#so the fact that my coworker is twisting my words around has been really upsetting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Right From Left

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3085

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo being a punk, Bucky getting a little scary, some feelings, Sam being his fantastic, amazing, caring for everyone self

A/N: Here it is! At long last! I’ve been waiting for this episode and it was…holy fuck. I barely have words. And I can’t start or else I’ll be ranting for pages. Anyways, I know this Part is a little on the shorter side - not by much, but it still is - and it doesn’t even cover half the episode, but I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep. I wanted to stop before Walker entered the picture too, because then I’m just gonna get more riled up and I’m working later. I’ll probably have another part out today, and then I’ll finish it tomorrow. Unless I can finish it today. I’ll try, but no promises.

Feel free to rant to me about the episode or the show, too, guys! My friends and I have been going back and forth about it for the past few hours. I’d love to hear your thoughts! I think that’s all for now.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

You were avoiding him.

When you first got to Latvia, he had pulled you aside, eyes wide and pleading. “Doll, listen-”

“I really don’t think right now is the time to have the discussion we’re about to have.” Shaking your head, you avoided his gaze, your stomach twisting into knots. It was too much for you to handle; you couldn’t focus on the mission at hand and try to unravel the emotions that were making your gut flip like a gymnast. There were too many thoughts in your head, and you needed a clear mind.

“But-”

“Once this is all done, and our lives aren’t in danger. Once we’re back home, then we can talk, okay? Just…please. Not here. Not now.”

And he dropped it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it. You just couldn’t. You had always been a ‘leave your baggage at the door’ type of person. Don’t mix work with personal. Not like you had much “personal” anyways when you first decided that was how it should be. And then your coworkers became family and your motto got a lot harder to follow. But you still followed it. And you would continue to follow it.

But that made you start avoiding him. Whether you meant to or not, everyone noticed, but no one said anything. Sam shot you a look when you didn’t offer to go with Bucky when he had to check something out. Zemo raised an eyebrow when he came back and, instead of immediately questioning him, you sat still on the couch, eyes glancing up briefly, before going back to playing with the strings of your hoodie.

You were paying attention to their conversation, especially when Karli Morgenthau was brought up, you just didn’t join in. Not even when Zemo mentioned the Avengers, eyeing you to see your reaction.

Honestly, you were tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Your shoulder hurt, your brain couldn’t process what the guys were talking about, and your heart couldn’t take any more hits.

It was something you’d been thinking about…you just thought it’d come after this mission.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her…or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.”

For the first time since he first walked in, your eyes met Bucky’s. “Touche.” Zemo pointed at Bucky with a pastry around his finger. “But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

But you couldn’t wait until after this mission. Not when he was so connected to it. “I think I’m gonna go home.” You blurted out before Zemo and Bucky could argue further, Bucky slumping down onto the opposite side of the couch.

The moment the words left your lips, Sam and Bucky shot up, staring at you in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. What? Now? We’re so close-”

“Why? Is it your arm? Is it hurting? You should’ve told us-”

“I’m just tired.” You cut in, shaking your head. “That’s all. I didn’t expect this to be drawn out this long when you called, Sammy.”

Bucky’s hand twitched as he hesitatingly scooted closer to you. “Doll, if this is because what happened on the jet-”

“It’s not, Buck.” You tried to give him a convincing smile, but you knew by the look in his eyes that he didn’t buy it for one second. You reached over to squeeze his hand, and when you pulled back, he held on tighter, a sigh escaping his lips as he stared down at your linked hands.

“Okay…if you wanna go home, we can get you home. Just…” His head turned back to you, a pleading pout on his features. “Just…stay. Another day. Please. You can keep avoiding me, I won’t even say another word to you if you don’t want. But stay. Just for one more day.”

Chewing on your cheek, you finally nodded slightly. “Okay. One more day.”

His eyes lit up, before his face fell again when you took your hand back and curled into the corner of the couch. “Let’s talk shop, boys.”

“Okay. So, from my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?” Sam easily changed the topic back to the situation at hand, giving you a reassuring wink when you smiled at him gratefully. “So when I was a kid, my Tee Tee passed away.”

Bucky screwed his face up in confusion, straightening his head from where he had it leaned back. “Your - your Tee Tee?”

Sam gave him a look. “Yeah. My-my Tee Tee, yeah.”

Bucky looked at him weirdly. “Who is your Tee Tee?”

The exchange made you giggle a little bit, shaking your head. “Bucky’s a city boy from the 40’s, remember, Sammy?”

“Fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “When I was a kid my aunt passed away.”

Bucky gave a slight huff, making you chuckle again. You stopped when he smiled over at you, but your grin didn’t leave your face. Even when they were the ones to give you a headache, your fellas were damn entertaining, that’s for sure.

With a sort-of plan in place - the gathering for Donya being no more than a theory, but the only idea you really had - you stretched out from your spot on the couch, twisting to crack your back. “Zemo.” The man stopped his rummaging through the cabinets and looked over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “Go put some clothes on. We’ve got work to do.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, opening his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch. “Do as the lady says, man. You’re already walking on a tightrope after you shot Nagel!” Zemo waved dismissively at Sam’s exclamation, heading into a separate room to change out of his robe. “That guy is gonna drive me up the wall.”

“Don’t let him get to that pretty head of yours, Sammy.” You hummed, standing up, wincing slightly as you stretched your sore shoulder over your head.

You could tell Bucky wanted to say something, the way he snapped forwards, hands moving down his thigh like he was leaning over to reach for you, his eyes locked on your injured joint, but, just as he said earlier, he didn’t say a word. But the part that made you upset was…you didn’t stop him. You didn’t tell him it was okay for him to talk to you. You didn’t reassure him that you weren’t purposely trying to avoid him. You simply moved over to the kitchen to get something to drink.

It hurt worse than your shoulder, but you couldn’t handle it. Not then. Not with such an important part of the mission coming up. So you didn’t say anything. You just sipped your water, switching into tactic mode as your mind ran through the scenarios of what could possibly go down in the next 24 hours before you went home.

*************************

Walking under the arch, you couldn’t help but feel saddened as Zemo told you about what the courtyard used to look like. Thanos messed the world up so much more than you realized and, as much as you hated to admit it, the Avengers did have a part in it. Not that they - you - were in the wrong, necessarily. You truly believed you did what anyone in that situation, with the skills and abilities and knowledge the team had, would do what you did. Or tried to do.

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs.” Sam stated, looking up at the upper stories of the building, before glancing at Bucky. “See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll come with you.” You said, turning on your heel to follow Sam. The back of Bucky’s gloved hand brushed against yours, and instinctually you turned your palm to link your fingers and squeezing. You let go quickly once you realized what you were doing, nearly tripping up the stairs to get to Sam, not daring to wait for Bucky’s reaction.

“You’re an idiot.” He stated simply as soon as you met him at the top of the stairs.

“Can we focus on finding Donya right now, please?” You grumbled, moving forwards cautiously, peeking around the corner. You frowned when you saw two guys at the end of the hallway, looking back at you and Sam warily.

“You need to hear what he has to say, cher.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I know I do. I know. But I can’t. Not right now. I’m just trying to get this over with first. I don’t want too many things on my plate. I might choke.” It already felt like you were drowning most nights.

He paused at your words, giving you a once over, before nodding. “Okay. I can respect that.”

“Thank you.” You told him earnestly. “Now let’s try to get something from these people.”

He nodded in agreement and you two continued forwards with your search. Room after room, people walked out before you could get anything from them, locking doors behind them. The Flag Smashers logo was everywhere, but you expected nothing less from a refugee camp that practically worshipped what they were doing.

Even when you did get a guy to talk to you, he immediately shut you down, leaving you and Sam dejected. The fact that the world had gotten so bad that these people couldn’t trust you and Sam - Avengers; people who used to be heroes and bring hope to others - it made your heart sink.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Are we wrong?”

