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kusagrasskusa · 3 years ago

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Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

#michael myers x y/n #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #michael myers #horror movies x reader #horror movies #slashers #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #slashers x reader #halloween #reader insert #x reader #killer reader #movie villains #aaaaaah #request #i love u #thanks for the request!

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butterysalt · 3 years ago

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Fun | Sherlock x platonic!Reader

Pairing: Sherlock x platonic!gender neutral reader

Request ( @a-paper-cut ):

Word Count: 2,202

Contains: Mentions of child abduction, platonic fluffiness and banter :)

A/N: AAAAAAA thank you so much, lovely! This was my first request and I was SUPER excited to write it hehe. I’ve been on a slight creative block lately and I enjoyed writing this so much. I hope this fic does justice for what you wanted and I hope that you are doing amazingly 🧡🧡

It was an early, snowy winter morning in London. You and Sherlock Holmes have been mind-boggled by a puzzling case for the past week. The detective proposed that the two of you go on a walk to allow some fresh air in the brains again. This suggested that even his extensive mind palace and composing weren’t helping the genius. Not that you were complaining about sharing a nice stroll with Sherlock. It had been years after all since you two had spent any casual time together. Like what people normally did in their free time, anyway.

The two of you stepped side by side, feet planting in the thin sheet of snow on the ground in unison. You grinned a little at the matched body language. You and Sherlock always had special ways to subtly communicate with one another. It was like a part of your minds were connected.

“Anything yet?” the tall brunette questioned. Your lip twitched upward. “Don’t rush the process, Sherlock. Just enjoy the moment. Live in it a little.” Sherlock’s long drawl could be heard next to you. His walking strides were growing longer as his patience began to thin out. You could practically hear the subtle gnawing of his teeth.

“We’ve only been walking 5 minutes,” you flouted, “Loosen up a bit.” Sherlock snickered to himself, messing with his gloved hands. “You’re already trying to read me?”

“You’re walking like you’ve got a stick up your arse. It’s clear you’re agitated,” you jested. The curly-haired detective sneered at you and kicked a clump of ice out of the way. “I can’t think, Y/n. We have potential homicide to solve and we’re here drudging in the snow.”

“Remember, this was your idea, genius. Unless you can come up with something else, this is all we’ve got.” Sherlock went silent, chewing the inside of his cheek. His mind wandered to try and come up with something snarky to throw at you. Perhaps a witty comeback that would leave you in doubt. The headache he was dealing with was enough to strike him in his train of thought. He shook it off and his focus returned to the matter of urgency. Unsolved case.

Sherlock lifted his face to the sky, blowing a hot cloud of breath into the chilly London air. He tugged his scarf a little closer to his neck, shoving his gloved hands down into his thick coat. The breath cloud was a common habit of Sherlock’s during cold weather. It mimicked the effect of blowing cigarette smoke, just without the tar and nicotine. Fortunately, the only time the detective abused drugs anymore was when cases had him horribly stumped; thanks to you and John’s efforts, his drug use was much more controlled now.

“Five missing children. All between the ages of 7 and 9. We know that the connection is tied to their private schools. Three different religious private schools within a 10 kilometer radius — so, fairly close together. The parents reported their children coming home with expensive gifts from a mysterious donor shortly before they went missing. They referred to the perpetrator as ‘Ray’. Anyone handing out shiny trinkets to naive children is either a philanthropist or a predator. I’d like to bet on the latter.”

You sighed, mentally reviewing all of the evidence from the case in your head. “But all of the children knew basic safety protocols: don’t talk to strangers, never accept anything from strangers, the whole package. Their parents are terribly traditional. They never would have let any of them see the light if they broke any of those rules. So the chances are near impossible that they would have fallen for such typical child abduction tricks.”

“Near impossible, L/n. That means there’s still a possibility and possible is all we need to screw this up,” Sherlock tutted. He blew another large cloud of air, shaking some light snow off his curls. You frowned, “The suspects. We’ve interrogated the popes, teachers, parents… who are we missing?”

Sherlock stopped walking. You turned to check up on him, finding him with his eyes shut. “Maybe we’re asking the wrong questions…”

“Of course we’re asking the wrong questions! We have all the pieces in our hands but no instructions, Sherlock. We’re running in circles with this case,” you walked over to a public railing, leaning against it and looking out across the long white blanket that stretched to the horizon.

He joined your side shortly after, bending down to pick up some rocks to toss down the snowy hill and watch as they made skinny trails in the frosty powder. Sherlock sighed out, exasperated and worn out. “We’re not getting anywhere by mulling over it, are we?”

You smiled at him and shook your head. You pulled your coat a little tighter around yourself. “That’s why I’m here to keep you in check. It’s good to get some air, you know? Christ knows when’s the last time you did that simply because you wanted to.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow perked up and he faced you with a blank expression. “How do you mean?” Your eyes widened a little, unsure of how you should pick out your next words. “Well… you know, you don’t exactly, uh…” Nervously, your eyes flicked up to his. He was watching your expression very carefully.

“You don’t spend a lot of time for yourself,” you said simply. Sherlock frowned in disagreement. “I spend a lot of time by myself. I thought you knew me better than that,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your back against the cold railing now, crossing your arms. “In your mind palace, Sherlock. I mean you don’t do things you enjoy.”

“Who said I don’t enjoy things?” he countered your query. You found yourself forming a cold sweat, debating on how to deliver your message. “Hobbies?”

“Violin.”

“Meh. Parties?”

“You disturb me.” Your best friend’s disgust made you cackle. “See, that’s my point! You don’t know how to have fun anymore. What happened to old Sherlock?”

Now this was a personal offense against Sherlock. “What? You don’t think I’m fun?” Sherlock sounded incredibly appalled by your claim. A hot cloud of air rose to the sky when you scoffed.

“Holmes, you are probably the farthest thing when it comes to the definition of fun!”

“Well, probability-wise, that’s highly improbable when Mycroft exists.”

“His poshness makes up for it. You’re just irritating.” Sherlock puffed out his red cheeks, nudging you playfully. “Oh, come on. You must admit that I’m at least an interesting character?”

You pondered in fake thought, scrunching your face together. “Interesting is debatable. Fun? That’s foreign territory, Sherlock.” The tall man grimaced deeply at your bluntness that he clearly had issues with. “What do you mean by ‘Old Sherlock’? What was good about the ‘old me’? I consider myself much more refined in the present day.”

Old memories of the two of you hanging out with one another as teenagers came back to you. A smile melted on your face from the warm feelings of nostalgia, the chilliness from the snowfall leaving your body.

“You used to prank Mycroft all the time. Everything was always a competition with you and me; we would go from racing down the neighborhood to reach my house first or rush to finish homework and claim the telly before the other could. Oh! We would always make up fake cases, too, trying to entertain a mystery that didn’t even exist,” you laughed to yourself, “Look at us now.”

Sherlock grumbled at the reminder of your old shenanigans. He wasn’t always the fondest of his younger self. But he had to admit he was reckless, even as a child. It was a simpler time and kids didn’t have much to fret or fear.

“Now you’re all enigmatic and stoic with your flipped up coat collar and scary cheekbones. The difference is so disappointing, it’s sickening,” you gagged. Sherlock slipped off his glove and jabbed his freezing hand against your neck, making you exclaim at the coldness and shove him backward. He wore a victorious smirk at your suffering. You pointed a hard finger at him, holding back your own laughter to prove a point.

“NO, that’s not being fun, Sherlock. That’s torture- sadism! You’re just an arse!” He threw his arms in the air, tossing his glove in your face. “It’s subjective! I can be fun,” he insisted.

“You’re predictable, Holmes. You don’t remember what good humor is and it shows in your actions. You pick everything up from books and telly. You can’t surprise me anymore,” you declared. Sherlock’s expression contorted into shock as he stared at you in disbelief. You had left the great Sherlock Holmes baffled. The silence was deafening — music to your ears.

When you thought you were winning this argument, a special glint quickly shone in Sherlock’s eyes. Your expression dropped and then you were pushed backward. There was no railing behind you anymore to catch you.

As you were falling, you naturally grasped for something to hold on to. In this case, Sherlock’s coat. The evil smirk on his face was immediately replaced with shock then fear as he was crashing hard into you. Gravity did the rest of the work. With the momentum you had already begun, dragging Sherlock down with you was one of the worst possible outcomes of the situation. A crude curse slipped past his lips and both of you latched onto each other because there was nothing else to brace with.

What was initially meant to be a playful fall down the snowy hill turned into a rolling battle full of frantic thrashing and screaming as both of your bodies thumped and tangled with each other. The two of you occasionally bounced a few inches off the ground and crashed back into the ground, knocking the breath out of both of you. The wild human avalanche down the hill was finally put to a stop when you rolled into a tree. With a loud OOMPH, you and Sherlock flopped into the ground, groaning and croaking in pain. Neither of you moved for the first passing moments, unable to process what just happened.

Your fall was broken when you landed on top of Sherlock, his body sprawled out in the cold snow, rasping heavily. Some snow fell off your form and your arms shook as you propped yourself up, no longer caring about the fact that you applied all the pressure in your friend’s ribs.

“You alright, mate?” you panted, checking up on Sherlock, eyes analyzing him for any serious injuries.

“You take my breath away.” You sputtered and shook your head at his ridiculous humor. “Aren’t you just romantic?” He squinted his eyes and flashed a sarcastic smile but groaned out, “No, really. Please get off my chest.”

“Oh God, sorry,” you scrambled off of him and he rolled over into the snow, gasping for air as he clutched his side in pain. You punched him in the shoulder. “You bloody twat, Sherlock Holmes! Pushing me down a hill by Jove’s sake!”

“I remember it being much more fun when we were younger,” he grunted out, pushing himself onto his forearms. And just then, his eyes burst wide open. His face slack-jawed as his brain computed at top speed. He was onto something.

“Sherlo-”

“FUN, Y/n,” he articulated, scrambling over to you and grabbing you by the shoulders. You stiffened and backed away, startled by his abrupt realization.

“Oh, Y/n, you are brilliant! This is why we work together!”

“What?! What are you-”

“The kids were abducted because they were having fun! ‘Ray’ is Remus Stooge, another private school kid in the area. The Stooge family owns several of the land plots around this corner of London and they’re the ones funding all three schools — The Stooge’s are plenty wealthy. The children were going to Remus’s home, ditching class time to get a personal house tour of his daddy’s money. The fancy car rides, luxurious delights, shiny sneakers and tailored clothing… Who wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity like that? It only makes sense why they were lured in so easily! Their rich best pal Remus has been the one inviting them right into the trap!”

“What- Sherlock! Where is this all coming from?! How do you even-”

“Trust me, Y/n!! I have it figured out- It all makes sense!” he interjected again. The look on your faces was bizarre. You tossed a handful of snow at him as he blocked it with his hands. “NO?? It doesn’t! This is so sudden-”

Sherlock was on his feet in an instant, brushing off the powder from his coat and yanking you up. His eyes were gleaming with excitement. “We have to go tell Lestrade, now! Call John and get over to the Stooge’s place!”

“To arrest the kid?!”

“No, the butler!” He grabbed your gloved hand and dragged you up the steep white hill. You shook your head wildly, “Holmes, you better have a bloody good explanation for this in the cab or there will be hell to pay.” Sherlock smirked triumphantly and squeezed your hand.

“Come, L/n! The game is on!”

Requests are open! <3

#bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock fic #reader insert #sherlock fanfic #sherlock x platonic reader #platonic #fluff #humor #request #gnc #gender neutral reader #a-paper-cut #prompt list request

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mediocre-writerr · 4 years ago

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invisible string [quinn fabray]

quinn fabray x reader

requested by anon: Hey, I love your writing and I loved Quinn Fabray's miniseries. Could you do a sequel to "Betty", maybe Quinn and the reader meeting in episode 100 and giving them a second chance? I would love :)

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

*not my gif*

There was once a old folklore. It once said that everyone had an invisible string tying one to their soulmate.

A simpler term for it would be fate.

That everyone decision, good or bad, would lead you to that one person.

The invisible gold string would drag you out of the wrong arms, wrapped all of your past mistakes, and chained your demons back. The one single thread would lead them to you, no matter how far you’ve strayed.

Not many people believe in it anymore because of the time. The time that it takes for the invisible string to tie one another together took far too long, maybe that’s why you didn’t believe anymore.

There you were back at McKinley High School. When Mr. Shue told you that the glee club was shutting down and you were having one last hoorah, you did not hesitate to book a first flight home.

Walking down the hallway with your classic olive green cardigan that made you feel like you seventeen again and straight back into the classroom that made you feel like home.

And there she was the beautiful blonde who held your heart and dropped it all at once, “Y/N,” she let out a breath as her eyes caught on yours.

“Hey Quinn,” you told her with a shy smile, “Long time no see,”

“Yeah, how has college at Penn State?” she asked as the two of you made small conversation in the middle of the choir room.

You shrugged, “It’s been nice, I don’t know if it’s everything I’ve dreamed it would be, but it’s good. How’s Yale?”

The two of you didn’t live far, it wasn’t all the way across the country. It was driving across a few state lines, but you never hung out. In fact, you barely talked after the two of you had broken up.

“Good, good. It uh feels like I’m missing something, but I don’t think I would change my decision,” she told you and you nodded.

She was about to say something else when you heard someone scream your name, “Y/N!” Sam yelled as he rushed over towards you.

You broke out into a big smile as he picked you up from off the ground, spinning you around and around. You let out a hearty laugh as he set you down.

“I’ve missed you!” he told you as he let go.

You smiled, “I’ve missed you too, bud. I wish our third musketeer was still here with us,” you said with a sad smile.

He let out a sigh, “I know, me too,” he turned to Quinn who looked hurt and jealous at the same time. Do you know why? No, but she always has been hard to read.

“Hey Quinn,” he said, giving her a tight hug.

She hugged him back with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Hey Sam, I’m gonna go catch up with Mercedes. I’ll catch the two of you later,”

You and Sam looked at each other with furrowed brows before eventually shrugging it off.

You thought that coming back here would bring back loads of bad memories from the cheating to the heartbreak to losing Finn, but it didn’t. As the day went on you remembered why you fell in love with her in the first place.

The way she sang, so full of heart. When she crinkled her nose as she smiled. Or how big her heart is for people she actually lets in.

And at first you weren’t too sure, but when the nostalgia of the club forced you guys to sing your iconic duet, it just hit you harder than before.

“I think we need the iconic rendition of Everything Has Changed from Quinn and Y/N,” Mercedes admitted and your heart immediately stopped.

You looked at Quinn who was already staring at you, like she was seeking approval, “Let’s give the people what they want,”

You grabbed your guitar playing the soft acoustic intro, as she stood on the opposite side of the room, both of you unable to look away from the other.

“All I knew, this morning when I woke is I know something now, know something now, I didn’t before. And all I’ve seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes and freckles in your smile in the back of my mind, making me feel like,” she began to sing and you forgot how soothing her voice was. Like everything in the world kind of faded away at the sound of her voice.

As the song went on the two of you closed the gap between you until you were face to face. The only thing separating the two of you was the guitar that was wrapped across your body.

“All I know is we said ‘hello’ and your eyes look like coming home. All I know is a simple name and everything has changed. All I know is you held the door, you’ll be mine and I’ll be yours. All I know since yesterday is everything has changed,” the two of you sang.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her only doing so when they averted to her lips. Like two puzzle pieces that were supposed to fit together, you were about to connect when the sound of clapping tore you from each other. And with one last lingering look, you broke the gaze as everyone was clapping and smiling like we were all seventeen again.

You didn’t know what to do though. Finn was usually the one to give you advice, but he wasn’t here, so you did the second best thing. The boys locker room was empty as his football jersey hung proudly on the wall. The big number five just staring back at you.

“Hey buddy, I’m in kind of a dilemma right now,” you told him honestly, “And I really wish you were actually here to tell me what to do. You were always good at that,”

He probably would’ve chuckled at what you said, recalling the time where he told you to not eat that funnel cake on senior ditch day before the rollercoaster, but you did anyway and puked all over his shoes.

“I think I’m still in love with Quinn and that absolutely terrifies me. I don’t want to get hurt again,” you whispered, tears staring to sting your eyes when you realize he’s not gonna be there to hug you.

“I’ve been so scared to put myself back out there and when I do it just feels like no one compares to him. And God I wish you could be here right now to tell me what to do because you would know, you always did,”

That’s when you heard someone clear their throat. You looked to find the source of the noise, seeing Coach Beiste standing there next to the office door.

“Hey pumpkin, do you mind if I sit here?” she asked as she pointed to the empty seat on the bleacher.

All you did was nod, before wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to be here,”

“Eh it’s okay. You aren’t the first girl who’s come in here to talk to him,” she told you with a shrug.

“Rachel come in here too?” you asked.

She shook her head, “Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ in the word, “Quinn, turns out she needed advice of her own and she asked him a question,”

“About?” you asked, curiously.

“I can’t tell you that,” she confessed.

“Hey Finn,” Quinn told him, staring at the jersey that was hanging on the wall, “God I don’t think I ever stopped loving her. Actually I know I never stopped loving her, but I’m so scared Finn. I don’t know if she’ll give me a shot or anything, but I don’t want to hurt her,” she confessed.

There was a moment of silence, before she continued on again.

“I’m so scared that I’m gonna hurt her again and she doesn’t deserve that. But if I don’t tell her how I feel then she’s gonna be the one who got away,” she contemplated it for herself for a second, “Do I have your blessing to love her again? I know how much she meant to you. If you do give me a sign, anything,”

She sat there on the bench for a moment before something fell off the shelf. She let our a teary laugh, “Thank you,”

After a little more time she left the room as Coach Beiste left her office to pick up the towel that she dropped.

“I know I’m not Finn, but do you mind if I give you some advice?”

“Please, I really need it right now,”

She smiled, rubbing your back, “Go for it. If Finn was here he’d tell you something like ‘don’t give up on something that would be good for you’. And I bet if he could come down here right now and tell you one piece of advice it would be dont take life for granted. Don’t let the love of your life slip away like he did. I think that was his one big regret, not being with Rachel before he passed. I think he wants you to be happy,”

“And my advice the two of you are mature now. All of the negative emotions and feelings are easier to talk out now. So talk and just go for it, life’s too short to waste another second,” she told you and you smiled at her with teary eyed.

“I miss him,” I whispered, staring back at the jersey on the wall.

“Me too, pumpkin, me too,”

After a few more minutes, you hopped back onto your feet and went to find Quinn. You searched every hallway and every classroom for Quinn, but came up empty. Until you found her outside by the football field. There was a little tree made out in his honor, she was looking at it, just staring, contemplating everything.

“Quinn!” you shouted and her head shot up to the name of her voice.

You were making a bee-line straight for her, “Y/N are you-” but you cut her off and kissed her. Your hands grasping her cheeks and pulling her towards you.

The two of you pulled away and looked at each other, “Everyone deserves a second chance,”

“Are you sure?” she asked you, a small smile on her face.

“Very, very sure,”

The invisible string tied her to you.

#quinn fabray #quinn fabray imagine #quinn fabray imagines #quinn fabray x reader #glee #glee imagines

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raziroo · 4 years ago

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Cotton Candy

Pairing: Lotor x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Saying "Shit" twice

Word count: 2,076 (yay) (also, I edited this, I still need to update the word count)

Author’s Note: I'm crap at writing dialogues, and this is my first time writing for a gay couple. I'm so sorry if it seems forced or unnatural or shitty. Don't be afraid to call me out.

Story Moodboard!

It’s with a grunt of effort that I manage to lift the carton containing the cotton-candy-maker.

‘Here, dad,’ I say as my dad takes the box from my hands. ‘That’s all?’

‘Yep, that’s all of it. We’ll conquer this carnival with our delicious cotton candy,’ I nod, doing jazz hands while saying the last part. Dad chuckles. I grin.

‘Hey, Honey!’ I turn back, squinting to spot where my other dad is in the crowd of bustling people. Where, where…? Yep, there he is – in his embarrassingly brilliant sunshine yellow and bottle green striped shirt and hot pink trousers, a sharp contrast to his natural bright red hair. Don’t say that it can’t look that bright; you’ll never know just how blindingly bright bottle green can really be until you see the shirt my dad’s wearing. And trust me, he usually dresses in simpler tones; such bland tones that you’d be surprised to know he was capable of wearing colourful hues as well. It’s only that he’s very passionate about his job, and so whenever we set up a booth in fetes such as the current one, he never misses to match the shop logo.

‘Hul-lo, father dearest, how seems to go your day?’

‘Oh, quite lovely, if I do say so.’

‘Well, that’s simply charming –’

‘Alright, enough,’ my other, not redhead dad snaps with an exasperated sort of smile on his visage. You see, my not redhead, a.k.a. brown-haired dad happens to be British. And that means that me and dad would rather paint our teeth blue than to not tease him. ‘You both need to shut it and start helping me with the decorations, now. You know I’m trash at all that.’

‘Aw, now don’t get discouraged,’ I say, patting dad on the back. ‘After all, not everyone can be as blessed as me, can they?’

‘Hey, why don’t you go look around for a bit? You’ve been helping out since before I have.’

‘Yeah, he’s right, pet. You should.’

I huff, rubbing my palms on the fabric of my jeans. ‘You guys sure? I’m not tired, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘We’re not worried, we’re just saying you should also get a look, you know? There’s a lot of surprising booths this time around. I mean, there are aliens participating too, so…’

‘Hmm,’ I play with my bottom lip a little, then, ‘yeah, okay. I’ll be back in like, an hour? Forty five minutes? Sound okay?’

‘Sounds great.’

‘Bye, then.’ And with that, I turn on the heels of my Converse, wandering about the pretty stalls and eager children and kissy couples and aliens with curious features.

