, huh?” Benny says, a slight smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?” He mutters, grabbing a stick and poking the meagre fire for something else to focus on.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He waves a hand, but the smirk hasn’t left his face. “Just startin’ to feel like a third wheel, is all.”

Dean’s face heats unpleasantly. He knows it’s not like that but he can’t quite bring himself to argue about it. Instead he stares into the fire as Benny wanders off to rest. He feels horribly cracked open. He’s gotten used to his hardened shell – Purgatory took all the resilience he had and coated him in it. But the first sight of Cas had split him apart and now his usual racing thoughts have come rushing back with the force of a ten tonne truck. He almost wishes he could go back to how he was yesterday, pure focus and drive.

Now he feels small next to the fire, between a vampire and an angel.

He’s just one slightly shitty human lost in Purgatory.

“Dean?”

Cas joins him suddenly, with that eerie angelic stealth. Dean only just manages to stop himself from jumping like a kid. Cas sits on his left, watching him intently.

Everything is kind of colourless in Purgatory. It drove Dean insane for the first few days; everything seemed slightly off and unreal. Then he got used to it – the lacklustre trees, the blank water, even the fire looked kind of grey.

Cas’ eyes are still very blue.

It’s the first real colour he’s seen in months.

“Dean?” He says again, sounding slightly alarmed. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just...weird to see you, I guess.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. “I...I suppose it is strange to see you too. I have seen you from a distance a few times. If several leviathans caught me at once, it would take me a while to kill all of them. Each time, I was very aware of how you were likely closing in on my location. Then I would catch a glimpse of you through the trees and that was when I knew I needed to get ahead again.”

“You what?!” Dean hisses, only keeping his voice down for Benny’s sake. “You mean you’ve been in spitting distance before and you didn’t say anything?! You could have...” He thinks about the sleepless nights, the desperation to find him alive. “I was afraid you were dead.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas squints and tilts his head a little. Dean feels his anger dissipate. “I wanted nothing more than to join you. Together, I am sure we can conquer almost anything.” Right. That’s a total normal thing to say to someone. “But I was the one who released the leviathans. It was my responsibility to deal with them. If they got to you I would never be able to forgive myself.” His gaze drops to the fire. “I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Don’t.” Frustration pushes at Dean’s skull, making his eyes water. “Yeah, ok. You did something pretty dumb. But you did it because you were trying to save the world. I should have...if I hadn’t been so damn caught up with other stuff. If I had just been there more - ”

“Dean, you cannot blame yourself.” Cas sounds genuinely horrified at the thought. “It was my decision and the consequences are mine to bear. All I can hope is that you can find a way to forgive me. And Sam - ”

“Sam’s good now.” Dean says quickly, half to reassure himself. “You screwed him over, not gonna lie. But at least you fixed it.”

Neither of them speaks for a while. Cas seems intent on watching the fire while Dean’s shell shatters a little more. Had he really had forgiven Cas just like that? He thought of what John Winchester would say about that. To say Cas had ‘screwed Sam over’ was a bit of an understatement. He had totally destroyed his mind. And here Dean was, casually forgiving him like it was no big thing.

It isn’t just words either. Dean really doesn’t feel any animosity towards the angel at all. Look out for Sammy. That had been drummed into him since he was four years old, when he carried his baby brother from their burning home. He still lives by it too. So it’s unnerving to forgive someone who hurt Sam. He’d been angry at first, sure. Upset, if he was being honest. He’d been hit with the double whammy of worrying about Sam and being betrayed by the only real friend he’d ever had. The only one that sticks around.

Well, that isn’t quite true. Cas always leaves but he always comes back too.

Now Dean just feels happy. And tired. He’s pretty tired too.

“You should sleep.” Cas says, softly. “I can watch over you.”

His knee jerk reaction is to tell the angel that’s weird. In any other situation it is weird. But here, he really does need someone looking out for him.

“’Angels are watching over you.’” He says, thinking of soft blonde hair and a warm smile. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “That’s what my mom used to tell me every night when she put me to bed. Guess that’s true tonight, huh?”

“I suspect she did not imagine that to come true in Purgatory while you are travelling with an angel and vampire, but the sentiment is lovely nonetheless.”

Dean can’t stop himself from grinning as he settles down, wedging his jacket under his head like Benny did.

“Do we have to travel with the vampire?” Cas grumbles beside him, sounding wonderfully like himself.

Dean raises his eyebrows against his makeshift pillow. “What, you don’t like Benny?”

“I don’t like the way he acts.” His eyes narrow, glaring at the sleeping figure the other side of the fire. “He looks at you like he wants to...consume you.”

Dean laughs and, for a moment, the clearing rings with it. “Dude trust me: Benny ain’t gonna eat me. He’s got plenty of food around.”

But Cas still looks unsure. “That’s not...” He sighs. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He gives Dean one of those rare, small smiles as he looks down at him. “Sleep.”

Dean does as he’s told for once, letting his aching limbs stretch out next to the warmth of the fire and under his best friend’s watchful gaze.

But after a few moments, he can’t resist another look, even as his body succumbs.

“You can sleep, Dean.” Cas says, almost chastising. “I’ll watch over you.”

“Ain’t that. Just...” His tongue feels too big for his mouth and his heart feels too heavy for his chest. “Just checkin’ you’re still there, is all.”

As he falls asleep, he hears his voice one more time.

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

When Dean asks Cas where he can drop him, the ex-angel avoids his eyes and says something about being ‘between places’.

Yeah, Dean’s the worst friend in the world.

He drives them to a motel because that’s the least he can do.

He mentally berates himself on the drive there while Cas is quiet in the passenger seat. This really is the least he can do. He should be driving Cas home to the Bunker, buying him dinner on the way back. He should be apologising for throwing him out. But if he starts apologising that means he’s got to start explainingand that’s something he really can’t do. Not yet.

So he drives his awesome best friend to a shitty motel and books them a shitty twin room and orders a shitty pizza.

Once they’ve eaten in relative silence, Cas perches on the edge of one of the beds staring wide-eyed and blank faced at the television. Unfortunately, it’s not Dr. Sexy. Just some grim drama about murders and family betrayals. Like they don’t have enough of that to deal with already.

He looks small and Dean has the sudden urge to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude,” He says, busying his restless hands with clearing up the greasy napkins and tossing them into the bin. “Don’t sit that close to the TV. You’ll get square eyes.”

For what seems like the first time in an hour, Cas blinks. “Is that possible?”

Dean chuckles and settles back on his bed, kicking off his boots with a groan. “Nah, just somethin’ parents tell their kids. Dad used to say it to me all the time.” His smile slips as John Winchester’s dark eyes narrow in his mind. “Used to watch so much Scooby Doo it drove him mad. ‘Turn that TV off and do something useful! Ain’t got no use for a son with square eyes!’” He fidgets on the bed, fighting the urge to pull a blanket over himself.

“Oh.” Cas half turns away from the TV. “That seems unnecessarily harsh.”

Dean shrugs. “Just watched it when he was gone.” Had plenty of time.

“I assume you had plenty of time to watch it then.”

Huh.

Dean’s stunned into silence long enough for Cas to look over. Something on his face makes Cas look guilty.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to comment on your father.”

“No.” Dean says but isn’t sure if he means it.

Cas stands, flicking off the TV and sitting against the pillows of his own bed. The quiet makes Dean realise that he’s alone with Cas in a motel room. He isn’t sure why it sets his teeth on edge – it shouldn’t be any different from sharing with Sam. So why does he feel a bit too hot under his shirt?

“Family is a complicated thing.” Cas continues, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.

“Y-yeah.” The word sticks in his throat. “You miss ‘em? The other angels?”

In the soft lamplight, Cas’ profile looks striking as he thinks. “Yes and no. I miss the simplicity of being with them.��

“Simplicity? Can’t imagine Heaven ever being simple.”

“Oh, it’s not, not really. But I knew my place and I knew what I required to do. And I was known. Understood.”

“You think I don’t get you?” Dean asks before he can stop himself.

Cas leans back further, turning slightly to rest his head on the pillow. His eyes look almost velvet in the soft light. Dean finds himself turning a little too, cheek brushing the cotton pillowcase.

“I think you understand me more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Oh.” Dean feels struck dumb and something inside his chest clunks. “That...that’s what friends are for, I guess.”

“Yes.” Cas smiles, gummy and a little crooked where he’s resting his head. “It is.”

Dean rolls onto his back, heart hammering as he stares at the ceiling. Cas’ eyes are still on him – he knows the feel of that gaze like a dangerous coastline knows the relentless glare of a lighthouse.

The silence drags and his fingers itch to switch the TV back on.

“Coulda got you your own room.” He mutters, almost to himself. Least I could do. “Give you some privacy.”

“No.” Cas says firmly. “This is...this is good. Thank you.” He sounds so earnestly grateful Dean almost cringes in shame. “I spend quite a lot of time alone. It’s good to have company.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

“But if you’d rather - ”

“Nah, it’s all good.” He says and is surprised that he means it. He’s counted the stains on the ceiling three times and his heart is slowing to its normal pace again.

“Dean?” Cas sounds a little slower now. “Tell me something?”

“Uh, sure. What?”

“Anything.”

“Like a story?” Dean frowns and looks over to see Cas’ eyes are already half-closed.

“Hmm.”

“Uhhh...” He flounders. He hasn’t done this since he was a kid, making up stories for Sammy to fall asleep to in the back of the Impala. “Ok. Once, this guy woke up. Let’s call him...Dan. He woke up and realised he was underground, being suffocated. So after he panicked a bit, he dug his way out and almost goddamn blinded himself ‘cos it was a sunny day, right? He walks to this old gas station and keeps thinking ‘how am I alive?’ ‘cos he’s pretty sure he was dead.”

He knows he isn’t telling it well but it doesn’t seem to matter because Cas hums again, sounding pleased this time. Dean feels his own body melting like hot wax into the bed as he watches Cas’ eyes close.

“Then he looks in the mirror and sees he’s got this mark on his shoulder. A handprint. So he’s like, ‘who the hell left that there?’”

Cas chuckles, mouth thick with sleep. Dean pulls a blanket over himself and wraps an arm around one of the pillows.

“Turns out, his best friend left it there. But here’s the thing: he ain’t met him yet.”

Dean smiles as Cas’ breathing gets even and heavy. He watches for a moment and squeezes the pillow tight against his chest before turning out the light.

He dreams of Hell but when he wakes, all he can remember are dark wings beating hard against fire.

Dean is sick.

He throws up until his body is shaking, until his throat is raw and his eyes are bloodshot.

He slumps down next to the toilet and takes in breaths he doesn’t really want. The cool title presses against his burning back and he closes eyes. Which is a horrific mistake.

A beam of light streaming from his mouth, from his eyes, from the hole in his chest -

His body jerks and his foot knocks the empty whiskey bottle with a jarring clatter. Yeah, that’s rule one, buddy. Don’t close your fucking eyes.

He stands on shaking legs, picks up the empty bottle and goes back to his room where he’s stashed another. Thankfully, he doesn’t pass Sam on the way. He can’t deal with the pity, he can’t deal with the logic and he can’t deal with his stupid, childish hope. Mom’s gone. Ain’t no sense in pretending otherwise. Gone just like –

Nope.

He opens his door and chucks the empty bottle down again, letting it roll off to some dark corner of his room. He scoops up the next one and cracks open the top, taking a deep swig. It hits him hard; neat alcohol on his turbulent stomach makes him gag but he perseveres. He’s exhausted but he can’t close his eyes.

So he’s aiming for blackout.

It can’t be too far away – he can’t remember when he last ate. He’s aching all over, boiling hot and he’s...

Sobbing.

“You...you son of a bitch...” He sways a little when he looks up at the dingy ceiling but he’s trying to talk beyond that. “Whydya hav’ ta...fuck!” He rushes over to the sink and throws up the whiskey he just swallowed. It burns even more on the way up.

Once he’s stopped retching, he tries to take another swig but his body won’t let him do it. He collapses onto the floor again, legs too weak to stand. The bottle clangs in the sink, probably spilling all of its contents down the drain. He makes a weak sound of protest but doesn’t move.

His eyes feel tight and dry against the salty wetness on his face. He wonders how far above him Heaven is. If he’s even there. Something tells him he isn’t. If he is, surely he would have found a way to get back.

Dean whispers his name, a private prayer of desperation. There’s still some dumb part of him that thinks he might just appear again, slightly dishevelled and annoyed at Dean for not looking after himself.

But he doesn’t.

The silence stretches and Dean contemplates hitting his head on the floor. If he does it hard enough, there’s a good chance it’ll knock him out for a while, maybe a few days if he’s lucky.

He tries to lift his head but it’s too heavy. A wave of panic rushes over him as he starts to feel paralyzed – trapped in his own body and smothered with grief.

“Cas?” He chokes, a fresh wave of tears rushing down his face. “You...you’re meant to come back. You always come back. You gotta...you gotta come back, man. Please. Please, I can’t - ”

I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. Don’t make me.

With all his might, he rolls onto his side before he’s suffocated completely. His head spins as he turns, his stomach churns and his eyes roll back. When he finally passes out, he doesn’t see anything at all.

“The Empty?” Dean whispers, feeling cold.

“Yes.” Cas whispers back. He’s only whispering because Dean is. Dean feels completely normal about that and not giddy at all.

“What was it like?” He doesn’t want to know but has to ask all the same.

“Empty.” Cas says, deadpan.

“Oh ok, smartass – thanks for clearing that up!” Dean huffs good-naturedly and has to grip the railing until his knuckles turn white. He’s got so much happiness in him his body doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels energy thrumming through him and he has the sudden urge to start sprinting and laughing.

They’ve stopped at a motel on the drive back from Colorado to the Bunker. Sam is already asleep, hair all splayed out on his pillow like Sleeping Beauty. But Dean...well, Dean was dead for a couple of minutes today so he figures he’ll enjoy being alive for a bit longer. He leans on the rail overlooking the parking lot and lets the cool air fill his lungs.

He’s got company.

“How is Jack?” Cas asks, obviously expecting a better answer than the quick reassurance they’d given him earlier.

“He’s doing ok. I was...” Dean trails off, his good mood momentarily dipping into guilt. “I was kind of a dick to him at first - ”

“What a surprise.” Cas sighs, world-weary and affectionately irritated. Dean wants to make him sound like that every day.

“- but we’ve gotten better.” He knocks Cas’ shoulder with his. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Good.” Cas smiles at him and he has to grip the railing again.

Dean watches him stare up at the moon, the pearly light making him look as otherworldly as he is. Dean is reminded there are wings somewhere behind Cas. Broken, yes, but still there. It’s weirdly exciting that Cas isn’t human. A strange thrill shoots through him when he really thinks about it. He feels like one of those people who inadvertently tame some dangerous beast and have their photos taken with the thing sat on their couch with them. It’s that precious feeling that you’ve been chosen, that something that would normally kill you with a snap of jaws or a click of its fingers saw you and thought you were special. So it decided that it wanted you to live. That it wanted to spend time with you. That he wanted –

“Dean? You’re staring.” Cas turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly smug expression. “You usually tell me off for that.”

“Right.” Dean doesn’t stop looking. “It’s just...you’re back.You came back again.”

Cas’s expressions softens and he edges a little closer. Suddenly – wildly – Dean thinks if Cas kissed him now he’d be fine with it.

He doesn’t.

“It was suffocating.” He says instead. “The black emptiness was...all encompassing. Like no matter what I did or where I went, I would never escape the feeling of total despair. Of being painfully alone. It was like - ”

“Choking.” Dean says and swallows hard against his healing throat.

“Yes.” Cas’ fingers twitch on the railing and Dean thinks that if he moved his left pinkie, he could feel his skin. Cas’ hand drops before he can really contemplate doing it. “But I did escape.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s full of energy again, happiness buzzing around his body like a swarm of bumblebees. “You got out, man.”

“I was afraid that feeling would follow me. That I would still feel that fear no matter how far I ran.”

“And?”

“I don’t.” Cas turns to the moon again, bathed in pure light, eyes shining as bright as his grace. “I don’t feel scared at all.”

Dean blinks back the sting in his eyes and smiles. “Me neither.”

Dean pushes open the door with a sweaty palm.

Cas stands next to him, staring into the room with his lips slightly parted. Dean’s gaze lingers on them for moment before he drags his eyes away.

Just because Cas...said what he said, doesn’t mean he wants that. Maybe he didn’t really mean it. Or maybe he did mean it but like...friends. Best friends love each other. Of course they do. Sure, it did seemlike a momentous romantic confession made by a guy madly in love with his best friend before he sacrificed himself to save said best friend but maybe...maybe it wasn’t really like that.

“You did this for me?” Cas sounds almost tearful and Dean can’t look at him like that. It reminds too much of –

“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Well, Sam helped too. Turns out he’s kinda nerdy about plants too. But I bought ‘em all and watered ‘em and...Jack got you that stuffed bee, by the way.”

Cas steps inside the room and Dean can finally look up from his feet. His eyes go straight to Cas’ broad back, casually dressed in one of Sam’s sweaters. The sleeves are too long but Cas says he likes it. He’s wearing a pair of joggers that Dean kept aside for him and a pair of socks with a hole in the toe.

“I love it.”

Dean’s heart literally skips a beat. Great, he loves it. Loves it in the way he loves –

“Wanted you to have something to come back to, you know? I know this was always kinda your room but there was nothing in here and I thought...after what you said before about the Empty...thought you’d want something good to come back to. Bright and full of life...or whatever, I dunno. Just thought you might like it.”

“It’s incredible.”

Dean thinks that’s over stating it. It’s not that good. Not nearly enough to repay his debts. Not anywhere near what Cas deserves. He deserves a real home, a huge garden, a fucking mansion with butlers and people who bow to him and call him ‘sir’. Instead Dean has given him his old room back. Sure, it’s got a few shelves up, a new rug, bedding that Jack picked out called ‘jungle dreams’, a load of plants and a tall lamp that gives everything a nice glow but it’s still the same room.

Dean has never felt more pathetic.

Castiel is an angel. Ok, barely an angel now (and whose fault it that?) but still a celestial being. He might get tired sometimes, he might get hungry and he might be able to get drunk but he’s still an angel.

He’s still better.

Better than this stupid room, better than this miserable Bunker. Better than Dean.

“Is this your blanket?” Cas asks suddenly, plucking the Scooby-Doo fleece blanket from the bed.

Oh, that. “Uh, yeah. Thought you might get cold now. Don’t want you to get numb toes or nothin’.”

“That’s...” Dean isn’t prepared for the open, raw joy on Cas’ face when he looks up. It almost sends him reeling backwards out of the door. “That’s very kind of you. You didn’t have to do all of this. It’s...”

Stupid. Stupid plants, stupid lamp, stupid goddamn blanket.

“It’s wonderful.”

“It’s stupid.” Dean blurts, feeling awkward and childish. “Shoulda done something more. Shoulda got you - ”

“You got me.” Cas says firmly. “You got me out, Dean. You and Sam and Jack...I will never be able to thank you enough. And then to come back to this room that you worked so hard on, that you filled with things you knew I would like...there is nothing better than that in the whole world. The whole of creation. To be known and to be wanted is the best thing there is.”

Fuck.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he say to that? What can he say that would ever compare to what Cas said? What he said before –

“Right. Ok. Great. That’s...good. I’ll just...” He gestures over his shoulder to the door. Being in here with Cas is too intense, like staring at the sun or holding your hand over an open flame. “You probably want to rest.”

Cas hesitates before saying, “Yes. I suppose I should. Thank you again for this. I really love it.”

“Yeah, man.” Dean almost winces. “No worries. I’ll just...leave you to it.”