He froze at your question, his lips pressing together. “About what, exactly?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I guess I can’t tell right from left anymore. I always assumed that the Avengers were the good guys. That the actions we’ve taken in the past were us making the world a better place, but…Sokovia and Ultron. Germany and the whole civil war thing we had going on. The entire world and Thanos. We don’t truly ever win. Do we?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you what to believe or who to believe in. But I can tell you that we’ve made a difference. Steve, Nat, Tony…they made a difference.”

“But was it a good difference? Was it a change? There’s a difference between changing the world and just making it different, Sam.”

He blinked at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And I don’t have that answer for you either. But they tried. They did what they thought was right. No matter if it was or not. And isn’t that all we can do? Try?”

His words made you think back to the conversation you had with Bucky once he learned about John Walker, which seemed so long ago. When you told him it wasn’t Sam’s fault. That he was just trying. That he did what he thought was right.

And maybe he was wrong. But he made a decision. It was his decision. To do the right thing. And right then, not for the first time, you could see exactly what Steve saw in the man in front of you.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

Sam grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders and squeezing. “And you’re an incredible person, Y/N. Let’s go see if Bucky and the Baron got anything.”

You snickered at his mocking tone towards Zemo and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

*****************************

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like it one bit. So far, Zemo kept proving you wrong. Even when it seemed like he was about to jump ship, he came back. No matter how many opportunities he had to escape, he never did. And it was making you even more suspicious.

You stayed out of Bucky and Sam’s conversation, although you had to agree with Sam’s point, especially with the conversation you just had.

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, only to be interrupted by Zemo information about the funeral this afternoon. Guess a snake will always be a snake.

“And you, uh, didn’t think this was important information?” You questioned, eyes narrowed and brow pinched.

He shrugged. “You have it now, don’t you, princess?”

Bucky growled at the nickname, leaning back on the couch, threatening Zemo with the Dora Milaje.

You can’t remember a time you’ve ever been scared of Bucky. Maybe a little threatened and intimidated by the Winter Soldier, but never scared of Bucky. And when he stood up after Zemo mentioned leverage, you didn’t expect anything from it; maybe another choke hold or something. So the glass hitting the wall, the clench in his jaw as he spoke gruffly to the Baron, for a mere second, he kind of frightened you. Maybe it was all the emotions you’d been through the past few weeks or maybe it was the adrenaline that seemed to be pulsing through your veins 24/7 nowadays. Whatever it was, it made you flinch, bolting up as Sam did.

You left the room quickly, hearing Sam say something about making a call, hoping to calm your racing heart.

“Doll?” You sat up from the bed you were laying on, legs hanging off the edge. Bucky stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his feet. “I know I said I’d leave you alone, but…”

You gave the bed a pat next to you and he gladly accepted the invitation, padding over to sit besides you. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Buck. You’re my best friend. I-I just need to take it one thing at a time right now.”

He nodded. “I get it. I wasn’t…I wasn’t coming in to talk to you about that. You said we’ll talk about it later, so we’ll talk about it later.”

“I appreciate that, Bucky.” You smiled at him, before frowning. “What did you wanna talk about then? Are you okay?”

“Did I…did I scare you?”

You blinked at his question, tilting your head. “What?”

Jerking his head to the doorway he explained, “just then. With Zemo. Your heart spiked.”

“No.” You answered immediately. You would never ever admit that he kind of did scare you. It was just for a second and you knew how his brain worked; he’d beat himself up over it, go over his actions for hours instead of getting the rest he so desperately needs and deserves. He didn’t need that on his conscience right now. “I wasn’t - I just…you startled me. I wasn’t expecting that reaction-”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.” He spat out, glaring at his hands in his lap. “And then the smug bastard thought he was gonna get away with holding back information like that and I just…I dunno.”

His hand came off his thigh, but he hesitated. Before he could put it down again, you slipped your hand under his, linking your fingers, running your thumb in circles against his palm. “Don’t let him get to you, Buck. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

A sigh left his lips and he nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just…hard. After everything he put me through - put us through - I…I just hate that he’s really our only option.”

You frowned, shifting on the bed to face him, one leg bending beneath you while the other still hung over. “Why are you so obsessed with catching these guys?”

“I wanna do something right.” He murmured, playing with your fingers. “I’ve done so much wrong…I just wanna do something right. And I feel...responsible for it, I guess. In a way. It’s Super Soldier Serum. I thought I was the only one after Steve…” He froze at the blonde’s mention, giving you a side-eyed glance. You nudged him, silently telling him to continue, that it was okay to talk about him. “And Sam’s right, you know. She’s just a kid. So…I dunno. I wanna help. I wanna do something right. And catching them would help. It’s right. Right?”

You nodded firmly. “I understand where they’re coming from. Karli’s just trying to help the world. But she’s doing it wrong. And that I know for absolute certainty. Which is good, I guess. I was talking to Sam early and I mentioned not knowing my right from my left recently. It’s good I know something, huh? And for you it should be easy telling your right from your left.” You joked, tracing the gold lines on his metal arm. “I guess you’re just gonna have to stay besides me to help me remember.”

Looking up, you found Bucky staring at you with something you recognized in his eyes, but didn’t want to name. “Three hours, forty two minutes and thirty one seconds.”

“What?”

“That’s how long I didn’t talk to you. It was too long.”

You sighed, ducking your head. “Bucky, I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry. For anything and everything I’ve ever done wrong. I won’t mention the plane or anything we’ve talked about until you bring it up first. I promise. Just…just don’t ignore me anymore? I'm not sure I can handle it for much longer.”

You nodded, watching your fingertips dance along his scruffy jaw. “I won’t.” He caught your wrist, opening his mouth, before shaking his head and closing it. “What?”

He shook his head again. “Not until you bring it up.”

“We will talk, James. I promise.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I really do. It’s okay. As long as we’re okay for right now, I can hold it in a bit longer.”

You nearly asked him what he was holding in, but you quickly shoved the question out of your mind, knowing it would take you down a conversation you couldn’t possibly have right then. “How long do you think we have?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Zemo just said that it’s this afternoon. Why?”

“I started reading The Great Gatsby on the plane. I’ve got it on my phone. It kinda reminds me of you. Do you-do you think we have time to read some? Only if you want, I mean. Like we used to do in Wakanda?”

He grinned and nodded, scooting up on the bed and flopping down into the pillows. You smiled back, following his lead. Once you were comfortable, your phone out with the chapter you were on, Bucky scooted closer, laying his head on your stomach, hugging your waist.

“Is this okay?”

Your fingers found home in his hair and you nodded when he looked up at you for an answer. “Yeah. It’s perfect, Buckaroo.”

2K notes · View notes

kaitycole · 4 years ago

Text

the countdown

Summary: There’s a countdown on your wrist, but what happens when it randomly resets?

Pairing: Daichi x Reader, Hinata x Yachi (side pair)

Warning: Fluff, I guess?

Word Count: 3578

Prompt: Soulmate AU: There is a clock countdown on your wrist to when you meet your soulmate

A/N: Part of the @celestialarchiveshq soulmate collab

Y/N

It has always annoyed you, the ticking clock on the underside of your wrist, to the point that you started wearing things to cover it. Over the years, you watched people close to you obsess over the clock, a few of your college friends had dropped out because the constant partying and searching to meet their soulmate seemed to overshadow their grades.

When you were younger the idea of the clock reaching 0:00 excited you, meeting the person who was supposed to know you best, who wouldn’t want that? But as you matured, you started to believe that soulmates don’t always mean forever, they don’t always mean romantic partners, so how could you stay excited over something that could lead to a huge disappointment? Not to mention the depressing thought of what if your soulmate was the romantic type and they weren’t attracted to you. That could happen, right?

What if they preferred long hair but you had just cut it? Or the opposite? What if you had just colored your hair a color that reminded them of an ex? That thought would put you in a tailspin. What if they had exes? Even with the soulmate system, people still found themselves attracted to other people. It made you think of that trashy MTV show where everyone has a perfect match, but there’s always one couple that finds out they aren’t matches, but they refuse to move on. What if your soulmate had someone like that?

You drop your head down onto your desk, the loud bang catches your coworker’s attention as she walks back towards you with two mugs of coffee. Not that she needs it, just like her soulmate, she’s like an endless ball of energy.