It really feels bizarre, just how astonishingly fast mankind has accepted the existence of aliens. It seems simultaneously ages and just a day before when conspiracy theorists raged all around the world, presenting baseless theories and concepts as to why and how the three-man squad on the Kerberos mission disappeared. Then came the Galra, bringing along with them global terror – because alien life, intelligent alien life existed and humanity remained oblivious all these millennia, and now they were actually attacking us. It could’ve been, perhaps even was, in some other dimension, the end of Earth. But then a defender appeared; Voltron appeared in all its glory, bringing along with it proof that however much these purple aliens claim that humans are scum of the universe, humans were, in the grand scheme of things, the ones that saved the universe too.

It feels even more puzzling to actually be on a first-name basis with the leader of Voltron; that’s right, I’m personally acquainted with Keith Kogane. It was around six months after him leaving the Garrison did I come across him. He’d been loitering around the neighbourhood, had ended up in a fistfight with some other kids, and along with that a split lip and bruised cheek. I’d been watching. When the fight ended, I (somehow) persuaded him to come along so that I could at the very least provide him with a band-aid.

Long story short, we’d bonded over how our moms were no-shows and how dads were the best and we became surprisingly close friends; the only difference was that after the death of his old man, he lived alone. I’d been adopted by my two current fathers. I told him about how when they’d initially adopted me, I was excruciatingly shy. I wouldn’t even come out of my room except meals. It was only when I came to know that they knew how to make candy floss had I timidly approached them if I could have some, because previously I’d always been grossed out at the thought of having to eat that. I’d overheard this group of kids saying that cotton candy was actually just dyed granny hair, so that’s where that came from.

I love cotton candy now. So much so, that even at the age of twenty-six, I will pout if someone takes some of mine without my permission. As if I’d ever allow them to.

Speaking of Keith, I haven’t seen him in years. We lost all contact when he turned eighteen, and then he went off into space, and even when he came back, I didn’t get a chance to meet him. I bear no ill will, though. He must have formed some close relationships. Our past friendship is comparatively much more trivial.

I spot a booth selling grilled corn. I instantly head there.

As I’m about join the crowd of humans and aliens who also want corn, a familiar call of my name leads me to pull a three sixty.

Lo and behold. Keith Kogane.

Despite him having obviously grown a lot, the face was still the same. I’m sure that, if he gets a split lip and bruise on his cheek right now, he won’t look all that different.

There’s a questioning hesitance on his features; he’s probably wondering if he’s got the right person. My pleasantly surprised smile and raised eyebrows assure him. As I step away from the grilled corn stall, I notice a motley crowd behind him; some are purple, some are holding Voltron plushies, and some look way too curious to be in a carnival. The introduction is going to be fun.

‘Keith! You're gonna live a hundred years - I was just thinking about you. But anyways, it’s – it’s great to see you,’ I say with a little giggle. ‘Though I am kind of surprised you actually approached me. The sixteen-year-old you would never.’

He smiles awkwardly in return. ‘Y – yeah… I, just… oh God, this is – I’m sorry,’ he says, his inner turmoil evident.

‘It’s all good. I know you’re shit at small talk, so… like, introduce me? Maybe?’

He nods rapidly, brows furrowed. ‘Yeah, um,’ he turns to the people behind him, telling them my name, how we met, the whole affair. I give them a wave. Most of them greet me back.

‘And, this is Shiro and Curtis,’ he points to the tall, white-haired yet young man, holding hands with a tanner guy, ‘Lance, Pidge and Hunk,’ he points to a lanky, bright-smiled guy, a buffer, kind-seeming person, and a short chestnut-haired woman who, despite wearing baggy jeans and a baggier tee, looks somehow better dressed than me. ‘Then that’s Allura, Coran, and Romelle, they’re Alteans,’ a woman with enchanting beauty and a regal aura surrounding her, a redhead who’s significantly older than the rest with an impressive moustache, and a youthful appearing girl with a big grin, ‘and Lotor, he’s Galran. The Galran Emperor, in fact.’ Lotor is a tall, lilac-skinned man with aristocratic features who shares the same cheek markings as the Alteans. Oh, and he’s unfairly gorgeous, his hair a luscious mane of white which I just know will be soft. It’s hard not to stare. You remember how I said Allura looked like royalty? Yeah, the way this man carries himself, he has the aura and visage of a God. Even in a white tee-shirt and jeans he looks way better than should be legal.

I rip my eyes away.

‘So…are Noah and Oliver here too? I’d love to see them. I mean, I never did get to thank them to permit a possible criminal to sleep in their house.’

I laugh. ‘Never mind that, but we actually sit up a stall here. I could, you know, maybe even get you guys something to eat.’

‘Free? Please don’t.’

‘It’s nothing, really, just… I don’t know, accept it as a small thank you present for not letting the planet go to shit.’

A bit of thinking. Even after a nod from Shiro, it was Lance who said yes. Good ol’ Keith.

When we reach the stall, my British dad is the only one we find there. He looks up, about to say something to me, when he notices Keith.

‘Dad. You remember Keith?’

‘Your possible criminal friend who turned out to be the saviour of the universe Keith?’

‘That Keith. He wanted to see you.’

‘Oh? Well then,’ he dusts his hands, stands up, and greets Keith. Both of them engage in a conversation.

‘You guys wanna try something?’

‘What do you got?’ asks Pidge.

‘What do we got? Um, we got chocolates, candy, marshmallows, jellybeans, tortilla chips, ice cream, popcorn – butter, cheese, caramel, peri peri – Lays, like, a lot of Lays, and the good old cotton candy. What d’you want?’

So, after providing the humans with two Cream n’ Onion Lays, a pack of tortilla chips, a double scoop of butterscotch and chocolate, a small tub of popcorn, and three cotton candy sticks, I turned to the aliens.

‘I’m assuming you guys aren’t familiar with a lot of this stuff, so you could either pick whatever looks to be good, ask your friends, or I could recommend something. What’ll it be?’

Romelle was the one who asked, ‘What’s ice cream like?’

‘It’s sweet. It’s cold. And it’s like… heaven in mouth.’

‘Ooh. I want an ice cream. The… pink one?’

‘That’s strawberry. You can eat it in a cone, or in a cup.

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Well, the cup you can’t eat. The cone is like a crispy biscuit,’ judging by her face, she didn’t know what biscuit was. ‘I’ll just give you a cone. It’s all on the house, so no worries if you don’t like it.’

I watched eagerly as she licked the ice cream. An unreadable look crossed her face. Then – ‘This is almost as good as Hunk’s cookies!’

‘Really?’ Coran asked, twirling his moustache. ‘Well, then…’ he squinted to read the names of the various flavours. ‘I would like “cookies and cream”. Yes.’ A cone of cookies n’ cream was served.

‘Allura?’

‘Do you have something that isn’t sweet?’ That was a plot twist. I’d have taken her as someone who appreciated sweeter foods.

‘We do. You want spicy?’

‘…Sure.’ Peri Peri popcorn was given and enjoyed.

And last… ‘Lotor. What would you like to have?’

It takes me a lot of will to not laugh at Lotor’s way too analytical expression. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Out of all this stuff, candy floss is my favourite.’

‘Candy floss… the item that looks simultaneously like a cloud and an old woman’s hair?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I would like a helping of candy floss, then.’

As I hand Lotor a stick of cotton candy, I wait with anticipation for his reaction.

‘How am I supposed to eat this?’

It takes me a moment to process that. ‘Uh, you just… pinch a little of the stuff in between your fingers, then eat it. Or you could just, um, go in directly, which I’m thinking isn’t really your style.’

He narrows his eyes, but follows my instructions nonetheless. Only a second after putting the stuff in his mouth, Lotor purrs.

Everyone around him, being me, Coran and Romelle (Allura’s off telling Lance how great Earth food is), looks with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Lotor appears as if he’s just died inside. The berry-shaded blush on his face is adorable, though.

'I didn't, like, poison you or something, right?'

'No. It's that... I would never in my lifetimes have expected something so tooth-rottingly sweet to be this delicious.'

'So you're okay?'

‘Yes. In fact, I quite like… this cotton candy.’

I grin.

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damn-stark · 3 years ago

Text

The trouble final pt.

A/N- it's over :( I’m sad that it is, but I’m so thankful for all of you that read it and stuck around to finish with me :)

Warning- ANGST, talks of loss and grief, ptsd, Violence, blood, light fluff

Pairing- Jesse x fem!reader

——

“Give me your arm again,” Ellie mutters after she had cleared the room that had once been filled with enemies part of the same group as those two me she, and you had taken out. “It’s—”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off and pull your arm away before she could grab it again. “It won’t change sizes, or color in the last ten minutes that you checked.”

After finding out that you had gotten bit by the infected that the man taunted you with, Ellie has been careful with you, she’s made sure that you wouldn’t strain yourself, she’s kept you from helping her fight the danger that lingered, as if you were some child.

And you understood why she kept insisting on trying to keep you from harm's way, she was being cautious, she was worried, but that isn’t going to change the outcome of your dooming fate.

“We could try cutting it off,” she insisted again, hoping that this time you’d change your mind.

You shake your head, “no, we don’t have the proper equipment.” You sit up and begin walking out of the broken down corner store. “I’d end up bleeding to death instead. Plus,” you sigh. “We don’t have time. Not if we want to reach Abby.”

Ellie follows behind you slowly, albeit somewhat lagging behind as she comes across good loot to collect. “We?” She quieres, “it’s we now?”

Your gaze drops to the ground, seeing the natural greenery that cracked through the sidewalk and began to take back its natural place. “I told you my reason already. No matter what’s happening, I’m sticking to it.” You feel chills all over your body and when your head lifts and your eyes flicker to her passing you, that’s where you see him again; Jesse. The bullet that shot through his face and took his life. His cold dead eyes were piercing into you, and his body was stuck in place, unable to even move but causing the same effect it always did.

Ellie noticed your wavered attention, followed your line of vision and saw nothing and knew what was happening. But perhaps that was because of the horror in your eyes. Regardless, she didn’t question it, she just walked towards you to break you from your stupor. “It’s not far anymore. We’re almost where the man told us. I see the round building.”

You pull your eyes from the now empty space where Jesse had been to glance back at Ellie and follow right behind her—for the most part it was silent, but as far as your mind, it was loud and booming with different racing thoughts and memories.

——

Ellie’s eyes follow your line of vision to the couple quietly talking amongst themselves in the far end of the room. And at first she didn’t think much of it. Actually she simply ignored it and just thought you might be spacing out, but just as she was going to look away the young girl in front of the tall guy with dark shaggy hair, caught her attention. Ellie did a double take and found herself captive by the girl's looks; her long dark hair styled in a ponytail, the light freckles on her face and her bright, charming smile.

She couldn’t keep herself from asking about her in complete starstricken awe. “Who’s that?”. Albeit her words didn’t register in your mind until she grabbed your shoulder and ripped you from your own awe. “Y/N?!”

You blink and look down at the drink in your hand, thinking she was referring to the guy and smiling softly as you answered. Even if a slow sizzling jealousy did begin to boil in the pit of your stomach because she asked. “That’s Jesse.”

Clueless to the fact that you told her the guy's name, Ellie nodded and slowly turned her head to pick up her drink from the table, unable to keep a smile from tugging on her lips. Her curiosity got the best of her before she could even think of taking a sip from her drink like she had planned to. “Is Jesse…dating someone?”

You glance at Jesse and answer her with bitterness in your tone. “Yeah, he's dating Dina. The girl he’s talking to.”

Ellie snaps her head and takes another look at the couple before looking at you with confusion. “Wait, Jesse is the boy? Or the girl?”

“The boy,” you tell her.

“Oh.” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow deeper and thinks that the name Dina suits the girl a lot better. It was actually a pretty name.

“Wait, why do you ask?” You probe as you shift around to look at her better. “Do you…” you pause and narrow your eyes. “…think Jesse is cute?”

“What?” Ellie scoffs with even more confusion. “No. No,” she shakes her head, “I thought the girl was named Jesse, since when I asked you for her name you said that.”

Oh. It makes sense now.

“Oh,” you breathe out and then smirk when you realize why she asked if Dina was dating anyone. “Do you think Dina is cute?” You sip on your straw and raise your eyebrows.

Ellie’s cheeks turn to a tint pink and she looks away from you to hide her flustered smile. “No. Just curious.” She turns her head and smirks when she looks at you. “Do you like Jesse?”

You sigh and look at your hands on the table. “Yeah, but well he’s dating Dina, so I can’t really tell him how I feel can I?” Your heart sinks to your stomach, but you try to ignore the gloomy feelings. “Regardless, he’s a good friend, so I’m better off not telling him anything at all.”

Ellie’s eyes wander to Dina for a brief moment and just like you, a heaviness sets over her heart because of the girl that she can’t try and pursue. You both were stuck looking from afar like a couple of love-struck idiots.

But maybe it was better off that way. Looking from afar.

Neither of you would get hurt that way. If only it was that easy to keep looking and not desire their love in return. Especially when you have to face them everyday of your life, around the same four walls that kept you secure from the rotting, walking corpses…and other humans.

Why couldn’t things be simpler?

When you steal a glance from Jesse that’s all you asked for. Which was such a funny thing to ask with the world as it was. It made you wonder if people back then asked the same thing?

How’s having clickers for simple?

Nonetheless that’s what you wanted right now. A simple life…or really simple feelings, platonic feelings for the guy you’ve known for too many years now. It would make those thoughts—dreams you had of an intended life with him nonexistent. It would make being around him feel like nothing.

Why couldn't life be so simple—why couldn’t your feelings be simple?

——

“Through here,” Ellie waves you over into a dimly lit hall that was crowded with a bunch of old broken furniture and worn down junk that covered wooden doors, leaving an open path towards a darker-lit corridor. Making this part of the invasion the simplest part of sneaking inside.

“Sneaking inside this building was much harder than actually getting in the property,” you snap in a sharp whisper as you turn off your flashlight and continue behind Ellie, seeing her peek over her shoulder to steal a quick glance as she remarks on your comment.

“Tell me about it.” She scoffs and stops in front of the only unblocked door after turning the corner. “Would’ve been much easier if you stuck behind like I asked.”

You narrow your gaze on her and stop to put your hand on your hip and retort. “You know I’m not a child. Maria doesn’t even treat me this way. I can take care of myself.”

“You’ve never been bit, that's why.” Ellie snaps, her back still facing you and her head turning to face the door after she caught what came out of her mouth.

When her words hit you too, you drop the sass and exhale deeply, letting a sorrow filled frown replace the curled lip. Instead of responding to her with something you know would weigh down on the already heavy subject, you just smoothly change it to the matters in front of her. “Are you going in first, or should I?”

Ellie rolls her shoulders back and straightens her posture to slowly push the door forward, and reveal another poorly lit, dirty room. This time however, whispers came from beyond the shadows of the room, making Ellie put her hand out, signaling you to wait as she carefully snuck inside with her revolver in hand.

Not like you listened albeit, because once she had taken a few steps inside you followed behind her with your hand around your weapon. However once you stepped inside the room your eyes instantly fell on the cell filled with people all poorly taken care of, people they called their prisoners and proved that letter you found about an escapee right. The sight shook you to your core and froze you just under the doorway, that hesitance causing you to miss the woman who jumped out from behind the door and attacked Ellie with a bat like some crazy person.

Of course, Ellie reacted quickly and managed to jerk back, grabbing a hold of the bat and shoving the woman to the wall by pressing the wooden weapon against her throat. But since Ellie was wounded, and weak from lack of food, the woman overpowered her, caught her off guard, and kicked her injured side to then push her to the floor when Ellie was hit with that throbbing and blinding pain.

The woman thought she was going to win, but she hadn’t seen you when she just abruptly attacked without a plan, leaving you with the perfect chance to sprint forward and grab the side of her head, completely startling her. She tried to rip your hands off, but you punctured your thumb into her eye beforehand, causing her to groan out in pain whilst you lifted your leg to kick her towards the cell where the prisoners got ahold of her instead.

“Ellie,” you instantly called out in worry, letting the people behind the cell overpower their captor and take her out with a hard squeeze to her throat with the same bat she used on Ellie— “Are you okay?” You offer her your hand to help her off the floor, and she takes it without an ounce of hesitance. The moment she stands up though, is when you see that more blood began to leak from her wound. She noticed your worried stare and just covered it with her hand, pulling your eyes up to meet her gaze for a lingering second before she looked at the prisoners. You follow her line of vision and watch the prisoners letting themselves out of the cell and quickly occupying their hands with different guns.

Before the prisoners leave Ellie leaves your side and steps towards them with an obvious question. “Where’s Abby?”

They all glance at each other and before any could answer, a woman points out what you thought you had well hidden. “She’s bit!”

A man beside the woman doesn’t fret to point his rifle at you, triggering Ellie instantly and causing her to point her gun at them as she spat out at the man in a venomous tone. “Don't point that gun at her!”

Seeing the gun in hand pointed at the man, those behind him point their weapon at the both of you and surround you with one single intention in mind. Yet before they could act on it, an older man comes in between all of you. “Hey, hey, hey! Abby tried to escape.”

Ellie’s aim on the man falters, and her glare shifts to the man who continues. “She’s down in the pillars.”

“The pillars?” Ellie presses for clarity.

“Head down to the beach,” the man motions out the door with his head. “You won’t miss it. She’s probably already dead.”

With nothing else to ask, or share, the prisoner, Ellie and you, slowly step away from each other and part your own ways; with the prisoners leaving out the door you just came out of, Ellie and you march out the double doors the man had pointed to. Yet the beach wasn’t outside these doors, it would be much easier if it was, but no, you were welcomed by a dark hall, that was purely lit by the moonlight that peeked through the broken windows on the wall. Still the menacing darkness didn’t scare you away, you both continued down the path that led to a broken pair of doors that led to a brighter room, one that smelled like rotten, and moist wood.

Besides that annoying smell, the old, green covered patio was easy to navigate through, even with its broken floors and disorganized room. But through the silence between your friend and you, the sound of gunshots, and shouting against the new threat that escaped from the cell easily and loudly echoed in your ears, even after you jumped a small ledge and walked between the palm trees that scattered when you finally reached the beach.

However, salt, nor water is what you smelled, instead the stench of blood, and putrid aroma of death tickled your nose, almost causing you to gag. You would have thrown up if it wasn’t for all the people you saw tied to actual pillars on the beach. Most were already dead—all were already dead, most were just left as skeletons.

It was such a horrifying sight, like straight out of a nightmare. You’ve heard of tortures like this from Tommy, from other older people in town who experienced similar situations but you never thought it was real. You could never believe it.

“Ellie,” you murmur in disbelief, your eyes unable to stop glancing at every body tied up to pillars when you pass by them in search of one woman. “We should just—”

“There.” Ellie blurted in what almost sounded like excitement. “She’s there.”

Ellie points to a figure up on a pillar, and that’s when you see her. Abby; She’s a lot skinnier now from the lack of food every person not part of the gang seemed to suffer through, her hair was cut close to her scalp, her clothes were torn and her muscles were almost completely gone, leaving nothing behind but slightly toned arms. She didn’t even look alive, but her raspy voice proved otherwise.

“Help me…please.”

It was shocking hearing her talk, but instead of feeling pity, sadness and an urgency to help her, knowing you could, all you felt was an unknown uncontrollable and blinding anger that invaded your mind and judgment. All the sorrow you felt was for the man she killed, the man you loved. She took him right as you both had gotten the chance to finally discover what it was like to love each other. That anger that you warned Ellie about, the rage and thirst for revenge that you’d seen burning in Tommy’s eyes, now overwhelmed you too. It completely fueled wild and violent, revenge filled thoughts that you once thought vile.

Now you shared what motivated Ellie to leave behind her life on her farm.

“It’s you…” Abby whispers hoarsely after she picks up her head and spots Ellie, leaving you to be almost invisible in her eyes. If it wasn’t because Ellie surprisingly let her down from the pillar you would’ve remained nothing but a shadow. Alas Abby saw your face behind Ellie’s when she managed to stand on her feet, she didn’t recognize you at first, but then you saw the flash in her eyes when the memory faded in.

Albeit she didn’t react any differently, instead Abby simply walked to that boy she had been with before; he looked skinnier now, just as weak as Abby. He’s someone you felt pity for, your fight wasn’t with him, but you still did nothing to help, you stood frozen behind Ellie, shocked that she tied down Abby instead of using her switchblade to finish her off. That state of disbelief only heightened when you both began to follow Abby towards boats.

You sought for answers with a simple look, but Ellie’s expression on her beaten face gave nothing but rage. You almost wanted to end the ache you felt in the fragments of your shattered heart, however right when you raised your trembling gun, there he was. Jesses ghost reappearing. He stopped you from acting on revenge, but fueled an adrenaline you couldn’t act on. Not with how Ellie was holding back after coming all this way. You couldn’t help but wonder out loud.

“Ellie, what are you doing? She's right there.” You come to a stop on the side of a small boat, meeting Ellie’s gaze. “Let’s do it. Let’s kill her.” Your eyes drift behind her shoulder to look at Abby, seeing her seem eager to get out of here with the boy without as much of a question of why you were both here. It’s as if she didn’t care. It pissed you off. It made you eager to just kill her yourself.

And it was due to that eagerness that blinded you that you didn’t see Ellie’s sudden switch with the sight of her blood on her hand. It wasn’t until you heard the water clash with her stride towards Abby. Her voice broke through your ears and made your eyes focus intently on her. “I can’t let you leave.”

You take a step back, intending to walk to her side for aid, but you stop when Abby responds with such nonchalance. “I’m not doing this.”

Those words trigger Ellie, causing her to take those last steps towards Abby to grab her shoulder and her hair to forcefully throw her to the water. Continuing then to kick her side and making Abby groan, but not fight back. She just stayed in the water and simply shook her head, “no. I’m not going to fight you.” Abby looks back at you and shakes her head. “Either of you.”