He steps back into the open doorway, unwilling to take his eyes away from Cas because he’s here, in the room Dean has imagined him in for weeks. It’s kind of annoying that Cas doesn’t have the same trouble. He turns his back, wandering towards the plants on the shelves and gently touching the leaves.

Dean lingers, like a moth perched on a lightshade.

“Are you - ” Just leave. “Are you gonna be ok by yourself? I mean, you said before that it was lonely being in the Empty. Thought maybe you’d want company?”

Cas seems surprised when he faces Dean again. “Oh. Well, yes, of course. I would enjoy you staying for a while. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

The idea of Cas thinking he’s keeping Dean against his will is laughable.

“So, er - ” He sits on the bed, fingers clutching at his blanket. “What do you wanna do? I could get my laptop and we could watch a movie? Or we could watch one of those nature documentaries that kinda send me to sleep? You know the ones with the British guy with smooth voice - ”

“Actually, I should rest. I am quite tired.”

“Oh.” Dean tries to not look crushingly disappointed. “Right, yeah.”

“You could rest with me.” Cas says, just like that. Like it’s not a big deal at all. Like guy friends just clamber into bed with each other all the time and die for each other and confess their love for each other...

“Sure.” Dean’s mouth decides for him. “We could – we could do that.”

So they get into bed together.

Cas slides in as though this is his regular night time routine, looking totally at ease in his new ‘jungle dreams’ bedding and borrowed blanket. Dean’s hands shake as he lifts up the covers and slides in too. He waits for it to be weird, waits for discomfort and his father’s face swimming in front of eyes.

Instead, he just feels warm.

They’re led next to each other, unmoving and flat on their backs. Dean’s right leg is about to fall off the bed and Cas’ shoulder looks like it’s digging into the nightstand. Maybe this bed wasn’t made to fit two fully grown men too afraid to touch.

“Dean, are you comfortable? I am not.”

He laughs and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, this isn’t great. Maybe if we...uh - ”

“What about if we do this?”

Cas’ hands are suddenly everywhere, manhandling him in a way that Dean has never experienced before but wouldn’t mind experiencing again. He ends up with his head resting on Cas’ chest, forehead pressed against his neck. His right leg has nowhere to go but to hook around Cas’ legs, entwining them together.

And Cas is holding him.

His arms are wrapped around him and not just because they haven’t got anywhere else to go. Because he wants them to go there. Because he wantsto hold Dean. Possibly all night.

Dean starts to panic.

Led like this, his ear is pressed against Cas’ chest – his heartbeat the loudest thing he can hear. What if someone breaks into the Bunker without him knowing? What if something is happening to Sam? To Jack? And he hasn’t even brought a gun with him. He squirms a little, debating on popping back to his room to get one when Cas says,

“Are you thinking about getting a weapon, Dean? I promise you, you won’t need it.”

Cas’ deep voice rumbles through his body, rocking him out of his spiralling worry so quickly Dean briefly wonders if he used some of his remaining slither of grace to do it.

“I would never let anything happen to you.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“An intruder? Judging by our current position, I assume I am the being most visible from the door.”

Dean’s fingers curl in Cas’ borrowed sweater. “You mean you’d be shot first?”

“Yes.” Dean feels his arms tighten around him for a moment. “And I believe my body would shield you from the vast majority of attacks.” He sighs and his breath tickles Dean’s hair. “Of course, if someone were to gain access to the Bunker, it’s likely they would be a supremely powerful being. That would reduce our chance of survival by quite a lot. However, if you really insist on being armed, I am confident that in the few seconds I could shield you, you could at least reach for a makeshift weapon. Whatever good it would do.”

“Right. But...” Dean doesn’t really feel comforted. “I don’t want you to...” He can’t quite say the word.

“Die?” Cas finishes for him as his fingers begin to move, leaving warm trails over Dean’s back. “No, I cannot say that I am enthused by the idea either. I have no desire to leave you again.”

“Not ever?” Dean asks and despises himself for the needy edge in his voice.

“Not ever.” His hands are moving now, big and slow in soothing motions against Dean’s back. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this. Mom, he thinks. When he was a kid. He knows he must look pathetic – six foot plus guy that’s been to hell and back being held like a baby. He should move, should pull away, wipe his eyes and tell Cas it’s time he went back to his own room.

He doesn’t want to.

“You love me.” He says instead, face burning and mouth dry.

He feels Cas smile against the crown of his head. “Yes.”

“You’re like...in love with me.”

One of Cas’ hands moves higher, fingertips trailing over the back of his neck leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Yes.”

Dean will never admit to the half moan, half whine he lets out. He buries his face in Cas’ chest and breathes him in. The smell of him fills Dean’s lungs and Cas’ arms start to feel like a weighted blanket, pressing gently on his body. It makes his eyes soft and his limbs heavy.

As he drifts off, he feels Cas’ lips brushing against his temple.

Dean wakes slowly.

He’s cocooned in softness and warmth and he has no desire to rush anything anymore – least of all to the leave the comfort of his (new) memory foam and his angel. He shifts a little, nuzzling his nose against stubble.

“I thought you were making breakfast.” Cas’ voice rolls over him slow and sweet like honey.

“Hmm.” A murmur, breathed into Cas’ neck, is all Dean can manage.

“Dean, you did promise them.” Cas says, with barely a hint of firmness. His voice is a little husky, like he’s still battling the urge to sleep.

“Oh, yeah? When?” Dean’s lips brush over warm skin.

“Last night.”

He pretends to forget. “Can’t take anything I said last night serious, Cas.”

“Oh?” He sounds a bit more awake now – that familiar dry, teasing tone creeping in.

Dean feels a pang of something in his chest so intense he almost squirms. “Alright, maybe some things were serious.”

“Hmm.” One of Cas’ hands rubs languid strokes up and down his back. “I should hope so.”

The memories come back easy and bright, playing like a dream behind Dean’s heavy eyelids. The stillness of their bedroom is punctuated by the sound of quiet voices in the living room. He grins at that, relishing waking up with the love of his life and his family just in the next room. Happy. Safe.

“Screw ‘em.” Dean says, more to himself than Cas and rubs his foot along his leg a few times, settling down again.

Cas doesn’t seem to have any objections. His hand strokes higher, fingers brushing through Dean’s hair and his blunt nails lightly graze his scalp.

Dean almost whines, his head lifting to follow the touch. He half opens his eyes again and sees a smile, unhurried and adoring. Cas leans down a little and kisses him, stubble rough and lips soft. Dean’s fingers curl against skin and his legs squeeze a muscled thigh beneath the blankets.

They stay that way for a while – bodies warm and entwined, gently greeting each other as the new day dawns. The rising sun has drenched the room in rich yellow light, soft and muffled through the curtains.

Cas’ hand is just caressing his hip and his tongue is getting hotter and more demanding in Dean’s very willing mouth when there’s a knock at the door.

“I know you’re both awake.” Sam’s voice rumbles through the door, amused and still a little sleep rough. “And don’t think we forgot about breakfast either. Eileen wants pancakes and she says I don’t make them right.”

“Not unhealthy enough!” Eileen voice calls out, a little further away.

Dean laughs against Cas’ lips.

“Alright, alright! Gimme five.”

As they slowly detangle, he catches a glimpse of silver as Cas stretches. Dean’s hand feels heavy and warm, like someone’s been holding it for hours. Dean yawns and dangles one leg out of bed, then another. He’s easing himself into the day, taking it a bit at a time.

He can do that now.

He laughs as Cas drags him in for one last kiss before he slides away, shoving his feet into his slippers and tugging on his trusty robe. His ties it around him and wanders, a little stiff-legged, to the window. He pulls back the curtains and from the bed Cas both grumbles and raises his face to meet the sunrise.

Dean watches the sun bathe him in bright light and remembers seeing him like this before. But then it was moonlight and he and Cas were at some shitty motel just out of Colorado. Not in their own house, not in theirbedroom. Dean has his first unbearably intense wave of wild happiness. It won’t be the last one today.

“I like having a window.”

“I liked having eyesight.” Cas mutters, burying himself into the covers.

Dean laughs and thwacks him on the thigh as he passes out the door. Cas’ll be up in his own time.

Four steps and Dean’s in the kitchen.

His brother is perched on one of the chairs at the little island separating the kitchen from the living room. Eileen is signing at him and he’s watching, completely enraptured, with a look of total adoration on his face. Dean would have laughed at him for that once. Now, he knows what it’s like when someone looks at him like that. Now he knows what it’s like to look at someone like that.

But he might still laugh a bit. That’s a big brother’s right.

“Mornin’!” He calls cheerily, rummaging in the fridge for eggs and milk. He emerges triumphant, plopping them onto the counter with a grin. “If the lady wants pancakes, the lady gets pancakes.”

“Best brother in law ever.” Eileen says and Sam almost falls off his seat. She just shrugs cheekily. “Unofficially.”

“For now.” Dean winks and Sam splutters.

“Right, well. Once you’ve finished marrying me off, can we get some breakfast?”

“Alright, alright!” Dean glares but he’s itching to get started. “Goddamn demanding baby. Eileen you could do so much better. Sadly, I’m already taken - ”

She laughs and so does Sam. He wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and she plays with his hair as they all talk. They talk about Jack getting hyperactive on sugared almonds, about Claire and Kaia wearing matching suits, about Jody and Donna getting drunk and singing karaoke until they were booed off the stage.

Then Cas stumbles out of their soft-lit room; hair wild and face crumpled. He bids them all good morning in a slightly rough tone before shuffling over for coffee. He cradles his mug in both hands as he leans against the corner counter, basking in the sun with his eyes closed.

Dean watches him, aching with joy.

Being in the dark with Cas is easy. But being with him in the light is better.

He twirls the whisk in his hand and it knocks against the ring on his left hand, so new it glows against his skin. Cas kisses his neck as he passes into the living room and Dean grins, looking up at his family.

“Hey, Eileen. What’s the sign for ‘husband’?”

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fic #spn fic #userstarry #dean and cas night time snippets throughout the years #it's mostly cute #ahhhhh my first spn fic i'm so excited #i really loved working on this #mine

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extasiswings · 4 years ago

Text

You can all blame @thisissirius for this one because I was going to write some sweet fluff but instead...also on ao3 here.

“Diaz! I’m out of ammo!”

“ETA six minutes.”

“We don’t have six minutes.”

Bullets flying, the sound of gunfire popping in his ears—but then, no, he’s back on the transport, alarms blaring, falling, falling, falling out of the sky—

He’s trapped and it’s burning all around, hot, twisted, sharp metal—he scrambles over to the patient—

Hen. Burned and coated with ash, she coughs and tips her head as she looks at him.

“At least no one’s shooting at us, right Eddie?”

“Eddie?”

“Eddie.”

Eddie jerks awake, his head whipping around as his heart pounds, only to see Buck, close by with his hands raised, palms open as if he had been touching him and just pulled back. Eddie’s mouth is dry, and there’s a burn in the back of his throat like he might be sick, but he swallows hard to get himself under control as he takes in his surroundings.

They’re in the truck, he reminds himself, the surroundings familiar. He and Buck are alone, Hen up front driving—when Eddie looks at his watch, he realizes it’s only about halfway into her most recent driving shift and they still have at least another five hours before they get back to LA. Despite the darkness of the interior, Buck’s face—and specifically the concern written across it—is clear.

“It’s just me,” Buck says quietly. “Sorry, I—I wasn’t sure whether it was right to wake you up or not, but it didn’t seem like—you were sort of twitching? And you made this sound—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie assures. “It was—yeah. Um, thank you.”

His voice is raspy and there’s a cold sweat drying on his skin that makes him feel somehow dirtier and more uncomfortable than when he’d been in the field covered in soot. At home, or even at the station, he would get up in a situation like this. Would take a shower or work out until his hands stopped shaking. But he doesn’t have those options here, trapped in a moving vehicle. Is flayed open and exposed, a heady cocktail of fight-or-flight chemicals buzzing under his skin as the echoes of alarm bells and gunshots fade from his ears and his best friend looks at him like he’s a basket case—

No, that’s not fair. Buck’s looking at him the way he would look at any of them he was worried about, because Buck is a good person with a big heart. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just naked concern, and Eddie tries to remember that as he sets his elbows on his knees and drops his head into his hands, blowing out a shaky breath.

“Hey, Hen?” Buck calls, raising his voice. “Can we make a stop? I need to pee. Sorry, should have gone earlier.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Buckley,” she calls back. “And that we’re not totally in the middle of nowhere. There should be a rest stop at the next exit, I’ll turn off there.”

“Thanks.”

Eddie presses the heel of his hands to his eyes for a moment before dropping them, rolls his head on his neck to work out some of the tension in his muscles before finally looking back at Buck.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, despite the relief that floods him at the thought of escaping the confined space for even a few minutes, getting the chance to stretch his legs and breathe and maybe even splash some water on his face.

“Yes, I did,” Buck replies, his voice equally low. “Besides, you would have done it for me.”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t have needed to do it for you,” Eddie shoots back, frustration heavy on his tongue. “You can fall asleep on a road trip without worrying about—”

He cuts himself off and sighs. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m—fuck.”

“I’ve been fine,” he insists, because it feels important that he make Buck understand that. That he’s capable, that he has himself together.

He always needs to have himself together.

“I had a couple bad weeks after everything with the well last year, but I bounced back. It’s not—this doesn’t happen that often, I don’t know why—”

“Eddie, I don’t even know what this is,” Buck says. He reaches out—stops, hesitating before his hand makes contact with Eddie’s shoulder, his eyes flicking up to search Eddie’s before finally closing the rest of the distance. It’s instinct to flinch from the touch, but Eddie tamps down on the impulse, instead focusing on the weight and heat of Buck’s hand pressing down, grounding, anchoring.

“So you had a bad dream,” he continues, shrugging. “Everyone does. The other day I woke up panicked because I dreamt I was kidnapped by a supervillain who pulled all of my teeth out. It happens. Plus, I still—”

Buck looks down and swallows hard. “I still dream about the tsunami. Sometimes. And about being trapped under the truck. And it never matters how either of those things actually turned out because in the dreams—nightmares—I always lose. Christopher. My leg. Brains can be assholes. But it’s not—you had a bad dream. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Alright, boys, we’re here,” Hen calls as the truck rolls to a stop. “Try to make it quick? I’d like to at least try to make it back in time to sleep a few hours in my own bed before my afternoon class.”

“You’re the best, Hen,” Buck replies. Eddie pushes himself up and opens the door to climb out. Even just standing on solid ground helps—he sucks in several breaths of fresh air, letting each one out slowly. The stars are bright and clear against the ink-black sky, the rest stop far enough from any major cities or the wildfire that light pollution or smoke don’t dim their shine. Buck’s hand brushes against Eddie’s back as he climbs out of the truck as well, a gentle, casual thing that feels more like habit than a deliberate touch. A subtle, familiar ghost that whispers I’m here, behind, hello.

Eddie doesn’t feel the urge to flinch away from that touch.

When Buck starts off in the direction of the restrooms, Eddie pushes off the truck and follows.

“I got my silver star after my platoon’s medical transport helicopter was shot down in Afghanistan,” he admits a few minutes later, after he washes his hands and splashes water on his face for good measure. “We crashed, I got almost everyone out of the wreckage. We took heavy fire...I really thought I was gonna die that night. Wound up with three bullet wounds and a medal and a hell of a lot of guilt over the one guy who didn’t make it home.”

“And Hen was in a helicopter crash yesterday,” Buck fills in. “That you watched happen.”

Eddie sighs. “And Hen was in a helicopter crash yesterday, yeah,” he admits. “I didn’t think—we were doing search and rescue in a wildfire, it wasn’t a battlefield, we weren’t getting shot at, and she was fine. She is. Fine. And I’m fine. There’s no reason—”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m fine,” he repeats.

Buck goes quiet for a moment, catching his lower lip between his teeth. And then he says—

“I’m in therapy.” His tongue sweeps out and wets his lips. “I’m fine, too. But I’m in therapy. Because I realized that I didn’t want to settle for fine. And also that I could be...more fine. Finer. Finest.”

“Do you think that’s something I should be ashamed of?” He asks.

“Of course not,” Eddie says, his stomach dropping at the very thought. “I would never think—no, Buck that’s great—if it’s helping, I’m happy for you.”

“Then why are you ashamed of yourself just because your fine isn’t perfect?”

“I—” Words catch in Eddie’s throat as he squirms at the logic. He doesn’t think because it’s me is a response that’s going to fly, but that’s all that comes to mind. And maybe that means Buck has a point.

Buck takes a step closer, closing the distance between them. His hand curves around the side of Eddie’s neck, thumb pressing ever so lightly under Eddie’s chin to tip his head up. The look in his eyes is soft and makes Eddie feel exposed in an entirely different way than he had in the truck. But he doesn’t think he dislikes the feeling.

“You went through hell and you survived,” Buck says quietly. “So you have a few scars. You never have to be ashamed of that. Especially not in front of me.”

Eddie shudders out a breath and leans in, closing his eyes as he drops his head to Buck’s shoulder. Buck adjusts to wrap his arms around him, holding tight, and they stand there embracing for a long moment as the remaining tension bleeds from Eddie’s shoulders.

“Why did I hear TK telling you he’s in a serious relationship before we left?” Eddie asks once he feels steady enough to pull away.

Buck’s cheeks go pink as he laughs. “Uh—well. I think he thought I was coming onto him?”

Eddie bites his cheek to keep from smiling. “Were you? I guess he’s okay...if that’s the kind of look you’re into.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “You know there was only one person there I wanted to flirt with.”

“Marjan?” Eddie offers, and the eyeroll becomes an exasperated stare.

“I agreed to glacially slow, not nonexistent,” Buck points out, stepping in and leaning in and—

Eddie’s fingers curl into the front of Buck’s shirt as Buck’s mouth ghosts over his, using to grip to pull him down into a proper kiss.

“If he had stuck around long enough for me to get over my surprise, I would have told him I was spoken for,” Buck adds, a little breathless when he steps back.

“Glacially slow or not?”

“Glacially slow or not.” Buck’s lips curve up as he laces their fingers. “I told you months ago I didn’t mind waiting. I’m in this. However long it takes.”

Eddie squeezes his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. And there are so many things that could be meant by that, he’s not even sure he can name them all. But Buck seems to get it anyway.

“Come on. Let’s go back.”

“Let’s go home,” Eddie adds. Their hands slide apart as they leave the restroom, but Eddie still feels Buck’s warmth sinking into his skin, like sunlight chasing away shadows. And as he climbs back into the truck, he thinks that maybe Buck’s right. Maybe he could be more than fine. Maybe admitting that isn’t a bad thing.

When he falls asleep again, he doesn’t dream.

#chapel writes #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fic #buddie fic

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bnhabadass · 5 years ago

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Pairing: Hawks x Reader Warnings: NSFW, Apocalypse AU Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4489 A/N: So excited to share with you all my contribution to this month’s bnharem smut server collaboration. I would like to give a big thanks to @candychronicles for beta reading this and to @hisoknen for introducing me to Fotor. My banner looks so much better now thanks to you. Don’t forget to check out everyone else’s stories here!

If there’s one thing you miss most about the old world it’s the color green. The bright green of trees in the summer, the soft grass you would run through barefoot, the small insects that blend in so well with their surroundings. You haven’t seen any of that in ages. As you run through the woods, all you can see is brown. The moss patterns snaking their way up tree trunks have all disappeared. Dead leaves crunch under your heavy boots and the trees around you are so dry they could catch fire in an instant.

You stop to catch your breath. How long have you been running? Two miles? You’re not sure if you lost the raiders or not. What you do know is that you’re alone, you don’t have much food and if you don’t find a good source of water soon, the oozing cut on your leg will become infected.