“Still upset about last weekend?”

You slowly lift your head, rubbing your forehead knowing you’ll have some embarrassing red mark. Yachi Hitoka has to be one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met, she’s always there for anyone who needs it, helps out whenever she can, and at first you were worried when you met her. You instantly became protective of her, not wanting anyone to take advantage of her kindness, but then you saw her lay down the law when it came to someone missing a deadline for one of the ad campaigns and all you could do was smile proudly.

“I just can’t believe I was this close,” you hold up your hand, using your index finger and thumb to show a small amount, “to meeting them and they just disappeared.”

* * Over the weekend, Yachi’s soulmate Hinata Shoyo came in from Osaka to visit and the three of you ended up attending the Bunkyo Plum Blossom Festival. Despite being the third wheel, you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling, watching just how well they not only complimented their similarities but their differences as well.

You glanced down at your wrist, for no particular reason and felt the wind get knocked out from your lungs. Yachi turned to ask if you had heard her before she stopped walking, backing up to be at your side.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t find the words, your mind completely blanked as you held up your wrist, showing her just how low the clock had gotten.

00:01:13

00:01:12

00:01:11

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” Yachi started to jump up and down, causing a small scene on the tightly packed sidewalk. Hinata tilted his head, waiting to be filled in as the two of you walked back towards him.

“Kinda romantic, Y/N. Meeting your soulmate at a festival.” Yachi now had her arm looped with yours, scanning the sidewalks.

“It’s never been this low before.” You said casually, but a knot started to form in your stomach. It felt as if every emotion you could imagine started to wash over you, grabbing ahold of you and making you realize just how real the situation could be.

What if they didn’t like you? What if it was a best friend type of soulmate? What if they simply brushed you off, telling you that they were going to be with someone that wasn’t their soulmate?

What if…?

Yachi hand slightly squeezed your arm, pulling you from the anxiety that had seemed into your chest, tightening with each breath. “Look at your wrist.”

00:00:20

You started to look around, wondering briefly if your soulmate had been looking around for you, eyes on the clock waiting to bump into you.

00:00:13

Your stomach dropped and you walked over to a wall, leaning against it with fear that you’d just drop if you didn’t have support. Wasn’t this supposed to be an exciting moment in your life? If so, then why did you currently feel like you were about to melt into a puddle of nerves?

00:00:09

“Are you okay?”

You glanced up, seeing two uniformed officers standing around you. Hinata quickly drug Yachi up to the brunette officer, the three seeming to be familiar with each other while raven-haired officer was waiting for your reply.

“Oh, uhm, yes.” You felt dumb, but you held up your wrist, “just a little nervous.”

00:00:07

He let out a small chuckle, “I’m sure things will be fine. My husband ran into a light post when we first met.”

Yachi waved you over, you could hear her mention your name to the other officer but your movement halted when the officers’ radios crackled, a voice requesting back-up. The two officers quickly excused themselves, a few other officers gathering around them before they left, disappearing around the corner.

When you saw a person walking towards you, you glanced down, wondering it this person could be it, but something in you cracked noticing a drastic change in the clock on your wrist.

1368:59:52

* * 1200:03:25

50 days.

That’s how long you have to wait to meet your soulmate. But would you ever meet them? You had asked around and no one else had ever heard of someone’s clock restarting, what if you didn’t actually have a soulmate? If it was just some glitch, your clock just resetting to some random time like an electronic clock after the power cuts out and then back on.

Absentmindedly, you sip on the coffee Yachi had brought you, looking out the window wondering that if it wasn’t a glitch, had your soulmate being eagerly looking for you that day too? Were they just as upset that your clocks reset? A smile twitches on the corner of your lips, maybe the whole soulmate thing wasn’t so bad after all.

* * * * Daichi

Sawamura Daichi tilts his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a yawn. Daichi is tired and stressed, all he wants is to sink into his bed and sleep. At least until his clock hit zero and his soulmate was standing in front of him.

He pulls himself up in the chair, rubbing his eyes before glancing down at the countdown that’s on his wrist. He isn’t someone that spends large amounts of time staring and obsessing over each tick of the clock, but just a few weeks ago, it seemed to have reset and that alone caught his attention.

960:12:46

40 days.

Part of Daichi wants to say the clock on his wrist doesn’t bother him, that it’s not something he thinks of often, but that’s a lie. His dedication to his job, to protecting not just his loved ones, but those around him often painted him as a strict, by the book type of guy. The guy that wouldn’t bother to think of love or soulmates, being too focused on his job, but Daichi is just another hopeless romantic.

Which is exactly why he often wonders how it will fit in with the whole soulmate aspect. Even with the ups and downs his job brought, the uncertainty that sometimes came with each day, he has never regretted his choice of profession. But while those things didn’t sway his own personal opinion, it leaves him wondering how his soulmate would feel about it. If it would be something that they’d be able to accept and understand why he went that route.

What if they couldn’t accept it? What if they asked him to change careers? What if it was the straw that broke the camel’s back and tore them apart?

What if…?

“Keep it up and you get forehead wrinkles.”

He feels a warm hand on his shoulder, turning to see his silver-haired best friend smiling at him. Sugawara sits across from Daichi, the two finally having a free day to meet and catch up.

“Keep worrying about me and your hair will go white.” “Take that back right now Daichi!” Suga rolls his eyes as the former captain starts laughing.

After ordering drinks, the conversation sways to Suga and his new group of students before it inevitably goes to Daichi and his soulmate mark. When he called the former setter, he, like everyone else, had never heard of a mark resetting, but he refused to let his best friend dwell on it. Even now, Suga places a comforting hand on Daichi’s forearm as he gives him a comforting smile.

“Maybe fate decided it wasn’t the right time.” Suga offers, he didn’t have too much room to talk. His current significant other isn’t his soulmate and yet he refuses to let it go, saying that what he has makes him happy and that’s all that should matter.

Daichi sighs, taking a sip on his drink, one of his fears sitting on the tip of his tongue. “What if I end up arresting my soulmate?” “You’d have a pretty unique meet-up story. Ow!” Suga rubs his shin, Daichi sitting there with a smirk on his face.

“That aside, it doesn’t change the fact that it reset in Tokyo and I was just there temporarily.”

“Visit on a day off.” Suga shrugs, “though you were there for a festival that attracts tons of people.”

“I hope you’re better at advice when it comes to your students.”

Suga rolls his eyes, shoulders drooping in defeat, he really was out of ideas. “When exactly did it reset?”

“Not sure, it was low before I ran into Hinata, but by the time I got back from a call it had already reset.”

“Was there anyone else around? Besides Yachi.” Daichi just shakes his head, finishing off his drink before he twists his wrist causing the ice to circle around the glass. Then it hits him, there had been someone else, but he didn’t get a good glance, his partner was talking to them. He simply shrugged it off back then, but now he wondered if maybe, just maybe they had been his soulmate.

* * * * Y/N

720:03:36

30 days

You’re dancing around your apartment, headphone in as you straighten up the throw blankets on the couch, so you didn’t hear the knocking on the door or the voice calling you until you turned and let out a scream.

You’re doubled over, panting as you struggle to catch your breath, Yachi apologizing frantically and repeatedly until you finally stand up, telling her you were just a bit startled.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The worry on her face as plain as day.

“I swear,” you flop down on the couch, “what’s up?” “Oh yeah!” She instantly perks up, “my high school is doing an alumni volleyball game and Hinata’s going to be in it. Thought you might want to join!”

“When is it?” You know this is her way of saying ‘you can’t meet your soulmate if only go to work and home’ but you were pretty confident that if you waited long enough, they could just end up moving in next door.

“Next month! It’ll be so much fun!” She pulls her hands up to her chest, putting on her best pouty face, “please Y/N.”

You want to just tell her no because who knows what you could end up doing that clashes with her plans. Plus, if you had counted correctly and your clock didn’t decide to reset again, that would be close to when you were supposed to meet your soulmate. And you had been in Tokyo when it almost hit 0, so they had to be here, right?