Again you stand frozen. Her words stung like cold ice against your skin, they just stomped on your already broken heart and broke it to finer pieces within your chest. How could she just decide that after what she did?

Then again….

…no…

Ellie killed Abby's friends. All of them. But it was for Joel….but….Abby was down, she pleaded for mercy even if she didn’t directly say it.

Why is your mind so confused? Why did this hunger for revenge suddenly begin to fade away? Just when it started?

What would’ve Jesse done?

Your eyes fall on your bite from that infected and then you glance at the vision of Jesse. His bloody face reminded you of what you wanted….of what Tommy wanted, even if it wasn’t for Jesse’s death. And you tried to force your anger to be as furious as moments ago.

“Yes, you will.” Ellie seethed, pulling your eyes back to her as she stormed towards Abby's boat and threatened his life with her blade against his throat. Not like he could even fight back, he was too weak to even open his eyes. It should’ve made you protest, but Abby beat you to it.

“He’s not a part of this.”

“You made him a part of this.” Ellie retorted angrily.

Abby stands up and says, “okay, okay,” to give Ellie what she wanted. A fight that would deem one winner, and it was obvious who. Even as Abby charged at Ellie and tackled her to the ground first, you knew in the back of your head Ellie would win.

Even still though, you watched their fight attentively. Maybe you should’ve helped, but this solely felt like Ellie’s fight now. Because again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to act on those feelings.

Nonetheless when your eyes fell on Abby's boat whilst Ellie swung her blade and fought her, Jesse’s haunting ghost made you think of taking what Abby loved the most. The kid—he was there, you could slip by them now that Ellie had forced Abby to the ground with a harsh jab on her shoulder. Abby wouldn't be able to stop you until it was too late, she’d only see his dead body just like how you saw Jesse when you ran out of the theater. She’d suffer the same way, she’d stay on the ground in shock and broken hearted, it would be good revenge to finally stop seeing Jesse’s dead body haunt you.

But you didn’t want to—your eyes return to Ellie and Abby fighting to watch neither of them get the upper hand. Ellie managed to stab her blade through Abby's shoulder when they were on the ground, but Abby reacted quickly and kicked Ellie off her, only continuing the fight, this time with no weapons, just their fists. It left the kid open.

Even if you didn’t want to, you walked past the boat and slowly walked towards the boy. You didn’t stop until you were beside it and overlooking the unconscious boy. And just like you had predicted Abby didn’t stop you, she couldn’t because she didn’t know you were here now, Ellie knocking her to the ground kept her distracted. This was your chance.

You lift your own knife and move your hand towards the boy's throat, the tip of your blade hovers inches over his skin; one more inch and the blade would puncture his skin and flesh, he'd be dead, Abby would have no one. She’d feel your heartbreak. Jesse would be avenged….

The knife in your hand begins to tremble, and hesitation pulls back your hand. Your heart aches every day, the nightmares never stop, continuing everyday felt like being stabbed multiple times all over your body, but it wouldn’t change anything, killing the boy wouldn't stop the vision of Jesse’s dead body from reappearing. Jesse would know that. He knew that when it came down to it he’d have to do bad things, but he was also merciful when he could. He wouldn’t do this, not to the kid. You can’t either. You can’t kill Abby either, it wasn’t right.

These couldn’t be your last moments either. Which is why instead of falling prey to revenge, the knife in your hold falls from your grip and your body crashes down into the water. However instead of crying, you find yourself being more worried over Ellie. You couldn’t lose her….even if she was going to lose you, you couldn’t fathom the thought of losing her now. You needed her in your last moments.

However when you look at her, she’s proving you right, she’s on top of Abby and keeping her underwater to keep her from breathing. She’s moments away from winning, from finally killing Joel’s killer and completing her revenge. The thought of stopping her popped in your head, but this was her fight, she needed to make her decision. Even as you saw Abby struggle to resurface to breathe in air, you couldn’t stop Ellie now.

You watched the rain in her eyes, watched tears and ocean water glisten on her face, cleaning the blood off her cheeks. You waited to be there for her when she was done. But the moment never came, Ellie let go of Abby, letting her resurface to gulp in a breath of fresh air whilst she fell down. She chose to let Abby go and the girl took that chance after she recuperated enough to move. You let her go too. She never paid any attention to you until she glanced at you once because you were beside her boat, but that was it, she left with no hesitation after.

Leaving Ellie panting, and crying as she stayed sitting in the water. You let her have time alone for a little, but it was through the silence after Abby and the boy left that it all set in. The ultimate and unavoidable truth. You’ve tried to ignore any symptom that you could feel due to the bite, which didn’t turn out to be hard since well so far all you’ve felt is a slight annoying dull pain. Any other effect had yet to set in, but the wait was the most irritating side effect.

That and noticing that Ellie couldn’t even face you; due to her processing what just happened, what caused her to let Abby go, and that looking at you without having the mission of finding Abby as a distraction meant that she has to face the harsh truth of your death. She had to face the fact that she was losing someone else, she was going to lose someone else to the infection she couldn’t prevent. She was going to be alone.

“Ellie,” you mutter as your footsteps crash on the water while you slowly step towards her. “It was a good thing that you let them go.”

Said girl sits down in the water, letting the small waves crash into her legs, and feeling the breeze blow past her hair and wet her face, mixing her tears with water droplets.

“You’re right…” she breathes out, dropping her head to look at the cold dark blue water. “Joel wouldn’t have wanted it. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that sooner.”

Your lips tug to a smile and you sit beside her, the feeling of your body brushing against hers making her lift her gaze to steal a quick glance. “Why didn’t you stop her? You seemed eager at the end.”

You sigh and dip your fingers in the water to gently sway them back and forth while you answer her. “Realization set just like with you. The nightmares won’t go away anytime soon, and killing her wouldn’t have solved anything either.”

“Nightmares?” Ellie scoffs, finally daring to meet your gaze. “You're still worried about that.”

You laugh softly and glance at the bite on your arm before looking back at her again. “It’s weird, I thought it would hurt, but all I feel is annoyed. No fever, no pain. Nothing.”

Ellie straightens up and her eyebrows furrow as her eyes fixate on your bite mark. “Nothing?” She repeats and the back of her hand presses on your forehead. “Hmm. Maybe we’ll both live with that burden then. Would be nice.”

You offer her a soft smile and grab her hand to interlace it with yours. Feeling hope piece together the fragments of your broken heart. “I guess we’ll have to wait then, to see what the future holds.”

Ellie’s eyes shift to the grey clouded sky, while her hold secures around your hand in hopes that by doing so you wouldn’t leave her. She hoped that her words would be the manifestation needed to keep you alive and keep you from leaving. She couldn’t lose someone else. She couldn’t bear feeling that pain all over again. “Well, I hope you do live.”

A grin spreads on your lips, and your head falls on her shoulder as your own eyes drift to watch the clouded horizon in a peaceful, waiting silence.

Tagged- @protect-lev, @expecto-nox @vintage-and-hypnotic , @kokomaesadie , @0j-b0, @itsyellow , @minheoly @traceylader

#the last of us #the trouble #jesse tlou fanfiction #tlou jesse x reader #jesse fanfiction #jesse x reader #jesse imagines #jesse imagine #Jesse tlou #the last of us part 2 #the last of us imagines #the last of us imagine #ellie last of us #tlou Ellie #Ellie Williams #Abby tlou #Levi tlou #tlou imagine #tlou imagines

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bffsoobin · 4 years ago

Text

This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

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“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow.

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile.

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you.

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner.

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest.

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you.

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage.

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door.

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own.

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch.

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were?

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow.

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question.

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger.

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated.

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away.

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest.

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance.

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you.

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh.

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle.

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely.

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back.

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.”

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep.

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class.

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake.

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another.

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger.

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in.

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said.

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying.

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television.

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion.

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”.

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it.

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay.

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-”

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.”

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.”

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka.

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut.

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect.

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours.

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway.

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s.

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with.

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to.

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall. “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic.

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get.

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them.

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet.

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.”

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better.

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you.

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side.

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument.

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair.

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms.

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top.

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun.

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts, and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow.

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears.

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you.

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin.

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night.

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone.

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you.

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it.

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice.

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.”

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.”

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.”

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you.

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins.

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come.

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt.

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down.

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it.

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.

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akitokihojo · 3 years ago

Text

Stay

Woah, two posts in one day? Yeah... yeeeeeeah. I don't usually post so late, but as I sat here staring at this document, I realized that if I don't post it now, I never will.

Okay, look, this story is extremely personal for me and I want to give a warning about that. If you know me or have been following me for a while, you may have noticed I tend to keep to myself, I'm quiet, and I'm private. But, as most humans, I have things I battle, too. I've been through things, too.

My coping mechanisms are humor and "add to cart." My therapy is writing. I decided to give this a shot. I've gotten personal with older fics before, but it's vague and I sort of lightly mix it in there like food seasonings. "Everything's Okay" and "A Moment" are examples of which. This story is largely based off something real. The emotion behind it is real. Very real.

Now, I will admit, the comfort added isn't. It's something I've realized over the past couple of years that I both crave and deserve. It's something that would help me incredibly, and maybe it's unrealistic, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I want it. So bad. So, I wrote. I made it happen.

I decided to project everything into my comfort otp, so if either Kagome or Inuyasha seem out of character, it's because they are. Sorry about that. It was difficult to keep their characteristics in tact. Particularly, Inuyasha. He's unbelievably soft here.

This is sloppy. I did my best to edit, but like I said, the longer I sat on it, the less likely it was bound to be posted. Just consider it unfiltered emotions if it seems messy, because that's what it's supposed to be.

Some disclaimers that I'll open up about: Yes, all of those negative things have been said to me by a past ex. What Kagome tells Inuyasha is very real for me. Also, replace "abusive father" with "abusive mother" and you've got it. :) I just didn't feel comfortable disrespecting mama higurashi with such slander, so since Kagome's father isn't in the picture, it was simpler.

Okay, I'm done. Thank you. If you read this, thank you. Again.

---

“Come on, Kagome. Show me.” Inuyasha encouraged supportively.

Kagome sighed, adjusting the shorts a bit better around her waist as she stared at herself in the mirror on the inside of the door. She’d comfortably tucked herself away in the walk-in closet of her boyfriend’s bedroom, preferring the space she had and the length of the mirror as opposed to the bathroom that only showed her up to her hips unless she bounced to her tippy toes.

“Houston, we have a problem.” She spoke.

“Define ‘problem.’” Inuyasha proposed. “Because, I realized a long time ago that you and I have two totally different definitions of the word.”

No, this was a definite problem. Unfortunately, it seemed she’d purchased clothing from one of the retailers that didn’t quite grasp that some woman had thicker asses and thighs. The shorts fit, but they hugged her in places she needed a little more room in. God forbid, she sit down. Then, they’d fit her like underwear.

The band was comfortable along her hips, but felt a little better if she pulled it up a smidge toward her waist. But then the underside of her booty cheeks popped out, and that for sure wasn’t something she could sport in public. Or, she could. She just wouldn’t be comfortable doing so. It wasn’t her style. She preferred a hint of more modesty. Not to mention, the shorts were very tight against her lady bits, and that was definitely something she didn’t want her clothing riding up on.

“Babe.”

“Curse these thighs.”

“Oh, see what I mean?” He chimed from the other side of the door. “That’s the exact opposite of a problem.”

“It’s a problem if the shorts don’t fit, Inuyasha.”

“Show me.”

“They don’t fit.”

“Okay, we’ll return them. But, show me first.”

“Why do you want to see them if they don’t fit?” She laughed lightly.

“Why wouldn’t I? Do I have to spell this out to you every time?” Inuyasha asked, making it obvious that he was feigning irritation.

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Alright, first of all, I know you’re ridiculously critical of yourself. I have a more objective point of view, and therefore that makes my opinion the only valid one here.”

“Hey -“

“I’m not finished. Second, I love seeing you in tight clothing. That’s a given. You don’t have to keep it, and you should always wear things you’re comfortable in, but at least do the right thing and let me see first. I think I deserve that much. Third, and most importantly, ass and thighs. Your ass and thighs.” Inuyasha made a chef’s kiss motion even though she couldn’t see, losing himself in the thought of some of his favorite assets of hers. “You know damn well how much I love them. So, please - please - come out and show me, Kagome.”

Behind the door, she fought her smile, losing so quickly it was as if she hardly stood a chance against it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her body, but he was right. There were some imperfections that had her self-conscious at times, and he knew without saying when they started dating over five months ago that her thighs were one of them. And, she could tell the half demon she called hers genuinely adored everything she deemed unworthy.

Giving a minor adjustment to make sure the area between her thighs had enough room to breathe, she sighed out any apprehension and opened the door. Inuyasha sat on the edge of the bed waiting, golden eyes instantly on her. He skimmed over the way she’d tucked her shirt into the underside of her bra to keep it out of the way, gazed at her tummy for a small moment, then drifted his sights down to the shorts hugging her snuggly.

He barely blinked, his expression practically blanking, and Kagome’s cheeks went red hot.

“Inuyasha?”

“Shh. I’m concentrating.”

Kagome laughed, turning away from him bashfully.

“Shit, no! I wasn’t ready for that!” He cried, pressing the heels of his hands into his temples as if he were in a panic. Her ass. It looked phenomenal. He wasn’t mentally prepared to see just how plump it looked in those bottoms, and it sent his mind reeling.

“What!?” She gasped, her hands instinctually falling to cover her butt as she spun back to face the way she’d originally been.

“Oh my god.” Inuyasha mewled. “Are you kidding me, Kagome!? Where’s the problem!? Where’s the mother fucking problem!? Because, I don’t see it!”

It was thought to be impossible, but she felt her face flush even hotter. So hot, she wanted to hide it, knowing full and well her embarrassment was visible and prominent. She kind of tucked her head down slightly, hoping the dim lighting in his room would be her ally and shade her blush while she presented her issues with the garment of clothing.

“Well, it’s tight on my thighs. See, when I do this -“ She explained as she lifted her leg slightly as if she was going to take a step forward. The bottom hem of her shorts tightened against her quad, squeezing around the plush before riding up an inch. “It’s not very comfortable. I like a bit of a looser fit. And, then my butt. It’s suffocating. I’m scared one wrong move will make these shorts rip.”

“God forbid.”

“Inuyasha, seriously.” She deadpanned.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening. Anything else?” He apologized with a grin, conceding.

“Yes. I can’t sit in these.”

“Why not?”

“Too tight.”

“So, you literally can’t sit?”

“No, I mean I’m sure I can. It’s just not a good idea.”

“Because, they’ll rip?”

“That. Or, they’ll turn into chonies.”

“What?”

“Underwear.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you got such versatile clothing. I could have sworn we were nowhere near the lingerie section.”

Kagome laughed through her groan, tossing her head back in minor exasperation due to her boyfriend’s sarcasm. It was going to be hard to describe, and she was sure if she attempted such he’d only throw more jokes her way, so she shut her mouth and decidedly took to demonstrating her vexation. She crossed the floor, hoped for the best, and plopped into a seat right next to Inuyasha. Her thighs fluffed out and her shorts effectively rode all the way up, giving her legs the attention they apparently demanded.

Inuyasha’s eyes were glued to her thighs and the way her clothing wrinkled along her anatomy. He’d had to press his lips into a tight line to prevent their proud and joyful crinkle, but it was so desperately difficult to fend off. Kagome was quick to notice and her brows pinched together, a small pout forming.

“You tricked me.” She murmured. “You wanted me to sit down, didn’t you?”

“I’ll admit, it was a lot easier than I expected it would be.” He said, gently stroking the pads of his fingers over the softness of her legs. “Again, I find it important to remind you that you and I clearly have very different definitions of what a problem is. This… this is not a problem. Not at all.”

“Well, see, I sort of wanted to be able to wear these outside of your apartment.” Kagome giggled, inadvertently melting into his touch. It was so light, it almost tickled, but she felt his warmth radiating from his hand, she felt his attraction, she felt his good-natured and honest feelings toward her body, and it was nothing short of what she both wanted and needed right now.

“I know, I know. We’ll return them and get a larger pair. Still, not a problem.” He grinned, planting his whole palm on her thigh and sliding it inward, shoving it to sit in the heat between. He leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Don’t even think about it.” Kagome hummed, leaning into his tender touch.

“Hm?”

“You’re about to lay down on my thighs, aren’t you?”

“What? I can’t?” The half demon pouted with legitimate shock on his brow.

“The moment you’re down, you’re down. You know damn well you’re not getting up if I let you, and I want to get out of these shorts.”

“But, Kagome -“

“Boy, if you knew exactly how these are constricting certain areas, you’d understand.” She laughed, playfully shoving his hand off of her as she stood. Before walking toward the closet where she’d left her skirt, she turned to face her boyfriend, bending at the waist and pushing his bangs from his forehead to plant a kiss against his skin. “I should get going soon, anyway. It’s getting late.”

“Don’t go, then.” He said, tone gruff as his amber eyes met hers. “Stay with me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to stay the night, impromptu. Far from it. Every time, though, caused something in her chest to stir, something in her stomach to flutter, something in her bloodstream to effervesce in both a wonderful and unsettling way - the unsettling part deriding from a different emotion she’d recently noticed planting its roots somewhere inside of her. Inuyasha grabbed her hand, running his thumb over the tops of her fingers while his expression shifted to one of seriousness. No jokes, no funny business, no sarcasm was present any longer.

“I don’t feel like I got all the time I wanted with you. Since we were out and about most of the day, I feel like I had to share parts of you with the world, so now that it’s just you and I, I’m not quite ready to let you go. Will you stay?”

Internally, Kagome was telling herself to keep it together. It was such a small gesture, such a tiny request, but it was always the little things he said to her, like this, the mannerisms he displayed when he was sincere, the way his amber eyes met hers when he waited for her answer that had her feeling unstable. Like, she could cry. Like, she was more afraid than she was thirty seconds ago, or an hour ago, or when she saw his smile earlier this afternoon when they met up, or last night, or when she crashed and burned upon realizing what, exactly, it was she felt for Inuyasha a month ago. She swallowed, forcing herself to show none of that as she made a small smile appear on her face.

“Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

A grin sprouted on Inuyasha’s lips as he kissed the hand he held, standing to cross over to his dresser.

“You want your favorite, or a different one?” He asked, ignoring the twitch his own sensitive ear gave as the wood scraped open.

“Whichever. Can I take a shower?”

“Of course.” He said in a manner that suggested she knew she didn’t have to ask by now. He was well-acquainted with her routine and how she preferred showers before bed as opposed to first thing in the morning. That, and they’d recently gotten her some extra toiletries to store in his bathroom for times she stayed over. He was equipped for her company, and sooner or later, Kagome was bound to learn that she was more than welcome to treat his place as her own. Her scent, her voice, her contagious laughter were all he needed, and if his apartment was filled with it, Inuyasha couldn’t think of anything that would make him happier.

Kagome took the large band tee the hanyou offered with a grateful smile and snagged some boxers from the top drawer he’d just opened with a playful, little scrunch of her nose before ambling over to the closet to pick up her skirt and reach for a towel on the shelf.

Why? Why was her heart thumping uncontrollably? She was so happy. So, so, so content. But, yet a crippling sensation was crawling its way up her esophagus to make home in her throat; to grow large, and dense, and sit there to make it impossible to swallow any longer. Ever since that night a month ago, when she’d hung up the phone after a goodnight call with Inuyasha - who was traveling at the time for work, was beyond tired, spoke to her in that husky tone she was utterly weak for, and who’d called out of mere courtesy to let her know he’d made it to his destination safely - she hadn’t been feeling secure. Not because of him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, despite their little, bickering spats and his tendency to get a bit jealous over guys she spoke to, he was doing everything right. He wasn’t the one giving her reason to fear. It was her.

It was what she’d been through.

It was something she was so terrified he would turn around and say to her, that it practically debilitated her rational mind.

But, still, the feeling it stemmed from grew and expanded, the tree roots burying themselves in the soil of her heart, and Kagome was positive by now, after thirty days had passed with no decrease but, instead, the exact opposite, that there was no convincing herself that it wasn’t there. Because, every time she saw him smile, every time he held her hand, every time he expressed himself to her, it banged on her walls like an innocent prisoner demanding freedom.

When she was sure her emotions weren’t superficial, when she was positive there was no changing anything on her end, Kagome had to really look within herself to figure out how to maneuver about things. Did she openly tell him? Was there a right time to say these things? She even debated never saying anything at all, and for a good while, she was settled on that option. It wasn’t the right thing to do, though. It was like she was allowing her past, her previous broken heart, to dictate how she expressed affection toward others, and the potential ‘others’ who hadn’t done her wrong didn’t deserve that. Kagome had always been the type to wear her rather large and vulnerable heart on her sleeve. The cage she held it in now, it wasn’t locked. She wanted to put it back where it belonged, but she was so scared, it made her nauseous. The cage door was opened, held cracked from the inside, the weary organ protecting itself behind a barrier that just needed some encouragement to come out from.

Again, she’d wondered to herself countless times: was there a right moment to say something like this? Was there a procedure she needed to follow? She’d said it first last time, and nothing ended in her favor, so maybe she shouldn’t be the one to initiate this topic? Maybe it applied too much pressure? Should she just keep it to herself behind lock and key? Was he going to be receptive? Was it going to scare him away? Please, don’t scare him away. Please, please don’t leave.

And, countless times, she ended up in tears from the crushing weight of it. Kagome knew the truth. She didn’t have to consult anyone to know what the right thing to do was. It didn’t matter how many nights she stared at the ceiling obsessing over right and wrong, this or that, pros and cons, yes and no’s, because in the back of her mind, the answer was right there in big, bold letters. She was just trying to dance around it. It was so stressful. Something that was depicted as a happy and liberating occurrence was reduced to horrifying and anxiety-inducing for her.