You find a tree stump to rest on and take a swig out of your canteen. You’re tired. Your body has never ached this much before. Every muscle is pounding, every crevasse uges to be stretched. As you try to move your left leg, you can’t help but hold back tears. It stings too much. You take the bandana out of your hair and tightly tie it around the slice in your leg. You take a safety pin out of your backpack and secure the cloth. It’s not much, but it will keep pressure on the wound until you can find something to patch it up. You might need to raid someone’s campsite to find a bandage. The thought sickens you. You hate associating yourself with them.

You were the medic of your team, the keeper of all the medicine, bandages and any antiseptic wipes that you came across. Your team members would do the hunting and the raiding and they would come back to base each with an arm full of food and supplies for the lot of you.

Then they started dropping like flies. One of them got sick and wouldn’t get better. Another got an infection that you couldn’t get rid of. You still beat yourself up for his death every time you think about him. One of your teammates went hunting and never came back. Pretty soon it was just you and your team leader. You stayed together for a week. She taught you how to hunt and you taught her what plants were edible and which ones could be used for healing. Then the raiders came and now it is just you.

You close your backpack and stand up. Nothing good will come out of sulking, so you might as well try and make a move on.

As the sun sets, the fiery orange colors swarm across the sky. The moon rises up and slowly comes into view. At least that’s one thing that’s the same from the old world.

Without the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you can feel the stinging of the cut on your leg even more. You limp through the woods at the pace of a tortoise for what feels like hours.

The only food in your backpack is a can of fruit salad leftover from an abandoned grocery store raid. It’s something, but it wouldn’t be enough to subside the growling in your stomach.

A light catches your eye. Smoke rises from the top of the trees. You could go over there and see how many people there are. If there’s only one you might be able to take them on. Two or more could end in a disaster, but if you have the slightest chance of making it out with gauze and a hunk of meat roasted over the fire you might be able to survive the night.

Your eyes squint and you walk forward, trying to get a closer look. You are off your guard when you feel something tug around your ankle and hoist you into the air. You can’t help but let out a small shriek. You are quick to cover your mouth with your hand but you are very much aware that the noise alerted the people near the fire.

“Well well well,” a voice from below you sang. “Looks like I caught a little dove.”

The rope around your ankle is tight. You feel your foot starting to grow numb as the person from below lowers the trap, setting you free.

“Who are you?” You fiddle with the rope but the knot is too tight.

“Allow me.” You look up at the person, the man standing in front of you. He takes out a large swiss army knife and opens the blade. He saws through the rope, careful not to cut you. “Sorry about that,” he says when it’s finally off. “People don’t usually come around here so I’ve never gotten anyone hung up on these bigger traps.”

He extends a hand out for you and you take a moment to study his features. He has messy ash blonde hair that is slightly overgrown. His toned muscles are enunciated by the fact that he is only wearing an undershirt.

You grab his big, slightly sweaty hand and stumble up from the ground.

“Whoa easy there.” His friendly tone of voice hits differently than the other people you have come across throughout your nomadic travels. It’s very soothing, trustworthy. And that makes you worry all the more.

“What do you want from me?” you ask.

The man eyes you up and down. His gaze makes you feel uncomfortable, like he’s eating you up with his eyes.

“What happened there?” He points to your leg and the blood soaked bandana that has begun sliding down to your ankle.

“Raiders.” A one word response that everyone knew meant trouble. “Now answer my question. What do you want from me?” Your voice is sturdy and, in your opinion, threatening.

But the man just laughs. “Trust me, dove. There isn’t much I want from you.” He begins walking back towards his camp site. You watch as he leaves but he stops in his tracks. “Coming?”

The man’s campsite was small. A red pickup truck is parked at one end of the clearing. It doesn’t look like it runs anymore. Mud and dirt have been spread along its side to cover up its bright hue.

“So,” the man asks. “Do you have a name?” He is fiddling with the contents in a small lock box as he speaks.

“I’m,” you seath as the pain from your leg begins to get to you. “(Y/n).”

“That’s a pretty name,” the man says. “I’m Keigo. So, (Y/n). Let’s get that cut cleaned up.”

You are confused. People in this day and age aren’t usually nice, especially to stragglers like yourself. “What are you doing?” you ask when you see him come over to you with a cloth soaked in some substance. You pull your leg back out of instinct but your breath hitches again when the stinging returns.

“It’s just an antiseptic,” he says while putting his arms up in defense. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cautiously, you scooch over to him and rest your leg on a small tree stump.

Keigo slowly pulls his arms back down and kneels on the ground, taking your leg in his firm hand. His hand is warm. It’s big, much bigger than yours, but it has a gentle touch that calms you down as he presses the cloth to your wound.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the stinging.

“Sh sh sh I’m sorry. I know it stings.” He extends a hand out for you to grasp and you squeeze it as he continues wiping the dry blood off of your leg.

It isn’t long before your leg is bandaged up tightly, keeping pressure on the gauze underneath.

“That should hold for a while.” Keigo smiles down at his work and you can’t help but find it a little bit arrogant.

“How did you even get your hands on antiseptic? I was like the medic of my group and we could never find anything more than those shitty wipes during grocery store and pharmacy raids.”

Keigo looks at you with a smirk lacing his face. His friendly eyes are replaced with dangerous ones, ones that cause a hot pit to form in your stomach and travel lower, below your belt. “Let’s just say I have a few dirty tricks up my sleeve.”

“S-so you’re a raider,” you stutter. “You stole that bottle from another person.”

He chuckles slightly and the sound causes goosebumps to run up your spine. “Not exactly, it’s a lot more complicated than that, but believe what you will. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re confused, somewhat afraid, and slightly turned on by the deepness of his voice and the vibrations emanating from his laugh.

“You should stay for dinner,” he says, voice returning to the cheerful and almost goofy tone it had before.

You hesitate, but your stomach growls as if on cue and you spot the piece of meat Keigo has laid out to place over the fire. You let out a huff. “Why not.”

Keigo has cut the piece of meat in half. He places it on a hard plastic plate and slides it over to you. It’s juicy but bland. Still, you’re grateful to have a hot meal instead of having to gather berries and edible flowers.

“Is it good?” Keigo asks.

You nod your head, face stuffed full. “Yeah. I haven’t had chicken in so long.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You can’t help but laugh at the fake shocked expression gracing Keigo’s face.

“How did you even catch a chicken? They usually aren’t wandering around in the middle of the woods.”

“Neither are damsels in distress like yourself.” The sly smirk on Keigo’s face causes knots to form in your stomach as a wave of embarrassment washes over you.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a damsel in distress,” you mumble. Your head is turned in the other direction as you try to avoid eye contact.

Keigo raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “Oh yeah? Tell me, how did you get out of that trap earlier? Oh, and who bandaged up your bloody calf and squeezed your hand when the pain was too much to bear?”

“Shut up.” You lean over to playfully shove him, but in the process you fall off the stump you were sitting on. Your butt hits the ground with a thud.

Keigo laughs and extends a hand for you to take.

You reach for it, but as soon as he pulls you up he has yanked you over to him. You are now sitting on his lap and your spine can’t help but shiver as his big calloused yet comforting hands drag up and down your exposed arms.

“Poor clumsy thing,” Keigo says, a darker tone taking over his voice. He continues to warm you up.

You can feel his hot breath tickle the back of your neck as he moves his hands up to your shoulder blades.

“You don’t do much fighting do you?” he asks. His thumbs methodically move to work the knots out of your shoulders.

“I–” You have to recollect your thoughts and focus on anything other than his hands and the magic they’re working. “I told you I was the medic of my group. I, ah, I spent a lot of time treating hunting wounds.”

“So you’re hunched over someone’s broken body all day.” He stops using his thumbs to attack your shoulders and moves to using his knuckles and fists. “I can see why you have all these knots then.”

You can’t help but contract your body forward as he moves his hands down your lower back. You let out an involuntarily breathy moan at his actions.

Keigo chuckles, leaning his mouth in the crook of your neck. “You know your skin is really soft,” he mumbles.

You bark out a laugh. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re going to make a skin suit out of me.”

He laughs too and he gives your sides a slight squeeze.

You turn and look at the ash blonde man. He weaves his fingers in his hair and looks back at you with a devilish smirk. He’s beautiful, one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. And he’s touching you. His hands are groping your shoulders and your sides. You want them to travel all over you, from the plushness of your ass to the valley between your breasts.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when you feel something warm on your lips. Him. His lips crash into yours. It takes a moment for you to recognize your surroundings, what’s going on. His lips are dry and slightly cracked from the heat but you don’t mind.

Without removing your lips from his, you shift to a more comfortable position and Keigo is quick to continue roaming his hands all over you. He grabs your ass with one and tangles the other in your hair. When he pulls, you let out a gasp and he bites your lip, a low growl escaping his throat.

Tears pick in the corner of your eyes as the sensitive skin grows hot.

Keigo wipes them away with his thumbs. “I guess little doves don’t like teeth.” He picks up your arms and lazily wraps them around his neck. You clasp them together and adjust your position on his lap. “So tell me, dove. What kind of things do you like?”

Your face is hot. You wish you could smooth that feeling back but you can’t move under his gaze.

“What’s the matter?” he asks with that dark, sultry voice. “Cat got your tongue? I hear they prey on little birdies like you.”

You whimper slightly. There is so much you want to say to him but the heat pooling in your abdomen and the fluids leaking into your panties distract from any thoughts. Instead, you tangle your hands into his thick hair. It’s a bit greasy but so is yours. You don’t mind. You tug on a lock and grind your hips forward. You can feel the strain of his cock press onto your clothed folds, already soaked with anticipation.

“Someone’s a bit needy today aren’t we,” Keigo says. He takes one of his thumbs and puts it in your mouth. “Suck.”

His demand leaves you weak in the knees. You comply and begin sucking tightly on his thumb. Your tongue wraps around it and the bitter flavor is quick to take over your tastebuds.

As you suck on his thumb, Keigo moves his free hand up your tank top. He grabs one of your breasts and snakes his fingers underneath your bra to stroke your nipple.

You gasp as a shock of cold wind brushes past them. The bud becomes stiff and Keigo rolls the peak between his fingers.

“Are you gonna just sit there, or are you going to put that mouth to work?”

You blush and go back to sucking on his thumb. You lick a long stripe up the pad of his finger as he fondles your breast.

He slides his one hand around your chest and you hear the click of bra clasps becoming undone. The bra slides down your arms and you chuck it to the side.

Keigo takes his thumb out of your mouth and slides his other hand under your shirt. He thumbs over the sensitive skin of your nipple. “You know, you have a nice rack,” he says. “The perfect size, really.” He lifts your shirt up so he can see you in full. He traces his fingers over every scar and blemish you have gotten over the years of hiding and raiding and trying your hardest to put up a fight.

He leans in to press his mouth against your breast. He kisses between them and works his way down past the scars and scrapes to the waistband of your pants.

“Wait.” Your hands move to grab his wrist. “Is there, I don’t know, anywhere more comfortable where we could do this?”

Keigo looks around at the ground covered with dead leaves and miscellaneous supplies he’s tossed around. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize little birdies like you need to be pampered.”

The tease in his voice nips at you like ice and you can’t help but feel even more overheated than you already are. “Little birdies have fragile bones,” you retort.

The wicked grin on his face widdens and he chuckles into your neck, nipping it and taking you off guard.

He slides his arms under you and hoists you up. He turns around so you can’t see where he’s walking but your legs wrap around him, clinging like a koala.

Keigo jumps up onto something. He sets you down and you can see that you’re now standing in the bed of the truck. An open sleeping bag lies over a busted up looking mattress. You can’t help but smile at the thought of laying in a bed for once, be that a broken mattress with springs poking out the sides.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when you feel Keigo’s arm snake around you, pulling you close. You move your arms up and cup his cheek.

He leans in and kisses you again, this time with more force like a wild beast devouring its prey.

Your hands trail up his stomach under his shirt. Your fingers dance as they caress every one of his muscles. You are eager to rip the tight black t-shirt off of him and he can tell. As your fingernails rake their way down his back, Keigo lets go of your lips to pull off his shirt. In the split second he was off of your lips, you could see something red across his back. A tattoo maybe. You couldn’t make out what it was but it fades in your mind all together when he leans his mouth down to suck on the stiff peaks of your nipples.

He makes sure to give them equal attention before yet again trailing his way down your stomach with soft and sweet kisses. As he pushes you back with a gentle touch, you fall back onto the busted mattress. A loud creaking noise emanates from the truck bed but Keigo doesn’t seem to notice. He resumes his position between your legs. His fingers masterfully undo the button of your jeans and slide them down your legs.

You have never felt this exposed. Sure you’ve been naked with other people before but never in the woods where anyone could come across you at any moment, be that a raider or a hunter or someone trying to escape just like yourself. Still, every time you look down your stomach and meet Keigo’s gaze, you melt into butter and slip out of your worries.

“Now tell me,” Keigo said, beginning to drag your panties down. You stay connected to them with a thin strand of your own slick. “What do little birdies taste like?”

This is wrong. You’ve just met this guy. He’s a complete stranger. You don’t know who he is or what kind of person he was in the old world. You don’t know whether or not he is the type of person to make you chicken soup when you’ve come down with a cold or let you borrow a cup of sugar when you’re short when making a recipe. In the old world you would have never fucked a stranger after only knowing them a few hours. It’s all so foreign to you.

But this isn’t the old world and the way that Keigo growls just at the sight of your sopping cunt has your eyes near rolling into the back of your skull.

Keigo has pulled your panties down to your ankles. He chucks them aside before taking you in. Your hair is sprawled out against the creaking mattress. He has barely touched you yet you look like you’re on ecstasy. He wastes no time in hoisting your legs over his shoulders. He can’t help but feel prideful in the way you gasp at his rough movements.

You squirm underneath him as you feel Keigo drag the bridge of his nose across your opening to your delicate clit. The warmth of his tongue drags across and you let out a loud moan.

His fingers pinch your tender clit and you buck your hips forward against his soft lips. Keigo wastes no time in feasting on you. After all, you’ve proven to be quite the needy little dove.

Keigo prods and sucks at your clit. He sticks two of his fingers in and flicks them upward at a teasing pace. He chuckles at the sight of you thrashing and bucking your hips against him.

Every time you open your eyes to look at him, heat rises to your cheeks and you force yourself to look away.

He’s done this before. He knows his way around a pussy. From the way he dips his hot tongue into your slick walls and massages your clit with wet fingers, it isn’t long before the tethered cord within you snaps and you spray your juices against his fingers and against his face.

“Too much,” you said, placing a shaky hand on his bicep.

Keigo looks into your eyes. The darkened look he has shows that he could eat you without hesitation. He looks like he is ready to pounce. Instead, he takes the fingers covered in your juices and sticks them in his mouth. He runs his tongue between them and nearly sucks them dry.

You are still quivering below him, twitching from the lasting effects of your orgasm.

“Delicious,” he says, releasing his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

Your heart rate begins to slow. You sit up, although your muscles have a slight ache as you do so.

“Are you ready?”

Your mellow eyes meet Keigo’s feral ones. In the time it had taken you to sit up, he had stripped away his pants leaving him in just his briefs. The prominent tent below is what catches your eye. His hard on is begging to be let free. You tenderly lift your hand up and rub over his clothed crotch. The deep inhale he takes followed by a low growl makes your insides melt.

Keigo pulls at the waistband of his briefs, letting his hardened cock spring free. He steps out of them and thrusts his pelvis towards your face. His shaft slaps against your cheek and you take his hint.

Your hand wraps around his shaft and pumps against it a few times. Your thumb smooths over the tip and tongue tentatively licks the drops of precum that leak out. It’s salty and the sweetness comes from seeing the way Keigo melts as soon as your tongue glides against his length.

“That’s a good little dove.” His fingers tangle in your hair and his hand pushes you forward, forcing you to take his length in your mouth.

You grip onto the back of his thighs to balance yourself. Heat rises to your cheeks as it dawns on you how intimate you are being with him. His hand pulls on your hair as your mouth works wonders on him. His balls slap against your chin and you can’t help but let out a moan, the vibrations from your mouth work their way to his core.

You cup his balls as you try and milk him for all he’s worth. You give them a gentle little squeeze and his knees buckle. He tightens the grip on your hair to catch himself from falling.

Before he can cum, he pulls out of your mouth. Droplets of your spit fall from your lips. A strand of saliva that still connects you to his dick breaks off.

Facing away from you, Keigo strokes himself a couple times. “Why don’t you lean back,” he suggests.

You follow his orders and lie down on the mattress. The springs dig into your shoulder blades once again but anticipation keeps you from fixating on it too much.

Keigo leans down and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. He gives your tender pussy another lick before slapping his dick against your puffy clit.

As you let out a moan, he lines his cock up to your entrance and snaps his hips forward.

You grip onto his bicep as he thrusts himself in and out at a fast pace, faster than you’re used to. You suppose he couldn’t wait. His dick is long and his girth stretches you out in all the right ways.

You try and catch your breath but you can barely keep up with the way Keigo pounds into you.

“Is this good for you, dove,” Keigo asks. He hikes your other leg up and leans in, touching his forehead with yours.

You scream in pain and pleasure as he hits your mark perfectly with this new position.

Your nails cling onto his back and your mouth finds comfort on his shoulder as you bite into him.

He lets out a sharp bark, almost like a howl as your velvety walls contort around his dick in all the right ways.

Keigo wets his fingers and trails them down to your swollen clit. He presses against it which only causes you to let out a scream in ecstasy.

It’s not long before the pressure built within you snaps and you tighten even more around Keigo’s hardened cock, letting your juices spill around it.

Keigo continues to pump in and out of you until his own release. He pulls out and cums onto your chest. As you sit up, the warm mess rolls down your abdomen and spills out on the sleeping bag covered mattress.

Keigo hands you a small towel. “Here.”

As you wipe the ropes of cum off of your chest and stomach you can’t help but think of the old world. Before the end of society as you knew it you would have never fucked a stranger two hours after meeting them.

Keigo has pulled his pants back up but leaves his shirt off. You watch as he pokes at the dying fire, bringing the embers back to life. On his back, you can finally see the bit of red that caught your eye earlier. A tattoo. Two red wings coming out of his shoulder blades. Keigo is an interesting guy, one you want to know more about. The thought of getting to know him better makes you blush and the apples of your cheeks raise in a genuine smile, something that you haven’t felt in a long time.

The fire illuminates Keigo and the soft smile he has melts your heart. Who knew that someone so cunning and snarky like himself could have such a sweet smile.

#my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #bnha hawks #mha hawks #takami keigo #Takami Keigo x reader #hawks x reader #apocalypse au #bnharem collab

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secondhand-trash · 5 years ago

Text

Love in the Time of Allergies

A/N: this is a concept from @redbeanteax and I’m down immediately after she told me about it lmao

Pairing: florist!Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Description: You were a tattoo artist who loved flowers and he was a florist who was allergic to flowers.

Word count: 6785

Playlist:

How Long?//Vampire Weekend

Pleaser//Wallows

Flowers In Your Hair//The Lumineers

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. If you wandered through the many narrow lanes, maybe you would get further and further away from the flagships and tall windows of the main avenue in front of the quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd, bunches and bunches of bouquets lined up at the windows and pots hanging from the awning.

Sakusa Kiyoomi lived right above that flower shop, which he coincidentally runs.