“Yeah, of course.” You gave her a smile as she gave you a quick hug, telling you just how excited Hinata and the rest of the crows would be, apparently, she bragged about you to all her former classmates. She excuses herself to make a call, most likely to Hinata, and you take the time to sigh, you had never cared about your soulmate before, what was so different now?

* * * * Daichi

“Did you just put in for time off?” His partner Ito teases, sitting down at his desk that’s next to Daichi’s.

“I’ve taken time off before.”

“Three years ago, doesn’t count.”

“It was—” Daichi starts to protest before he realizes that Ito’s right, the last time was just before Ito was assigned his partner and it had been for one of his sibling’s graduation.

“This much be important then.”

He shrugs, “just getting together with some old teammates from high school.”

Ito smirks, “should I call you captain to help take you back?”

“Don’t even.” Daichi shakes his head, getting up before heading to the breakroom. Maybe meeting up with old friends would help take his mind off the whole Tokyo debacle. Glancing down, he signs when he sees his countdown.

480:52:46

20 days.

* * * * Y/N

“My mom said that you are more than welcomed to stay, she has the guest room ready.” Yachi beams, bringing you the usual after lunch coffee she gets. For the last few days Yachi has been eagerly gushing about the upcoming alumni event, having the entire weekend planned out with tons of things to do.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t, if anything she’s excited to finally meet you!”

You haven’t had the courage to actually tell Yachi that you no longer wanted to go, that you would rather just stay at home instead of being the one that brings down the mood. The countdown on your wrist has all but consumed you lately and as you get closer and closer, you just want to forget about it. People lived happily without them, right? Who was fate anyways, trying to tell people who they should and shouldn’t be with. If you put in the effort, anything could work, right?

Part of you knows that’s not true, you watched someone try to date their someone who wasn’t their soulmate. They were blissfully happy and everything seemed wonderful, until one of them met their soulmate and soon their relationship had burnt out. It seemed no matter what, that bond from a soulmate just overfloods anything else.

But then again, when you watched just how much Yachi lights up when she hears from Hinata or when someone mentions him, you couldn’t help but want that too. Wanting someone who acted like they were seeing you for the first time each time they saw you, being able to just know how you felt with one look. You look down at the clock again, wondering if maybe it had reset because you didn’t have the right mindset back then. That if maybe fate somehow knew you weren’t ready yet, if it took almost having them to losing them for you to finally realize just how much a soulmate could offer you when you let your guard down.

240:26:01

10 days.

* * * * Daichi

Night patrols are something Daichi never really thought he’d find himself enjoying, but the ability to just causally drive around in silence is more welcoming that he considered it would be. Originally, his partner Ito was supposed to have patrol but he offered to pick it up since he was getting the next few days off to visit with his former classmates, he really didn’t mind the last-minute change to his schedule. Especially since he was getting nervous thinking about the game tomorrow, it wasn’t that he was worried about his skill set, but there were going to be several pro players in attendance.

It was already 8:45PM which meant he only had 15 minutes before his shift ended and he could go home, which he figured would go by slowly since most people were already in for the night. The sudden blur of speeding headlights catch his eyes and he let out a defeated sigh, of course it was too much to ask for a quiet night.

16:14:32

* * * * Y/N

Shit!

You curse yourself, you had told Yachi that you’d take the train to Miyagi, she left the day before to meet up with Hinata, but you ended up staying later at work than intended. So here you are, five hours into your drive, half asleep and irritated, you should’ve just told her no.

You hear your phone going off, no doubt it’s Yachi asking where you are, you look down briefly to grab it, not paying attention to the change in speed limits as you continue down the road. It’s not until you hear police sirens that your attention is pulled away from everything else and you just want to scream.

Luckily due to the almost empty streets, you are able to pull over with ease, the patrol car pulling in behind you shortly after. You close your eyes, hitting your forehead to the steering wheel repeatedly before you hear a car door close and brace yourself.

* * * * Daichi

He taps on the driver’s side window twice with his knuckle, waiting for it to be rolled down. A speeding ticket wouldn’t take long to write up, so his plans to be home by 9:30PM was still looking good which he was thankful for.

As the window rolls down, he catches his soul mark in the reflection and he scrunches up his face, getting an odd look from the driver of the vehicle.

00:00:02

* * * * Y/N

“This is awkward, but—” You stop, noticing where his line of sight is and you finally look down at your wrist.

00:00:00

He smirks, “I never thought I’d meet my soulmate right before issuing them a speeding ticket.”

You aren’t completely sure why, but you end up laughing to the point you end up coughing. You couldn’t believe it, your whole life wondering at what moment you’d meet your soulmate, thinking of all the different situations that could possibly set up running into them, for it to end up like this. Talk about anticlimactic.

“Speaking of soulmates, think you could let me off with a warning?” You bat your lashes at him, really hoping that the soulmate card will work.

He clicks his tongue, smile on his face, “no can do.”

You drop your jaw in disbelief, “I guess this will be one hell of a meet-cute story, huh?”

* * * * “You are so lame, Daichi.” Sugawara laughs, Nishinoya joining in on joking with their former captain.

Daichi glances over to the other side of the gym where you are, laughing with Yachi and Kiyoko and he can’t help but be smitten. He had tried for the longest time to not imagine his soulmate, not wanting to put that imaginary burden of being what he had wanted on the one he ended up with, but with you, you just smashed through any expectations he had and it had only been half a day.

You look over and see Daichi looking at you before you quickly turn your head away, getting a laugh from the former team managers. You were thrilled to have your soulmate, everything made sense, and it definitely helped that he was easy on the eyes.

“I still can’t believe he gave you a ticket!” Yachi protests, shooting Daichi a scold.

“I can.” Kiyoko smiles, “and I don’t think Y/N minds.”

Kiyoko’s right, you don’t really mind at all, because that’s part of your story with your soulmate, with Daichi. The person who had you waiting at the edge of your seat since before you could even tell time, the person that the stars had willed to be yours.

The first time you had almost met, he was in Tokyo because the festival needed more officers to help monitor things, it was just by chance that he ran into his former classmates that you happened to be with. The time you actually met, he was covering a shift that he wasn’t even supposed to be working and you were running late which was something you didn’t tend to do.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, placing a soft kiss on the side of your forehead. You let yourself melt into his side, finally understanding what was so special about soulmates, why so many people spent forever trying to find theirs.

“You know, I can talk to my boss, erase the ticket.” “No way! I’m gonna frame it!”

Daichi’s face deadpans, “what?” You nod, “oh yeah, you aren’t gonna live that one down.”

Daichi just shakes his head, letting out a deep breath, suddenly realizing you were gonna be as much trouble as Kageyama and Hinata were. But somehow, he feels himself looking forward to the adventure that was you.

#haikyuu!!#hq daichi #haikyuu sawamura daichi #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #daichi x y/n #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu soulmate au #soulmate au #hq soulmate au #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fluff #hq fanfic #post timeskip daichi #hq post timeskip #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi x reader

170 notes · View notes

joopiterjoon · 3 years ago

Text

Working Double Time

Pairing: Hoseok x reader x Seokjin

Genre: +18, PW(ith)P

Tags/Warnings: threesome, light voyeurism, sub!reader, dom!hoseok, blowjobs, eiffel tower, multiple orgasms, boys kissing

Songspo: Killshot- Magdalena Bay

Summary: You’ve been overworking yourself, so Hoseok makes an enticing proposal about how to finish off a rough week.

a/n: I’m back momentarily to post this story I finally finished for the ARMY for AAPI event by @armyadvocates. This is a commission for an anonymous donor who requested it on behalf of their ARMY friend. I hope you enjoy!

Hoseok’s in his yoga gear when you drag yourself through the front door. The flimsy tank top that hangs off his body by literal threads and the short-shorts in green. But you are so done with the day that you don’t even have the energy to appreciate his toned, long legs stretched out to the end of the mat. You drop your bag, trudge right past his cheerful greeting, and start to tug your bra out of your top before you are even in the bedroom.