The fact of the matter was, no one should have the power to change her heart. More so, Kagome shouldn’t give anyone that power. The way she felt so deeply was, in fact, a good thing. It was. It was. It was a fight just to get herself to understand that again, feeling like she was convincing herself of something she no longer believed, but she knew the only way she would, once more, feel that freedom was to open up. Stop hiding.

The thought was heavy. It didn’t sit comfortably with her. There were certain things Kagome was okay talking about, and there were certain things Kagome would rather eat up, swallow, and take to the grave. But, that was vulnerability, and she understood that if anyone deserved that part of you, it was your partner. Inuyasha was her partner. He was patient. He listened to her about things that made her uneasy, he took into account how she could be both a social butterfly sometimes and introverted during others, how when she was overwhelmed she had a tendency to shut down, how physical touch was her love language, and he even went so far as to ask her how she would prefer he respond to certain predicaments if she were to ever get overstimulated with him around.

Inuyasha had proved time and time again that he not only wanted to experience every side of her, but that he deserved it. He deserved it.

It jostled her to the core as she considered telling him now, her stomach churning, her heart pounding erratically, her bottom lip quivering as she’d learned to expect rejection. It was why she struggled initiating anything. It was why she had trouble saying the words to anyone but herself, “I want.” It was a learned reaction to her past trauma, but Inuyasha, the half dog demon she called hers, the silver-haired man who always did everything he could to make her feel safe while with him, the person who treated her as special as he’d insisted she was, wasn’t the one who’d hurt her. So, she’d decided over a week ago, she was going to do it. She was going to do it and let him know. Best case scenario, it was always nice to hear you’re loved and he may end up appreciating her confession. Worst case, things were going to get awkward and tense and it may end their relationship for good.

Kagome wanted to be Kagome again. Not the person she was before she’d met her ex. Not exactly, at least. She still wanted the lessons she’d learned with him to be applied to who she was. They were valuable, and not everything she learned had her closing off. As an open-minded thinker, she realized that not every wound left a scar, so not everything that happened made her a victim. Some things are just incidents that taught her lessons to take into tomorrow. So, she wanted to return to Kagome, the bright girl who faced her fears, who wore her precious heart on her sleeve, her loved with everything she had no matter what, but who was just a few experiences wiser. But, no one could do that for her. No one could give her that push she needed. It all came from within.

Of course, so did fear. So did nausea. So did that anxious part of her brain that said, “Let’s do it tomorrow, instead. Or, the day after that.”

Kagome took a deep breath, trembling as it may have been, and looked over to her boyfriend. He’d just removed his shirt from over his head, his short, tousled, silver strands appearing slightly messier than before once he was free, and he glanced over his shoulder her way, most likely feeling her eyes on him.

“Inuyasha,” She tried to come off as stable as possible, but there was an obvious waver in her tone that gave her trepidation away.

“Hm?” He hummed, the corners of his lips twitching downward before he dropped his shirt on the floor and faced her better.

“Can I - um…” It was impossible to hold her eyes steady on him, her deep, brown gaze falling to the floor every time she picked them up to look at him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay. I’m all yours.”

Kagome took another breath, willing her body to stop fidgeting. It was Inuyasha. It was just Inuyasha. As soon as she realized there was no stilling her fingers beneath the clothes and towel she held, or the way she bit hard into the inside of her bottom lip, she felt the best course of action was to simply carry on; wavering eye contact, trembling fingers, quivering lips, and all.

“Let me first preface this with: please don’t say anything. Just let me get it out there. I don’t expect anything from you in return, there’s no pressure whatsoever, and I would rather you not say anything at all. Like, at all. Okay?”

Truthfully, Inuyasha was freaked out. Had something happened? Was she about to admit to something bad? Kagome looked about ready to breakdown and cry, and the fact that she was asking for him to remain completely silent only told him she was afraid of judgement. Never had she asked him to stay quiet before. And, he hated how apprehensive his girlfriend looked right now. His instinct was to solve the problem, so what was he supposed to do here but agree to her terms?

“What’s going on, Kagome?”

“Please?”

“Alright. I won’t talk. Now, spill.”

She pinched the back of her wrist to stay grounded, to keep from crying. God, she was so pathetically nervous, and three times now, she’d almost convinced herself to back out and pretend it was a joke. That wouldn’t be right, though. She wanted to cry so bad and she hadn’t even said anything yet, so she pinched herself harder, her nails incidentally digging in. As soon as she felt a degree of control fall back into her grasps, Kagome leveled her gaze at him.

The words sat on her tongue, weighted with the shackles she’d placed there herself. A lump had formed and solidified in her throat, clinging for dear life and making everything so much harder than it needed to be. God, she was really shaking. Her breathing was becoming unsteady as if she’d already started crying and she could feel her expression crinkling into something terribly sad. She knew that was how she appeared only from the way Inuyasha’s lips parted, how his brows curved in worry, how he wanted to reach for her but seemed so confused that he could only stand there and wait.

Like a bandaid. Once the words were out, it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. She just had to get through it.

“Um - I - I - I am -“ The stammering was relentless, and out of sheer obstinance, Kagome shied away for one moment, took a short breath, huffed it out, then faced him again. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a slight arch to his brow, and his chin inched to the side minutely. Very slowly, Inuyasha’s lips sealed and his gaze hardened, falling to the ground. Hastily, Kagome followed her confession with disclaimers, irrevocably panicking.

“A-and, I don’t expect you to say it back! You don’t have to say a word about it! There’s no pressure at all, Inuyasha! I swear!” With each statement, he seemed to be growing more and more tense, and Kagome was terrified she was only making matters worse, but she blinked profusely so her tears didn’t have the chance to breach the brim of her lids. “I just wanted you to know. So, yeah. Now you know.” Her voice had fallen to a hitch just above a whisper at that point, admonished.

Inuyasha kept his promise. He didn’t speak. Kagome was stiff in her spot, not quite knowing what move to make next. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. It was hard to think beyond her admittance in the first place. It was too quiet, and she could hear the clock in the living room loudly ticking seconds by.

“Just nod or shake your head; do you still want me to stay?” She asked sheepishly.

Finally, Inuyasha’s glowing stare rose to hers again, and it frighteningly seemed to grow harder, more tense. She saw the rigid muscles of his jaw clench, and his chest rose with the very slow inhale he took through his nose. Steadily, the hanyou responded with a firm nod. In the next moment, he gestured for her to head down the hall to the bathroom with a notch of his chin, which she wasted no time in complying to. Kagome bit her lip, hard, shakily turned on her heel, and left Inuyasha alone in the room.

The second he heard the bathroom door lock and the shower turn on, Inuyasha dropped his seat on the bed, crumbling forward as he braced his forehead in his hands, elbows jabbing into his thighs. His chest was physically aching, his throat tight, and Inuyasha felt thoroughly crushed. He could literally see the fear in her eyes, the anxiety holding her by the neck. Why? Had he given her some reason to worry? Had he made it seem like that was a taboo topic?

It didn’t take long to rationalize. Logically, he knew it wasn’t him. It wasn’t personal. And, he knew that because he knew exactly how it felt to be afraid of unadulterated vulnerability. It felt like you were naked, exposed to the world, trusting someone with something so valuable and important when you weren’t even sure if you could trust yourself with something like that. It was hard. It was nerve wracking.

But, there was something deeper to it.

Why else would she insist he didn’t respond? It was clear as day. He knew that feeling. He’d been hurt before, too. They’d been together for almost half a year, he knew a good portion of her story, and she knew just as much about his. It was impossible to know it all quite yet, though. Five, six months may seem like a long time to some, but it’s honestly nothing in retrospect. They’re just scratching the surface. He knew the general aspects about her abusive father, he knew she had an emo phase in high school, he knew the superficial shit like her favorite colors, foods, drinks, what medications she needed to take and how often, he knew how she tasted, her tickle spots, where the heating pads were stashed in her apartment - because she had multiple for easy accessibility depending on what room she was in while she was down for the count on her period, and he knew she’d had her heart broken before. But, he didn’t know every little detail about certain things yet.

Inuyasha had had his heart broken before, as well. He knew that feeling. He knew how gruesome and tedious it was to start over, how awful the idea of opening up all over again was, how awkward and weary it felt to tiptoe around specific subjects until you felt comfortable enough describing them, so on and so forth. He knew. Just, apparently, not as well as Kagome did. He was willing to guess that her heart wasn’t just broken. It was trampled on.

His most recent relationship was up and down. He and his ex were never on the same page. He fell quickly but his feelings were unrequited. Then, later on, she began to show more affection, but he’d become closed off by the time that came. Nevertheless, neither of them spoke those words. They never truly opened up about what they felt, how they felt, or why they felt anything, especially romantically. Up until now, Inuyasha had never heard the words, “I’m in love with you.”

Up until recently, Inuyasha had never felt the urge to say, “I’m in love with you.”

No.

That’s wrong.

Sure, recent was a broad term, but it happened several months ago. Several months too soon, he’d deemed. Kagome was playing with his niece, teaching the six year-old how to use a toy compass she’d brought home from class, and congratulating her excitedly whenever Rin got something right. His niece wasn’t shy by any means. She was talkative, playful, bubbly, and bright. But, she had this thing about being touched. She didn’t like it. Only certain somebodies could hold her, hugs were off the table unless you were one of four people, high fives were a maybe, and yet he watched the little girl ask Kagome to watch a movie with her when she was done with the compass, cuddle up next to her on the couch, and fall asleep on her lap without persuasion.

That was it. Kagome respected Rin’s autonomy and boundaries, and Rin let her in by the third time they’d met.

And, Inuyasha fell. Hard.

Again, too soon. So, not saying it was easy. No big deal. After a while, it sort of began spilling out in his idiosyncrasies, in the way he touched her, worshipped her, in the way he craved the knowledge on how to properly care for her. In his terms, he was being painfully obvious. It was almost humiliating how obvious he was being.

It just looks like it wasn’t obvious enough. How could he have expected her to understand? It’s not like she was fluent in his body language or habits. At this point, if she needed it spelled out to her, he’d happily do so.

Because, despite her overwhelming and damn near crippling fear she’d just waded through, Kagome still told him the truth. Kagome courageously stood there, attempted to look him in the eyes, and told him she loved him, no matter how scared or nervous she appeared. If he needed to say it back in order for her to understand, he could return the gesture without hesitation.

First, though, he needed to comprehend what was going through that head of hers. He wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. This wasn’t the time to do so. What she was feeling, that look in her eyes, it stemmed from something deep, something that wasn’t quite healed. He needed, desperately needed, to know what happened. He’d promised to keep his mouth shut earlier, but he hadn’t promised how long he’d hold that. She may have meant about that topic entirely, but that was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t agree to. There was no way in hell he was going to let this slide. Eventually, they were going to have to discuss this.

Now was that time.

Inuyasha suddenly stood, filled with a rage that had surfaced as soon as she shakily asked him if he still wanted her to stay, feeling so irate that he could only clench his fists and pace the floor. There was a good fucking chance this originated with her ex. Maybe her father, but his gut told him otherwise. The things he knew about that relationship were vague. Kagome didn’t like to fixate on it, which was reasonable for anyone who’d moved on, and they never really found a good time to open up about nitty gritty details pertaining to failed relationships; they were more focused on one another and their individual lives. He was fuming. What the fuck had that motherfucker done?

He knew they broke up over two years ago. He knew he’d dumped her just before their anniversary. He knew their relationship wasn’t entirely horrible, but much like he and his own ex-girlfriend, they were rarely on the same page. That’s about it, though. He’d heard a thing or two about how she’d realized way after they’d broken up just how toxic their relationship actually was - one of those late night, shower-thought epiphanies - but she never much elaborated. Hell, she talked about it all so rarely, Inuyasha had even forgotten the fucker’s name. He was her ex-boyfriend so that naturally deemed him irrelevant, because Inuyasha was her current boyfriend and that was all that fucking mattered. But, now he wished he remembered because it would make it at least a little easier to track the bitch ass down and punch his lights out.

She’d opened the door, and he needed to know what was on the other side of it. Inuyasha not only craved, but found it a foundational necessity to understand what had her so anxious to tell him how she felt. First, he recognized he needed to calm down. He couldn’t approach this with heightened emotion because it would cause Kagome to feel insecure and unsafe, which he would never allow her to feel around him.

That was hard for him to do, though. To swallow his frustration, push it aside. He felt things passionately, much like Kagome did. For her, for the light he always looked to for a sense of peace and felicity, for the woman he respected and cherished, he would do it. He could do it.

It took a moment, but Inuyasha left his room and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water to sip on and an extra one for his girlfriend. The shower had stopped running moments ago, and the hairdryer was now blowing. She was biding time. Kagome, more often than not, let her hair air dry. This was killing him. The fact that she was so afraid, so nervous, the fact that she felt anything but contentment in the face of pure and unbridled emotion. Inuyasha just wanted to burst through the bathroom door and tell her to stop, demand she look him in the eyes and say it again and watch how he would never turn away from her. What could he have possibly said that had her more content with silence?

Content wasn’t what she’d felt at all though, was it? Even after he’d kept his mouth shut, Kagome was still trembling, still incredibly uncomfortable.

He was going to the bottom of this.

But, something in his heart wrenched. Overall, he just hoped with everything he had that she didn’t regret telling him.

There was careful deliberation on where he should wait for her. He’d debated standing outside the bathroom door to guide her back with him, but that would apply a lot of pressure straight from a safe zone. There was always the option to sit on the couch until she emerged, but still, he was worried she’d feel like she was under a spotlight. No matter what, Inuyasha was going to be taking her back into his bedroom. It was cozy and comfortable, and he just wanted to fucking hold her. The best course of action was to let Kagome come to him. When she was ready. No matter how much patience wasn’t his virtue. So, he ambled back through the doorway with both water bottles in hand, placing them on the nightstand as he got himself into more comfortable clothing. He’d never finished changing after dropping his shirt on the floor. He grabbed his grey sweats off the end of the bed and shoved his legs into them after removing his jeans, then fished a black tank top out of his dresser, easily and quickly pulling it over his head.

It wasn’t a bad thing that she’d told him. Kagome should be proud of herself. Over and over again, she’d repeated that in her head, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she’d done something wrong. Maybe she’d put him on the spot and made him uncomfortable. She should have at least given him the space to tell her he wasn’t ready to say it back if that was how he felt. That she would have completely and wholeheartedly understood without fault.

Now she was stuck in an unknown area, her head was foggy, her fingers kept trembling, and her eyes were puffy from crying like a baby in the shower. The goal was to tell him how she felt. It was a step in the right direction. A step toward who she truly was behind the protective walls. From this point on, depending on how Inuyasha was feeling, it might be best to pretend nothing happened. Sweep it under the rug.

Everything was so conflicting, so turbulent, and Kagome could bring herself to do nothing but stare at the bathroom doorknob. Her hair was dry, she was dressed in her borrowed outfit, smelling purely of Inuyasha, and even though he still wanted her to stay, she couldn’t believe anything other than the possibility that she’d ruined everything.

What would happen once she exited the bathroom? Would things be uncomfortable? Would he be laying down in bed, facing the wall away from her, silent? Would he ignore her? Would he say something she was terrified to hear right now? Or, was she trapped in her unhealthy thoughts? Was she preparing a response to something that wasn’t waiting for her outside that door? Was she not giving Inuyasha the opportunity to respond in his own, organic way, expecting all the responses she was trained to anticipate before?

With a deep breath, Kagome reached for the knob, twisting it to exit. The apartment was as quiet as it was when she locked herself inside, the clock in the living room ticking loudly as she slowly sauntered through. Lights were dim, but the bedroom, through the opened door, was inhabited. The lamps shaded the white walls in warm hues, and as she got closer she noticed a very soft hum of music playing through the bluetooth speakers he had set up in there, quiet but still melodic and comforting.

Though her heart was pounding and a jittery sensation within her chest was causing her to tread cautiously, she followed the path into his bedroom, spotting Inuyasha sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He was quick to notice her presence, sitting up and glancing at her, and even though she faked a smile with a curious notch of her head, it was clear he saw right through her. How wouldn’t he? If he already didn’t know her so well, it was obvious she wouldn’t go from cripplingly apprehensive before her shower to sweet and happy immediately after.

Inuyasha noticed the pink in her cheeks, the stupidly cute but feigned upturn of her plush lips, the way her deep eyes bounced away from him before coming right back only to repeat the same motions. His Kagome. His sweet, hurting, beautiful Kagome.

With an arch of his brow, the hanyou wagged his finger at her, ushering her over to sit on his lap. She was hesitant at first. She knew what was coming, but still, despite her slight discomfort, he released a small, breathy chuckle so she knew he wasn’t upset with her.

“C’mere.” He requested softly, patting his thighs.

“What?” Kagome returned, unsure.

“I want you. C’mere.”

Slowly, she crossed the floor, accepting her boyfriend’s support as she straddled his lap and got comfortable. An uncontrollable pout formed on her face when he looked into her eyes, she felt it, and humiliation washed over her, causing her to hide her expression between his shoulder and neck.

Inuyasha was patient, making sure she was secure in her seat before his hands traveled over her. At first, he couldn’t help but hug her tight. In this moment, Kagome seemed so fragile and he could already feel her body shaking against him. She knew he was going to talk whether she liked it or not.

Still, he gave her a little more time, relaxing against him, her chest melting on his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders but accepting his full support as his hands rubbed over her back soothingly.

“You want to tell me what happened back there?” He asked, opening back up the topic.

“Did I do it wrong?” Kagome spoke, her voice small.

“I’m not worried about right and wrong here, baby. Can you look at me for a second?”

Carefully, Kagome leaned back, giving him the attention he requested. His large, warm hands cradled her jaw, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eye contact firm.

“I never want you to be afraid to tell me something, okay? Especially, how you feel.”

Immediately, Kagome began to crumble. Her cheeks grew hot and her lips twitched downward sadly. Tears too quickly threatened her eyes, and Kagome was hasty to hide her face in his shoulder again.

“I need you to talk to me, Kagome. What’s going on?” He asked, returning to rubbing her back. In the silence as he waited, he picked up the back hem of the large shirt she wore, pushing his hands beneath so he could gently massage her skin. The heat from her, the softness, he craved it right now. “Was it something I did?”

Kagome fervently shook her head against him.

“I’m never going to understand unless you tell me, baby. That wasn’t the normal amount of nervousness you’d expect when saying something like that. So, what’s going on?”

“I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to say it back if you weren’t ready.” Kagome sniffled, hugging him tighter.

“Okay, I get that. And, what else?”

“That’s all.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“Can we just pretend nothing happened and go back to our happy date night?” She whined playfully.

“Unfortunately, no.” Inuyasha chuckled, catching her small attempt at laughing off her problems. “I can’t do that while you’re crying on me, Kagome.”

“I’m not crying.” She sniffled again.

“Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope. These are just allergies.”

“And, what are you suddenly allergic to?”

“Feelings.” Kagome giggled, though she began crying harder, only because her boyfriend was being sweet and obviously getting through to her. She both hated and loved it at the same time.

Inuyasha kissed her shoulder, holding her a little tighter as his hand slipped higher up her bare back. The curve from her little slouch against him had her spine popping out slightly, and ever so softly, Inuyasha traced his fingers over the bones.

“What were you so afraid of me saying?” He all but whispered.

Mustering up some courage, Kagome leaned back, using one hand to meagerly clear her messy face of tears. She took a few unsteady breaths before speaking, her eyes falling to the hem of the collar of his black top, and she allowed her fingers to distractingly drag along it.

“I didn’t want you to tell me you loved me if you weren’t ready or felt pressured, because I don’t want you to take it back later on.”

The hanyou’s brows furrowed inquisitively and he was unable to bite back the reaction of his head cocking to the side in bemusement.

“What?” He almost hissed. “Why would I do that?”

Kagome didn’t answer, continuing to play with the shirt he wore.

“Kagome, why are you afraid of that happening? Don’t tell me -“ Inuyasha had to tense his breath in his lungs to refrain from letting his upset get the better of him. “Did your ex…?”

She responded with the littlest nod, worrying her bottom lip incessantly. “Multiple times.”

“Multiple times?” He echoed on an exhale, his expression widening. His hands were holding her hips, squeezing as comfortingly as possible, but Inuyasha was struck cold. Not only had someone shattered her, but someone managed to look at this woman on top of him and take back their love on more than one occasion? This girl? How? He’d only had her for half a year and he was scared shitless of losing her, so it didn’t make any fucking sense that someone would just toss her aside like that as if she meant nothing.

Slowly, Kagome curled forward, tucking herself against his shoulder. It was like a safety net. Inuyasha was so warm, he held her perfectly every time she felt emotional and vulnerable. As much as she didn’t want to talk about this, she knew this topic would come up eventually. It was a staple of her by now, something she was clearly conditioned to expect after years of receiving it, and even before she fell in love with the man stroking her back beneath her shirt, she knew this issue would arise. It wasn’t going to be easy or quick to work through, that was a given, and she knew he was ultimately going to need to know some of the toxic occurrences of her previous relationship; things that were done to her and things she’d done, as well. She’d considered it was going to be something he’d want clarity on as soon as she admitted her feelings. It was fair. Being on the other end of things, he deserved to know what she’d been through and why she inadvertently responded the way she had.

It was just hard. It was hard to think about and hard to talk about.

But, if she could power through her fear of admitting her feelings, then she could give him everything else, too. It was another step in the right direction, no matter how unsteady the pathway seemed.

“I told him I loved him first, and he responded by telling me I shouldn’t. He was my first love, so I didn’t really know how to react or what to say to that. It’s not like I could just take it back or agree or something.”

“Right.” Inuyasha almost hummed, listening intently to her explanation as he kissed her shoulder here and there.