Every morning, he woke up to the sun shining through the thin linen of his curtains. The streets were already alive by the time he was awake. The sounds of delivery vans driving past his window, the crisp bells of school children riding along the road to school on their bicycles ticking his still hazy senses. He was not a snoozing type of person by all means, immediately getting up to get his day starting the moment he paused his alarm. Then he would fold up his sheets neatly, getting them in the washing machine so he could replace it with the ones that had just finished drying the night before. Sakusa always made cleaning the first thing he does right after he wakes up, it made him feel productive and he relished in the feeling that his space was spotless at every corner.

By the time he was done, it would be time for him to go downstairs to open up the store and get ready to receive the batches of fresh flowers that were delivered every day. If he pushed open his windows, the sweet smell of flowers together with the morning air would fill his room.

A florist with a face that looked like he walked out of an ink portrait from the old times, just him standing there could be worthy as a still from any movie scene. Long, nimble fingers placing each stem right where it belong, the beauty marks above his brow moving as the man furrowed his eyes in concentration like the morning dew sliding off the white petals of a blooming flower.

A beautiful man and beautiful flowers. It would have been a breathtaking sight if you could ignore the fact that the florist was sadly, severely allergic to the flowers that he was surrounded with at every waking moment of his life.

Sakusa himself would like to argue that you could not, and should not, brush off such an important detail to his survival. Thank you very much.

How did he become a florist in the first place if he was allergic to flowers, you may ask. Well, He didn’t know. One day, he was filling in for his cousin who couldn’t attend his shift because he had dropped ill. Said cousin might have deliberately hidden up the fact that he was working at a place that sells flowers and by the time Sakusa arrived at the storefront feeling like he got struck by thunder, it was too late.

It was a pity that he was such a natural, so much so that he received a phone call from the then shop owner asking if he could come back the next day.

Sakusa still thought about that day occasionally. What had he done to himself, he looked at the sky and let out a long sigh.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was inclined to believe that he must have committed some sort of indescribable crime in his last lifetime to deserve this cruel joke from the universe.

Pulling up the latex gloves, he released the elastic band with a snap as it sit snugly on his wrist. He had his protective suit on, the white plastic covering him from his neck all the way down his legs. He had his mask and mask cover (yes, the mask needed its own cover) on before pulling his hood over and making sure that all his hair was tugged in.

Looking at the mirror, he let out a satisfied hum. Perfect, now all he needed to do was wait for the truck to arrive.

“Hello! Your delivery is here!”

The deliveryman was a new employer of the company, his uniform neatly buttoned up all the way. He checked his reflection in the window from outside the shop, reminding himself to put on a good smile when greeting the client. It was his first time going out for delivery on his own without a senior tagging along and he intended to leave a good impression.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another while waiting for someone to answer the door. He looked around the street, taking in a deep breath of the morning air. It was a rumor among employers that there was a living urban myth on this street, one that looked like it walked out of a chemical waste field in a dystopian novel was what they said. He chuckled to himself when he recalled how terrified they looked at the describe the myth. Look at the street with its sunshine and serenity, they should at least pick a more suiting location for the lie if they wanted to prank the newbie.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s alright! Please notify me after you checked if all the stock is correct,” he said with a wide smile as he turned around to where the footsteps were coming from, “mr- AH!!!!!!!”

A few blocks away, you paused when you heard an ear piercing scream from outside.

“Did you hear something?” your manager asked, looking out of the shop window with a confused look, “I swore I heard someone screaming.”

You tilted your head, looking away from the poster you were trying to hang onto the wall to follow where they were looking at. There were no panicking or people running to take cover so it didn’t seem like something major had happened. You shook our head, “Maybe it’s the sound of tires screeching?”

“Hm,” they glanced outside in wary but turned back to the empty store with a sigh, “is the backroom all set up?”

Your arms withhold in the air for a moment as you tried to see if the frame was before clasping your hands together in satisfaction before climbing off the stool you were standing on to turn and face your manager, “Yeah, I told the people to place all the chairs down as you said and all we needed to do was to unpack our tools, loaded up the shelves and we’re all done.”

“Ok, good,” they let out a heavy breath, placing their hands on both sides of their waist, “I still can’t believe the landlord of our last place can just take back the lot just like that.”

“Hey, they want to sell it to a big corp for quick bulk of cash instead of renting it out to a tattoo parlor, not that it doesn’t make sense,” you said with a click of your tongue, a loop-sided grin making its way onto your face as they chuckled at the saltiness you were not holding back at all, “at least we managed to find a new place fast.”

“Well, that’s true,” they said, “this seems like a pretty nice street.”

Other than the fact that someone screamed like they walked out of a horror movie in the morning out of nowhere, you thought to yourself but nodded no less as you two stood side by side and looking out of glass windows, trying to not think too much of it.

The fact was, you were just glad that you still had a job. It felt like the sky fell on your head when you walked into your humble little workplace one day to see the heavy expression everyone was wearing only to be told that the lease for the parlor would not be renewed next term. It wasn’t easy to just find a new place to rent so quickly nowadays and the possibility that you might go jobless for months horrified you to no end.

You liked the parlor you worked in. You had heard your fair share of horror stories of how some places mistreat their apprentices before you made the commitment of applying to become one and even though you were scared out of your mind while you asked if the place was still taking apprentices after being turned down numerous times already, it was nothing short of luck that you ended up being under a group of very nice people when you actually did succeed. You had been in this parlor for several years now, staying behind even after you got your license. You liked the homely little shop and you most definitely loved working for the owner who taught you so much so you couldn’t be more glad when they came in just a week before everything at the old place must be cleared out saying that a new lot had been secured.

You now needed to wake up a good hour earlier than before and take a bus that you were sure would take you to the other end of the town if you overslept by one station just so you could make it to work on time, but no complaints. At least the street looked nice, and there was a flower shop just a few blocks away from the parlor which you were very happy about.

You liked flowers, you had always found them to be great inspirations.

“Hello?”

A crisp ring of the bell interrupted the silence you were having while you two quietly unwrapped all the tools and whip them clean before putting them in place at the back.

“Can you go get it? I think it might be some of the other decorations being delivered over.” they said, staring at the little scratch at the back of one of the lamps with a painful expression in their eyes as they realised that it could not be rubbed away no matter how hard they tried.

You pushed away the bubble wrap that was piling up on your legs before standing up, dusting off the plastic strands before walking out to the front of the store.

“Hello- ah!”

You jumped when you saw a.. well you weren’t sure if that was a person because there was no face for you to identify but they had to be because you could not begin to process what else they might be underneath the full body plastic suit paired with what almost looked like a bee hat, standing at the front door with their arms stiffly extended and holding a flower basket in hand.

Your breath was rigid as you tried to calm yourself down, slowly getting back into a proper posture as you tried to ignore the million questions running through your head.

“Hello,” the voice sounded a bit distant from behind the mask but you could still make it out to be the voice of a young man. “I’m Sakusa from the flower shop a few blocks away.”

“Oh. Oh, oh, nice to meet you," you blurted out, giving a slight bow when you realised that you were still standing there in a daze, never feeling so confused as to when the person replied to your panicking gestures with a slight nod, “I’m (y/l/n), I’m one of the tattoo artists who work at the parlor.”

So this was the person who runs the flower shop? You tried to control yourself from making it too obvious that you were stealing glances at his more than peculiar attire for walking on the street under broad daylight. You weren’t aware that florists had to dress in bee suits.

Sakusa raised his already raised hand a little, “This is a welcoming gift for your opening.”

“Ah, thank you so much,” you said, gingerly taking a few steps forward to take the flower basket from his glove covered hands. He seemed to be relieved after you took the flowers away from him, letting out a soft sigh and relaxing his shoulders.

“If you need any help please always feel free to come over,” he said, sounding rather unnatural as he stayed where he was, maintaining a fixed distance from you.

“Of course,” you replied, standing with your back just a little straighter at the sheer tension that you were feeling under the stare of a man whose face you could not even see, “thank you for the flowers.”

He gave you another nod before walking out the door and you waited, standing there until he was completely out of your sight and let out the breath you had been holding in.

That was strange, you thought to yourself as you took a look at the basket you were holding.

Hm, the arrangement was very pretty though.

At first, you were very hesitant to even go near the radius of the glass door with flower pots hanging down. Could you be blamed? Who wouldn’t be intimidated by a person who showed up in a full body plastic suit? But eventually, your urge to find good references for your sketches gave won over your prejudice and you gathered up all your courage one day while you didn’t have any bookings and walked into the flower shop a few blocks away.

You weren’t sure if you were more bewildered or satisfied by your predictions being correct when you walked in to see him standing by the counter being covered from head to toe. Sakusa still looked as stiff as he was when he showed up at the parlor last time when he was in his own store, watering the flowers with this oddly long sprinkler.

You still felt that to be pretty strange but you were determined that no matter what, you were not walking away from that place emptyhanded.

Surprisingly, he was not as hard to approach as you had thought he might be and he was very helpful when you were overwhelmed by the many pots lining the store, pointing to the bunch of colourful daisies at the far corner when you told him you wanted something that looked delicate.

You started ordering bouquets from Sakusa’s store regularly a while later.

This did not look right. You stared at the black lines on the paper, feeling like your head was about to explode at how you could not point out what was exactly wrong with it but it simply didn’t look like the image you had in your head.

Throwing the pen down, you leaned back against the couch in the front room with an exasperated sigh as you glanced at the hand on the clock that tilted more and more as each second passed.

What happened to delivery at 3pm sharp?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you jumped up at the sound of the door being pushed open and Sakusa walked in with a bouquet of carnation in hand. He was still covered but even without seeing his face, you could tell how he rushed over with the slight heaving in his voice, “there was a... dire situation back at the shop and I had to get that handled before I can make the delivery.

Sakusa shivered as he recalled how there was this customer who kept sneezing while walking around the store.

“It’s alright,” you said, getting up from the couch where you were laying on, “can you help me put it in the backroom?”

“Of course.”

“Just putting it here would be alright.” you gestured to the small table at the corner and he nodded before putting the ceramic pot down.

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted the last several bouquets and pots you got from him the past week lined up on the shelf at another side of the room.

Sakusa tilted his head. He had regular customers but none that showed up as often as you did and none that bought flowers for no specific reason at all other than to look at them. “Do you like flowers that much?"

He wasn’t sure what it was about the look of pure fascination in your eyes when you looked away from the colourful flowers to face him, but he felt an unexplained antsy feeling rising at the back of his neck.

“I guess it’s not so much of a sentimental liking than just admiration,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “they can be so simple but so detailed all at the same time,” you chuckled, “I find all my best works to be of floral patterns.”

You could not see his face behind the mesh net but you could guess that he was probably squinting his eyes right now with the way his body bent just a little forward. He was interesting to observe, and you had found quite a bit of entertainment in watching him.

“Here,” his eyes widened when you rolled up your sleeves with a laugh. He was wondering how you didn’t seem to have any tattoos on your unlike the other artists who he had met but it seemed like you just didn’t feel as much of a need to put them on display at all times. Under the white sleeves that now rest on your elbow, there were inked lines littering all across your arm, stopping at your wrist and he could only imagine that the vines would go further up into where the faintly see-through fabric was covering.

“This is the first tattoo I ever did on my own,” you said, tilting your arm so that he could see the sunflower on the inside of your wrist, “this is a gift to myself after I finished my apprenticeship.”

“My actual first tattoo though,” you lifted your arm up, showing him the morning glory that peaked out from under your sleeve, hanging on the vines that hugged the side of your arm, “is this one,” you had a look of nostalgia in your eyes like you were greeting an old friend, “I got it the moment I turned 18 without my parents knowing, to remind myself to be resilient like morning glories that climb high even on stone walls.”

He felt like he was invading some sort of precious intimacy that was supposed to be sealed up and savoured when you gently hooked your finger under the collar of your shirt, pulling it to the side just enough for him to see the dots of baby’s breath above your collar like tiny stars.

“But this one is my favourite. I got it because... well...” you poked your tongue out before pushing the folded collar back in place, “I just think it looks nice.”

Sakusa didn’t quite understand what the aesthetic appeal of flowers that you seemed to be so fixated on was. He worked with flowers but they weren’t anything that means much to him unless you count “mortal danger” as a special meaning. But as he watched you fix your shirt, the botanicas on your skin once again hidden from sight by the silky fabric that fell down like morning mist in the market street, he found himself sparing another glance to the flowers he just handed to you and wondered what they would become under your pencil and ink.

“Do you keep all of them around?” he asked, referring to the many different flowers that didn’t look like they go together on the shelf.

“Sometimes I’ll let clients take away the ones that I already sketched if they like it but I kinda just put them here the rest of the time,” you replied, touching one of the petals of the tulips that were sitting in a vase, “it’s quite a pity that I can’t put them in the front but the manager said it doesn’t fit the rest of the décor.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, even though it’s not like you could see him do so with the cover of the black mesh, and said something that surprised even himself once it was vocalised.

“If what you need is a reference for your sketches, you can always come over and look at the ones we have on display.”

“Really?” you did not hide the sheer excitement you had towards his suggestion, only to back down sheepishly when you realised how eager you were, “But would that be much of a bother to you?”

He was never much of a people person. He had a very carefully selected few close friends around him and he did not intend to broaden his circle any time sooner. He barely even wanted to interact with his customers all that much if it wasn’t for the fact that he needed the business, if he was being honest. His palms were starting to feel clammy from the sweat that wasn’t there just earlier, a feeling he very much so dread but the twist in his stomach that he could not begin to understand somehow hazed over this usual discomfort.

“Well, if you are only sitting there and sketching I don’t see that to be much of an issue...” he said, his voice getting tinier and tinier like he was starting to be confused over his own words.

You walked him out of the parlor with a very, very wide smile that day, thanking him again and again and joking that it was too late for him to take his offer back now because you were going to start annoying him daily. He wanted to argue that you already went around for your flowers often enough that making it a daily occurrence wouldn’t be much of a difference but he bite it back, worried that it would come out harsher than he had meant it and gave you the impression that he actually didn’t want to talk to you.

Which was strange, considering how he never really thought that he actually did want that to happen.

You started showing up at his shop every day, as you had said you would.

At first, your interaction with him was limited to the brief exchange of greetings when you walked into the store, informing the working Sakusa that you would look around yourself and he didn’t need to worry about you. You used to spend so long just standing there and sketch, stretching your neck that was sore from drooping down every once in a while. You said he didn’t need to pay any attention to you but as the owner, he still felt somewhat of a responsibility to show his care about his visitors’ well-being.

Then you showed up at his place again only to find a little bar stool by the counter.

You looked at the suited man at the side and he looked away from under the mask under your stare. “I got you a chair because you are here for very long each time,” he added under your appreciative stare, “people are gonna get the impression that everyone can just walk in and do the same.”

So you now had your own designated spot in his shop, right by the counter where he worked.

You started actually chatting to him after then and you liked to think that you two were friends, even though you still didn’t know what he looked like under the bee hat.

Until one day, when you went along the sidewalk of the peaceful street to the flower shop a few blocks away and saw a strange man struggling at the front door.

You froze in place, taking a few steps closer to the walls so he would not notice you too easily.

Who was this? You looked on warily at the lean figure that was shaking the lock on the glass door rather vigorously, seeming to be more and more frustrated with each moment passed. You could not see his face clearly with the dark curls that fell onto the side of his face. He was dressed in full black, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers that only accentuated how long his limbs were. The attire did little to help with your suspicion that he was not there for a proper purpose, seeing how he was starting to shake the handle of the door and let out a tired groan when it stayed closed.

Would it be someone trying to break in? In the middle of the day? Oh god, you felt the blood drain from your face when you realised what this meant.

Sakusa would have a breakdown if some unknowns leave dead skin cells over all his things.

“Um... excuse me?” you gathered up your bravery and walked towards the man, slightly taken back when he snapped around to look at you. He was way taller upfront and you gulped.

To your surprise, he didn’t look shocked when you approached him. In fact, he seemed to have calmed down a little from his earlier irritation with the lock upon seeing you.

“Did I not tell you we are closing early today?” he said, crouching forward slightly.

“Oh, I’m just here to look for a friend...” you paused, your eyes widening when you heard how familiar his voice was, “wait... Sakusa?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, brushing the piece of hair that had fallen onto his face away from his eyes. “Yes?”

You were so prepared to fight whoever it was that might be busting the lock open but you were not prepared for this. You were so used to seeing Sakusa in his full body protection gear that the idea of him being this faceless entity got so comfortable in your head, seeing him as someone with actual facial features and expressions made you feel like you were meeting a whole new person all over again. He was staring at you, bending even forward as he waited for you to say something in confusion. The posture allowed you to take a clearer look at his face, and somehow it sent more adrenaline to your system than the nerves you got from thinking that you were about to witness a crime.

Wait, hold up. Why did no one tell you that he was hot?

From the angle you were at, your eyes immediately caught on to the sharp arch of his eyebrows, the two moles on one side dotted on like ink on white paper. His bone structure was pronounced, the defined curve lining his eyes going down to the tip of his nose. He was looking down at your through his long lashes, his lips pursed as he waited for you to say something.

You felt a slight regret rising in your chest for his face that was wasted away because its owner decided to dress like a b-movie crazy scientist.

“Why are you trying to break into your own store?” you asked, breaking the silence when you realised that you had been staring at him like some dazed fool.

He let out a mumbled groan, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “I forgot my mask at the counter before I left but now the door is doing that thing where it gets stuck and couldn’t turn the key,” he turned back to the door, putting both hands on the handle and yanked.

“Do you need help?” you asked, peaking from behind him.

“Please do,” he sighed and you held onto the frame of the door, “I’ve already been exposed to the air for far too long for-” he gritted his teeth as he gave it another pull.

“My-” a slam on the door pushed the rest of the key that was stuck into the porthole.

“Liking-”

The door crashed open with a loud bang and you stumbled forward to regain your balance. He sucked in a deep breath when he felt the sweat on his palm, walking as fast as he could to the counter and let out a relieved sigh when he pulled out another one of his white medical masks.

“Why are you closing early today?” you leaned on the counter as you watched him physically relaxed after hooking the cotton band over his ears.

“I’m heading to the flower market today to look for new suppliers,” he said as he pressed down on the wire on the bridge of his nose, “the one we were working with suddenly said they can’t do business anymore because the delivery company refused to send people here which is very strange.”

“I see,” you said, “I was gonna hang around here because I don’t have any more bookings for today, I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“You can come with me if you want,” he blurted out, his own eyes widening as he paused, “it might be very boring though.”

“Wait, I had never been there before, can I?” you gasped, “I want to go!”

“Ok.” he said rather stiffly, not expecting you to be so excited about what he viewed to be a rather blend thing to do.

He did not know what it was that made goosebumps rose on his arm when you followed him out of the shop, taking a few steps for each on he took just to keep up with him. It was like how it felt when he used to be less careful and got too close to the plants that he worked with, tickling and irritating and made him want to tear his own skin off but not nearly as unpleasant. In fact, he would go as far as to described the feeling as “fuzziness” when you kept talking to him on the way even though he rarely replied with more than a few short sentences.

“Sakusa, can I ask you something?”

Your voice broke him out of his running state of mind.

“Yes?”

“Why do you always wear a full body suit?"

"I'm allergic to flowers.”

“What?” he grimaced at the reaction he had expected, already knowing what you were going to say next.

It was a mistake, Sakusa grumbled to himself as he recounted how his life seemed to be full of mistakes, starting from becoming a florist even though he was highly sensitive to pollen.

“Then how did you become a florist-”

"Please don’t ask.”

“Ok.”

“Remember to leave the cover on for the next two hours and wash it with lukewarm water,” you said to your last client with a smile as you opened the door for them, "and just contact us if you need any help with the aftercare.”