The bed doesn’t even feel inviting when you flop down onto it before groaning into the pillow.

Today sucked.

Well, the week sucked.

Maybe the month?

Everything had gotten too much, and it’s your own fault. Tax season is absolute hell, and it has you wondering what life would be like if you were an “accountant” and not a real accountant everytime one of those tiktoks came through your scrolling. It seemed like no one knew what they were doing, and anyone who did was leaving you to help out the newbies. Forget the fact that you have your own work.

And to top it all off, you had struggles with what could only be considered extracurricular work because your dumbass decided to continue participating in the sorority’s chapter functions from your alma mater. And somehow, sorority drama always coincide with the worst part of tax season. And these girls seem to be as helpless as your coworkers, putting you in the middle of things.

You groan into the pillow again, kicking your feet like it could relieve some of the stress you’d put on your own shoulders.

“Wow, that’s some killer lion’s breath,” you hear from the direction of the door.

You stop fussing long enough to mumble into the comforter, “Everything sucks.”

Hoseok hums knowingly. “That bad, huh? Lots to do?”

With a groan, you roll over. He knows you too well, that you are in this situation because you keep taking on work. You give him a pitiful look, which isn’t hard since it is how you feel.

Hoseok shares the look empathetically. His chin is propped on the edge of the bed, sweaty hair a mess from bending through all his yoga positions, eyes wide and shining underneath the bangs. He looks adorable, and you feel like trash. Your clothes feel suffocating as your workload and your skin feels thick from lack of sleep and too many takeout lunches.

“The next time someone asks me to do something, tell me to say no.”

“Why me?” He asks, head tilting to the side.

“Because I always listen to you,” you continue, flopping onto your back. Your body is so heavy with exhaustion, you don’t know if you’ll be getting up for the rest of the evening.

But before you stare at the ceiling, you catch the darkening of Hoseok’s expression at your words. He sighs, and you feel the bed shift as he sits next to you. “How can you be so sexy even when you’re stressed?”

“Sure,” you scoff.

“Laid out like this, telling me to order you around,” Hoseok murmurs to himself. The back of his fingers lightly trace over your arms, down the side of your waist, to rest on your hip.

You’re exhausted, but your lips tug into a small smile. He’s got one of those teasing smiles on his face, but there’s something darker in those eyes that roam your body. You want to entertain him, but your body fights against you, refusing to give up the slight reprieve of laying in bed.

So you take his hand, close your eyes, and sigh deeply. “I know it’s six, but let’s go to bed.”

“Hmm…” When he doesn’t continue, you peak an eye open. His bottom lip juts out as he rubs his chin. “This looks like more than I can handle, mi princesa.”

You push up on your elbows, feeling your heart sink. You don’t want to worry him, too. “No, babe. It’s fine, I’m just--”

“I think,” Hoseok starts before you can finish, tapping his lips thoughtfully until you close your mouth. “I think we might need to enlist some backup.”

Your heart immediately rises along with the blush on your cheeks. “Backup?”

“Mhm,” Hoseok nods, watching your interest closely. “Think we might need to go find someone to help us take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” You whisper, feeling your mind get hazy at the thought. That’s what you need right now. You can feel it in your bones, your skin when Hoseok reaches out to stroke the back of your hand.

“What do you say I dress you up all pretty and go find something just as pretty to pair with you?”

You can’t help the giddy smile spread over your face as you nod. Hoseok’s offering to take control for the evening, and you will give it gladly. All of it.

“Really?” You ask again, feeling your senses revive again at the thought.

Hoseok nods with his lips pursed. He leans over you, planting a loud kiss on your forehead. “Yes, really. If that’s what you want. If you aren’t too exhausted.”

It sounds like he’s making fun of you, but it’s genuine. And you know this will end in a kind of exhaustion you are more than willing to deal with. An exhaustion that leaves the rest of you restored.

“Yes, please,” you say, smiling sweetly.

Hoseok smiles back, but it’s different. It’s that smile that hurts in the best way. Makes you feel a little nervous even after all these years.

“Okay, princesa,” Hoseok purrs, tracing a finger over your lips. “Then tonight, you’ll be my doll.”

“Okay,” you agree, feeling his thumb bump your upper lip.

“Ah-ah,” Hoseok tuts, but he leans in for a kiss. It’s soft, chaste, and not enough. You follow him when he pulls back, but he holds you down. “Dolls don’t talk. Dolls don’t move. They look pretty and are handled however I please.”

Your legs twist beneath him involuntarily. You go to say yes, but nod instead. Hoseok’s pleased smile has your cheeks burning.

“Tonight, I’m going to take care of you. We’re getting rid of all that stress, doll,” Hoseok lifts himself off the bed and to the closet in one motion. He continues to speak as he starts looking through the clothes. His voice is cheerful as he continues, “You will speak only when spoken to. You will only do as you are commanded. Dolls are just pretty things to be used, do you understand?”

He glances over his shoulder, and you nod again. It feels weird, like you should be upset he’s taking your voice from you, but… it’s not. It’s what you need. In a day where everyone is asking more, more, and more of you, where you are constantly being told to answer and instruct, it’s nice. You close your eyes as you hear him rifling through things, enjoying the way your lips rest together, wordless.

“Sit up,” Hoseok orders. When you open your eyes, he’s holding up one of his favorite dresses on you. He loves the way it fits your curves, how it looks like you are bursting out of it, so much of you for him to devour.

You do as you are told and reach to pull off your blouse. The click of his tongue has you pausing. “What did I say earlier?”

Your hands pause, and you glance up. He waits, and you know you need to answer. “Dolls don’t talk and…” you blush, “and they don’t move.”

“That’s right. No moving unless I tell you to. Now, are you going to follow orders while I dress you up?”

You nod, averting your eyes. There’s something oddly intimate about Hoseok taking your clothes off not to ravish you, but to reassemble you. His hands are just as soft as they pull the shirt over your head, shimmying your legs out of the pants. When his knuckles knead into the back of your shins, you can’t help the sigh that comes out.

“That’s right,” Hoseok coos. “Gotta relax these legs before I put you in some heels.”

You giggle a bit at that. Hoseok loves fashion. This isn’t the first time he’s dressed you, just not literally. Actually, he has probably approved or bought most of what’s in your closet. The perks of a boyfriend who runs a fashion blog on the side.

Your mind wanders between topics as Hoseok slips you out of your underwear, pulling one of your red lingerie sets out of the drawers to match the dress. You aren’t even hyperaware of yourself as he clasps the bra behind you, lost in thought from the opportunity to let your mind rest. It isn’t until he commands you to stand that you feel your legs shaking.

You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder, looking down. You watch as he steps your feet through the red lace, his fingers tracing your legs in a teasing touch as he pulls them up to your waist. He watches his work, and his hot breath brushes your core as he sets them in place. Finally, he looks up at you, gaze focused, as he leans forward to kiss the small bow in the middle of the waistband, teeth catching on it before he lets it pop back into place. You are embarrassed by how loud your gasp is.

“I like you like this,” Hoseok muses, standing again to grab the dress off the hook.

He turns, opening the dress for you to step into it. He turns you then, grabbing the zipper that sits above the hem of the panties. He leans in, his body almost flush to yours as he plays with the circular hook on the zipper. His lips brush your ear as he starts to zip it up. “Relaxed, pliant, that look on your phase that’s a little fucked out already.”

Your breath catches at his swear. You only heard him talk like that in the bedroom. And for a fleeting second, you wonder if you are even going to make it out of the bedroom. But the sun was setting in the window, and Hoseok was stepping back, telling you to turn around.

He hadn’t stepped too far back. As you turn, your shoulders brush his chest, and there’s not much room from where the backs of your legs hit the bed. He stares down at you, noses almost touching. His hands reach, and your eyes closed, waiting.

But his fingers simply run through your scalp, scratching lightly as he fluffs out your hair. He takes a step back, smirk on his face, as he fan it around your face. “There we go. Prettiest doll I’ve ever seen.”

You glance behind him in the mirror. And you do look great. Hoseok always knows what fits you best, truly dresses you to emphasize, well, you.