“Almost a year later, he told me he was falling in love with me. A few months after that, he took it back and said he wasn’t so sure anymore since we’d been arguing.”

The half demon couldn’t control his reaction to hold Kagome a little tighter. It was like an attempt to protect her from things he knew he couldn’t begin to protect her from. If he could control it, no one would ever speak to her like that. No one would ever hurt her this way. No one would ever be able to apply that pressure to her shoulders, because how could she not feel obligated to be perfect and compliant in order to feel valued and cherished?

“Then, I don’t know how long later, he told me he loved me again. It stayed consistent for a while. He’d tell me periodically, particularly when I did nice things for him or if I said it first. Then, again, he ended up taking it back. I had felt it that time and asked him if he still loved me. He said, ‘I don’t know.’ Followed by,” Kagome’s fingers clutched Inuyasha’s shirt, exhaling tremblingly, though she had been doing so well at keeping it together. “‘Maybe soon I’ll love you again, though.’ So, I idiotically stayed. I held onto that hope. I waited and waited until we got into this stupid fight and he broke up with me the next day. He made sure to emphasize that he didn’t love me. But, said he might in the future, we’d just need to stay friends. ‘You never know what the future stores.’”

God, Inuyasha wanted to kill him.

“There was one night after we finally found separate places, we were packing, getting ready to move out of our shared apartment, and we were talking about old things. He told me he never loved me. And, I just never understood why things went on for so long just because he wasn’t sure. Why would you say it if you didn’t? Why couldn’t he have let me go sooner? What good was I if he didn’t even want me there? I wasn’t strong enough to leave, but he was because he literally hung that over my head for most of the time we were together, threatening me with leaving if I didn’t do something right. I have so many things to work through because of him, so many trauma responses to correct, trust issues that I’m projecting unto you, and he walked away like nothing ever happened.” Kagome cried, once again shaking against Inuyasha.

All he could do was kiss her, hush her soothingly, hold her tight, rub the hot flesh of her back. Let her cry. He understood now. He got it. It was why she struggled to take compliments the first time around. It was why she second-guessed sweet gestures. It was why she assumed everything was sarcastic and insincere. It was why she thought her love for him was problematic. She didn’t want him to say anything because she was scared of the words, “I love you.” They meant nothing to some people, they were used as tools, and so easily, they could be erased. Sad thing was, Inuyasha was sure that even if he said the words right here and now, she wouldn’t even believe him.

“Of course, he’s obviously not the sole reason for why I am the way that I am. Can’t give him credit for everything.” Kagome gave a wet giggle, again laughing through her problems. Her coping mechanisms were all over the place, but it was still cute.

Inuyasha sighed defeatedly, laughing lightly as he rested his head on her shoulder.

“So,” He breathed. “You didn’t want me to say anything because you figured nothing was better than something I could hurt you with.”

Her silence was as good as confirmation.

Inuyasha pulled her in firmer, an arm supporting her low back as he picked her up, rotated their bodies, crawled a little further on the bed, and laid her beneath him on the mattress. He had a knee between her legs, but rested on her side, an elbow propping him up while he used his free hand to gently swipe her tears away.

“It was more because I didn’t want you to feel pressured.” Kagome finally spoke after moments of peaceful silence, taking the opportunity he provided to calm down before continuing. “But, then I started to panic. I felt like this is supposed to be a good thing, right? Not everyone is going to respond the way he does, right? I just wanted to tell you so bad. It’s supposed to be a good thing, but I got trapped in my head thinking history would only repeat itself.”

“Baby, are you sure you were ready to tell me?” Inuyasha inquired, dragging his finger along her temple to clean the tears that followed gravity.

She nodded, her bottom lip quivering. “It’s bad enough that I’m afraid of love. I didn’t want to allow myself to sink and be afraid to love, too. That’s not me. I feel like I’d only be letting him stick around in my mind if I did that, but I just want to love you. I do.” Kagome cried, eyes falling away from him. “I wanted you to know, and I’ve been holding onto it long enough.”

Inuyasha leaned his head down, kissing her shoulder. It wasn’t enough for him. He needed to feel her skin beneath his lips so he pulled the baggy collar away so he could leave a tender and invisible mark on her clavicle.

“How long?” The hanyou breathed.

“A month or so.” She matched his soft tone, trying to steady her lungs and bring herself back to a calm. “The night you went on your business trip.”

“Europe?”

“Mhm.”

“Not too bad. It was the groggy voice, huh?”

Though her eyes were still wet and the hair at the sides of her temples were soaked, her cheeks flushed, Kagome glanced back over to him with a hint of surprise. “How’d you know?”

“Because, I knew I’d get a response from you. Always do.” He smirked, planting sweet kisses against her cheek, and moving up to kiss tears away.

“You know I like that?”

“It’s my job to read you like a book, baby. I take my work very seriously. You’re subtle, but I see things I do that you like. You’ve got little mannerisms that give you away.”

“Like what?”

He hummed a decline. “I’m not giving that secret to you. Let me have this. You know what I will tell you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you promise to hear me out? No interrupting, okay? Just listen to me.”

There was an increase in the tension that climbed through her muscles, and her pout turned weary. Inuyasha took a moment to continue kissing her temple, her cheekbone, his palm finding its way beneath her shirt to softly stroke her tummy. When she relaxed a little, he leaned back to look at her.

“Remember that day Rin took a nap with you? I stayed up that night. Couldn’t sleep. I had you here next to me, and I just couldn’t stop listening to the sound of your breathing. I was scared shitless, but the crazy fucking part was, even though you weren’t awake, having you right here helped keep me calm. It was counterintuitive. I was both scared of you and at peace with you. I wanted you to wake up and do that thing where you tickle the small of my back with your fingers because, god, nothing feels better than that. It was like you held all of me in the palm of your hands, and you could easily drop it in the trash at any given moment. But, it’s you. I knew you wouldn’t. That was my night, though. That was the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

Kagome hardened slightly, and he could literally hear how hard her heart was thumping within her chest. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown, didn’t make much of any expression really, aside from her brows giving a minor, inward twitch.

“That was quite a few months ago. Nothing’s changed. If anything, it’s gotten deeper. I’m so worried one day you’ll walk out those doors and never come back. I don’t want to lose you just as badly as you don’t want to lose me.” He was the one to hide his face this time, tucking it within her neck as he threaded his arms around her back, holding her close. He hadn’t expected her to clutch him in return, but she did. Immediately. Kagome supported him through his own moment of vulnerability, but more importantly, he felt it was a way to communicate her reception. “I don’t care how many times I have to say it until you begin to believe me. I don’t care what I have to do to make you feel secure in our relationship. I’ll do it all. You know I don’t say shit unless I mean it.”

“I believe you.” Kagome whispered, a small hiccup at the tale end that jostled her chest. “That’s the scary part.”

He nodded again, pulling away to gently press his forehead to hers for a moment.

“I get it.” Inuyasha breathed before leaning back to look her in the eyes. “But, one of these days you’ll understand that no matter what happens, I won’t take a damn thing back. You’ll see that I don’t want it back. I feel like my heart’s safer with you, anyway.”

“Stop it.” She pouted, but he knew that was her way of conceding. Even as she cried a little harder and tucked herself into his chest so he couldn’t see it. “You’re being too sweet. Be mean to me again.”

Inuyasha chuckled, raising his hand, “As you wish.” He said, smacking it down against her butt.

The little yelp she released was so sad but adorable as she flinched away from the sting, but it inadvertently brought her to cuddle closer to him. The hanyou laughed, brushing his fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp.

“Can you do something for me?” He asked.

“Hm?” She grumbled into his chest.

“Tell me again. This time look right at me. Don’t look away, don’t fidget, just trust me. That was my first time hearing it. I gotta hear it straight.”

She hadn’t realized Inuyasha hadn’t heard the words before. She didn’t know that. This was big for him too, if not bigger. Was she his first love? Was she the first person he’d ever said that to? Kagome felt a warmth course through her, and even though she was slightly nervous, she didn’t feel unsteady. Not while he held her. Not while his amber eyes were above her, watching her with an emotion she’d never before seen. She came out of hiding with a level of ease she hadn’t felt a moment ago, secure, one of his hands lightly trailing her side beneath her borrowed shirt.

Her fingers had a mind of their own, reaching for his cheek as she softly caressed it, her thumb tenderly rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you, Inuyasha.”

It was like a sigh of relief left his lungs, and the corners of his mouth inched upward. His eyes were hooded with affection, and he leaned down to kiss her, lingering on her soft lips.

“Your turn.” Kagome whispered as he pulled away, her brown eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips.

It felt incredible that she wanted to hear it now. And, though he knew everything was going to take time until she felt comfortable with the idea that he wouldn’t take a damn thing back, he knew it would take time to work through her trust issues little-by-little, he didn’t mind. Because, she was his and he was hers, and he was all too happy to hold her hand and walk by her side while they figured everything out. He couldn’t fix this for her. He hated that he couldn’t take her pain away. That’s not how it worked, though. He knew this. She knew this. Inuyasha was her partner through everything, and he’d be the best fucking partner he could be.

He grinned with their foreheads pressed together, his hand on her waist gripping tighter as he couldn’t help but chuckle from sheer bliss. “God, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Kagome smiled, pushing Inuyasha over to roll on top, once more straddling his hips as she gazed down at him. She wanted to burn this image of him in her mind. She never wanted to forget that soft look in his eyes, or the way he reached up and tenderly wiped away any remaining tears that stained her face. He meant it. She believed him. And, she hoped with everything inside of her that he never took it away from her.

She curled down, cuddling into her chest and Inuyasha immediately turned his head to kiss her forehead. He held her close, gently stroking her hair back and basking in her incredibly comforting heat. He loved her. He loved her so goddamn much. His Kagome.

“What do you need right now, baby?”

“Nothing.” She hummed.

“What do you want, then.”

He knew she struggled with that one, but whenever he asked, she did her best to communicate properly. “Touch my butt again.”

Inuyasha laughed huskily, his hands gliding down her back to take a firm and wonderful hold on her ass.

“And, pizza.”

“Oh, see, I’m a step ahead of you on that one. Ordered a couple before you got out of the shower.”

Kagome gave a short half whine - half squeal of happiness as she cuddled in closer and kissed his neck. “Thank you.”

#inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #Inukag fanfiction #stay #akitokihojo #hurt/comfort #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #Inukag fanfic #Inukag fic

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mianavs · 4 years ago

Text

Ameliorate

Your life was always a dark abyss until Matsukawa came in and made everything better

Matsukawa x f!reader

a/n: hands down the most difficult piece I’ve worked on but it’s finally done. not sure how i feel about it but i hope you all enjoy it anyway! kind of a slow burn fyi

tw: smut, oral (f!reader receiving), heavy angst, mentions of death/grieving

wc: 5.8k

It was a call you didn’t want to take. You were at work going over some accounts when the screen of your cell came to life and angrily vibrated on your desk. Sighing, you reached over to swipe on the red phone icon but the caller id caught your eye leaving you stunned.

[Mother]

You almost missed the call, lost in the negative emotions that the title unburied from the dark recesses of your mind. On impulse, you answered last minute and took a deep breath before you spoke to your mother for the first time since you left home four years ago. In the second it took for your mother to speak, you held out for an apology but instead received the news that your father had passed away the night before.

You exchanged few words with your mother, who was as frigid as ever, but nonetheless agreed to return home for the funeral. After informing your supervisor and taking off the rest of the week, you collected your things to leave only to be bombarded by your coworkers offering their condolences. You accepted their sincerity but felt nothing except for a queer emptiness.

Upon reaching the ground floor of the building, the elevator doors opened and a familiar voice caught your attention. You looked up to face your ex-fiancé speaking animatedly on the phone—until he saw you and his smile faltered.

It had been a mutual decision. After two years of dating, he’d wanted marriage and you—well, you weren’t sure what you wanted but marriage sure wasn’t it. The last you’d heard he had gotten married to some girl from HR and he looked happy. You plastered a smile on your face and greeted him with a nod before heading out.

At least one of you was happy.

On the train to Miyagi, memories of your parents occupied your thoughts. Your relationship them had always been strained. As the only child of a prestigious university professor and a retired news anchor turned housewife, they expected a lot from you academically and socially. Throughout your childhood, you struggled under the immense pressure they placed and you , more often than not, disappointed them.

It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to be their perfect daughter, you always fell short and got reproached accordingly. Your above average grades were never good enough. Your clumsiness and constant slouch made you unladylike, and your awkward mumbled speech was shameful. No matter what you did, the scrutiny never stopped and your imperfections only worsened over time. Your grades fell, you avoided going out with your parents to social events, and you spoke very little to your parents.

A quiet girl with no self-esteem, you started high school at Aoba Josai and everything changed when you met Matsukawa Issei. He approached you first during homeroom on your first day of school and never stopped talking to you from then on. He was patient and kind with you but also pushed you to get out of you shell. Before you knew it, he became your best friend and the two of you spent all of your free time together.

Issei’s friendship raised you up in many forms. Your grades increased after all those study sessions with him and Hanamaki. You stopped looking down at your shoes and found that the sky was much nicer to look at. You laughed, yelled, cried, and talked to Issei about anything and everything.

The change had been so sudden that even your parents noticed and treated you better. They stopped criticizing your every movement and that did wonders to your confidence. While the relationship between you and your parents slightly improved, your relationship with Issei bloomed like the cherry blossoms that fell on the day he confessed to you. For the first time in your life, you were truly happy until everything shattered when your parents found out about you and Issei.

You were reckless with the lies you told your parents to sneak out and see Issei. Your mind was clouded with thoughts of your boyfriend that you hadn’t noticed your parents had been awake when you snuck out at night. That night your parents caught you outside on a park bench with Issei’s head on your lap. As a result, you were confined to your room for a week with your mother becoming your personal jailer and after getting a taste of love and freedom—you refused to go back to being that insecure girl.

You rebelled against your parents. You got into screaming matches with your mother and argued with your father. The worst part of it all was the guilt that you felt after you’d yell at your mother or insulted your father. In that moment, you’d see the hurt in their eyes and the hesitation before they sent you to your room. You hated those looks because it proved that they too had feelings and you were capable of hurting them just like they’d hurt you.

Until you graduated, you lived like a ghost in your own home avoiding your parents as much as you could. You filled the emptiness you felt with Issei, who became your whole world. You went to all of his volleyball matches, he picked you up after work, and you spent most of your time at his house and with his family. The two of you planned a future together during your first year at college in Yokohama until the news of your mother falling ill sent you back home.

“Now arriving at Tokyo station”

The announcement interrupted your musings and you pulled out your phone to distract yourself from the bustle of people exiting the train. You scrolled through your social media page until a rare post from an old friend caught your attention. Oikawa had uploaded a photo of a historic site in Argentina and you found yourself searching for Issei’s name among the thousands of likes and comments. While Issei’s name hadn’t popped up, Hanamaki’s did and you clicked on his profile thoughtlessly. It didn’t take much digging on your behalf to find what you were looking for.

Only a couple of posts down was a photo of Hanamaki and Issei from a year ago at a restaurant you would recognize anywhere—after all, you’d worked there for two years. You couldn’t help but admire how good they looked. You memorized every detail of Issei’s face before a thought crossed your mind and your finger hovered over the screen.

A tap on the photo revealed Issei’s account and you hesitated to wonder if stalking your ex-boyfriend’s social media was the right move before you tapped on his username anyway and his profile opened up. It was on private to your dismay but his account picture showed you more than enough. It was one of Issei with one arm swung over a pretty woman’s shoulder. Shutting off your phone, you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t care but the tightness in your chest proved otherwise.

Gazing out the window at the rural towns the train passed reminded you of your father and his love for the countryside. You hated to admit it but, after living in the city for three years, you came to share the same sentiments as your father.

After returning home following the news of your mother’s illness, your father moved the family to rural Miyagi believing the fresh country air would do her good. Moving back with your parents wasn’t as difficult as you’d feared after leaving everything behind. Your mother still nagged you over everything but not as cruelly and would occasionally compliment your cooking when you fed her.

It was the relationship with your father, however, that changed the most which was why his deception hurt you the most. Your father was the one that helped you transfer to the university he taught at. The two of you always left for school together and conversations about school eventually filled the quiet void during those hour-long train rides to Sendai. Your conversations became personal at night over tea or sake and, in those moments, you felt as if you could forgive your parents and develop a relationship with them.

You should have been more suspicious about your mother’s condition. Whenever you asked your father about it, you’d attributed his wavering gaze to concern over your mother. The improved relationship between you and your parents distracted you from the unchanging condition of your mother despite constant medication and hospital visits. It never crossed your mind that the sickness had only been a ploy to guilt you into coming back to Miyagi so your parents could resume molding their matured daughter into what they wanted.

You found out by chance while listening in to a conversation amongst them but that was all it took to turn your newfound affection for your parents into resentment. For the entirety of the confrontation, you bit back tears when their reactions confirmed everything had been made up. After packing up your things and disowning your parents, you left home vowing never to come back.

“Now arriving at Sendai station”

The long drive to your childhood home did nothing to prepare you for the meeting with your mother. She looked tired and beat down; a sharp contrast to the strong woman she used to be.

“You look awful,” She chided, eyeing you with her sharp gaze. “You’re thin and sickly.”

“So are you.” Your retort was immediate and thoughtless but it shut your mother up. After a moment of deafening silence, she offered to help you with your bag but you declined.

“Come downstairs after you unpack. Dinner is almost ready.” With that, your mother left to the kitchen.

You were surprised to find your room in the same state it had been when you left for college. Palming through your old notebooks, opening your drawers to sift through old clothes, and collapsing on your bed to bury your nose in the sheets made you miss the simpler days of high school.

In the end, you were too distracted by your room to unpack but made sure to wash up before heading down to dinner—a habit your mother instilled in you and returned after only being in the house for twenty minutes. You also took your usual spot across your mother while the chair that your father had once sat in stood bare at the head of the table. The empty spot was disconcerting but your eyes remained fixed on the chair while your mind worked to restore the image of your father on it. Your trancelike state stopped when your mother cleared her throat.

“The wake will be tomorrow morning so ready by nine.”

“Do I need to do anything?”

“A small speech is expected of you.” She stated and left no room for argument. “There will also be familiar faces so behave accordingly.”

The meaning behind your mother’s warning dawned on you when the two of you entered the funeral home and were greeted by the one familiar face you didn’t expect to see—Issei.

If he was surprised to see you, he didn’t show it and was all business when he addressed your mother. Your shock only increased when your mother didn’t go off on Issei and instead treated him like an actual human.

When his sharp gaze shifted to your form, the air around you seemed to thicken and breathing became impossible. Standing in front of Issei took you back in time to those days when Issei would wait for you in the mornings to walk to school. You could have lost yourself in his eyes but the purpose of your return tore your eyes away and you bowed in greeting, not trusting your voice. He bowed as well and offered his condolences before turning to your mother and discussing the schedule and other details as they walked into the building with you in tow.

The discomfort you felt during the service increased tenfold with the arrival of the guests. Former colleagues of your father, friends of your mother, and neighbors crowded the small funeral home and they all had their eyes on you. The condolences, hugs, and pats left you suffocated and desensitized. Before long, their words fused together into a clangor that left you disoriented. You thought you were going to pass out until a former professor of yours asked a question that destroyed whatever remained of your composure.

“…so when did they find out the tumor was malignant?”

Tumor?

Malignant?

Your overwhelmed brain pieced together the information until you understood what had caused your father’s death—cancer. In that moment, everything ceased to exist and there was only you and your thoughts. Your blood ran cold and all of your limbs went numb. While your mouth hung open, not a syllable fell from your lips. As opposed to your frozen body, your mind raced and a whirlwind of emotions wreaked havoc on your being. When you came to terms with the fact that you hadn’t known your father’s cause of death, a strangled cry escaped your mouth and you darted out of the room.

The urge to leave and never return overcame all logic but, before you could make it out the door, a pair of large warm hands clasped your shoulders, gently stopping you dead in your tracks. The faint smell of cologne and musk hit you and you knew it was Issei before you looked up.

Warmth radiated from every part of his body and all you wanted was to bury yourself into him and hide from the world. His eyes widened slightly before he looked around and guided you away into a small room away from the guests. There was a sofa that he led you too and sat down next to you. Suddenly, Issei’s hands were on your cheeks wiping away tears you didn’t know where there.

“God…I’m a fucking mess.” You cursed and buried your face into your hands.

“Funerals are…difficult,” Issei offered. “Trust me, I work here.”

“I didn’t know,” you muttered raising your head. “I didn’t even know how my father died. I never asked my mother and she never told me. She just told me he died and I took a train here without thinking.”

“Everyone processes death differently, Y/N.”

“Fuck, Issei—I’m his only daughter for crying out loud!” Your voice broke as a fresh set of tears threatened to spill. “We’ve never had a stable relationship…but still, what kind of a daughter doesn’t know the cause of death of her own father? I just feel like I’m suffocating and I-I…”

Sobs tore out of your chest inhibiting you from speaking and Issei didn’t hesitate to envelop you in his strong arms that rocked you while he whispered calming reassurances in your ear.

“Shhh…it’s okay.”

“Everything will be fine.”

“This will pass.”

Your cries eventually ceased but neither of you let go. It felt easy to cling onto Issei while he held you just as tightly. The return of your wits, however, brought you back to reality and you let him go knowing it wasn’t right to cling onto anyone’s boyfriend—even if he’d been your friend before he’d been your boyfriend.

“Thank you, Issei. I should really head back now.”

Issei’s grip loosened slowly until he faced you with his thick brows knitted with concern. You smiled hoping it was convincing enough to reassure him before the two of you stood up and left the room. Near the entrance of the hall stood your mother angrily pacing back and forth until she saw you and Issei and opened her mouth to speak but stopped. You decided to speak first before she misunderstood the situation.