You let out a satisfied sigh when they happily waved at you before exiting your sight. There was no better feeling than to see someone being so happy about the piece you did for them. You stretched out your arms, rolling your neck as your back cracked. That took a while, you let out a slight whine when you felt the knot on your shoulder. You found yourself to be the type that emerged themselves into their work completely once started on something which you view to be a good thing but that also meant that your notifications were always blown up every time you did a slightly bigger, more detailed piece.

You recalled your phone to buzz non-stop during the appointment until you got annoyed and turned off the sound completely. Taking it out of your pocket, you took one of your gloves off to unlock your screen.

Your eyes widened at the amount of miscalls and messages that came from Sakusa, who had given you his number after you annoyed him into saving yours. He rarely called you, you were always the one spamming his inbox when he was trying to put you on read.

You had a bad feeling about what had happened when you saw another incoming call from the man who had been bombing your phone.

“Hello-”

“Come over.”

“What?” you said. His voice was pressed down even lower than usual and you clutched your phone closer to your face to hear him clearly.

“Please just... come over. Come over quick.” he hissed.

“What is going on? Sakusa are you ok?” you felt the panic building up in your chest at the tone he used.

“I am facing a critical situation and you’re the only help I can get-”

“Ok,” you didn’t wait for him to finish before hastily pushing the door to the street and paced to the direction of the flower shop, “I’m coming over now.”

“Thank you,” he let out a shaky breath, “and please be quick.”

You nearly went over the front door of the shop with how much of a rush you were in. Looking in through the window, the shop was completely empty and you could not even find Sakusa anywhere.

Oh god, what was it that got him in such a crunch?

“Hello?” you asked gingerly as you stepped inside, "Is anyone here? Sakusa?”

There was no one in there. You furrowed your eyebrows as you walked deeper into the stores and past the vases that lined up at the sides.

“Psst..”

You snapped towards where the sound came from.

“Sakusa- ah!” you yelped when you were suddenly yanked down to the floor. You blinked when you saw who it was that suddenly pulled you behind the counter.

“Sakusa, why are you hiding under here?”

You felt bad for finding the very tall, very well-built Sakusa who was once again wrapped up in his plastic suit all curled up under the counter, even more so when you saw that he was actually sitting on a plastic sheet instead of on the bare ground.

Even if he was finding somewhere to hide, he still uphold his principals.

“There’s this...” he shivered, “thing out there crawling around...”

“Thing? Crawling?” you tilted your head as you looked out, “I didn’t see anything?”

“Well of course you don’t. They are fast and tiny and black and...” he shivered again, shaking his head a little as if trying to shake away his thoughts.

“Fast and tiny and black...” you paused, “you mean a cockroach-”

“Do not say it out loud,” he gritted.

“I’m sorry for saying this but thank god,” you let out a deep breath, “I thought you were being held at gun point or something...”

“How is this any better?” he asked in disbelief, “please help me get rid of it..."

“Sakusa I’m not gonna be your personal bug killer-”

“Before I burn this place down-”

“Ok,” you said with your hands thrown up, telling him to stay put and hold back from doing any property damage. You sighed as you stood up, “Thank god I rushed out in such a hurry that I still have my gloves with me...”

Sakusa finally knew what that burning irritation he felt whenever you gush at him was when he peeked from behind the counter to see you swiftly trapping the cockroach under a plastic bag and swept it up with your gloved hands before taking it out to the street. He felt a rapid rhythm drumming in his chest when he heard a loud stomp from outside, his black eyes following your frame when you came back in with a sigh as you skillfully removed your gloves from inside out and tied them together.

“Um...” he felt the slightest bit uneased as he climbed out from his hiding spot, suddenly feeling small even though he was clearly towering over you, “thanks.”

“It’s alright,” you said with a chuckle, “can’t have you dying on me like that.”

He had never been glad about his allergies until now, feeling just a little bit more self-assured because even though his mind was in shambles from the sudden realisation he had, at least he had the mask to hide his face that he was sure to be flushed from you.

“Do you need help sanitising everything?”

"What?” his voice came out as a whisper.

“Well,” you said matter-of-factly, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I assume you won’t just let it be after that co- that thing got in here?”

“Yeah," he stood up just a little straighter, “yeah, of course.”

Sakusa felt an unexplained taste in his mouth. It was a bit bitter, the dryness making his jaw clenched but he also couldn’t help the muscle at the corner of his mouth from inching up higher and higher as he watched you scrubbing the counter with a cleaning wipe, your forehead crinkling up in concentration

He was so, so in love.

You dropped everything at hand and ran out the door when you got his message.

“Can you come over?”

What was it? What was it this time?

You ignored the bewildered glances from the passersby as you dashed along the otherwise serene street.

Was it a bug? Did someone sneeze near him? Did some idiot broke the vases and got muddy water on him again? There’s no way that could happen twice in a week, right? Right?

You were heaving by the time you got to his place, nearly tripping into the shop as you tried to collect your breath. Sakusa was standing in front of the counter and facing the door, oddly without his usual bee hat. He felt his stomach twisting in knots as you held yourself up by the door with one hand and the other clutching your chest as you panted.

He did not expect you to show up so quickly. He had thought that he would have some more time to collect himself after pressing “send” with his shaking hands so he could look, well, somewhat cooler doing what he planned to do after a lot of inner conflicts.

“Ok, I’m here,” your hair was a mess as you looked up, your chest still heaving from the run, “what is it? What happened? What do I need to do?”

“Um...”

“Oh god, why aren’t you talking? how bad is it?” you said as you slowly straightened your posture, only to feel your breath hitched when you saw why he was in silence.

Sakusa seemed to be in clear discomfort, his eyes shifting around as his throat bobbed. But it wasn’t his usual look of wariness or discontent and instead, he seemed to be nervous.

And then you saw the bunch of red roses he was holding in hand.

“You know,” he gulped, holding his arm out as stretched out as he could, “a dozen roses means ‘be mine’ in flower language.”

You blinked, your eyes slowly widening as he looked away.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” you licked your lips, a grin finding it’s way to your face, “are you trying to say something?”

“I said,” he gritted from his teeth, his face burning up under your teasing tone, “be mine.”

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, your face aching from the smile that was only growing wider. In your ear, you could hear the steady drumming tapping at you, sending the signal everywhere in your body as you felt the warmth that spread together with it.

Say yes, say yes, say yes...

“Of course.”

He let out a hitched breath as his shoulders drooped, pouting a little when he looked back at you as if he was blaming you for poking fun at him earlier.

“Look, I’m sorry,” the look of resentment only grew when you started giggling, “but you were so cute just then, I couldn’t help myself.”

He grumbled and your giggling turned into actual laughs while he glared at you but couldn’t hide the blush on his face.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I say yes, right?”

"Sure,” he let out a soft tsk, “but can you please take this?”

“Is that really the way to go at it-”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, oh,” you said when you suddenly remembered his allergy and rushed to take the roses from him, “of course, of course...”

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. There was a quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd and a tattoo parlor a few blocks away, but you already knew that. You also knew that as bewildering as it sounded, the florist that run the shop was actually deadly allergic to flowers.

But what you didn’t know (or at least pretend not to so he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed) was that for you, the tattoo artist who loved flowers, the florist who was allergic to flowers wouldn’t mind taking off his plastic suit and hand deliver fresh flowers to you every day just to see you smile.

Bonus

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes,” Sakusa said with a deadpan face as he sat on the chair.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he replied, even though his entire body was tensed up.

“Ok,” you said, leaning closer to him, “promise me you won’t regret this.”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you said in a breathy tone, gulping as you placed you held the edge of the tattoo chair for leverage, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Ok.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your boyfriend who had his eyes pressed tightly together as you lifted your hand.

His eyes snapped open at the light peck you placed on his lips.

Look, look. This might seem dramatic but this was a huge step for him, alright?

You blinked, nervous about what he might be thinking, “how was it?”

He seemed to be dazed, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes that were fixed on him.

Nothing could stop the surprised gasp you let out when he suddenly latched onto you and kissed you much more firmly, not letting you move away with his hand at the back of your head.

Your breathing was rapid when he finally let you go, your face heating up when he poked his tongue out and swiped it along his bottom lip.

“I think I might actually like this more than I thought I would.”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa imagine #sakusa imagines

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

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Little Leather Boots

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/Reader

Words: 4,442

Warnings: Reader is pregnant and is very worried about it, mentions of abortion but it doesn’t happen, lots of tears, a very worried and loving Dio, mention of c-section, I think that’s it folks.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

After one too many wild nights with your goth boyfriend, you somehow wind up pregnant, which you didn’t even think was possible considering that you and Dio always used protection. But here you are, pregnant and terrified that Dio ‘I hate kids’ Morrissey will be pissed. No matter what happens, it’s going to be a very long nine months.

You woke up to an empty bed, as was the unfortunate usual. Your body ached in all the right places as you slid into Dio’s shirt from last night and your own pyjama bottoms. The apartment was cold, too cold as you headed to the bathroom, yawning widely.

It was only when you opened the bathroom door that the nausea hit you like a truck. You immediately felt your knees go weak, gagging and dry heaving over the sink. When you resurfaced, you rinsed your mouth out and met your own teary eyes in the mirror. Wiping away the evidence, you picked up your phone, trailing slowly to the kitchen. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, you called into work, taking the day off.

The next thing you did was text Dio. He was, understandably, worried. You told him you felt better, and that it was probably just a stomach bug or something. Nothing to worry about, nothing to come home early for.

Truthfully, you were feeling better. Too better. Settling on the couch, you googled problems where nausea was a symptom. Not much came up that was possible. A stomach bug, but nausea was your only symptom. Same went for the flu and all the other illnesses. And then, right at the end of the list, was pregnancy.

You scoffed it off, tossing your phone down. As much as Dio complained in the first few weeks, he always used a condom. Always. You’d asked him once if he ever wanted kids, and his response had been a steady fuck no.

But then you began to think about it harder. You’d always had irregular and unpredictable periods, so the fact that you hadn’t had one in a while wasn’t super suspicious, and your weight had fluctuated, but that was because Dio insisted on a cherry pie last week. No, you couldn’t be pregnant.

“But what if,” you whispered out loud, looking at the wall and sinking into thought. “It would explain a lot.”

Deciding to prove to yourself that you were absolutely not pregnant, you stood and put on a decent pair of pants, scooping up your wallet and heading to the CVS.

The closer the drug store got, the more nervous you became. What if you were pregnant? Would you get rid of the baby? Would Dio dump you if you didn’t want to? Who would take care of you and your baby?

Shaking your head, you walked into the CVS and took a breath. This would be very easy because you were definitely not pregnant.

You grabbed a three pack of tests and stood in the self checkout line, hyperaware of the heavily pregnant woman behind you. As you rang up your purchase and dug around in your wallet, you heard her sigh. “I remember when I bought mine.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry!” The woman said sweetly, smiling at you. “I was just remembering when I bought my test for my baby. It’s a magical day.”

You tried to smile back. “Magical.”

The woman nodded. “Does your husband know?”

“I’m not married,” you breathed, staring down at the CVS bag with watering eyes. “He hasn’t, I don’t know if he’ll,”

“Oh sweetie,” the woman said, coming closer and putting an arm around you. “I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You shook your head, wiping away tears. “It’s not your fault,” you said softly. “You didn’t know.”

The woman sighed, rubbing your arm. “Darling, go home, drink some water, and take the test. I promise, no harm can come from just knowing.”

Nodding, you took your purchase and waved to the woman. She waved back as you began your short walk to your apartment.

Taking her advice, you drank water, read over the instructions in the pregnancy test box, and immediately moved everything into the bathroom.

As soon as you shut the door, you called one of Dio’s friends. Raven was a close confidant of yours and could probably be trusted with this secret.

“Yo,” Raven said as she picked up.

“Raven I think I might be pregnant.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Raven asked. “Did you take a test yet, are you sure?”

You sat in the bathtub, shaking your head. “Not yet,” you mumbled. “I bought a few.”

Raven made a noise of sympathy. “Dolly, do you want me over there?”

“Yes please,” you said, hating how weak you sounded.

“Be there in five.”

The apartment was deafeningly silent for five minutes before Raven forewent knocking and just opened your front door. “Dolly, where are you?”

“Bathroom!”

Raven’s concerned face appeared in your bathroom door. She took in the likely pitiful sight of you sitting in the bathtub and immediately joined you. “Hon, you’re a hot fucking mess in here.”

“I know,” you said, head in your hands. “The tests are on the counter. I haven’t taken them yet.”

“You should,” Raven said, standing and passing you one of the tests. “Worst case scenario, you are knocked up and Dio gets mad, so I kick his ass and take you to my place.”

You snorted and stood. “Thanks Rav,” you said softly, taking the test. “Now get out of the bathroom.”

Two agonizing minutes later, you’d washed your hands and taken the tests, not necessarily in that order. Raven knocked, and you opened the door for her.

“Can I be the Godmother?” She asked, leading you out of the bathroom and away from the tests that need a few minutes.

“What?”

“If you are pregnant,” she explained. “Can I be the Godmother?”

You sighed. “Raven, I’m not even sure I’m going to keep the baby yet if I’m pregnant.”

Raven dramatically rolled her eyes. “Killjoy,” she groaned, falling into your couch. “Okay, better question. How’re you gonna tell Dio?”

It was something you hadn’t considered yet. “Uh.” You fidgeted with a pillow, trying to think. “I don’t know. Eventually, I guess he’ll find out when I start looking like I swallowed a planet, but, well, I dunno.”

A timer dinged in the background, and Raven shot to her feet. “Do you wanna look first or should I?”

“You do it,” you said, suddenly feeling like your mouth was full of cotton. You watched Raven open the bathroom door, pick up the test, and stare down at it.

“Hey Doll,” she said, leaning her hip against the bathroom door frame and holding up the test. “Positive. All three of them.”

Your breath stopped. “Really?” A horrible euphoria spread through your body as you took the test from Raven. Sure enough, it said positive. “Oh my god.”

Raven left shortly after that, apologizing that she couldn’t stay longer.

“You call me if Dio flips his shit,” she said, hugging you close. “If he won’t take care of it, I promise I’ll be the best damn auntie in New York.”

You smiled, waving to her as she went. Sitting on the couch, finally alone, you picked up your phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Baby?”

“Hey Mama,” you said, twisting a necklace Dio had gotten you last year. “I have something important to tell you.”

Your mother gasped. “Are you engaged? Did he finally ask?”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. Despite her original hang ups with your goth boyfriend, she’d come to love Dio like he was one of her own kids, and had been pestering since your four year anniversary to get married. “No Mama, he hasn’t proposed. But I, well, I might need to come spend some time with you. For a while.”

“Oh darling, what happened?”

You took a breath, trying to force the words out of your mouth. “I’m pregnant.”

There was silence on the other end. “Mama?”

“Baby,” your mother said, voice thick with tears. “Baby are you happy?”

You began to cry too. “Yes Mama, I think I am.”

Your mother let out a breath. “That’s all I care about. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Oh your father is going to be thrilled! Does Dio know?”

“Not yet,” you said, nerves returning. “I don’t know when or how I’m gonna tell him, but I’m just terrified he’ll be mad.”

“Mad that you’re pregnant with his baby?”

“Mama, he hates kids,” you reminded. “That’s why I might have to come stay with you. Raven offered to help me, but if things go south, I want you.”

Your mother was quiet for a second. “Of course. Should I tell your father?”

You smiled. “Please do. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“You call me as soon as you tell him, no matter what. I want to congratulate or yell at him.”

Laughing, you said goodbye to your mother and hung up, leaving you alone to figure out how you’d break the news to Dio.

He came home hours later, finding you on the couch watching bad reality TV. “That bad, hm?”

You groaned. “You have no idea.” You’d cleaned the bathroom and hid the evidence, stashing one pregnancy test in your bedside table and throwing the other two out.

Dio chuckled, falling onto the couch and kissing you. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you lied. “Raven came around and kept me company for a bit, and then my mom called because apparently we hadn’t talked in a while.”

“Did she ask if we were engaged?”

“What do you think?” You laughed, leaning against Dio’s chest. “Oh! Guess what!”

“Hm?”

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through Instagram until you found a specific photo. “My old high school best friend is pregnant!”

Dio squinted at the photo, and you smiled, handing him his glasses from the coffee table. He was technically supposed to wear them all the time, but he said they ruined his vibe so he never actually wore them.

“Which one is this?” He asked, adjusting his glasses and looking at you.

“Bridgit, the cute blonde who accidentally started a fire in the gym.”

Dio nodded. “She’s huge.”

You snorted, taking your phone back. “She’s eight months pregnant, Dio. Of course she’s huge. I dunno how I’d handle being that pregnant.”

“Yeah well,” Dio said, standing. “You’ll never have to.”

That sent a bolt of fear through you. Resting a hand on your stomach, against the nearly invisible baby you were protecting, you spoke with a certain caution. “You really don’t want kids, do you?”

“We’ve had this talk,” Dio reminded, sitting back down with a drink in hand. “No, I don’t. I’d be a shit father.”

“Aw, I think you’d be great at it,” you said, trying to ease your nerves. “Dio Morrissey, holding a tiny little baby, I can see it now.”

Dio chuckled, nudging you. “Where’s all this coming from? We haven’t talked babies in a year.”

You shrugged. “I’m not exactly getting younger,” you mumbled. “And when Mama called, she asked me when I was planning on having kids.”

“Oh,” Dio breathed, putting an arm around you. “What’d you say?”

“I-“ you faltered, meeting Dio’s deep brown eyes. You hoped, very fleetingly, that your baby would have his eyes. “I told her,” you said slowly, realizing it was now or never. “I told her I was already pregnant, Dio.”

It was like time stopped. Dio’s eyes went wide, his entire body stilling. “You’re kidding,” he said, so softly you almost didn’t hear. “I don’t, I mean, baby why are you crying?”

You wiped your eyes, chest heaving. “I love you so much, and I don’t want to leave, and I don’t want to get rid of the baby, and I’m scared Dio!” You stumbled over your words, still sobbing.

Dio shook his head, pulling you close. “I would never make you leave,” he promised. “Not over this.”

You went still, relaxing in the familiar arms. “You- you’re not mad?”

“Mad?” Dio pulled away, cradling your face in his hands. “No! I could never be mad at you! It wasn’t your fault and you had no control over any of this.”

Then, you asked the all important question. “Are we going to keep it?”

Dio took your hands, squeezing them tight. “Do you want to keep it? I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, okay? Think about yourself, not me. What do you want?”

You thought about it, finally coming to a conclusion after a minute. “I want to keep it.”

“Okay then,” Dio said. “I guess we’re having a baby.”

The rest of the night was a whirlwind. You called your mother, and she and your father congratulated you and made you promise to come visit soon. Raven was also called, swearing violently at Dio until you reassured her that he was okay with the scenario.

After dinner, you made tea for yourself, standing in the kitchen in Dio’s pyjamas. He came up behind you, spanning his hands across your belly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, leaning into his touch. “Your hands are freezing.”

You two spent the better part of the night like that. You resting and Dio always with a hand on your belly, thumb stroking over the dip of your waist or the divot of your hip bone.

“You sir,” you said when you finally got into bed and Dio put a protective hand over your waist. “Are obsessed.”

“I can’t help it,” Dio purred softly, kissing your forehead. “My darling is going to be a mother, and I’m going to be a father. I’m not obsessed. I’m protecting.”

You smiled. “Same thing.”

The next month was surprisingly hard. You weren’t really showing, but Dio rubbed your belly anyway. He was surprisingly physically affectionate, and did something that shocked you to your core.

He quit smoking.

For almost thirty days, you and him struggled in your own ways, always there to hold the other up as Dio’s hands shook and you dry heaved literally every morning.