He goes to dress himself, slicking his hair back with a little bit of product. He shrugs off the tank top, and you admire the slim curve of his back as he throws a dress shirt around his shoulder. He pulls on white slacks, buttoning them as he turns his face side to side in the mirror. His undercut to deal with the summer heat draws attention to the stacked part in his hair that leaves his side profile striking. When he turns around, you are shocked by how dangerous he looks dressed in an innocent color like white.

“C’mon,” he holds his hand out, dropping your black heels in front of you. “Let’s go find us another toy.”

In the car, Hoseok keeps a loose hand resting on your thigh, right below where the dress ends. He taps the wheel happily with his other hand, occasionally throwing glances at you when you stop at the lights. It’s a quiet car ride, but you don’t feel the need to fill it. Instead, you are wondering what awaits you. The pads of Hoseok’s fingers tighten on your skin whenever he makes a turn. The city lights dance on as the sky deepens to violet.

“What do you want, princessa?” Hoseok finally asks, pulling up to a bar you all attend at celebrations. You didn’t realize at first, the fanciness of your outfits. But now you realize he’s spoiling you.

You turn to him, though, unsure what he’s asking.

“Any preferences?” Hoseok clarifies, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

“Ah,” you say, finding your voice a little foreign after over an hour of silence. “I’m good.”

Hoseok’s smile tugs at the corner. “Yes, yes you are.”

You blush at that. “Oh, no, I--”

Hoseok leans forward, the hand behind your ear clasping your neck to kiss you. It’s messy and hard, taking you off guard. But you settle into it, following the motions of Hoseok’s lips, the press of his tongue as he swallows down your moans.

When he pulls back, he smiles bright and practically sings, “Then I’m going to watch for whoever can’t take their eyes off of you.”

You nod a little breathlessly before Hoseok’s hopping out of the car, a pep in his step, and opens your door. He takes your hand to guide you out of the car, and you can’t help but be a little amused at how much he is enjoying himself.

Hoseok likes control. You’ve known it since your first date. The unknown makes him nervous. He’s practiced yoga for decades for the control and awareness of his body. His appearance is immaculate due to his interest in controlling how others see him. Even in his day job as a dance instructor, he’s in control of the flow of bodies, the beat and response. For him, it’s how he can relax.

And for you, it’s the total opposite. Control is thrust in your face all day long, and you want to recede into the confines of rules. You don’t want the weight of making the decisions, calling the shots, negotiating, organizing. You did too well at what you were told to do, which is what you liked, and ended up on the other side.

With Hoseok, you can relax. You can work off the vibe he wants to set, which is always positive. You can follow his lead, which has never guided you off course. You can trust and let go with him.

So you do so. You let your shoulders relax and be guided by Hoseok as he saunters up to the entrance of the bar lounge. You squeeze his hand once as you step inside, giving him a thankful smile when he turns a raised eyebrow in your direction. He simply smiles as bright as always, a giving a playful wink as he heads to the bar.

The lounge is subtle in its glamour. There’s low lighting and plentiful seating spaced out across an open concept. The bar is carved wood, sitting in the middle so guests can approach the tower of liquor and wines from all sides. But upon closer look, it’s obvious why Hoseok enjoys this place with his expensive tastes.

Your reflection is almost a mirror in the shined surface of the bar, always wiped down by staff in attire that barely has a crease in the sleeves despite the hours of working. The seating that’s strewn about is filled with plush, understated chairs and loveseats, sitting on plush, red carpet that always looks brand new. The room should be filled with the chatter of all the attendees who are also dressed for a good night out, but the soundproofing of the ceiling and the decorative chandeliers that should appear gaudy but somehow accent the simplicity of all that’s below keep the space feeling intimate.

You and Hoseok are much the same as he seats you at the bar. His white shirt and slacks contrast your red dress, yet he bends into your every move as he flits about you. His hand slides down your back as he chats with the bartender and laughs at his own joke. He leans over your shoulder as he grabs one of the drinks before he slides into the seat next to you, placing it in your hand.

“Drink up, you deserve it,” he says with the slight hint of a pout creasing his brow. You nod, letting the syrupy drink perk up your spirits. Without noticing, sitting down and gazing around the place had let the exhaustion from the week start to settle in. Hoseok watched as you took another sip, hand casually rounding over your thigh to keep you present with his teasing touch.

“Still feel like having fun?” He asks, then corrects, “staying home will be just as fun for me.”

You shake your head. “No, sir, I’m fine.”

Hoseok’s eyes darken at that, his lips parting at your appeal. Sir, it’s not a name you usually bring out without his instruction. But you can tell in his gaze that’s getting harder and harder to hold that he’s excited by the call.

The hand on your thigh grips a bit tighter, shifts a bit higher, and you steady the glass in your hand as he leans forward, “Keep talking like that, looking like this, and I’m going to have a hard time sharing you with anyone else.”

You shiver as his breath tickles your ear. He sits back with an impatient sigh and starts to scan the place. “Time to play.”

You try to sit a little taller, pulling your elbows back as you take another sip of your drink. Hoseok keeps his eye on you, but he continues to watch the bar. After a few minutes and ordering his own drink, he leans in again.

With a tilt of his head, he asks, “How do you feel about blonds?”

“Blonds are nice.”

“This one’s really nice,” Hoseok tries to hold back his smile. He wants to feign casual conversation with you. It makes your heart race, like the prospect could be close. You turn more towards him, but he stops you while still looking over your shoulder. “Why don’t you take a sip of your drink, princessa.”

You glance down at the ice in your glass, not quite sure what he’s getting at. You bring it slowly to your lips and close your eyes. Licking the wet droplets off your lips, you set it down.

“He liked that,” Hoseok murmurs, starting to withdraw his hand from your thigh. Then suddenly, “Oh?”

You want to turn and see this mystery man, but Hoseok continues to hold you there. You pout, close to breaking your oath of silence.

Hoseok relents, adjusting the opening of his shirt. “This may be easier than I thought. I think he likes me, too.”

You snort. Hoseok had an overwhelming cockiness when he was in a comfortable space. You could see it oozing from the proud, upturned frown on his face as he brushed off his slacks to stand.

His fingers dance across your shoulders before he whispers, “Wait right here.”

As he walks away, you finally have the chance to sneak a peak.

Oh.

Standing on the far end of the bar is the only blond. The bleached hair is striking in the low light and contrasts with his black suit. Hoseok makes his way over, so the man stares deliberately forward. He flexes his philtrum, plush lips rolling as he considers something in the tower of beverages. Even from here, you see a blush on the tips of his ears.

He knows he’s been caught staring.

Hoseok says something, and the man’s nerves vanish as he breaks into a casual smile. Hoseok’s stance stiffens, which makes your stomach flip. He is also interested.

The blond is taller, leaning back on the counter once he realizes Hoseok is there for conversation. His stance is inviting as he makes Hoseok laugh, who slaps the counter in good fun… then leaves his hand there.

It was bold. Hoseok leans on the bar, close to the man, so close that he has to hold his drink to his chest. The stranger’s broad shoulders somehow shrink against Hoseok’s prowess. The sharp edge of Hoseok’s profile parallels the other’s soft cheeks swollen with a smile.

And then, they glance your way. You startle but smile. The blond blinks, and Hoseok smiles wider. He whispers in the other’s ear. The blond’s cheeks start to match the plush carpet under your bar stool as his eyes wander down what he can see of you.

He nods.

You bite your lip from squealing, and the stranger’s eyes dart away. Hoseok’s hand moves from the bar to the man’s waist, and his body shifts into his as he leads him over to you. He’s snared by Hoseok.

He’s having trouble holding your gaze as well. You could see the slight clench in his jaw as he continues to drink in the vision of you. Hoseok guides him to stand next to you, him on the other side, leaning an elbow on the bar.

“This is Seokjin,” Hoseok introduces with a clap on his shoulder.

Seokjin nods after jumping from the touch. His dark eyes finally meet yours, and a light voice greets, “You can call me Jin. Nice to meet you.”