“I needed some space to calm down and Issei helped me find a place.”

Her piercing eyes took you in and lingered on your eyes; they were no doubt red and puffy from crying. The anger seemed to dissipate and her shoulder’s relaxed before she finally addressed you.

“It’s time for your speech. Are you ready?”

Coming from the woman that never asked you anything, her question caught you off guard but stirred something in you. You answered by nodding and followed your mother into the packed hall and up to the front where your father lied in his coffin. You stood to the side while your mother addressed the guests and you looked at your father for the first time in years.

The sight should have made you feel anything but the relief that washed over you. He looked at peace and it reminded you of the rare glimpses you’d caught of him talking with his students, fishing in the small pond of your country home, or drinking sake at night. It was with those memories that you replaced your mother and spoke to the guests.

You were composed for the entire speech despite your distraught state only minutes prior. It felt like a blanket of serenity had wrapped itself over your shoulders and shielded you from any remaining guilt. In the end, you wished your father well not because you forgave him but because you wanted to close that chapter in your book.

The rest of the ceremony was easier to stomach without the turmoil in your head. After the last guest left, you and your mother spoke to Issei and his boss about last minute details for the funeral the next day. Your mother offered a brisk thanks before heading out first and Issei’s boss followed, leaving you and your ex alone. The desire to ask him for his contact info was immense, but your better judgement won and you offered him a quick thanks before following your mother.

Very little words were exchanged with your mother that night and you headed up to bed completely drained from the day’s events. You’d just finished hanging up your mourning clothes when your mother knocked on the door and waited until you let her in—something she never did.

Still in her mourning gown, she held out a letter addressed to you from your father and seeing her up close, you noticed the wet cheeks and puffy red skin around her eyes. In all the years you lived with your mother, you had never seen her cry. Crying out hysterically? Yes. Witnessing actual tears or the evidence of tears on her face, however, not even once. Which was why you stood stunned as your mother placed the letter in your hand before leaving you to your privacy.

You tore open the sealed envelope and opened the letter to see that it was dated one year ago.

{Daughter,

If you are reading this, it is because I am no longer on this earth. As the disease weakens my body, I know that I will never see you again and write this to convey everything that I could not in life. I am well-aware that I lost the right to your forgiveness and I do not wish to receive it. Nothing will ever justify my actions towards you. I failed you as a father and caused you to grow up in a miserable home. I held you to expectations that not even I could achieve and I will regret the pain and suffering I caused you until my last breath.

I remember the day your mother brought you into this world. When I saw your frail little body and held you in my arms for the first time, I was struck with an immeasurable amount of fear. I was terrified of being a father and didn’t want you to suffer the way I did. I wanted to prepare you for the world in the way my parents never did for me. However, in the end, my own selfish desires to re-live my life through you tainted whatever intentions I’d had. I will never forgive myself for the irreparable damage I caused you therefore I ask that you do the same.

I wish to end this message by expressing how proud I am of the strong woman you’ve become. Everything you’ve accomplished is derived of your own merits and in spite of the suffering I caused you. Your mother and I are happy to hear of your successes and wish you happiness in your married life. I know you will live a long and happy life because you are not like me. You’re a fighter. You know what you want and take it without regrets.

With this, I hope that you will continue to grow and forget me as I am undeserving of living in your thoughts.}

What began as tears trailing down your cheeks, ended up as wails mourning your father. The proud man that you knew him to be in life came undone in that short letter and every word pierced your heart. In a manner reminiscent of the past, you disobeyed his requests and genuinely forgave your father while engraving each of his words into your heart.

The urge to see your mother led you to tuck away the letter and open the door only to find her already there. Muffling her sobs with her hands, her whole body shook as she gazed up at you. The fragility of her state stirred your compassion and your arms wrapped around her. Collapsing onto the ground, the two of you clung to each other and truly mourned the death of your father.

You woke up enveloped in motherly warmth like you were an infant again. Her eyes that once scrutinized your every move, were softer now as she talked about your father’s last days over breakfast. The hand that had disciplined you in the past now held yours during the Buddhist priest’s chant at the funeral. The circumstances were wretched but you finally felt at peace with your parents.

The funeral and cremation passed with you and your mother holding each other up. As the two of you jointly picked up the bone fragments with chopsticks and placed them in the urn, you came to terms with the fact that the relationship with your mother would never go back to what it was. A sense of filial duty stirred within you for the first time in a while only it wasn’t out of guilt—this time, you genuinely wanted to take care of your mother.

You found yourself outside of the crematorium waiting for your mother to settle things when Issei walked up to you. He’d been at the funeral ceremony, of course, but the crematorium wasn’t a part of his duties so you were surprised to see him. He still wore his black slacks and matching button down but his tie was nowhere to be seen and he’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt.

He began by inquiring about the cremation to make sure everything had gone well. You assured him everything went well before an awkward silence pervaded the space between. Desperate to fill the void with anything, you asked Issei a question only to find him simultaneously asking you one.

“Talked to Hana—”

“How long are yo—”

Your face flushed and Issei rubbed the back of his head as the two of you apologized for interrupting each other.

“You go first,” Issei gently insisted.

“I was going to ask if you’d talked to Hanamaki lately. I saw that you two went out…” The implication of your words caused you to clamp your mouth shut while your face burned even more.

“You saw…us?” Issei sounded amused and you looked up to find that same smirk from six years ago that produced butterflies in your stomach.

“Er…yeah,” you admitted. “I kinda found Hanamaki’s social media and happened a picture of you two.”

“Oh, that picture. That was the last time I saw him since he lives in Tokyo now. We still text though.”

“So Tokyo, huh? Good for Hanamaki.”

“What about you?” Issei asked, his eyes more intense than before. “Your mother mentioned you live in the city.”

“Uh yeah,” You said fidgeting with the material of your kimono. “I live in Yokohama. Got a job offer after graduation and I’ve been there ever since.”

“…Are you going back now?”

Issei avoided your eyes by looking away—an old habit you instantly recognized. Like the old days, you moved in the direction of his face and stood on your tippy toes with a cheeky grin on your face. Surprise flashed on his eyes before his mouth broke into a fond smile.

“I’m staying for a couple more days.” You replied and the next word flowed out naturally like water in a stream. “Why?”

“I wanted to catch up with you.” He admitted before his expression sobered. “Only if you’re up for it though. I don’t want you to feel like—”

“I’d love to catch up!”

And with that, the two of you exchanged contact information before your mother approached you. As you watched Issei walk away, you mother piped up next to you.

“He’s a good man. I regret not seeing it before.” It wasn’t exactly an apology but the effect was the same to you.

“And I regret letting him go,” you lamented.

“You still have a chance.” She replied and you met her gaze.

“I don’t. He has a girlfriend.”

“Then why did I overhear his boss trying to set him up on a date with his niece?” Your mother countered and then started to walk towards the newly arrived taxi.

“Wait, what?!”

Heeding your mother’s advice, you dressed up for your meeting with Issei. He picked you up and the first thing you noticed was the similar colored clothing the two of you wore. Laughing it off, you got into his car and made small talk about the changes in town while on route to the restaurant.

The conversation gave you the perfect excuse to admire him at ease. Issei had always been handsome but you had to admit that he’d really grown into his looks. Any lingering teenage awkwardness was gone and replaced by an air of confidence that he exuded in his speech, mannerisms, and voice. From his defined jaw to the protruding veins on his exposed forearm, you memorized each detail and replaced the memory you had of college freshman Issei with it.

Issei took you to the same restaurant you spent most of your evenings in during high school waiting tables and chatting with the volleyball team after closing time. Unlike the rest of the town, the tables, chairs, and décor remained the same and you were overcome with emotion the moment you walked in. After chatting with the owner for a bit, Issei led you to the table the boys would always take after practice to wait until you got off work.

“I can’t believe this place remained the same after all these years.” You commented after placing your orders.

“I know,” Issei replied grinning. “I can’t imagine this town without it.”

“Just sitting here brings back so many memories of us…” you trailed off when you noticed Issei’s unwavering gaze on you.

“Ah! And the boys too!” You added letting out a nervous giggle before taking a sip of your beer to cool your heated head. “How are they, by the way? I’ve seen Oikawa’s posts of Argentina but what about Iwaizumi?”

The conversation about the whereabouts of the volleyball team lasted until the food arrived. You asked about his family in between bites and Issei answered each of your questions about his siblings and parents.

After finishing your meal and ordering a second round of drinks the conversation switched over to work with Issei eager to find out what you did.

“Financing! Can you believe it?” You laughed. “Specifically, in the mortgage department.”

“Seriously?” Issei chuckled. “Whatever happened to being a novelist?”

“Life happened.” You answered and raised your glass in a mock toast.

“Ah, trust me. I completely understand.” He clinked his glass against yours and the two of you laughed before taking a sip.

After finishing your second beer, the warmth in your cheeks and your animated speech were all clear signs you were buzzed. It wasn’t until you asked the question on your mind since you’d seen that picture that you realized just how buzzed you actually were.

“So…are you seeing anyone?” Your eyes were lowered, but when Issei didn’t respond you looked up.

Issei’s eyes were darker than they’d been. The intensity of his gaze locked your eyes on his leaving you vulnerable. You were suddenly keenly aware how intensely your heart was beating and wondered if Issei could hear it.

“Why do you ask?”

His strained voice sent chills down your spine making you painfully aware of the building tension in your core. You knew what you wanted and you suspected he wanted the same thing but you needed to confirm your suspicions.

“I saw your social media account and the picture you used. The one where you’re hugging a woman…smiling…”

The more words that spilled out, the more pathetic you sounded and you eventually trailed off while averting your eyes.

“We broke up about a year ago.”

“What?!” The word slipped through your lips when your eyes snapped back to see him sheepishly running a hand through his wavy black locks.

“We wanted different things. I felt like I was holding her back so I let her go.”

“I completely understand,” echoing his words, your hand reached across the table to his. “My engagement got cancelled for similar reasons. He wanted marriage sooner than later and I wasn’t ready.”

The two of you shared a moment when, out of the blue, Issei took ahold of your hand and used his thumb to run slow circles on your palm; a gesture he’d always used to signal he wanted to be alone with you. Your breath hitched and a lazy smirk graced his face as he lifted your wrist and pressed a kiss on your pulse point.

“I-Issei,” you gasped and darted your eyes around the room to ensure no one had seen.

“Let’s get out of here. Come to my place.”

His voice was like honey to your ears and you nodded as the tension that’d been building spread to other parts of your body. With that the bill was settled and Issei drove you to his place while keeping a hand on your inner thigh that would occasionally drift and tease your clit.

By the time the two of you made it inside his home, Issei’s tongue had tasted every part of your mouth while his lips left yours swollen. Flushed and whimpering, Issei planted wet butterfly kisses down your jaw until he reached that spot on your neck that elicited a moan from your parted lips.

Issei groaned before sucking on that spot and you to pulled him closer by tugging on his hair—a move you knew drove him crazy.

“Fuck,” his warm breath fanned on your neck. “Fuck—not here.”

He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pulled his lips into another wet kiss that had him groaning into your mouth as his erection pressed against your soaked panties. He set you down on his bed and broke the kiss that left the two of you panting.

His hungry gaze traveled all over your body. Your dress was hiked up and he could make out the darkened material of your panties—the proof of your arousal. With a groan his stripped out of his shirt letting you take in his broad chest that you ached to touch. Grinning from your cute reaction he pressed a kiss to your forehead before snaking his arm behind your waist and laying you down on this middle of his bed. You reached for his clothed erection but Issei gripped your hand and placed it over your head.

“Not yet, pretty girl. Let me spoil you today.”

Issei’s skilled hands worked on your dress and slipped it off you followed by your bra and panties. His eyes raked over your body taking in the flushed skin, erect nipples, and trembling legs.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and leaned over to lick and suck on your sensitive peaks. Each flick against a nipple had you gasping. Each bite had you arching your back. The longer he teased, the more desperate your need to be touched and filled became until you took his hand and placed it between your legs.

“T-touch, me Issei, p-please...”

“That’s my needy girl,” he cooed and pressed one last kiss to your chest before settling between your legs and admiring the way your dribbling cunt clenched around nothing. “Such a pretty cunt.”

He flattened his tongue on your throbbing clit sending shocks of pleasure up your body. Issei’s mouth that alternated between sucking and biting down on your clit had you in tears from the immense pleasure and you lost count of how many times you came on his face. When his tongue delved into your aching cunt, you rutted against his face to push his tongue in deeper.

“Nghhh—Isseiiiii! Need y’now, please!”

Issei’s head rose from between you legs and just sight of his face covered in your arousal had your cunt pulsing again.

“What was that baby?” He teased and licked the translucent substance off his lips. His hands began to work on his pants and your eyes greedily took in his tented underwear. “Is this what you want, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes! Need it!”

It’d been so long since you’d been with a guy let alone one of Issei’s size. In fact, you were certain Issei was the biggest you’d ever had. That being said, the sight of his erect cock had you whimpering from both apprehension and desire.

Issei, always so attentive, noticed your reaction and settled himself on top before pressing a sweet kiss on your lips and assuring you he’d be gentle. You nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck while he rubbed his cock between your folds and against your clit in the way he’d always done before filling you.

Once your slick coated his cock, he lined himself at your entrance and slowly sheathed himself into you. The stretch was still painful even with the prep but as soon as he was halfway in, your walls relaxed and pain turned into pleasure. After bottoming out, Issei waited for your cunt to relax around him before he started moving.

With each thrust, Issei hit that spot near your cervix that built up your release time and time again. Every time your walls fluttered and your cum coated his cock, your nails raked over his back and Issei’s groans filled your ears until he too found his release. The two of you were insatiable and continued your lovemaking until the early hours of the morning.

In the end, you stayed the night and woke up mid-day with your head against Issei’s chest and his arms wrapped around you. Listening to his steady heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of his chest convinced you of the thought you’d mulled over since your father’s funeral.

You wouldn’t return to Yokohama.

268 notes · View notes

nessinborderland · 4 years ago

Text

Enemies With Benefits

Pairing: Niragi x Chishiya

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1770

Summary: Niragi has been wanting to do this for quite some time. Not that he would ever admit it, of course. Lucky for him, Chishiya wants him too.

Warnings: sex, anal sex, rough sex, alcohol

Notes: Inhra on AO3 asked: Hmm it can either be a thing where hatter decides the executives should get along better so he throws a vip party and chishiya and niragi get super high/drunk so they end up hooking up. (Bonus points if they play something like truth or dare). Or they get a fuck or die type of game. OR something much simpler where niragi just barges into chishiyas room, gun in hand and jumps on him. It doesn't have to be dub con, chishiya can be like oh you just had to ask djdjdj And bottom chishiya please. (Also bonus points if niragi is pierced down there and chishiya loves it)

“Your hair looks crusty as fuck, you know that?” Niragi shouts over the loud music, taking his fifth shot of vodka. Or at least he thinks it’s the fifth; after some time he kind of lost count. Not that he cares; he only agreed to come to this shitty party because Aguni told him so. He might as well just get drunk. He will regret it in the morning, but fuck that. “So fucking dry…is it even your hair?” He chuckles, “Are you wearing a wig? Oh my god, you are, aren’t ya!”

“Fuck you!” was the response from an equally drunk Chishiya, hand around his sixth margarita. “At least I wash my hair. Yours looks like it hasn’t touched water in months.”

“It’s hair gel, you idiot!” is Niragi’s response, before taking yet another sip of alcohol. “You can’t even style yours without breaking it so shut up!”

“What?” Chishiya says, leaning in Niragi’s direction. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said- oh, fuck it,” Niragi grunts as he stands up to sit next to the other man. They’re now closer than they ever were before. It’s probably just the alcohol talking, but Niragi kinda likes it. Also, is that perfume? It smells nice. “Okay, I said- wow-” Chishiya is looking at him with those cat eyes again. Now closer than ever and inebriated, Niragi wonders if his eyes were always that pretty. “You have pretty eyes.” the words are out before he can control himself. He freezes for a moment, before deciding that he doesn’t care what the other man thinks. They’re all drunk anyway.

Then they’re kissing each other. He has no idea how that came to be, but he’s not complaining. Not when he feels those soft lips on him, kissing and nibbling his lip. He’s soon pushing his tongue inside the other man’s mouth in a rough kiss, wanting to taste him. Chishiya moans as he does it, and he feels himself starting to get hard. God, he has been waiting to do this for so goddamn long. Not that he would ever admit it, but dreams where he fucks Chishiya until the man passes out are getting more and more frequent.

Time to make those dreams a reality.

“Let’s get out of here,” Niragi says. Chishiya nods, breaking the kiss before standing up and walking away like nothing happened. Niragi stays there for a moment, watching the man walk away in mild confusion, before standing up and following him out of the room.

They walk for a few minutes through the resort’s hallways, in the direction of his room. There are a few meters between them, and Chishiya leads the way like he knows exactly where he sleeps. The wait only makes Niragi more excited, head full of images from his sex dreams. He doesn’t even feel drunk anymore; not from alcohol, at least.

They finally get to their destination, and his hands are on Chishiya before they can even get totally inside the room. They make out against the room’s door for a few minutes, just feeling each other’s bodies. Niragi can’t keep his hands from wandering under the man’s jacket, nails grazing the soft skin right over his shorts. Chishiya is not shy in touching him either, hands curled in his hair as he grinds himself on Niragi’s thigh. Fuck, it feels good. If he knew that the annoying blond freak made him feel like this, he would’ve made a move on him sooner.

“Get on the bed,” he orders him with a lick to his neck. Chishiya moans before obeying, walking to the bed while pulling him by his shirt’s color. Niragi lets himself be guided, hands on his hips and mouth on his earlobe. Fuck, he does smell good. He pushes Chishiya onto the bed when they’re finally close enough, his chest to the man’s back. He immediately latches his lips back on his neck, filling him with hickeys.

Chishiya keeps moaning under him, saying his name from time to time. He never liked hearing him talk more. He unbuckles his pants in a swift movement, finally taking out his hard and sensitive cock. It twitches when he notices Chishiya looking at him over his shoulder, a smirk on his lips as he stares.

Niragi really, really wants to fuck him.

“Of course you have a piercing even there,” Chishiya says after a beat, those eyes staring right into his soul. “So, are you going to fuck me or not?” Oh, he’s going to fuck him, alright.

“Strip.” is all Niragi says before sitting on his bed, dick in his hand as he lightly strokes it. He watches as the man takes his clothes off one by one, agonizingly slow. But he allows it; Chishiya can tease him all he wants; Niragi will still be the one fucking the life out of him. He pulls the man to him when he’s done, wanting him close. He lets Chishiya strip him off his shirt, too occupied making a mess of the man’s chest. How the hell can a man have such soft skin? The feeling of him under his tongue is addicting.

“I want to ride you,” Chishiya says as he kisses his neck. “You can be dumb as fuck, but you do have a pretty cock.”

He would blush at his words if it wasn’t for the fact he was just insulted. Here he is, being annoying again. Niragi moans as Chishiya’s hand slide down to close around his shaft, thumb playing with the piercing on the tip. The man’s cock also brushes against his own, only adding to the pleasure. It makes him instantly forget about the backhanded compliment. He’s so hard it’s starting to hurt.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Niragi half-moans after another pleasurable pump of Chishiya’s soft hand. The man stops his movements to look at him, brow raised; there it is, that familiar look in his eyes. Oh no, he’s not going to let him guide this fuck session. “Do it, or I’ll just make you suck my dick and leave you with blue balls.”

“...Do it and I’ll find a way to make your life hell,” is all Chishiya says before obliging. Niragi smirks; he would like to see him try.

When he sees Chishiya like that, submissive to him, ass turned in his direction, waiting; is some different kind of high. One that makes his ego burst with pride; he’s really about to fuck the bastard that has been annoying him since he got here. He couldn’t be happier.

It takes him some time to prep him, but he finally sinks into the other man’s tight hole. It feels so good he has to control himself not to burst right there. Chishiya trembles under him, gasping as he sinks himself further in his ass. Fuck, fuck fuck, he has to move.

“Do you think you can take all of me?” he asks Chishiya with a light slap to his asscheek. The man chuckles before looking over his shoulder at Niragi, a smirk pulling on the corner of his lips.

“Please, you’re not that big,” he says.

Niragi knows he’s lying; but if that’s how he wants it, that’s how he’s going to get it. He thrusts further into him, making Chishiya gasp, jolting forward with a moan. Niragi wastes no time in starting to move at a fast pace, the obscene sounds of sex echoing in the room. It feels so warm and so tight so good. He regrets not fucking him earlier, he really does.

But he’s balls deep inside his ass right now, and that’s all that matters.

He ignores Chishiya’s cries of pleasure as he fucks him, shoving into him with as much force as he can. He wants it to hurt as much as he wants it to feel good. One of his hands has the man’s waist in a grip tight enough to leave a mark, while the other went under him to stroke his cock. He wasn’t planning on touching him like that, but he wants the control; that dominating feeling of being deep in his ass while having his dick in his hand. He owns Chishiya right now. The man is powerless under him; it’s exhilarating.

He feels Chishiya twitch in his hand, coming with a loud cry as he keeps thrusting into him. Niragi keeps fucking him through his orgasm, not even stopping when the man moans from the overload of sensations. His free hand goes to fist around his pale hair, and he’s surprised to find out that it’s actually softer than it looks. He’s coming not long after, teeth biting down on the man’s shoulder as he finishes inside him.

Niragi lets himself fall on top of Chishiya, not caring if he’s making the other man uncomfortable. He feels good against him, warm and sticky with sweat. He strangely likes it. They both regain their breaths, enjoying the rare moment of human contact.