Finally, you had a doctor’s appointment. You’d see your baby for the first time and find out how far you were. As you wiggled into a shirt, you turned in the mirror and gasped. “Dio!”

Dio came rushing into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”

You pressed a hand over your belly. “Look.”

Coming up behind you, Dio grinned when he saw what you were seeing. A baby bump. An unmistakable baby bump.

“She’s real,” Dio breathed, and you grinned.

“What makes you think I’m having a girl?”

Dio smiled, kissing the back of your neck. “I want a girl.”

You laughed. “Dio, the sex of our baby is not dependent on your desires.”

“But it should be,” Dio said. “Because I want a girl.”

“Why?” You asked, tugging on a sweater and covering the bump.

Dio shrugged. “I had to look after four brothers growing up,” he explained. “I kinda want to take care of a baby girl now.”

You smiled. “You’re a sap.”

“I’m your sap,” he corrected, stepping into his boots and zipping them up. “C’mon, we don’t wanna be late.”

The trip to the doctor was odd. Your doctor was a lovely older man who, while he was a bit blunt, was soft spoken and genuinely seemed to care.

“And there’s your baby,” he said, turning the screen so you could see. He adjusted the transducer on your belly and you took a big breath, finally seeing your baby.

“She’s beautiful,” Dio murmured, squeezing your hands.

“They.”

“She.”

“Dio!” You said playfully. “We don’t know the sex yet!”

The doctor chuckled, moving the transducer a bit. “Looks like everything is developing as expected. You’re about twelve weeks, or three months along, although it’s hard to tell because you’re not sure of the date of conception. But, if you’re at three months now, then your due date should be mid-April. However, if the baby is a week or two early or late, we shouldn’t worry.”

“And when can we learn the sex?” Dio asked, still holding your hands.

“We can typically start to see it at about 18 weeks, but we’ll take a look at 22 just to be sure we can see it,” the doctor said, putting the transducer down and wiping your belly off. “We can schedule your next appointment for the sex of the baby now, if you want.”

You and Dio both nodded. “Thank you so much doctor,” you said as you tugged your shirt back over your stomach.

In the next ten weeks, you and Dio began to get ready for a baby. Your old spare room in the apartment that no longer smelled like cigarettes was cleared out and turned into a beautiful nursery. Despite your insistence that it couldn’t be painted black, Dio still managed to put his touch in it. By the time you were getting ready for your second appointment, the nursery was basically done.

“I think we did good,” you decided, looking at the nursery as you went to grab Dio so you wouldn’t be late. The walls were a smooth cream color, with the same hardwood as the rest of the apartment covered in a soft black rug. The furniture was all black, with white detailing on the crib’s blankets. Dio had found a gorgeous Edgar Allen Poe blanket that he’d insisted upon, and that was how the classic gothic literature theme came to be. After the blanket came a mobile that had ravens, and then a few picture frames with Dio’s favorite Poe passages.

“Me too,” Dio said, standing from where he’d been attempting to read a book and coming over to kiss you. “Ready?”

You nodded. “Absolutely. Mama’s still mad we aren’t having a gender reveal party.”

“Gender is a construct,” Dio reminded you with a soft smile. “As long as our bean is healthy, I will be happy.”

Grinning, you made a face as the baby kicked you. “Ow! Tiny motherfucker’s already got your punches,” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your belly.

Dio chuckled. “Can’t inherit an ability to throw a punch.”

“Yeah, well,” you said lowly. “If this kid keeps this up, I won’t have much by way of internal organs when we’re done here.”

Your second appointment was less stressful than the first. You were out of the danger zone with the risk of miscarriage, and today was all about being happy.

“Alright,” the doctor said, pressing the transducer to your belly and beginning to move it around. “22-ish weeks, how’re we feeling?”

“I’m getting six hours of sleep a night and eating almost double what I was last year,” you said, staring up at the ceiling. “I feel terrible.”

The doctor smiled. “And you, Mr. Morrissey?”

Dio shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to living with the world’s crankiest pregnant person.”

“Bitch,” you said under your breath, smiling while you did it.

“Mhm,” Dio kissed your hand, the warmth of his face a weird contrast to the cold of his lip piercing. “Love you too.”

The doctor turned the screen towards you. “Alright. Are we ready?”

You and Dio both nodded.

“So, there’s the head,” the doctor said, pointing to the screen. “Hands, feet, everything is developing normally, and it looks like you’re having a little girl. Congratulations.”

You and Dio walked out of that appointment and immediately stopped for ice cream, at your request. You eagerly texted everyone, giving them the news, and Dio handed you a cup of bright pink ice cream. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking a bite of the ice cream and sitting on a bench, rubbing your belly. “So, you must be over the moon. You’re getting your little girl.”

Dio grinned, leaning against your shoulder. “Baby, I have never been happier.”

Three weeks later, sometime during month 6, you started to feel the euphoria die. You were in pain, and lots of it. Every day, the baby seemed to find new ways to make you suffer. Shifting around and sitting practically on your bladder at one in the morning, giving you hellish cravings that made Dio gag more than once, and for a whole week you had nausea so powerful that you could barely eat. No matter how many times Dio kissed over the now obvious swell of your belly, you felt a creeping horror at the stretch marks you were now sporting.

“Oh my god!” You hissed, crawling out of bed and swearing violently as you began to make slow laps around the apartment, trying to ease your pain. “Fuck!”

As you trailed from the kitchen to the bedroom, you felt something warm trickle down your leg. Looking down, a gripping terror took your heart as you realized exactly what had just happened. Three months early, your water had broke. You felt your breath quicken as you did the only rational thing. You screamed for Dio.

“Shane!” You yelled, the panic forcing his given name out of your mouth. “Fuck! Shane!”

Dio came skidding out of the bedroom in all his half asleep glory, eyes wide. “What’s wrong?” He said, voice urgent. “Babe? Talk to me!”

“Water,” you gasped, reaching out to him. “Shit. Water just broke.”

“What?” Now Dio’s panic met yours, but he was significantly better at keeping a level head. “Okay, not freaking out. We are not freaking out. Look at me. That’s it, there we go.” As he talked, he led you from the puddle of amniotic fluids on the kitchen floor to the bedroom, folding up a towel and guiding you to sit. “I’ll call the doctor, okay? You just relax.”

Dio scooped his phone up, anxiously dialing the number for the office.

“Hello? Yes, my partner’s water just broke. Yes, they’re about twenty five week. Of course. Yes. Definitely. Okay, thank you.”

He hung up, sitting next to you and putting a careful hand on your back. “Babe. C’mon, we’ve got to get to the hospital.”

You nodded, standing and gripping Dio’s hand as he led you to the car, laying the towel down in the passenger seat and helping you sit.

“Baby, listen to me,” Dio said softly, taking your hand as soon as he was in the car. “The doctor said you’re probably going to be okay, and so is the baby. 25 weeks is super early, but there’s a high chance you’ll both be okay.”

“Okay,” you said, placing your hands over your belly. “It seems she’s also inherited your dramatic flair.”

Dio chuckled. “Close your eyes. We’ll be there before you know it.”

Despite the late hour, the hospital was alive with activity. A kind nurse led you to the delivery wing, gave you a hospital gown, and promised to get the doctor.

He was in the room within minutes, checking your dilation and sighing. “So,” he said, standing. “We’ve got options here. Option one, a natural birth. Technically possible, but risky. Option two, c-section. Less risky, but it leaves a scar and you’d need more recovery time.”

It wasn’t a hard choice for you. “Whatever’s safest for the baby.”

The doctor nodded. “Okay. C-section it is. Mr. Morrissey, if I could ask you to leave the room.”

“What?”

“With the baby being this early, we don’t want anything to complicate the procedure,” the doctor explained. “Please, I promise we’ll get you if anything major happens.”

“Wait!” You shouted, gripping Dio’s hand. “He can’t stay?”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “But no.”

Dio’s hands were shaking as you kissed them. “Darling, I’ll be fine,” you promised. “Dio, hon, look at me. Just go wait outside. I’ll yell if I need anything.”

Dio turned to the doctor after kissing you and rasping out a soft farewell. “You come get me if anything goes wrong,” he said softly, so you wouldn’t hear. “And if you have to choose between one or the other,” he glanced at you, knowing you’d actively disagree with what he was about to say. “You save my partner, okay?”

The doctor nodded. “Of course,” he said. “You can wait right there. This won’t take long, I promise.”

Apparently, the doctor was a big fat liar. Almost an hour later, Dio was leaning against your mother’s shoulder, half asleep. It had taken so long that they’d had time to show up, which wasn’t helping Dio’s building anxiety.

Finally, finally, a nurse opened the door. “Morrissey?”

Dio jumped to his feet, despite almost falling asleep mere minutes before. “Yes?”

“The procedure was a success,” the nurse explained. “Both your partner and your daughter are okay. Would you like to see?”

Dio’s heart pounded as he entered the room. You looked completely exhausted, pale and sweaty but alive. You smiled upon seeing him, weakly gripping his hand. “Told you,” you mumbled.

He grinned, but his attention was soon grabbed by the tiny baby in the room. She was connected to more wires and tubes than you were, but Dio didn’t care. He put a hand against the glass of the chamber she was in, tears starting to flow. “She’s perfect.”

“She is,” you agreed, looking at your baby. “Is my mama here?”

Dio nodded, still entranced by the baby. “Welcome to the world,” he said softly. “Athena Morrissey.”

You and Athena were in the hospital for another month, Dio visiting daily to see you and hold you upright as you saw your little girl. She kept getting stronger, defying every odd and surprising you whenever she could.

It was hard, the first few weeks home. Athena would be in the NICU for a bit longer, until she was healthier, but Dio told you that this was just a chance to truly prepare for the little bundle of joy.

The day you took her home was a tear jerker. Dio insisted on carrying her through the door, the tiny little thing swaddled in his arms as he gave the dead asleep Athena an apartment tour.

That night, you smiled, watching Dio away back and forth with Athena in his arms. He’d abandoned his jacket for the comfort of something softer, Athena’s white onesie a contrast against his black shirt.

“Y’know how, almost ten months ago, I joked that I could totally see you holding a baby,” you said softly, standing and moving to Dio’s side.

“Yeah?”

You smiled, stroking a finger down Athena’s cheek. “You look so natural like this,” you said. “You’re gonna be an amazing father.”

“And you will be an amazing mother,” Dio said, kissing you. “Can you grab something out of my pocket?”

Nodding, you reached into Dio’s pocket and stopped when your fingers brushed something small and metal. “Dio.”

“Darling.”

You pulled a beautiful ring out of his pocket, your emotions getting the better of you. “Are you proposing?”

Dio grinned. “Figured it was time. Is that a yes?”

You nodded. “Yes. Dio Morrissey, I cannot wait to marry you.”

#nypd blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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yannasunflower · 4 years ago

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Chapter One | Kuroo x Reader | Zombie!AU

Rating: M Warnings: gore, violence, zombies, a fair amount of angst. still not sure about smut, but we'll see. characters have been aged up, but not all of them. eventual character death. Genre: angst/hurt/comfort, romance, survival-is-all-we-have Pairings: Kuroo x Reader Word count: 2.8k

i decided to actually expand this and make it a full story. not sure how long it'll be, guessing around 5 chapters. please reblog, like, comment, show some love! will be cross posting to AO3 as well!

Chapter One

There was a time, not so long ago, you would have killed to have a man on his knees before you just like this. But this man is bloody and bruised and the rancid scent of rotting flesh is heavy in your mouth. You resist the urge to spit. The unnatural corpse to your right was once a person. A man, you think faintly. Who may have once had a family. A home.

It’s been months now, but it’s still a fight to push the images of sun-drenched gardens and trips to the grocery store away.

The gun you have pressed to his temple is doing its job well. He is meek, eyes darting across the tile floor blankly. The way his shirt hangs from his tall frame and his wrists tremble make you lower the gun. This is a man who hasn’t eaten a meal in days. And his dirty clothes are covered in dry blood, none of it fresh. He managed to avoid getting bitten before your people swooped in. The sight of Daichi wrangling a nighstalker off someone is almost comical compared to his everyday activities – going on jogs and reading a book.

The stranger finally looks up at you and his dark, dark eyes are too dull. They are framed by a face that was once handsome, traces of good humor and vivacity still embedded in the lines around his mouth and eyes. Black hair forms almost a halo around him, the thick waves obviously in need of washing and trimming.

“Daichi,” you call and the man steps forward, baseball bat slung across his broad shoulders. “Get the man a snack. We’re taking him with us.”

Daichi nods, a question in his eyes that you ignore as you turn away, issuing orders. You sweep the shelves with your eyes, trying to find something of value. A forgotten box of cold medicine is swept into your bag without a second thought. A can of chicken noodle soup falls in after it. You hear the man huff a silent thanks as Daichi heaves him to his feet.

Heave might be too strong a word. The man looks thin enough for wind to blow through. You swallow, hard.

“Do you mind coming with us?” you hear Daichi murmur to him, always the graceful one, unable to keep the motherly concern out of his voice. The man must shake his head because Daichi sighs with relief. “Don’t mind the Captain. She’s got a lot on her mind.”

His conspiratorial tone makes your skin prickle. You turn just enough to shoot Daichi a venomous glare. He cheerfully ignores it.

“What’s your name?” you think to ask, turning fully to face him once more.

The man offers a weak smile. His lips tremble and his face wrinkles uncomfortably.

“Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou,” he answers. There’s a beat. You realize five seconds too late he’s expecting you to announce your name.

You remember your name, for a moment. It brings with it memories of fresh air and your parents, singing a silly birthday song to you, glee lighting their faces. A lurch in your gut nearly makes the world spin. You turn away from Kuroo again, hair framing your face.

“Just call me Captain, or Cap. Either will do,” you reply, far too nonchalantly and much too late. “We can offer a place to stay and some food, at least. Protection from the nightstalkers.”

You can’t see the look on his face and you wonder how long it’s been since he’s slept easily, deeply. His black eyes are too sunken to tell.

“It’s not much, but it’s something,” you admit.

Daichi huffs.

“She’s being modest,” he assures Kuroo. “We have running water and a water heater, as well as enough people to keep guards on rotation, and electricity and beds.”

“It sounds,” the man, Kuroo’s, voice grates, like it hasn’t been used in weeks. You realize it probably hasn’t. “It sounds too good to be true.”

Daichi laughs his big, booming laugh and someone, Sugawara you think, hisses at him to shut up. Daichi grins at the silver haired main, whose golden eyes are spitting venom at him, pointing gleefully at Kuroo as he says, “The poor man hasn’t slept on a bed for who knows how long, let him have a little joy.”

“You were the one laughing loud enough for every nightstalker in five blocks to hear you.”

That shuts Daichi up with an apologetic wince, although he still shoots Kuroo a wink.

“Let’s get you a granola bar and some water before we start moving,” Daichi whispers. Kiyoko steps from the shadows, more liquid than solid, more shade than human. Her glasses flash in the faint light and she is a cat, lithe and silent. She says nothing, just slings Kuroo’s arm around her shoulder and places a steadying hand on his chest. If Kuroo is surprised by the slender woman’s strength, he doesn’t show it.

She catches your eye and you see approval there, which warms your chest. Kiyoko has the best instincts in the group. She’s also your only nurse – if she doesn’t think the emaciated man will take up too many resources, you’re inclined to trust her. Her seal of approval settles the twinge in your gut, the one that screams to protect the people at the Pit at all costs.

Up from the ground, you realize with a jolt that Kuroo is taller than you thought, at least a full head taller than you. And you sense, in the same instant, that he is turning his eyes towards you, and that you are still looking at him.

You glance away, spying a pack of batteries in the back corner of a shelf. With a triumphant grin, you shove them in your pack. A lucky find. You make a mental note to thank Suga for suggesting the group drop in here. Trust him to be worried about their toothpaste supply at just the right time.

His fretting is the most likely reason Kuroo is still alive.

After the group, a small scouting party with just four people, packs as much as they can, you pull your mask back up over your mouth. The black cloth serves a few practical reasons: the smell of rotting flesh is much less likely to make you sick, and the color is useful. Nightstalkers have awful vision — it’s why scouting during a full moon can be dangerous and you are thanking the stars that the sky is dark and the moon nearly absent. Kuroo is in no condition to travel, which means you’ll have to move slowly. More slowly than you’d like.

His own dark clothing receives a nod of approval from Daichi, who supports half his weight still.

You watch as your group lifts their own masks, Kiyoko thinking to offer Kuroo one. A familiar thrall runs down your spine. You run through the route in your mind. Flashlights click off and for a moment, you stand, breathing in the taste of fear, growing thicker every moment.

“To the Pit,” you murmur.

“For the Pit,” Suga answers and the rest repeat it. The terror abates.

Outside, the air is cool, no bite to it, the fresh March night almost pleasant enough to forget for a brief second. But the smell of the nightstalkers chases after it and the illusion isn’t even fully formed before it dies. Your chest heaves.

The walk through the city is uneventful. The nighstalkers are thin in the city now, partially culled by the survivors who skulk the streets. Signs of human life are small, but everywhere. Fresh cigarettes, a pile of nightstalker corpses still smoldering. A child’s truck, lights still flashing. Your chest tightens again.

You take only a few seconds to leave a strip of yellow cloth tied to a signpost. Below it, you leave a smaller strip, this one purple, and scrawl Kuroo’s name on it as well as you can in the dark. With a knife, you cut off the old blue one that had been left a week ago and shove it into your pocket. The color blue used to be your favorite and now, seeing it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

There are two other survivor groups that you know of in the city. With an array of color coded messages, your three groups communicate important information. Yellow for all is quiet, red for in need of emergency supplies. Blue for the death of a human.

It’s a courtesy to let them know you’ve taken in another survivor, but you know if you don’t try to show the other packs a little bit of trust, the system Daichi and Kiyoko came up with won’t do anything to help your people.

You’ll be damned if you ever let another group into the Pit without a blindfold and ropes on their wrists, however. They showed you the same hospitality when you were in desperate need of medicine three weeks ago. Sometimes, you still feel the ropes around your wrist. Iwaizumi, Oikawa’s sturdy second, had been gentle about it, but it still chafed.

Out of the city, your entire group breathes a little easier. You do a quick head count, feet never slowing on the dirt path. The Pit isn’t far, just a few miles outside the city limits. Still, the lights don’t reach here, and you are too afraid to click on a flashlight or speak out loud. You keep your ears straining for any noise at all. Nighstalkers aren’t the only danger out here, outside the uneasy truce that exists in the city limits.

Kiyoko is still helping Daichi support Kuroo’s weight; as you watch, Suga slips to her side and taps her elbow, taking over for her. She relinquishes gratefully, stepping away to walk beside you.

Kiyoko rolls her shoulder and you lean over to rub it for a moment with your fingers. She flashes you a grateful smile. You still remember the night she got the injury – she had saved your life and nearly lost her arm in the process.

It only takes half an hour filled with Kuroo’s gasping breaths and the quiet footsteps of your crew for the guard towers to come into view. Someone flashes their light three times, the signal, and two shadowy figures pull the gate open. You can see the two figures perched in the parallel watchtowers peering down at the group curiously. They’ve kept their lamps low, as instructed, and you make a mental note to praise them in the morning.

They left with four and came back with five, which is a welcome change, you think.

Kuroo’s eyes are wide, mouth open.

“A prison,” you see him mouth and Daichi shoots you an amused glance.

It’s not pretty, especially at night, with its gray stone walls and barbed wire. But it’s fortified and in the day, you can see the beginnings of your garden just starting to break the earth and the children being taught by a patient Suga to help.