You nod, unsure if you are allowed to talk. The gleeful look on Hoseok’s face says no.

“I’ve explained to Jin what we are looking for,” Hoseok continues, “and he’s interested.”

That brings you here, hands in your lap, waiting for what’s next. Jin sits across from you in the arm chair, posture stiff with nerves. Still, he smiles when you catch his eye.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Hoseok calls from the kitchen. You hear the sound of ice clinking into a glass or two followed by the slush of liquid. “My favorite little doll. All dressed up.”

“She’s beautiful,” Jin agrees. His eyes don’t leave you, and you shiver at the dissociation of not being addressed.

Footsteps have you sitting impossibly straighter as Hoseok hums. “Don’t I know it.”

There’s warmth behind you, the press of his body standing directly behind you. Hoseok reaches over you to hand Jin his drink, and you inhale his scent. It mingles with the fruitier scent of Jin’s cologne as he reaches for the drink, and your legs adjust at the thought of your skin being awash with both of them.

Chilly fingers have you flinching as Hoseok tucks your hair over your shoulder. “I dressed her up just for tonight.”

Jin takes a sip, eyes flicking up to Hoseok now. “You did a good job.”

Hoseok chuckles as his hand rests on your shoulder. “Yes. But you know, there’s an art to dressing someone. Because eventually, they’ll have to be undressed…” his fingers fiddle with the strap of your dress and you squirm. “And you should see how she looks underneath.”

“I’d love to,” Jin responds with another short answer. But as you watch him take another sip, you see the shake of his hand. You can’t help but smirk. It’s Hoseok or you or both of you. Something has those pristine features on edge. You feel powerful, even as a toy.

Hoseok seems to catch what you see, patting your shoulder as he walks around the couch. You expect him to sit with you, but instead, he walks on over to Jin. He plops down on his arm rest with an arm slung around the man’s broad shoulders.

It’s an interesting juxtaposition. The slim frame of Hoseok next to Jin’s larger body. He’s practically hanging off of him, but the carefree smile shows who has the upperhand as Jin clutches his glass with both hands.

“Seokjin,” Hoseok says, the endearing smile creasing his eyes. Jin startles at his own name, glancing at Hoseok who withdraws his hand and sits as respectfully as one can when perched on the armrest. “Are you still okay with this? I can play alone.”

Jin’s eyes widen, and with his head turned, you can see his adam’s apple bob in his strong neck which flushes pink. “Ah, no, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Hoseok checks, though now he reaches to brush the back of his hand across his cheek to point out the blush. When Jin’s lashes flutter, your stomach curls in anticipation. He’s been caught under Hoseok’s easy spell.

“No, I… want to do this, too,” Jin nods, eyeing you as well. “I’d love to.”

Hoseok pats his cheek, “Good boy.”

Jin’s breath catches. Hoseok’s smile grows, hand running into his blond hair as he leans in close. “You like that? Want to be a good boy?”

His cheeks burn redder, and you know it is too soon for it to be the alcohol. “Yes.”

Hoseok chuckles, looking absolutely delighted. Wrapping his arm back around him, he leans in to smoosh their cheeks together turned toward you. And it’s a lot, to have the gaze of two beautiful men. He points toward you. “See my beautiful princessa over there?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes harden.

“I need you to be good for her tonight,” Hoseok says, voice low. “And she’s such a good girl herself, she makes it so easy.”

“I can do that,” Jin sounds breathless.

And just like that, Hoseok hops up, grabbing his drink from the coffee table. “Fantastic!”

He throws it back, letting the syrupy drink spill from the sides of his lips. Jin follows suit, trying to finish his drink quickly.

It was time to start the show.

Hoseok straightens up, cracking his neck. He takes a deep, steadying breath and orders, “Stand.”

You straighten at the command. You don’t expect Jin to do the same. Hoseok neither, if the laugh he lets out is anything to go by.

Jin blushes widely, going to sit, but Hoseok waves him over. “No, no, that was great. You are already doing so well.”

He turns to you. “Look, princessa, he’ll be so good for us.”

You smile at him, enjoying the fact that you don’t need to do more. Hoseok wraps his arm around his waist and pulls you close. “You see, Jin. She’s so obedient. Does whatever she’s told like a good little doll.”

He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “Spin for me, darling.”

Your breath shudders out as you grab the edges of your dress, placing your heels one over the other as you turn. When you make it around once, you don’t stop. He didn’t tell you to. You keep spinning, feeling both men take in your every angle. And with each rotation, you see the hunger in their gaze grow.

Stopping you as you face the kitchen, away from them, the featherlight touch of his fingers ghosts over and up your back. “Most dolls, you know, they have a string in the back.”

His finger hooks in the small zipper at the top of the dress. He tugs lightly, and it starts to descend down your back. “You pull it, and they make a sound.”

He stares down at you, eyes filled with excitement. “She’s strung so tight, and it’s our job to unravel her.”

Your knees weaken at that, especially when Hoseok pulls the zipper down a bit further, “One thread at a time. Think you can do that, big guy?”

Jin nods dumbly, hands unsure of how to busy themselves, desperate to be on you now.

But Hoseok doesn’t beckon him closer just yet.

“The sounds she makes, Jin…” Hoseok grips your chin and turns your face to him. Then, his hot breath ghosts over your neck. The wet heat of his tongue flattens along the column of your neck. Your breath catches in your throat, fingers gripping his shirt. Jin’s own hands twitch again, body leaning in towards the two of you, wetting his lips.

When Hoseok sinks his teeth in, you whine, lips parting in surprise. Jin’s do the same, entranced.

Hoseok straightens back up, looking between you two. Your cheeks burn at the pleasure, at being caught staring elsewhere, at the way Hoseok likes it.

“That’s your job, Jin,” he instructs and takes a step back. You feel cold, from the wetness on your neck to the lack of a body to hold onto. Hoseok seats himself on the closest armrest, looking between the two of you expectantly. “Pull her strings, make her moan.”

You eye Hoseok, remembering your earlier command. Only speak when spoken to. But he just nods. “It’s okay, mi princessa. Let him know if he’s doing good.”

Feeling your knees shake, you face Jin. As he steps closer, you’re surprised by just how much taller he is. You angle your gaze, not sure what to do.

But then you remember, you aren’t supposed to do anything. You are allowed and content to just stand there and await instructions. Hoseok is in control.

“Touch her, Jin,” he instructs.

“Anywhere?” He asks with a shuddering exhale.

“Awh, not even sure where to begin?” Hoseok coos from the couch, crossing his legs. You both look over at your boyfriend, pleased as can be with his two props. “Undress her.”

Jin’s cheeks darken and so do his deep, brown eyes. He swallows, and you try to do the same. Your mouth is dry, the back of your throat feeling sticky. You grip your hands tighter in the dress, nerves having you jittery.

You feel so wanted just as you are, standing here, doing as you’re told, with two men ready to ravage you.

Jin finally, finally touches you. He steps into your space, the distance gone as your red dress brushes his dress shirt, taut over his shoulders as he reaches behind you. Your eyes drift close as you inhale deep again. Something fruity.

And with the sense removed, your aware of the sound of his breathing, deliberately steady. The light scrape of his fingernails as he trails down your spine in search of the zipper. The loosening tug of the dress around your hips as the zipper dips lower, the only sound in the room.

Then Jin’s hands are tracing your arms, appreciating the soft skin and kneading just below your shoulders. Appreciating all of you that is his just for the moment. He slips his hands under the straps of your dress and takes a step back to watch it fall down your waist, a slight shimmy to get it over your hips.

“Wow,” Jin breathes.

Hoseok agrees with a pleased hum. You can imagine the smirk on his face, knowing his handiwork is being admired. It makes you stand taller, feeling beautiful in the outfit he’s chosen for you. The garter digs into your supple waist and the bra clings to your skin, and suddenly it all feels like you are wearing too much.

You want that gaze and so much more to cover your bare skin.

And Hoseok knows just as much, how you like to be smothered in affection and touch. He stands beside Jin now and leans over his shoulder to turn you towards the bedroom door. “Head on back to the bedroom, princessa.”