Niragi finally pulls out after some time, making them both hiss from oversensitivity. He sits on the bed as he gets dressed, not wanting to look at Chishiya, still laying behind him. Now that it’s over and he’s no longer horny, realization starts downing on him. He really just fucked the person he considers his enemy. And he loved it. He wants to do it again.

He’s about to say something when his bedroom door opens. Last Boss stays frozen by the doorway, mouth agape and eyes wide. Their eyes lock and Niragi is sure the man is bright red under his face tattoos.

“Ahh, want to join us?” Chishiya asks in a seductive tone. Last Boss’ eyes get comically wider before he closes his mouth, closing the door with a bang. Niragi glances behind him to see the man laughing, shaking his head. “He’s a shy one, isn’t he?” he says before standing up with a grunt and starting to get dressed. He keeps talking before Niragi as a chance to. “You know, I didn’t think you were gay.”

“I am not.” Niragi says with a huff, “I like women.” Chishiya raises a brow, “I just have a… very particular taste in men.”

“Men like me?” Chishiya asks with a teasing smirk. Niragi wants to kiss him again.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself,” he says with an eye roll, “Now get the fuck out of my room.”

Chishiya huffs out a laugh, “We should do this again sometime.” he says over his shoulder before closing the door behind him, clearly not waiting for an answer.

Yeah, Niragi agrees, they should.

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #Niragi Suguru #chishiya shuntaro #niragi x chishiya #inhra #submission #one shot

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paigenotblank · 4 years ago

Text

On the Side of Kisses

Pairing: Harry Potter x Draco Malfoy Rating: General Note: So new fandom and first Drarry fic. Also, the first writing I've been able to do in nearly a year. The pandemic was not kind to my muse. I did want to thank @gallifrey1sburning who posted something last year that I clicked on just for the hell of it and it dragged me into a ship that I didn't even realize existed prior and hasn't let me go yet. I have been enjoying reading all the Drarry and hope to contribute at least a little more.

Read on AO3

---

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Draco felt his belly swoop and his heart race, as it had each time he’d heard the childish chant this afternoon.

For the last few weeks, since Teddy had been invited to be the ring bearer at the Granger-Weasley wedding, he would yell out at random times for whomever was in the room to kiss his cheek. Normally it wasn’t an issue. Draco loved his little cousin, he’d adored getting to know him after Narcissa and Andromeda had reconciled after the war, and had no qualms about showing him affection. But today Teddy’s godfather had joined them for lunch.

Harry Potter.

Harry Potter - the Boy Who Lived; the boy Draco had been obsessed with since he was 11; the boy he’d secretly loved since he was 13; the boy who’d grown into the man that made Draco wish he were anyone other than Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius, former Death Eater, and persona non grata in Wizarding Britain.

His relationship with Potter was long and complicated. The years during which Draco had tormented and pitted himself against the Chosen One yawned in what should have been an unbridgeable chasm. Would have been if it were Draco who’d been the one maligned. But no, Potter - stupid, kind, too good for this world - the ridiculous Gryffyndor had decided to testify on behalf of Draco and his family. It left Draco unsteady. Unsure. Off-balance.

It left Draco to hope.

Hope was dangerous for a person like Draco. It made him think that one day he could escape the misdeeds of his youth and have not only contentment - contentment with his potions apprenticeship and with the friends that still spoke to him - but maybe more. That maybe one day he’d be able to find love and forgiveness and acceptance. Because if Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, could find it in him to return Draco’s wand and with it extend his hand in...if not quite friendship, then the first tendrils of, and maybe there was hope for Draco yet.

Hope.

When Teddy just this morning had stopped asking only the person nearest to him for kisses and instead insisted that he had two cheeks and thus two people could kiss him at the same time, well that had continuously brought Potter a little too close for Draco’s comfort. Draco didn’t need to know just how good Potter smelled - woodsy like midnight escapades through the forbidden forest, fresh like the wind that races across the Scottish Highlands, a hint of leather reminiscent of snitches and simpler times. He could have died happy in his bed without knowing exactly what he was missing, because extended olive branch or not, Draco wasn’t foolish enough to think he had a chance with Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor...three years running.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Cousin Draco, Uncle Harry, you hafta kiss me!”

With a wink at Teddy and a grin tugging at his lips, Harry dutifully dipped his head toward the bouncing three and half year old.

Teddy whined, “Cousin Draco!”

Draco held his breath, as he’d been wont to do anytime he’d come within sniffing distance of Potter, and leaned in on the other side of young Edward.

“One! Two! Three! Kiss!”

Closing his eyes, Draco pressed forward in resignation.

Expecting the baby soft skin of his cousin, but finding instead the firm lips of a man, Draco couldn’t help his gasp. Harry, never one to squander an opportunity, deepened the kiss.

Fire raced through Draco blood and his mind exploded in pure bliss.

He’d never let himself dare to imagine what it might be like to partake in such a moment with his longtime crush, but even if he had it would never have compared to the reality of it. Harry’s fingers brushing through the hairs at Draco’s nape while his thumb softly caressed his jaw. The swirl of Harry’s tongue as it sought out his own. The moan of satisfaction from Harry as Draco kissed back.

High pitched giggling brought them out of the daze of pleasure they’d been wrapped in.

At Harry’s crooked grin, Draco blushed hotly.

Teddy scampered across the room looking for his next distraction.

“I…I-”

Harry trailed his fingers down Draco’s neck. “Thank Merlin that worked. Was afraid you might hex me.”

“What? Why would I...”

“I got the idea at Ron and Hermoine’s wedding after explaining to Teddy why they would kiss when people clinked their glasses.”

“When they...what?”

“It’s a muggle thing. Not important. Anyway, Teddy and I came up with this plan to get you to kiss me.”

“You planned this?”

Harry lowered his gaze and nodded.

“You...you wanted to kiss me?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry’s snort. “I’ve only been dropping hints that I was interested for the last six months or so.”

“Six months! But-“

“I’ve got to say, you’re a bit thick for a Slytherin,” Harry teased.

Draco’s eyes flashed. “Thick! Me? I’ve wanted you to kiss me since 4th year, maybe even 3rd year, so believe me, Potter, if there were any so-called hints to be found, I surely would have-”

Harry pulled Draco in and stopped his tirade with a hard, fast kiss. It was a technique Harry would employ for years and years and years to come, because although Draco was a changed man, he was still Draco Malfoy.

#drarry #drarry fic #harry potter #draco malfoy #teddy lupin #harry potter x draco malfoy #harry x draco #draco malfoy x harry potter #draco x harry #fluff #first kiss #idiots in love #my fic

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

Text

Protect You

August Walker x Reader

Summary: You discover August is working with Lane and it crushes your heart, but he’s not about to let you go any time soon. He’ll do what he must to prove that you are more important to him than what he wanted before he had you.

Warnings/Notes: Fluff, some smut, cursing, maybe slight angst if you squint (like super hard), Sort of breeding kink (kinda hard to say (it’s like one sentence)).

The details of this story, with Lane and August and their plan/how their relationship worked, are not 100% accurate. There are slight changes, but I just did it for the sake of plot. And dear lord, there are questionable writing choices, but after writing and rewriting this idk how many times, I can’t tell what’s good and what isn’t. So, sorry in advance :’]

Words: 4k…Way too many (my bad).

You ran as fast as you could through streets and back alleys, your steps disturbing the settled water puddles on the cobblestone. Escaping where August had tied you up proved to be much simpler than you were sure he imagined, and he unintentionally gave you enough of a hint to know exactly where he was going.

God, you felt so stupid. He deceived you, fooled you, bound your wrists around a bedpost and gagged you, leaving you behind like trash while he went after your friends; your team.

You shoved through the side door of a parking garage and sped down the stairs. You paused before the last door that opened to the basement floor, inhaled deeply then peeked through the small window. Your vision went red at the sight of your team, their hands raised and weapons scattered at their feet.

“Take them--” August began, his voice devoid of all emotion as you ran in.

“Stop!” You shouted, only slowing your pace once your body was a small barrier between your friends and the crowd of armed men with August at their side. One of many masked men in vests immediately turned his gun your way, ready to pierce a bullet through your heart without a thought, but you didn’t care, your heart was already broken anyway.

“No!” August snapped, his face twisting at the sight of you. He was instantly pissed, you could see it in his body, in the way he now stood. No one else would be able to tell, but you weren’t just anyone else. You knew what every stance, every lip quirk, every flash of emotion in his eyes meant.

He looked away from you for a moment, then shook his head with a curse on his lips. “Not her.”

Masks or not, you knew the men seconds away from killing you had surprised looks plastered on their faces. “Sir?”

“Bring her,” August looked at you. “Inform Lane you have these three,” He said, and you darted your eyes to the panicked faces of Ilsa, Benji, and Luther. “And find Hunt.”

Another man grabbed you around the waist at his order. You kicked at legs and clawed at the arms around you as Benji shouted your name, his voice falling farther and farther away with every step you were dragged from them.

August walked ahead of you, not daring a look back.

“August…” You growled, ready to tear into him, but a needle was shoved into the side of your neck and your vision was quickly blurring the form of his body.

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

Your head jerked up and your eyes burst open. You tried to rub the haze from them but couldn’t.

Tied up again…wonderful. This was not something you enjoyed getting used to, at least not in this way.

As your vision cleared, you saw him sitting across from you, his shoulders hunched forward, elbows on his knees, and hands clasped as he stared at the floor. You had no idea how long you’d been out or how long he’d been watching over you, but by the look of him, he hadn’t slept much in the time since you last saw his face.

“August!” You wiggled in your chair, trying anything to loosen your binds.

August’s head shot up. He looked relieved despite the furious way you hissed his name, but his annoyingly handsome face quickly succumbed to irritation. “I told you to stay put,” He said, a certain grit to his voice. “Why couldn’t you just listen?”

“You tied me up and left me in a room so you could kill my family, you asshole. What did you expect, huh? An obedient little girl? I figured by now you’d have learned I’m far from that.”

“Y/N—”

“How could you do this to them, to…me?” Your voice broke, and god, if your hands were free you would’ve slapped yourself silly. Letting him see a crack in your rage was not a power you needed to give him.

“It’s not what you think. At least, not anymore.” August stood from his chair and crossed his arms. “I didn’t betray you. It’s just complicated and, believe me, you are the last person I wanted to get caught in the crossfire,” He said. “I wish I didn’t anymore, but I have a vital role in Lane’s plan. I don’t just get to back out because I met you. I can’t say ‘sorry, I don’t want to work with you anymore because I have a thing for the girl on the other team.’”

“That’s pathetic,” You spit out. “You’re pathetic, and your loyalty to him is disgusting.”

He hummed, seemingly unaffected by your outrage. “Loyalty is not something I have the luxury to hand out like little candies, sweetheart. It goes to whoever I benefit most from.” He paused. “I get something from Lane believing in my loyalty, but it’s not real, baby.” He leaned down and cupped your jaw. “Every last scrap of devotion I have in me truly goes to you.”

You hated the thought of you and him. You grew more nauseous with each memory you replayed in your head. They were lies. Every move you made while he infiltrated your team he’d observed with a sharp eye. Every kiss you gave him he dissected to discover exactly what to do to make you melt in his arms. The way you spoke, what it took to make you smile, what he needed to say to get you into bed; all of it he must’ve stored in the back of his mind to use against you later. It was all fake; every loving gesture he made, a complete ruse. It had to be.

“What do you mean it’s not real?”

“Lane doesn’t know how I really feel about you,” August said simply. “He thinks I’ve been manipulating you for information.”

A scoff left your throat that you couldn’t help to hold back. As far as you were concerned, he was.

“And he needs to keep believing that, because if I suddenly decide not to finish this,” He continued. “Lane will find a way to make me regret it. And I fear if he gives it too much thought, he will realize the truth; that the only way to break me is to hurt you. So, I tried to separate you from it. I tied you up and I told you to stay there!” His words grew harsher with each one that passed his lips, and by the end of his rant his frustration was more than palpable.

“And what, August, starve to death?”

“I was going to come back for you!”

“Why should I believe you?” Tugging at your ropes again, you groaned. Clearly, he tied this knot better than the last. You looked at him again. “My friends could be dead because you handed them off to Lane, so spew all the pretty words you want but nothing will change that. I may never see them again because of you. You might as well have shot them yourself!”

August was in front of you in an instant, his large hands gripping the arms of the chair you were bound to as he leaned down to look you in the eyes. You glared back at him.

“I don’t give a fuck about them! I give a fuck about you! I don’t care who dies as long as you don’t!” He yelled, scolding you like a child. Then he straightened up. He was so tall, hovering above you. “When this is over…when Lane gets his revenge on Hunt, then I’m done. I will have held up my end of the deal, and that is all he cares about. He has no interest in how I choose to spend the rest of my life, a life with you, as long as he gets what he wants. If the bombs go off and Ethan goes down, you and I can--”

‘A life with you.’ Those words made the steady pounding of your heart stumble, but you shook it off. “I won’t help you find Ethan. I won’t help you pin a massive bombing, the loss of so many lives, on him.”

“No, you won’t,” He agreed. “Because you won’t be doing anything. You are going to stay here, out of harms way, while I make sure everything else goes to plan. I killed one of Lane’s men, the one I told to bring you, so we could get away, and that is all the complication I can afford right now.”

Get away to where, you wondered and looked around. You hadn’t taken to time to process where you were, but as you scanned the room, it was not what you expected. It was something of a small apartment. One common area; A small kitchen that was really just a stove and a fridge, and a couch that pulled out into a very uncomfortable looking bed; A single window carved into the wall to your right allowed just enough light seeping through to tell the time of day. “Where are we?”

“My place…temporarily, anyway.” He mumbled. “But, Y/N, I have to go back. I have to play the part until Lane wins this.”

He’d been playing a part, alright, but you weren’t so sure who he was trying to manipulate anymore. You or Lane. Lane or you. The training in you told you it was you, it was always you. His goal, the reason he planted himself in your team, involved taking you down and you had no reason to believe otherwise. But if there was a chance he wasn’t lying, if he really wanted you to be his, you weren’t sure you’d have the willpower to turn him away no matter what horrible things he may have done. He had that unforgiving power over you, unfortunately.

“Don’t do this, August.” You said. “Lane is a villain, he—”

“I know what he is.” He shut you up.

“If you know what he is, then why would you ally yourself with him?”

He sighed. “Y/N…”

“Tell me the truth,” You pressed. “You want me to believe you? Then be honest with me. You owe me that much.”

He paced once, an agitated look marring his beautiful features. At war with himself. You’d seen that look before when you laid in bed together. Now you knew why. “You don’t understand what I’ve been through, and one day I will explain it to you, but I was angry, and working with Lane presented me an opportunity to change things in my own way. To create a better world.”

“Then why give it up? Why bother dropping that fucked up dream of yours? What, have you suddenly seen the error of your ways, August?”

August’s eyes softened as he took a breath. He studied your face in a way that made the last ounce of your tenacity shred to bits. “I’m giving it up because if I don’t, you won’t want me anymore, and I can’t have that.”

“If you still plan to help Lane then it doesn’t make a difference…and I don’t want you.” You lied. Two big, fat liars. Perfect for one another.

“You did a couple days ago.”

Yes…a couple days ago you were kissing him in the early morning before joining the team, musing over the idea of that life together. The idea of being with him, being happy, you craved like nothing else before. He made promises he said he intended to keep. ‘No matter what happens,’ He’d said. ‘One day, you and I will have everything we want.’

He continued. “Y/N, you are all that I care for. I’d give up anything you asked me to. But I’ll also do whatever I have to in order to get us a chance to be together. If that means working with Lane a little longer, then that is what I’ll do.”

“So, to avoid raising suspicion you just had to give my friends over to him, is that right?”

He grabbed the chair he was sitting in earlier and placed it in front of you before taking a seat. “Look, baby, I don’t care about your friends or if Lane kills them, but I know you do, so after I put you in the car, I created a tiny diversion, an advantage over Lane’s men.”

He brushed a few stray hairs behind your ear. You savored that touch, brief as it was.

“Getting you away from there was my main priority, and I didn’t stick around to see the outcome, so I make no promises as to their fate. But…I wanted to do this for you.”

Your eyelids fluttered as you pushed yourself to focus more on his words than the feel of his fingers on your cheek. “So, Lane doesn’t—I mean…they could be fine?” The thought that August spared your friends, or at the very least, gave them the opportunity to escape, made your chest swell. That was the man you had fallen for.

“As long as they took advantage of my generosity, then they could be alive, yes, and might remain so if they don’t run headfirst into the war zone.”

“You know they will.”

“That is not my problem.”

“And Ethan…”

August shook his head. “I won’t give you hope when it comes to Hunt,” He said. “To get what I want with you something must be sacrificed.”

Something? Someone; Anyone, you realized. August clearly didn’t care who. “Then help us take down Lane before he kills all those people. Ethan could get him, and we could escape before Lane even realizes that you aren’t on his side any longer.”

“What?” He rose an eyebrow. If it was anyone’s idea rather than your own, you knew he would have dismissed it without a thought. Assisting Lane was the path of least resistance.

“If all you want is to be with me, for Lane to not cause us any trouble, then why does it matter who you ally with? If something must be sacrificed, why not him?”

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

Four Months Later -- Scotland

“Goddamn, baby,” August growled around your nipple in his mouth. He lightly bit down, and you yelped, the sting of it only adding to your desire.

Roughly thrusting into you once more, he pulled out and crawled off your body to stand at the base of the mattress. You whimpered at the loss of contact. Without him on top of you, your internal temperature dropped to unsafe levels.

With his arms under your thighs, he yanked you to the edge of the bed. He kneeled and placed his warm mouth on your cunt, licking and sucking until you were writhing around, clutching the sheets for dear life. God, you loved what he did to you. You loved the feel of him. You loved the way his beard scratched your inner thighs until angry red marks remained long after he left you sated.

He had grown out his facial hair; kept it neat and manageable to avoid the homeless, mountain-man look, but it was no longer close shaven like it was when you were first together. Warm water didn’t exactly make it to shabby, man-made shacks on the abandoned, cliffside beaches of Scotland, and if August didn’t have warm water, he wasn’t shaving. Without a proper hot water system, the hard and frigid ocean was your only source. You only ever bathed together; your combined body heat the one thing that saved you both from freezing to death.

You came with his name tearing from your throat. You could feel his smirk as he lapped at you two more times before kissing his way back up your body to your swollen lips. He placed his mouth on your own, forcing you to taste yourself, then slid himself in you again, thrusting deep until he filled you with his cum.

You knew you were being stupid; that choosing to have sex without protection while hiding from a man that could kill you at any moment was one of the worst choices you could make. But with each day that passed, you cared a little less. The thought of carrying August’s baby turned you both on like nothing else.

He collapsed next to you then tucked you into his side and sighed.

You looked up at him and he smiled back at you. “I fucking love you,” He said.

“I fucking love you, too,” You chuckled as August ran a hand up and down your arm.

He hugged you to him one last time, kissed the top of your head, then untangled his limbs from yours and hopped up from the bed.

You stared at his ass with a grin on your face as he strutted to the kitchen.

“What do you want for breakfast, babe? Oatmeal or…oatmeal?”

“Both,” You called back, sitting up and stretching.

You followed him to the kitchen a moment later, snickering at the small apron he’d tied around his naked waist as he started up the portable camping stove. They weren’t meant to be used indoors, and the breeze from the open windows for airflow chilled your skin.

“Don’t laugh at me, Darlin’. We can’t have sex again if my dick gets burned off.”

Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you placed a feather light kiss between his shoulder blades and said, “Well, I can always find someone else to fuck.”

August tensed on spot and spun around in your arms with a scowl. “That’s not allowed,” He growled.

“The having sex with someone else, or the mentioning of having sex with someone else?”

“Both!” He snapped but all you gave in return was an innocent grin. “Though, secluded, misty beaches are hardly tourist spots. I don’t know who you think you could find to fuck you around here.”

He suddenly made a face as if a bitter flavor coated his tongue.

Your eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong?”

“Having ‘fuck’ and ‘you’ in a sentence without the words ‘I’m going to’ in front of them just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“You’re a dork.” You slapped his chest and pulled away from him, then nudged your head toward the water starting to boil in the pot. “Now pay attention or you’ll burn the water.” You winked.

Just as August was turning back around, his secure phone on the table flashed red and began to buzz. Both sets of eyes darted to it then you looked at one another. Your breaths hung in the air. August quickly took the pot off the burner and tossed it in the sink.

“Get dressed. Get your stuff,” He said sternly, and you jumped into action as he untied the apron and hurried behind you. You both threw clothes on your bodies, then you went to grab the emergency bags from under the bed while August punched some numbers into the small gun safe. Who the fuck knew you were here? You prayed it wasn’t who you thought it was. You knew Lane hadn’t succeeded in his original plan, but that didn’t mean he had been caught. He was resourceful. Regardless, the alarm was tripped so you needed to get the fuck out of dodge. You’d only have minutes.

“Passports.”

“Got them,” You said, running into the bathroom to grab a couple things.

“The cash.”

“Yes.”

“What about—"

Your eyebrows scrunched together at his pause and you dipped your head around the corner. All of the blood drained from your face.

“Drop the gun,” Ilsa’s deep, feminine voice demanded as she held her own gun to the side of August’s head. His lips thinned but he did as she asked. A loud thump sounded through the room that matched the beat in your chest. “And do not move,” She snarled.

With a smirk, August casually put up his hands. “Don’t worry.”

“Where. Is. She?”

You rushed into the room. “Ilsa!”

She looked at you, her confusion evident, then pushed the gun harder into your boyfriend’s temple as if she thought the image of you in front of her was an illusion meant to catch her off-guard. She didn’t trust August, and you couldn’t blame her.

“Ilsa, please. Just put the gun down.”

Her eyes narrowed as they grazed you up and down. You knew she was wondering how it was that you had not a scratch on you, how you had all of your limbs still attached after months of being held captive by the man she considered an enemy.