Tanaka lifts the pack from your shoulders, dipping his head in greeting to Kiyoko. Yamaguchi is already at Suga’s side, lifting both his and Daichi’s pack to his back, murmuring in hushed tones.

“A stray?” he asks in a quiet, crackling voice with one eyebrow raised, facing toward Kuroo, who is still staring in wonder at the tall stone walls.

You watch Daichi offer him water, explaining the watchtowers, the gate. His hand gestures in the direction of the gardens, Suga struggling to look proud and humble at the same time. Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming and you look away.

“Even strays deserve a bed to sleep on at night,” you murmur.

“If people hear we’re taking in –,”

You cut him off quickly, growling, “Who’s going to spread the word? You? We couldn’t just leave him there to die, Tanaka.”

There’s only a moment of silence, Tanaka’s dark eyes roving over your face before he backs down with a single nod.

“Grab Noya and get him to the showers and a cot,” you order, brushing past him. Kiyoko lingers, waiting to fall into step beside you again. “And see if Cook has any hot meals to spare.”

You feel more than see Tanaka approaching Kuroo, Suga and Daichi introducing everybody. Your entire group shuffles through the entrance, following you down the hallways to the cafeteria where they will drop their packs off before finding their friends or families.

Kuroo is still staring hard enough to pierce the walls and you hide a smile.

“Tanaka will show you where to shower and then bring you back here for some food,” you tell him. His eyes snap to you and you have to look away from them again, unable to keep looking at those dark holes. “After that, you can get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

You don’t give anyone a chance to respond. The worn heels of your boots hardly make a sound against the polished floor. The cafeteria is deserted at this time of night, when most people are in their cells. Kiyoko trails after you, Daichi just one step behind her.

“Daichi, get me an itemized list of everything we got tonight. I need to do inventory in the morning with Ukai and Takeda, let them know for me.”

He nods, hesitating where the hall branches off toward his own cell.

You wait. Daichi sometimes needs a moment to gather his thoughts, or maybe his courage. His lean, strong body doesn’t shift nervously, however. He looks thoughtful.

“Kuroo mentioned he was a doctor in the before. And a chemist,” he finally explains. You can physically feel Kiyoko come to attention next to you. Her body thrums with tension.

The information takes a second to sink in. The little boy with a bad cough in cell block B and his younger sister with a fever dance before you.

“He needs to get his strength back before going on any forages,” you point out, frowning. Daichi nods.

“Just thought you should know,” he answers easily, waving as he strides toward his cot.

Kiyoko follows you all the way to your cell. She leans against the cement wall as you light a lantern, keeping the light low, before sinking to sit on your cot. She folds her arms over her chest.

“Kuroo could give us a list of medicine to get,” she points out, voice barely above a whisper. You nod, lacing your fingers together and resting your chin on them.

Your mind is already churning with the information, only a slight congratulatory tone to your thoughts. A doctor is invaluable, a prize worth risking one journey home for. A chemist, too…

“I’m hoping he can help us grow our own herbs, as well,” you murmur. “Eventually, the medicine will run out at the stores.”

Kiyoko’s eyes narrow.

“There’s something else,” she challenges you, mildly but directly. Just her style.

You spare her a grin, shaking your head as you pull your hair from its ponytail.

“Can’t let me get away with anything,” you hum, waving her off, a dismissal. Because Kiyoko is Kiyoko, she doesn’t ask questions. She hovers at the entrance to your room, eyes flickering from you to the small window on the other side of the hall.

“You can lean on us, you know,” she says before she’s gone, always needing the last word, always right.

The pillow is a cloud beneath your head as you collapse, barely reaching out to extinguish the lamp before your eyes fall shut. But sleep doesn’t come easily. Your thoughts race, plummeting towards one inevitable conclusion. Kuroo’s face can’t be shaken, his sad eyes burned into the back of your eye lids.

But with his face comes the possibilities. You hadn’t lied to Kiyoko. Growing your own herbs, knowing how to properly use them, will be invaluable. A true asset.

Yet, the gleaming ideas don’t stop coming, the ways you could protect your people now. You can see them, laid out before you, like a map. Your fingers twitch, itching to pick them up, examine them all one by one. You almost can’t stop yourself from just considering what this could mean.

There is one person these people trust to make the hard decisions, the difficult, life and death ones. The quiet sounds of them sleeping, breathing, living, they surround you. Your heart beats in time to the little girl’s cough in cell block B. With every hitch of her brother’s chest, your own heart stutters. Thinking of their little faces is almost enough to make your eyes open again.

These are the people who are depending on you. Children, sick people, even more people who have nothing to live for anymore. Time is wearing them all down, you can tell.

The pressure doesn’t make your shoulders droop. Your back remains unbent, your stride unbroken as you mentally explore all avenues of thought.

The moon is low in the sky before you finally let yourself drift off, three plans beginning to form in the back of your mind.

#haikyuu #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu zombie!au #hq #haikyuu!!#my wriiting #dust to dust #dust to dust chapter 1 #yanna speaks #i hope this is good lol #pls reblog and like!!!#will be posted on ao3 later #kuroo #kuroo tetsuro

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potionsprefect · 4 years ago

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Blinding Lights (Ethan x F!MC)

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Summary: A night out suddenly takes a terrifying turn

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: slight angst, fluff (especially at the end)

A/N: I posted this on A03 about a month ago and have decided to put it on here as well.

“One more round?”

“Definitely not Jackie, I can barely stand up.”

“Oh come on! Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me Lahela.”

“Okay fine one more, I’m just glad I’m not driving.”

“Yeah you left that to me and Sienna.” Rafael laughed.

“I’m a very safe driver. I passed first time.” Sienna shrugged.

“Nah the best drivers are those who pass third time.” Bryce said.

“Remind me to never get in a car with you.” Aurora looked at Bryce with concern.

“Sure thing Emery.” Bryce patted her on the shoulder.

Victoria and her roommates along with Bryce and Rafael were out for a few drinks at a restaurant across town. The night was slowly wrapping up and they’d be leaving soon, well, as soon as Jackie and Bryce had finished their last drink. Victoria had been staring at her phone for the past 10 minutes, texting Ethan who was at his apartment, waiting for her to come back.

Ethan: Am I going to have to help you through your hangover when you get home?

Victoria: Don’t worry I’m not too drunk. Although there is enough alcohol in me that hugs and kisses will definitely help sober me up.

Ethan: I’ll be waiting for you

Victoria smiled down at her phone. Her and Ethan had been dating for a few weeks and Victoria felt like she was living in a fairytale. She was the happiest she had ever been.

“Victoria are you coming?” Sienna’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, and I call shotgun.” Victoria said.

“No way.” Elijah laughed.

“Least drunk gets to sit in the front. And that would be me.” Victoria smirked.

“Just because you can handle your alcohol better than the rest of us.” Jackie stuck her tongue out.

Everyone laughed as they settled into the cars. Victoria put on her seatbelt and Sienna pulled the car out of the car park and onto the main road.

“So how are things between you and Doctor Ramsey?” Sienna asked as they waited at a traffic light.

“Sienna you can call him Ethan outside the hospital.” Jackie laughed.

“Yeah I’m sure he has a life outside Edenbrook, especially now he has Victoria in his life.” Elijah grinned.

“I’m just trying to stay professional.” Sienna shrugged.

“Oh trust me, he’s professional in some aspects.” Victoria winked.

“Okay that’s too much information.” Aurora shuddered.

“You know I didn’t mean intimate details.” Sienna laughed.

“I know you didn’t. Things are really good.” Victoria smiled.

“Do you think he’ll ask you to move in with him?” Jackie asked.

“I don’t know. We’re happy with our current living situations at the moment but who knows what the future holds.” Victoria replied shrugging.

“How many times are we gonna see him in our flat?” Elijah laughed.

“Knowing Victoria, loads.” Jackie laughed.

The traffic light turned green and Sienna pulled the car out further into the road. What she didn’t notice was a truck heading straight into their direction at a terrifying pace.

“LOOK OUT!”

A terrifying scream, the blinding lights from the car, the sound of metal hitting metal, the car being broken up into pieces, the tyres skidding along the road and suddenly, everything went black.

— — — — — — — — — —

Edenbrook was unusually quiet at night. Night shifts usually filled with people who had sustained injuries whilst out at night. However, no traumas had come in and the evening was spent mainly filling out charts from previous patients. That was all about to change.

“We’ve got a double MVA rolling up.” One of the nurses shouted to the group of doctors and nurses around her.

“Okay prep the trauma rooms and make sure the OR’s are free.” Ines said, doctors and nurses hurried to complete the tasks as Ines and Zaid headed out to meet the ambulances, Harper joining them soon after.

“What have we got?”

“Double MVA rolling up.” Ines said.

“And here’s me thinking this Saturday night shift would be peaceful.” Harper sighed.

“This is why we should never jinx it.” Zaid said.

The ambulances rolled up and the doors flung open.

“Doctor Lahela?” Harper said stunned as she watched Bryce jump out of the ambulance alongside Rafael.

“We were in one of the restaurants across town, a car came out of nowhere and crashed right into Sienna’s car. Raf and I were in the car right behind them.” Bryce said.

“Doctor Trinh?” Zaid eyes grew wide as he looked at Sienna who was lying on the gurney, her face covered in blood.

“Getting… harder… to… breathe.” Sienna wheezed.

“She was crushed between the wreckage, we managed to get her out. Victoria, Jackie, Aurora and Elijah are all ok, just minor injuries. They were put into other ambulances.” Rafael explained.

Other doctors and interns wheeled Sienna into the hospital whilst the ambulances carrying Victoria, Jackie, Aurora and Elijah pulled into the bay.

“Are you guys alright?” Ines asked rushing to help the young doctors out of the ambulances.

“We’re fine, Victoria’s got glass in her leg but the rest of us just have minor injuries.” Jackie replied.

“Okay grab a wheelchair for Victoria.”

“No I’m ok, I can walk to the beds.” Victoria said wincing as a wave of pain washed through her.

“Doctor Clarke you’re a patient now not a doctor, let us help you.” Zaid said. Victoria felt now wasn’t the time to argue with the senior doctor so she did as she was told. She got settled into the bed as she got inside the hospital, her other friends taking the beds surrounding them.

“Is it just your leg?” Ines asked examine Victoria’s leg.

“Yeah.” Victoria replied looking towards the room where Sienna was being treated.

“I need a doctor here.” A paramedic yelled from the entrance.

“I’ll go, I’m not badly injured.” Aurora said getting up and heading over to the gurney. “Oh my god, it’s the guy who hit us.”

“What?” Elijah said, wheeling over to help Aurora treat the guy.

“Doctor Mirani, Sienna’s pressure’s dropping.” Danny ran out of the trauma room. Zaid rushed into the trauma room. Before any of the other doctors could look to see what was happening, one of the nurses pulled the blinds shut.

“Oh come on!” Jackie huffed.

“I’m gonna clean the wound and stitch it up. You’re going to be ok.” Ines turned to Victoria.

“Can I still walk on it?” Victoria asked.

“You should do but I advise plenty of rest. I think you know that.” Ines said. “Is there anyone you’d like me to call?”

Victoria hesitated for a moment. Even though everyone at the hospital knew they were an item, it didn’t stop them from gossiping about them behind their backs, despite the majority of it being positive. “Can you call Ethan?”

“Sure no problem.” Ines smiled. Jackie offered to make the call and so Ines got to work on Victoria’s leg. She cleaned the area and then delicately, removed the pieces of glass before stitching up the area. “You’ll be fine walking on it. Come by in three days to have the stitches removed and you’ll be as good as new!”

“Will it leave a scar?” Victoria asked.

“It might do but I wouldn’t worry about it, it’ll be minimal.”

“Can you check on Sienna? I want to know how she’s doing.”

“Sure, they might need my help anyway.” Ines retreated from the room and headed into the trauma room.

“What an evening huh.” Jackie said sitting back down on the bed.

“How did this even happen? Sienna didn’t jump through a red light.” Victoria sighed.

“No but the guy who hit us did. Rafael just told me he was seven times over the limit. He was travelling way faster than the limit.” Jackie said.

“Did he survive?”

“No, he was in v-fib and they couldn’t get him back.” Jackie replied.

“How are you doing?” Bryce and Rafael came and stood by Victoria’s bed.

“Just a couple of stitches, nothing too serious, do you know how Sienna is?”

“She’s stable but she’s going to need surgery. She said she couldn’t feel her legs.” Rafael said.

“Don’t worry I’m going to assist, we’re taking her up now, she’s in capable hands and she’ll be back on her feet in no time.” Bryce laid a comforting hand on Victoria’s shoulder before heading down the corridor to follow the doctors who were wheeling Sienna into the lift.

“Doctors would it be possible for you to answer a few questions for us?” A police detective walked over to them.

“Of course detective.” Victoria said sitting up.

“I’m guessing your Victoria Clarke and Jackie Varma?” The Detective looked at Jackie and Victoria.

“Yes that’s right.” Jackie replied.

“And you are?”

“I’m Rafael Aveiro. I was in the car behind them.”

“Ok Mr Aveiro can you describe what happened?”

“We’d all been out for a few drinks. Sienna and I decided we would drive home so we didn’t have anything to drink. At the end of the night we got into our cars and Sienna pulled out of the car park first, I followed shortly behind her. We were sat at a red light for a couple of minutes before Sienna pulled away and then all of a sudden, a car came out of nowhere and went straight into them.” Rafael explained.

“And Sienna is known as Doctor Trinh to your colleagues?”

“Yes that’s correct.”

“Ok that’s plenty of information. Several witness have also said similar things. I’ll need to speak to Doctor Trinh. Do you know where she is?”

“She’s having surgery at the minute.” Victoria replied.

“Ok, one of our officers will come by in a few days to see how she is. I have to say you were very lucky doctors, very lucky indeed.” The detective bid goodnight and left the hospital.

“Was that a detective?” Aurora and Elijah came over.

“Yeah he was just asking questions about what happened.” Rafael replied.

“Ok well Ines wants us to stay in hospital overnight just as a precaution and we can all be discharged tomorrow morning.” Aurora said.

“I’m staying in the on-call room tonight.” Rafael said.

“Rafael you should go home.” Victoria sighed.

“No I want to be here when Sienna wakes up.”

“If you say so.”

The nurses came in and wheeled Victoria to a private room and lead the others to their separate rooms. Victoria gazed out the window, the city lit bright by the building lights and the moon was shining down on them.

“Victoria?” A voice broke Victoria’s daydream. She turned around to see Ethan rushing into the room and pulling her into his arms. “Thank God you’re alright, I got here as fast as I could. What happened?” He said kissing her forehead.

“A car hit us. It was going really fast. Apparently the driver was drunk. He just came out of nowhere.” Victoria sighed in Ethan’s embrace.

“Were you badly hurt?”

“No just some glass in my leg, I’ll be fine. Sienna came off worst. She’s in surgery right now, she couldn’t move her legs. What if she-“

“No don’t think like that. She’ll be ok. Stay positive.” Ethan said pulling her in for a kiss.

“But none of this would’ve happened if we hadn’t stayed for one more drink. We would’ve avoided him.” Victoria said. She could feel her eyes stinging with tears.

“Hey, hey.” Ethan climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her. He gently stroked her back. “You can’t dwell on what would’ve happened. That guy would’ve hit someone anyway. He shouldn’t have been over the limit and he sure as hell shouldn’t have been driving.”

“I guess you’re right.” Victoria laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’m always right. Now lie down. You need to get some sleep.” Ethan said preparing to get off the bed.

“Ethan?” Victoria lightly grabbed his hand. “Will you stay here tonight? I’d rather not be alone.”

Ethan took his shoes off swung his legs on the bed, he laid down next to Victoria wrapping his arms around he pulling her closer. He gave her a light kiss on the forehead and murmured into her hair.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

— — — — — — — — — —

Dark grey clouds covered the Boston sky, threatening to spill rain. Victoria woke up and felt the space next to her, remembering where she was and who should be beside her. But there was no one there. As she sat up, the person she was looking for strolled into the room.

“Glad to see you awake. I brought you some breakfast and I’ve got your discharge paperwork. The others have already left.” Ethan smiled sitting on the bed.

“Is Sienna ok?” Victoria asked.

“She came out of surgery well and is in recovery. Bryce says there’s no evidence of paralysis so far.”

“That’s great.”

“Naveen says don’t worry about your shift tomorrow, he’s got it all covered. I’m free to take you home.”

"Does that mean you get to look after me?” Victoria grinned.

“For as long as you need.” Ethan grinned back.

Ethan wheeled Victoria out of her room and helped her get into his car. His hand not leaving hers once he drove to his apartment and got her settled on his couch before he made her a cup of coffee and joined her, wrapping a blanket around her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working later tonight?” Victoria asked.

“I swapped shifts so I could be with you. Naveen didn’t mind.” Ethan replied.

“I bet he had the biggest grin on his face.” Victoria laughed a little.

“He did. You know he’s one for hospital gossip. He saw the two of us asleep last night. Now the whole hospital knows just how much Doctor Ramsey is in love with Doctor Clarke.”

Victoria sat up a little straighter. “Did you say love?”

Ethan froze. Whatever he meant to say was sure as hell not meant to come out like that. “Oh uh… I hope that wasn’t too sudden. But it may be the truth. I love you Victoria.” Before he could say anything else, Victoria pulled him closer and attached her lips to his.

“I love you too Ethan. Kinda thought it was obvious.” Victoria smirked.

“Well I’d hate to presume anything.” Ethan grinned.

“So you kept it to yourself? Smart.” Victoria smiled. “Now that we’ve confessed our love to each other I think we should do something to celebrate.”

“Oh really? And what exactly did you have in mind?” Ethan said lowering Victoria further onto the sofa, mindful of her leg.

“Well for starters it requires much less clothing.”

Ethan grinned. “What about your leg?”

“Are you going all Doctor on me outside the hospital? I’m not completely crippled. I’ve still got one good leg that can give you a good time. So what do you say?” Victoria whispered into his ear.

Ethan just grinned and pulled her in for a kiss. As he looked down at the woman he loved so much in his arms, he knew that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Absolutely nothing.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading it! :) I don’t know why I’m so nervous to post this maybe because it’s my first time.

#ethan ramsey #play choices #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #fanfic

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gummygowon · 5 years ago

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dreamers | jung wooyoung

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, fluff

best friends to lovers!

warnings: sad lmao

third person pov

it was a quiet friday night which was weird for a group of highschoolers. nothing was really going on, in terms of parties and high school games which was rare but it finally felt nice to not feel hungover for a whole weekend.

y/n and wooyoung were chilling on her bed after their friends had left her house. wooyoung lived a couple doors down from y/n's house and didn't feel like leaving just yet.

ever since y/n moved into the neighborhood in third grade, the two had become inseparable. the duo would tell each other everything from stupid crushes to ranting about how their favorite arcade game was rigged. and tonight was another one of those nights were the two could talk until the sun rose.

tonight's topic was about their futures and what they wanted to do since they were now seniors and adulthood was coming closer everyday.

"woo?" y/n asked, fiddling with one of her plushies.

"yes, y/n." wooyoung perked up his head from his phone.

"what are your plans after college?"

wooyoung paused for a moment, forming his answer carefully. "i don't think i'm going to college after high school."

"huh? what are you going to do then?" y/n asked, surprised her best friend wasn't going to some sort of culinary school since he would not stop cooking.

"i know it's kind of dumb but i wanna be an idol." wooyung confessed sheepishly.

"it's not dumb, woo." you argued back. "i mean you are one of hell of a dancer and you can sing. just send it."

his cheeks flushed a little bit at her comments. "are you sure? what if-"

"jung wooyoung. look at me." y/n said as she grabbed his wrists.

the boy looked up at her with doubt and worry washed over his face.