“Benji, she’s here,” She spoke into her earpiece.

August stared at you, unconcerned despite how close he could be to death. Your fingers twitched. You wanted to run up and yank him away from Ilsa. You wanted to lock him in the bathroom, out of harms way so you could talk your friend down.

Benji came crashing through the front door not a minute later and all tension in his body visibly released at the sight of you. “Oh, thank God.”

“Guys—” Your trembling voice began.

“You’re alright.” Benji blew out a breath. “I gotta tell you, we weren’t sure we would find you there for a second. This asshole is clever,” He said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in August’s direction. “We have a chopper a couple miles south, so let’s go. Ilsa can deal with--”

“Guys! Stop.”

Ilsa’s lips parted. “Y/N…”

August chuckled at their obliviousness and you glared at him. “We should’ve moved last week,” He said.

You rolled your eyes. “They clearly aren’t Lane, August.”

“I don’t like them any better.” He crossed his arms in defiance, ignoring the gun at the ready to blow his brains out.

“Y/N!” Both Ilsa and Benji shouted at once, drawing your attention to their bugged-out eyes.

“Look,” You made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “There’s a long story and I will explain but put the gun away. You don’t need it.”

Dubiously, Ilsa lowered her weapon, and with every inch it traveled further away from your boyfriend, the easier it became to breathe.

You reached your hand out and August tried you walk your way, but Ilsa put her arm up, blocking his path. He halted though he could easily snap that arm like a twig.

“Someone needs to speak…now,” She said.

“Where are Ethan and Luther?” You asked.

“Reykjavik,” She replied. “We had two potential leads of your whereabouts.”

It had been easier to track you than you hoped. You’d just left Iceland a few weeks prior.

August looked at you smugly, but his eyes held their usual hint of love that no expression could erase. You knew what he was thinking. ‘I love you, babe, but you should’ve listened to me. If we kept moving, we could be having sex right now.’ He was right. You’d been moving every couple of weeks to throw anyone who might be tracking you off your trail. If you stayed in place, Lane had a better chance of finding you, but you were tired and you liked Scotland. August, soft as was with you, hesitantly agreed to one more week before packing your bags again.

You didn’t notice Benji’s eyes examining the two of you like a hawk honing in on his next prey until it was too late. “Holy shit,” He said, almost stumbling back. “He actually loves you.”

Your head snapped to the left. “Benji—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! He took you because he loves you! All this time, we thought this asshole was torturing you, maybe even killed you, but he took you because he wasn’t lying about being in love with you?”

You only nodded. He summed it up so eloquently there was little left for you to say.

“Oh, Ethan is going to lose it. This might actually be the thing that does him in.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Benji continued his rambling, now looking to August.

“So, was that the only part of your undercover bullshit that was real, or were you secretly planning to save the rest of us as well?”

“No, I didn’t care if you got killed. Still don’t, actually.” August retorted with a sarcastic smile. “But she does.”

“So, you weren’t with Lane or…?” “Ilsa asked.

“I was, but not since I left with Y/N.” August nudged his head in your direction.

Your friends turned to you. “You should’ve told us,” Benji said.

“I know. I’m sorry, but once we tipped you off about Lane, we had to hide. If he found out it was us before you guys could get to him, then he would’ve killed us both. We didn’t want to take that chance.”

“You tipped us off?” Ilsa’s eyebrow quirked and you could tell her mind was shuffling her thoughts.

“Yes.” August had given you all information he had on Lane and you hoped, after anonymously sending all of it to your team, they’d find a way to take him down. You considered seeing them once more and explaining everything in person, but August wanted to leave immediately and demanded there be no paper trail with your name on it.

Benji sighed. “Well, it worked.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lane is dead,” Ilsa said. “Last month.”

“What?”

Lane...

…dead?

Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

He was gone.

No one was coming after you.

You could go home, wherever you and August would decide that be. You could live the life you promised one another without a threat at any wrong turn.

August rose an eyebrow at you, and when you let out a breathy laugh of relief, he shoved his way past Ilsa.

“Come here, baby,” He whispered only for you, then pulled you to him and kissed you hard.

Benji roughly rubbed his fingers along his forehead, creating wrinkles that were sure to last. “This is so not how I thought this day was going to go.”

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

Tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @debra77 @rebelliouscat @anise-d-castle6 @projectxhappiness @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @lowkeysebby @quotemeow @notmyfault404 @jjamesbbarness @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23 @thisismysecrethappyplace @hiddles-rose @mywinterwolf @picapicapicassobaby @genius2050 @lokilvrr @sunshine-seven @missjayi @agniavateira @tumblnewby @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75

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enhypenandpaper · 4 years ago

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we never go out of style | jake sim

pairing: Jake Sim x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: descriptions of body image (jake basically checks the reader out), mentions of a diet (jake’s, not the reader’s)

word count: 1.3k

summary: in desperate need of some new clothes, you invite your best friends Jay and Jake on a shopping spree for fashion advice. the day is a success, and while you walk out of the mall with a new outfit, Jake has something new of his own that he’s not sure he can afford.

The food court was practically empty.

You and your two best friends were sitting at the cleanest table you had ever seen in a mall; the three of you had last period free, so you were able to get here before the usual mob of high schoolers who left countless straw-wrappers, used napkins, and various unidentifiable foods wherever they went.

The three of you were at the mall because your wardrobe was in desperate need of an update. It was a lot simpler when you were younger, natural growth being an automatic reminder to buy new clothes and change things up. As you got older, it was easier to just throw on the same sweatshirt you wore on your first day of eighth grade and call it a day, which is why you needed some extra motivation in the form of the two boys sitting with you.

“Thanks for coming with me today, guys, I feel like I’ve been cycling through the same three outfits for weeks now.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You playfully swatted Jay on the arm. He was the only person you would accept this kind of criticism from, him being the resident fashionista of your friend group after all, but it didn’t mean you always liked to hear what he had to say.

“Like you’re any better! At least I get dressed before my morning classes.”

“Changing into a different pair of sweatpants doesn’t count as ‘getting dressed,'” Jay shot back.

“Neither does tossing a $300 sweatshirt on and walking out the door,” Jake, who was sitting across from you, pointed out.

Jake’s comment made you laugh and even pulled a little smile out of Jay.

“Okay so no sweatshirts and no sweatpants today, that’s the only rule,” you joked, “but everything else is fair game.”

You reached for the bottle of water you had gotten with your meal. No matter how hard you twisted the cap, it wouldn’t budge, even when you pulled your sleeve down over your palm to help.

“Here,” Jake started, “let me-”

Before Jake could finish, Jay plucked the bottle from your hands and opened it with one twist. You and him were unfazed, Jay reaching for a French fry off of Jake’s tray, you taking a sip of your water.

You met Jake’s eyes, noticing his furrowed brows and parted lips; he looked confused.

“What?” You asked, putting the bottle back down on the table.

Jay was staring at him now too, eyebrows raised.

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head. “Where are we off to first?”

“Y/N! Come over here.”

You made your way over to Jay, his height making it easy to see him over the racks of clothes. You had barely stopped walking before he turned you around and started holding up shirts to your back, trying to figure out your size.

Apparently satisfied with his findings, Jay put three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a thin leather jacket in your arms before turning back around to browse the accessory stand.

“How do you even know Y/N’s jean size?” Jake asked.

Jay just shrugged but you explained, “we’ve gone shopping together before.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” Jake said, his voice small.

You frowned, why did he have the same look on his face as he did whenever he was on a diet for soccer and Heeseung ate ramen in front of him?

You were about to ask him what was wrong when Jay was back in front of you, holding various pieces of jewelry up to you and the clothes, trying to figure out what matched best.

“Jay, am I made of money or something? Slow down!”

“I’ll pay for it. Consider it an investment in walking around with better-dressed friends.”

You opened your mouth to argue but your friend had already dashed off, flagging down a store employee to get you a dressing room.

“Do you want me to hold your stuff while you try these on?” Jake offered.

You smiled at the boy, accepting.

He took your bag from around your wrist, underneath the pile of clothes, and made sure not to graze your skin with his fingers lest he start blushing in front of you.

“Can you grab my phone, too? It’s in my back pocket.”

Jake gulped but did as you asked, his fingers reaching around your waist to grab your phone before slipping it into his own pocket.

You flashed him another smile before walking over to the employee Jay had found, giving Jake a chance to breathe and find a way to bring the heat in his cheeks down before you came back out.

The two boys took a seat right in front of your dressing room. Jay immediately went to scroll through something on his phone but Jake stopped him.

“Do you guys, like, do this often?”

The question caught Jay off guard. Why did Jake care how often you two went shopping? Did he…?

Realizing what was going on here, Jay tried to comfort him.

“It’s not really a regular thing, I think they just like my honesty. You don’t have to worry.”

“Worry? I-I…Why would I be worried? I was just… oh.”

Jay moved his head to follow his friend’s gaze.

Jake’s eyes were locked on you as you stepped out of the dressing room. The sight of you was a little too much for him and he needed to remind himself to breathe.

Your shopping trips with Jay obviously paid off because the jeans he picked fit you perfectly, a little too perfectly, hugging your body and making your legs look long, the rips giving Jake a glimpse of your bare skin. The shirt you were wearing emphasized your sharp collarbones, a simple necklace laying between them and disappearing beneath your shirt. The jacket really pulled it all together, the expensive design making you stand with more confidence than usual; it was impossible to look away from you.

Jake wasn’t used to seeing you in clothes like this. Sure, he always thought you looked incredible, but Jay was known for his fashion sense for a reason. He knew exactly what to do to emphasize the parts of your body that had Jake’s jaw practically on the floor.

“How does it look?” You asked tentatively. You thought you looked good but the awestruck look on Jake’s face was making you nervous. Either he really liked the clothes or had never seen something so horrifying in his life, it was hard to tell.

Jay, however, was smirking, obviously satisfied with his work. You looked cool and confident and everything fit you nicely. The necklace he had picked was a little long for the shirt you were wearing, but he decided it was a job well done anyway.

“Great,” Jake squeaked before clearing his throat. “It looks really good.”

Relieved, you turned away from your two friends to inspect the clothes in the floor-length mirror off to the side.

Jay nudged the boy next to him with his elbow.

“Dude, you’re staring.”

Jake snapped out of it and looked down at his shoes to hide the blush that was apparently going nowhere.

Jay had to keep himself from laughing at his friend, he had never seen Jake so flustered before.

After changing back into your original clothes you walked out to join your friends, all of Jay’s findings in your hands.

“Does it all fit?”

“Yeah, that one top is a little low-cut but-”

“Perfect! I’ll go take care of it,” Jay decided, taking everything from you and practically dashing away, leaving you and Jake alone.

“Are you sure everything looked okay? I mean, I trust Jay, but just because an outfit looks good doesn’t mean it will look good on me, you know?”

“Y/N, you looked really good,” his hand went up to rub the back of his neck. “Well, you always do, but especially in that outfit.”

Now it was your turn to blush.

“Honestly, you even looked kind of intimidating in that jacket.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “Are you saying you’re afraid of me, Sim?” You joked.

Jake just laughed at your words, not sure how to explain that while he wasn’t afraid of you, the feelings he had for you were definitely a little terrifying.

A/N: This is obviously a lot shorter than “join me in the sky” but I hope you guys still enjoy it! I feel like Jake would get really shy around his crush lol and when this idea popped into my head I knew it was the perfect opportunity to write about blushy Jake!

#jake sim #enhypen jake #enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #jake #sim jake #sim jaeyun #jake fanfiction #jake scenarios #jake fluff

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amesstm · 4 years ago

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Reasons and Days

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Summary: If you two only told each other how you really felt.

WC: 2.1K

Warnings: angst, miscommunication because I am evil

A/N: I listened to so many sad love songs because I am depresso so hopefully I was fully inspired for this one.

Frankly, you should’ve been studying, relaxing, sleeping – anything else. In fact, that essay due at the end of the week was begging to be looked at but you couldn’t focus on it at the moment. Not when Miya Atsumu consumed your every thought each second of every day.

Admittedly, you don’t remember how it came to this. You two have been friends with each other ever since middle school. You could tell him everything, but you couldn’t tell him about this: your feelings for him. At first, you tried to bury it six feet under but it bubbled to the surface. How could anyone say no to his smile?

Then, you realized it wasn’t something you could easily get rid of. You’ve tried to expel your feelings several times now. You even tried to be disgusted with how he messily ate despite having years to become accustomed to it. It didn’t work.

You still don’t know what compelled you to like him. No, scratch that. You could list every reason why. After all, you had written every single minuscule thing every day. Sometimes, you’d write down reasons in your phone so you wouldn’t forget. If you couldn’t stop liking him, you thought that you might as well justify your feelings.

Reason 1: he makes you smile. It was the simplest one, but it was the most crucial because those rapid heartbeats didn’t mean nothing to you. And when he smiles in return? Your heart would stop.

Reason 26: he gives his all to everything he’s passionate about. Surprisingly, this was lower down the list but you still jotted it down because it was essential to his personality.

Reason 41 – the most recent one: he gave me his sweater when it was cold. Even now you wore it, pulling the sleeves above your hands. The scent of his cologne was still faintly there and you smiled at it – reminded of all the hugs you two shared.

You sneezed softly and groaned before blowing your nose. Perhaps you should dress warmer like Atsumu advised. The weather was beginning to chill, and it was only December 3rd.

The letter in front of you demanded to be finished, so you obliged.

Dear Atsumu,

I know that it’s only been 41 days since I figured out I liked you – but every day you give me something new to adore. Today you gave me your sweater and I absolutely love it. Something about it is just so you? It’s even one you bought from your time at nationals. I’m so excited to watch you go to nationals again this year!

Tomorrow is another day and I get to find another thing to admire about you. I’ll wear warmer clothes like you want, even I can admit that.

Why do you do this to me?

-Y/N

Now that the small letter was complete, you finally returned your attention to the essay you had to complete.

“Good morning Y/N!” Atsumu exclaimed, jumping onto you. The sudden surprise of his body weight made you falter and almost fall over until he got off. For whatever reason this morning, he was in a joyful mood.

“Don’t be a brute, idiot,” Osamu muttered, rolling his eyes at his twin. His droopy eyes moved to you and he said, “Mornin’ Y/N.”

You smiled kindly, “Good morning to you two. What’s got ‘tsumu so excited?”

Osamu sighed and began to walk with you, ignoring Atsumu completely, “He’s going to some camp this month.”

“It’s not just any camp!” Atsumu whined. He sprinted up to meet with you and slung an arm around your shoulder. “It’s the All-Japan Youth Training Camp!”

You beamed, “That’s amazing, ‘tsumu! Do you know anyone else going?”

“Heh, do you really need to ask?” He began to smirk, probably because he spent all his time stalking each person. You shook your head and he began to laugh.

“Anyways,” Osamu cleared his throat. “Class is starting and we need to go.”

“Oh shoot, ‘samu’s right,” you jumped after looking at your watch. “Bye ‘tsumu!”

Atsumu waved you two goodbyes with a smile, but frowned when you left his view. Despite knowing you longer and being your friend first, it seemed as if you liked Osamu more. You and Osamu decided to hang out more – even without having projects to do together. The first bitter feeling occurred maybe a month ago, when you smiled at a joke Osamu made.

Around a few weeks ago, you showed up to a game of theirs. The game had been pretty hard on Osamu, so of course you would run up to him first to see if he was okay. Still, it didn’t change the fact that it hurt not having you run towards him once he was out of the locker room.

He knew he had no right to be jealous. You were your own individual. It’s not like you two were dating, either. Yet, Atsumu couldn’t explain the drops in his stomach when he saw you with Osamu. Something just seemed right about it.

Could Atsumu blame you for favoring Osamu? No. He couldn’t. Atsumu chose to be unlikeable. At the time, nothing else mattered but training for volleyball. Now, he regretted it. So many people don’t like him. Atsumu thought he had no right to be upset with you for choosing Osamu, too. Everyone always did.

“Hey ‘tsumu!” You said, running up to him just as he was about to leave his house. Huffs of dragon breath puffed into the air as you caught your breath. Your body was burning up despite the cold weather.

The blond looked surprised, especially since you were never a morning person. His widened eyes slanted into a smile. “Who are you and what have you done with Y/N?”

You rummaged into your bag, “Oh hush. I made you a care package.”

Atsumu’s eyes twinkled as if he saw a volleyball begging to be set. “Really?!”

You nodded. Procuring the package, you held it out to him. Reason 52: he gets excited over the simplest gestures of kindness. Suddenly, your cold face warmed up. Atsumu looked through the goodies, “You even got me fatty tuna?!”

You chuckled, “It wouldn’t be a care package without it.”

The setter wrapped you in a tight hug and pulled away with a grin. “Thank you so much! Is there anything I can do for you?”

Was this your chance to ask for a date? No, that only works in fanfiction. Just ask for something simple. “Please play nice at the camp.”

Knowing Atsumu, that might be harder. Should’ve gone for something even simpler.

“Have some faith in me!” Atsumu pouted, “I can be nice!”

You raised an eyebrow but shook your head. “I’ll give a survey to everyone there just to make sure.”

“Eh? Who are you? Aran-san or Kita-san?”

“Nope, just Y/N,” you replied, sticking out your tongue.

“That’s enough for me,” Atsumu murmured.

You blinked. Did you hear that right? Snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of a door slamming open, a familiar voice called out through the soft snow. “’Tsumu, mom says that you need to hurry up and catch the train!”

“Crap! You’re right!” Atsumu exclaimed. “Goodbye, Y/N!”

Then, the blond ran off, making sure not to slip on the slush. Osamu watched his twin run off in his own coat no less and sighed with a shake of his head, “Y/N, do you want to come in for hot chocolate?”

“Please?” At the thought of warmth, you shivered. “It’s really cold.”

Osamu stepped aside so you could enter the warm house. Unbeknownst to you, Atsumu was watching you enter and bit his lip.

Days passed and soon the Miya twins were off to play in the nationals. Unfortunately, you couldn’t afford the time to watch them in person. Luckily, you and Atsumu were still able to text. As expected, the Inarizaki team won their first match. But the next match was completely unpredicted. An unknown team would move onto quarterfinals instead of your school’s team.

Atsumu would be crushed.

As the buses stopped before the school, you waited impatiently to comfort Atsumu. You even prepared some mochi that he could nibble on. The sweater that clung to your body was his, showing your support for him. When Atsumu stepped out of the bus, his face still looked dark, yet determined.

“Hey, you were amazing,” you said to him, putting a hand on his arm.

“It wasn’t enough,” the perfectionist in him replied. He stalked off without you, head low as he was planning his next course of action.

You stopped in your tracks. He didn’t bother looking back.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Osamu asked, looking at you with concern.

“Reason 68: he never gives up,” you simply stated.

Osamu understood immediately. In the short time you two have grown closer, you spilled everything to him. Contrary to his brother, Osamu was an amazing listener, which you would greatly appreciate right now.

As he was about to lead you to the gym, Osamu stopped when he heard you. “Reason 1: he left me behind.”

That was the start of the reasons why you shouldn’t like Atsumu. The blond slowly distanced himself from you – from everyone, really. The Sunday nights spent getting ice cream were replaced with him overworking himself, trying so hard to make up for his faults. He didn’t wait for you to meet him outside of your classroom, either. Instead, he ran towards the gym to practice more sets.

During this time, Osamu and you grew ever closer. For Atsumu, this was the hint that you wouldn’t stay to support him. The time you two spent together were slowly filled with Osamu’s presence. Now, he was cooking onigiri for you to try every Sunday night. Now, he was the one walking you to your locker after classes.

Atsumu could only watch from afar, from the insides of the gym unless you came to watch a practice or game. To him, this was just as inevitable as death. The feeling of you leaving him was slow, then rush all at once. Perhaps death would just be as suffocating, if he were to die of a broken heart now.

There was only so much time until you would choose Osamu over him, anyways. When he wasn’t focused on volleyball, he would try to rationalize his feelings. His heart and head were in completely different places. Atsumu cursed himself. If only he weren’t at his lowest point, then he would know how to overcome this right now. But you decided to pull away at this time.

The balled Atsumu served was crushed into the floor and bounced into the hallway. Suna huffed, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Eh?” Atsumu glared, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“In case you forgot, you would be upset with Osamu for messing up. Now you are. Why?”

“It’s none of your business,” Atsumu snapped. He sighed, “Just don’t mention Osamu right now.”

Suna blinked and left it alone. If Atsumu wanted to fight with Osamu he would, and Suna didn’t want to get in trouble with Kita. Not unless he could video tape the fight.

Spring came along, which meant that White Day was also about to be upon them. For Valentine’s Day, you decided to give something to both Osamu and Atsumu. Osamu was given an onigiri plushie and Atsumu was given a sushi plushie. They were by far the cutest objects in the twins’ shared bedroom.

Now, Atsumu just had to think of what to give you. But should he? You spent so much time with Osamu that it seemed like you forgot about him. In fact, you came to the Miya household for Osamu more than Atsumu now.

Regardless, Atsumu still bought you some red roses. The florist secured the bouquet with a shiny, golden ribbon. A sweet note was attached to it, apologizing for not giving you enough attention. Yet, you’d never get that bouquet.

The older twin saw his brother give you chocolates. No wonder the house smelled like chocolates. Osamu even sneakily asked his brother to sample them. Atsumu gripped onto the roses, his mouth wavered, and his eyes watered. A small whimper escaped his mouth. He clutched them and walked away from the couple. Once he was home, Atsumu placed the roses next to his window.

Days passed, with you and Osamu becoming closer than ever. Reasons, untold, drew you closer to the grisette and farther away from the blond. Atsumu watched his red roses wilt into a dark crimson.

#atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #miya twins #miya osamu #angst #haikyuu #atsumu angst #haikyuu suna #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you

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