"you got amazing vocals that i'm pretty sure angels are jealous of you and you can literally beat anyone in a dance battle. including me, which is saying a lot." y/n joked as she flipped her hair.

it was true though. y/n was a killer dance and when her and wooyoung danced together, circles would form around them at parties.

"if you want to become an idol. become an idol. i want to brag to everyone that i'm bestfriends with the jung wooyoung."

wooyoung rolled his eyes at her and pulled his hands to hips. "wow, you really just want me for the clout huh?"

"no!" y/n answered and lightly punched him in the shoulder. "but seriously, i'll support you no matter what. hell i'll watch one of your practices if they even allow that."

"i don't think they would allow that y/n."

"whatever, just send me videos of you dancing at least." y/n huffed and crossed her arms.

"of course. i promise to send you weekly videos."

"good, i'll be waiting for those." she smiled at him.

"y/n, what are you going to do afterwards?" wooyoung asked, leaning back on his hands.

"i want to join the navy." her eyes glowed as she talked. "i want to help protect our country and working overseas seems so much fun."

wooyoung watched in amusement as his best friend begin to drabble on about her plans after high school. "how are am i supposed to send you my weekly dance videos then?"

"through a flash drive duh. unless they allow sailors access to computers but i doubt it. just write to me and send a flash drive over."

"you really want me to spend money on flash drives?" wooyoung sarcastically asked.

"yes if you're gonna become an idol, i am going to have to pay for a ticket to your concert aren't I?"

"i mean, i guess. but i can probably get you free ones."

"nah, there's no fun in that." y/n said as she waved her hand, shooing away that idea. "i want to fight over people for barricade tickets."

wooyung laughed at her dumb dream. "okay, do whatever you want y/n."

two months later, y/n was helping out wooyung practice for his audition for bighit. the poor kid could not stop stressing out about his audition that was in a few days.

wooyoung had been non stop preparing ever since he found out the audition date. after school, he did his homework right away and then went straight to practicing his vocals and dancing.

on the weekends and when y/n had light homework loads during the week she would help out as much as she can.

today, wooyoung had probably been dancing for almost two hours in his backyard. he was constantly tweaking and perfecting dances that y/n was sure that his hair was going to turn gray before the audition even came.

"woo." y/n walked over to the speaker and paused the song. "you need to take a break dude. you've been at it for two hours now."

wooyoung inhaled deeply, he was trying his best not to snap at her for just trying to help him out. "give me five more minutes please. i know i can get it down. i just need a little more time."

"wooyung, give your body a break. it wouldn't hurt to take a five minute break." y/n said, her voice a little more sterner.

"y/n just please!" wooyung shouted, instantly regretting raising his voice at her. "just please give me a little longer and i promise, i'll stop."

"fine. i'll be inside." y/n sighed.

she couldn't get mad at him even though it was so tempting to just snap back at him and whack him in the face. but she understood the pressure and stress he was feeling at the moment.

instead, she took out her anger on the watermelon in front of her. cutting the watery fruit, a little more harshly than normal.

after she was done, wooyung had walked back into the house, dripping in sweat.

"finally, you're done. you know, you have to take more care of yourself once you start training." she scolded at him.

"that's if, i get in." wooyoung corrected her, wiping away his sweat with a towel.

"keep thinking negatively and i'll stab you." y/n threatened, half jokingly and half not. it certainly didn't help that her tone came out more serious since she was annoyed at him.

"alright, alright. i'll stop." wooyung put his hands in the air as soon as he saw y/n point the sharp knife at him.

"good. now eat and then we can work on your vocals." y/n pushed a plate full of watermelon and strawberries towards him.

"thank you." wooyung said as he reached for a strawberry.

"for what?" she asked as she washed her hands before snagging a slice of watermelon.

"for helping me with everything." wooyung looked at his best friend wondering how he would survive without her.

y/n looked up and met his gaze and she couldn't help but blush. "it's alright. i wanna see you perform when i get back from the navy."

"speaking of the navy, did you apply yet?" he asked in between chews.

"uhh, not yet. i've been busy." the h/c girl answered sheepishly as she picked up another piece of fruit to distract herself.

wooyung groaned, "it's because you're helping me isn't it?"

he felt even more worse since he snapped at her.

"no, no. it's not that. my parents are trying to talk to me out of it."

the boy looked skeptically at her. "are you sure? i don't want to get in the way of your dreams."

y/n scoffed at him. "are you dumb? you're going to be with me throughout this whole process, whether you like it or not."

wooyung smiled at her brightly. "yes, i will and i will be buying flash drives just for you. so you can watch my dance videos."

"that's right baby. catch me in the front row of all your concerts." y/n dramatically declared.

"with the tickets you'll refuse from me."

"just let me fight your future fans over them please."

"fine, it'll make up for the cost of the flash drives."

"fair enough." she laughed.

two weeks later, y/n's letter from the navy arrived in her mailbox after dinner.

once she had saw the mail truck come by she immediately ran to the mailbox with her slippers barely on her feet.

her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the keys and struggled to open it. y/n skimmed over the pile of letters in her arms until she found the one thing she was looking for. she shoved the rest of the letters back inside the mailbox so she could retrieve them later.

with trembling fingers and her heart beating so fast, y/n ripped the envelope opened. she could feel herself start to shake once she read the big fat congratulations on the paper.

y/n screamed out of pure happiness and rushed to wooyoung's house, completely forgetting about the rest of the letters in her family's mailbox.

she knocked on the door so harshly, anyone would of thought that she was the FBI about to barge into their home.

"wooyoung!" y/n exclaimed.

"y/n, what is it?" he asked, confused at her super excited state and then it hit him, "is it the navy?"

she hummed in response, "i got in, i'm leaving on saturday!"

"oh my god, y/n." wooyoung congratulated her before enveloping her in a warm hug. "i'm so happy for you."

"thank you, woo." y/n pulled back, her smile never leaving her face. "how about you did you get in?"

"about that..." he trailed off looking to the side.

y/n's face fell and before she could even say anything, wooyoung interrupted.

"just kidding. i got in." wooyoung's face returned back to his happy self, a cheeky grin spread across his face.

"you fucker." y/n cursed as she slapped him on the arm. "i was going to cry for you. "

"owwww." he whimpered, rubbing his arm.

the girl pulled him into a hug which wooyoung slowly returned.

"look woo, we're achieving our dreams together." y/n smiled into his chest.

wooyoung hugged her even tighter. "i love you."

the two never had outwardly said that phrase, even in a friendly way. which is why it caught y/n off guard by a mile.

it was a definite no brainer that she loved him. at first it was in a best friend way but over time and the many idol practices, y/n always left his house wondering about her feelings for him. it was so cliche of her to fall for her childhood best friend but she couldn't help it.

wooyoung was there for her for everything, ever since she moved here. and of course, y/n was always there for him. feelings were bound to be caught, one way or the other. it was just matter of who would fall first.

"i mean uh," wooyoung pulled away quickly, his cheeks flushed a bright red.

y/n's adrenaline was skyrocketing, "fuck it."

she grabbed her best friend by his shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

wooyoung froze against her lips before kissing back. he didn't really know what was happening but he loved every second of it.

when the two of them pulled back for air, y/n was grinning. "i love you too, woo."

the trainee couldn't help but smile even brighter. but y'n's face fell at the thought of the future. she was leaving for the navy in a couple of days and wouldn't return for months. and wooyoung was starting his training soon. it was an absolutely, terrible idea to start a relationship considering the timing, but she would do it all for him.

he noticed her expression and reached for her cheek, caressing it. "i'll wait for you, y/n."

"really? i won't back for almost two years. i don't want you to-"

"y/n, i would wait an eternity if it i meant i could be with you." he reassured, staring deep into her eyes.

whatever worries y/n had were disappearing. it felt comforting to hear the one person who she loved and cared about, would be waiting for her when she came back.

wooyoung pulled her in for another comforting hug, "i will always love you, no matter how far away you are."

a tear slipped down y/n's cheek as she hugged him even tighter. falling in love with your best friend had never felt so bittersweet.

since then, wooyoung and y/n spent as much time as they could together before she left for the navy.

but now, the day they both dreaded had arrived.

y/n's suitcase was packed into her family's car as she said her goodbyes to her siblings and grandparents.

"you look so beautiful." y/n's grandpa cried, as he lifted his hand to touch her cheek.

the sailor was wearing her uniform with her long hair was slicked back into a bun.

"thank you, grandpa." y/n smiled as she pulled away to say goodbye to her other friends.

and of course, wooyoung's family was there. she saved her goodbyes for them last.

y/n went down the line of his family, hugging them and saying thank you for coming to see her go off.

when she reached wooyoung, the breath in her throat hitched as tears threatened to spill out. y/n promised to herself that she wouldn't cry before she left but for wooyoung and her parents, they were the exception.

wooyoung hugged her so tightly which y/n didn't mind at all. if she could, she would spend the rest of her life in his arms.

"i love you, woo." she mumbled into his chest.

"i love you too, y/n. good luck out there."

y/n pulled away reluctantly, "you too. i will be waiting for your first concert."

wooyoung smiled at her sadly and tugged at her wrist. y/n looked back at him with a confused expression before he pulled her into a passionate kiss. he didn't really care that his parents were there at the moment, he just needed to remember what her lips felt like before he forgot.

"i'll always be there with you." wooyoung whispered, as he pressed something into her hand.

y/n looked down at her hand to see a red rose hanging on a gold chain, "thank you, woo."

he nodded his head as he let you go.

he watched with teary eyes as you drove away but something in him sparked. another drive for him to work hard and achieve his dream.

dear wooyoung,

i miss you so much, it's beginning to drive me insane. but, i want to let you know that everything here is going smoothly despite these rocky ass waves. i've adjusted to almost everything around here except for waking up incredibly early. i've made new friends and have become really close with my roomate which is a relief because i don't know if i could deal with a shitty ass roomate. anyways, how's life back at home and how's training at bighit? have you seen taehyung yet? haha. i'm kidding. or not. but besides the point, tell me how life as a trainee. oh and before i forget, i figured out a way to watch your dance practice videos so please send them. i'll pay you back through buying barricade tickets alright? also, tell your parents i say hi please!

with much love,

y/n :)

p.s. i love you

dear y/n,

i miss you a lot too. even my parents do haha and they say hello back and hope you're doing well. i'm glad to hear that you're enjoying the navy life but i'm surprised that you're able to wake up so early haha. but don't worry, everything back home is great, just a little chaotic sometimes. trainee life is definitely tiring and hard but it's probably not much compared to what you have to do. i don't wanna know about the million, spirit-breaking things you do but if it makes you happy, i did see taehyung. even though it was for like two seconds because we were just passing in the halls. i hope one day i can see them practice live. maybe i'll see jimin. but anyways, i've made some friends too. we're gonna audition for a survival show called mixnine together. i'm really excited. i think you would like them. they're really funny but not as funny as me though. ok, i got to go now before my mom yells at me for staying up so late. so, i'll see you in my dreams. goodbye!

love,

wooyoung ;0

p.s. enjoy the dance cover i did with yeosang (someone who i met at bighit)

p.s.s. i hope the flash drive gets to you safely, i don't trust the postal services

two years later...

dear woo,

i have managed to secure tickets to your first concert in seoul thorough my parents. and yes, my parents had to do some fighting with some of your fans to help me secure a barricade ticket. i am utterly disappointed that i didn't get to do the fighting myself but i guess i'll just have to wait for your next tour. :( but on a more positive note i'm coming home soon! i'm so excited. the first thing we are doing though is getting some good dessert. i'm tired of eating the wack ass "desserts" here. oh! maybe we can go to a garden or something i don't know but i'm tired of looking at the water. some nice, pretty flowers will be much better to look at. speaking of flowers, i still have your rose necklace that you gave me. i wear it all the time except for when we do swimming exercises. i don't trust myself enough to bring it in the water. anyways before i have to go, i want to say how proud i am of you for coming so far in the idol industry. it seems like forever ago that i was helping you out for audition for bighit. i get to brag to people now that i'm dating a kpop idol hehe. say hi to the boys for me! and please send another video of you guys dancing so, me and my roomie can copy it. when i come home we can perform your songs together. oh my god that would be so much fun. ok, ok i really gotta go now but i love you and please take care of yourself! (or ask san too, either one works)

with much love,

y/n!

p.s. i'll be sitting a little bit to the right of the stage.

dear y/n,

i'm sad to hear that you couldn't fight my fans for barricade tickets but i am thankful that you are coming to our first show. i'll be on the lookout for you in the audience. and afterwards, find my parents and they'll take you backstage so i can see you again. did i tell you that our lightsticks came in and they're actually so cool. i'll see if i can snag you one and don't even think about having to pay back okay? you can pay me back by spending as much time as you can with me when you're back home. anyways, i wanna thank you for supporting me ever since i brought up the idea of becoming an idol. you were probably the only person who didn't laugh straight in my face for thinking such childish things but look at where we are now. i get to perform my first show with you in the barricade. and look at you, i got a badass girlfriend in the navy who can probably kick anyone's ass. and she can dance like??? i think win when it comes to having the coolest girlfriend ever. and you bet the first thing we're gonna do together is dance. i'm debating about teaching you the pirate king choreo or the say my name one. i don't know you can pick. also, yeosang, san, hongjoong, seonghwa, mingi, and jongho all say hello back and are very excited to finally meet you. i gotta go now, i have to wake up early for some costume fittings but i'll send some pics over too. i love you!

love,

wooyoung :)

it was the day of ateez's first concert and wooyoung didn't even know if y/n was back from the navy yet because they could never really say when they're coming home for obvious reasons. but wooyoung couldn't help but pace around the dressing room.

it was definitely not the perfect timing since he was currently freaking out about twenty million things all at once. it was their first ever concert and everything could terribly wrong in wooyoung's mind. like what if y/n thinks that he performed terribly tonight or even worse what if she leaves in the middle of the concert because they were so bad. but he didn't even know if she was back in south korea since she hadn't called him or anything. not even her parents had called him. maybe they wanted to surprise him? no. that's dumb she already bought tickets so-

"wooyoung." his leader called out to him. ever since they had arrived at the venue, wooyoung had been non stop spacing out and mumbling things to himself. everyone in the group was of course nervous, but none of them were this anxious.

"huh?" the young idol snapped his head to hongjoong. "i mean yes."

"are you seriously okay? you haven't been able to stop mumbling to yourself since we got out of the car." he asked full of concern.

"yes, it's just that y/n is supposed to come and-" wooyoung rambled, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

hongjoong put his hands on both of his shoulders, "woo, i am going to need you to calm down first. y/n is probably back home safe and is probably getting ready right now with her friends to come see us."

wooyoung slowly nodded to himself to convince himself that everything was okay.

"take a deep breath, ok?" hongjoong instructed, breathing along with him. "relax, she's going to come and she's gonna see how much you've improved since the last time she saw you."

his leader was right. wooyoung had improved in so many ways, from his singing to his confidence in performing. he should be excited to show off how much he improved to her.

"you're right." the young idol nodded his head. his worries about y/n were slowly being lifted away.

hongjoong smiled at him before patting his back.

during the concert everything was going smoothly. there was no costume slip ups or them forgetting their lines it was going great. but wooyoung couldn't find y/n amongst the many faces in the crowd. it was worrying him but he decided to not let any negative thoughts cloud his mind mid performance.

until, they were about to perform their last song and his parents ran to their dressing room. tears were streaming down his mother's face.

"what's going on? are you okay mom?" wooyoung asked immediately, he wrapped his mom in a hug.

"it's y/n." his dad started in soft voice.

"what? what happened? is she okay?" he asked, his head snapping to his dad. it was a miracle how he didn't break his neck.

"honey, she couldn't make it. there was an accident and something happened to the ship." his mom cried.

"what do you mean she didn't make it?" wooyoung couldn't believe a word they were saying. there was no way in hell she died. she was too young. wooyoung didn't even get a chance to say i love you again in person.

"her ship went down and there was only a few survivors and-"

"no. you're lying." the shocked idol shouted as he backed away from his parents only to be caught in san's chest.

"sweetheart, they couldn't find her." his mom revealed as she wiped a tear away from her face. "she was supposed to arrive yesterday."

wooyoung didn't say anything but fall to the floor. every ounce of happiness he had was gone. he couldn't believe it. there was no way.

"you guys are going back up now." their manager shouted to them.

"we wanted to tell you later but-"

"that's enough, honey." his dad shushed. he didn't want to make things worse than they already were.

"woo, come on." san said as he helped him up.

he didn't say anything but followed his members out of the dressing room.

wooyoung didn't know how he was supposed to continue singing when he just found out that love of his life died.

"sing for her, alright?" san comforted right before they walked back on stage.

they were performing star 1117. the last song of the night. which was good for wooyoung cause he just wanted this night to be over already.

once mingi started singing, wooyoung lost it. as well as his fellow members but they weren't crying for the same reasons he was.

they were crying because after all the neverending practices and the amount of frustrating times sitting in the sound booth trying to get the perfect sound was all worth it. they were finally doing what they love in front of people who genuinely enjoyed their music and were excited for what's to come from them.

he should be crying for the same reasons they were or maybe he was a little bit. he couldn't tell what he was feeling anymore. he just felt empty.

san watched his friend break down and went over to him for support. he was never much of crier but this performance was close to breaking his wall.

in the eyes of a fan, it looked like san was merely comforting a crying wooyoung. but what they didn't know was why he was crying.

finally the song had ended and almost everyone was crying or at least on the verge of tears. the boys stood in line at the very front of the stage with bittersweet looks as they bowed down to the crowd.

they all waved goodbye with smiling faces and wet eyes.

someone had tossed roses onto the stage which wooyoung of course picked up before heading backstage.

he couldn't even make it to their dressing room before crying again. san had wrapped an arm around his shoulder to keep him balanced as he guided them back to the safety of their dressing room.

wooyoung had sunk into of the couches there and just let everything out. this wasn't how he was supposed to be feeling. he was supposed to be happy and thankful that their first concert was a huge success. he should be happily celebrating with his friends and with y/n but not anymore.

all the members had took turns in comforting him. they never got the chance to meet y/n but they did see lots of photos of her and heard many stories from wooyoung. she sounded like an amazing person to be around and they were heartbroken that they would never get to meet her.

all the fans had left the venue by now and wooyoung was sitting on the edge of the stage. his feet was dangling off the edge while he twirled the rose in his hands. he was done crying for now and spoke softly to himself.

"i wish you were here y/n. the concert was a huge success. i'm really thankful that you helped me practiced for my bighit audition. i think i owe you a lot for that. i don't know if i would've stuck with my dream if it wasn't for you." he mumbled. "i miss you like crazy, it's not even funny. but i know you're watching me from up there and you're probably telling me to stop crying" wooyoung chuckled to himself. "but i don't think i'll stop for awhile. i love you, y/n and i'll never stop loving you."

"wooyoung." yeosang called for him. "we're leaving now."

the heartbroken idol smiled softly at his friend before getting up. he kissed the rose and he could've sworn he felt y/n's soft lips on it. maybe he was just dreaming or maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to him. wooyoung crouched down and left the rose a little to the right of the stage.

"for you, my little dreamer."

ever since that night, wooyoung had left a little rose sticker on the right side of the stage at every single venue he performed at.

it was his way of remembering y/n. it was so that she could be with him at every concert or award show.

wooyoung was even gifted a similar rose necklace from his group. he couldn't stop crying that night and thanked them repeatedly.

every night before he went to bed he would touch the rose and whisper "i love you, y/n."

sometimes he would dream about her and wake up crying. thankful, he got to see her again in his dreams. because that's what they were.

dreamers.

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