You take one step in front of the other, realizing your nerves are getting the better of you as you sway a bit. You want to turn back, see the look on both their faces. Are you imagining it, or do they like what they see?

That’s not an option, though. Not when you’ve been given an order. And tonight, that’s all you are. A doll that obeys every command. A plaything at their disposal.

“Look at that,” Hoseok admires, his voice still close, letting you know he’s there. “Isn’t she a sight?”

“Yes,” Jin’s short but breathy replies continue. They’re following close behind, observing the sway of your hips, the lines of your body shifting as you step into the room.

“She’s so fucking sexy,” Hoseok sighs like it’s almost too much to bear. A smile breaks over your face that you try to hold back as you reach the bed.

You turn and lower yourself to the mattress. Hoseok walks over to cup the side of your face, smiling down too gently for what is to come. His eyes still give way to the heat, the anticipation.

But he still asks, ever with your best interest in mind, “Are you ready, my pretty little doll?”

“Yes,” you startle at the sound of your own voice. You’d spent so long being quiet that it almost sounds foreign.

Hoseok’s smile broadens, his eyes creasing with delight. His palm slips to the nape of your neck, thumb brushing over the column of your throat. “Want to let Jin treat you like his favorite little play thing?”

Your eyes dart to the man still standing in the doorframe. His broad shoulder almost fill the space and block out the white light of the kitchen so the room is only filled with the warmth of your bedside lamps. His cheeks are still that light pink, but his lips are wet and parted. His gaze meets yours and the hunger sends a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” you make sure you lock eyes as you consent to the night’s activities.

Hoseok waves Jin over. He towers over you, and the smallness is almost comforting.

“On the bed,” Hoseok instructs. As you scoot up the bed, Hoseok leans against the wall between the two of you. Jin watches you scoot back, hands at his side, chests rising and falling. Hoseok, on the other hand, crosses his arms, raising a tentative eyebrow. You stretch out on the bed, enjoying the tension between the two men.

Jin gets the hint, though. Hoseok isn’t the kind to repeat an order. He’s to be obeyed.

And Jin must catch the sternness because he lowers himself to the bed, crawling over you. His knees cage you in, palms on either side as he looks down over you.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

You smile up at him, almost giggling at the cuteness.

“Can I…” his eyes wander again, tongue wetting his lips. “Can I touch you?”

You bite your lip. “Yes.”

The permission from you seems to be all he needs. Suddenly, he’s leaning back on his heels. You almost follow before you break into a moan.

Two large, warm hands cup your breasts, kneading hard. The pads of his thumbs brush through the thin, lace fabric and your body arches into his touch.

“Nice work,” Hoseok muses from his place on the wall.

Jin moves then, hands dipping behind your back. The ease with which he pulls you off the bed is shocking, feeling light in his arms. He can handle you in a way that Hoseok can’t, his build letting him easily drag you off the mattress to unclasp your bra. As soon as it falls from your shoulders, he pulls you in close. The fabric of his starched dress shirt brushes your bare nipples.

But you want more, want his bare skin against yours. He doesn’t oblige, though, but what he gives you instead is so much more.

Wide eyes hesitate before yours, hot breath brushing over your cheek, before Jin’s plush lips take your own. It’s shockingly desperate and unexpected. The entire evening, he’d been tentative and unsure, following Hoseok’s every move. But now, with you bared before him and so close, it’s as though he can’t hold back. He lays you against the bed again, body molding to yours, tongue licking at your bottom lip.

This is where you want to be. Pliant and wanted, strewn out on the mattress below a man desperate to ravish you. You moan into Jin’s open mouth, tasting the sweetness of his drink at the bar and the bitterness of Hoseok’s whiskey as his tongue lathes into your mouth. Your knee drags up involuntarily at the feeling of his cock growing harder against your thigh.

“Fuck,” Jin groans as you whine against the sensation that’s good but not good enough.

“Help her out, will you?” Hoseok’s taunting voice comes from the sidelines. Your cheeks burn, forgetting his right there watching you act of your own accord. “She’s being so fucking needy, can’t you tell?”

Jin pulls back, embarrassment etched into his brow. “Sorry.”

His hands grip your hips to roll them against him as he mouths at your neck. Jin’s hands are larger than Hoseok’s, but his touch is gentler. The tentative nerves of encountering someone new. But he explores with confidence, warm palms gliding over the sides of your body. You exhale in contentment, feeling your body give.

It spurs Jin on, leaning forward. The wet press of his lips greets the center of your chest. When you arch into it, he mouths at your supple skin.

“He’s a tease, is he?” Hoseok’s voice breaks through the lust drifting over the bed. You turn your gaze to him as he walks over. His eyes are on you as he talks to Jin. “Look at the way he touches you. Such a gentleman.”

Jin also gives a glance to Hoseok, eyes dark beneath blond fringe and cheeks flushed still. He continues on when Hoseok gives him a small nod. “Don’t worry, she likes it.”

His fingers thread through your hair, and your eyes fall closed again. It’s already overwhelming, your temple meeting Hoseok’s thigh as he sits, the scratching to your scalp, the warm press of Jin’s body over you.

Hoseok’s hand tightens suddenly. You yelp, the tingle in your scalp shocking but delicious. “She likes it all, Jin. She’ll take whatever she can get.”

“Is that so?” You shiver at the dip in Jin’s voice.

“Your body’s gorgeous,” Jin whispers into your collarbone. You squirm in the sheets at the direct attention.

“Isn’t it?” Hoseok muses, too. You open your eyes again to see him staring down at you. The mischievous tilt to his smile doesn’t match the softness in his eyes. “My favorite little play thing.”

Caught up in Hoseok’s praise, the wet mouth on your nipple takes you by surprise. Even more, Jin scissors your other nipple with a surprising harshness. At the site of your blissed out expression, the heat in Hoseok’s gaze hardens.

“Fuck her, Jin.”

You moan at the command that’s not even directed at you. Hoseok’s usually patient. He takes his time in ways that leaves you aching for more even after he finally lets you have it. The fact that he’s already demanding his cock has your legs spreading wider, ready.

“See,” Hoseok nods towards your thighs when Jin sits back on his heels. “She wants it so bad. She deserves it, too.”

Jin scoots down your body, hands fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. “God, and I’ll give it to her.”

Hoseok hums delightedly. “Hear that, princessa? He’s going to fuck you so good.”

You smile, the lightest giggle dancing behind your lips as Jin’s grip in the hem of your panties tickles the soft skin by your hips. He drags them down slow, raising your legs as he pulls them off.

When your legs are free, they fall onto one of his broad shoulders. You cross them at the heel only to realize he’s so broad, there’s no need.

He wraps an arm around your legs, kneading at your calves as he shuffles over.

“Fuck, look at the two of you,” Hoseok breathes, hand stilling in your hair.

And you do. You glance down at your bare body, where it meets and follows the curves and strong arches of Jin’s own. And then you turn your gaze upward, where your boyfriend sits beside you fully clothed. A spectator, a director.

“Do you like what you see?” Jin’s voice asks quietly.

Hoseok doesn’t respond. Instead, he reaches forward, cupping the nape of Jin’s neck, and pulls him in. It’s messy, their tongues twisting between lips and behind teeths as Jin starts to melt, the grip on your legs slipping. You feel yourself slipping, too, at the sight of your boyfriend taking and taking from him and seeing Jin give and give.

They part, and Hoseok’s cheeks have finally reddened as he settles against the headboard beside you.

Wordlessly, Jin hikes your legs a little higher on his shoulder. Then, you feel the blunt head of his cock press against your wet core. He throws his head back immediately, moaning at the feeling of how wet you are after waiting for this all night. He pushes in, slowly at first, and the stretch has you grabbing at the sheets already. You can feel the head press further, your walls alight with sensation as he bottoms at. Even the slight shuffle of his hips for a better grounding has a whine seeping between your teeth.

“God, she’s going to come soon,” Hoseok chuckles. You feel embarrassed, but you relish the way he continues to look at you both.

Jin pulls back slowly, but the hard thrust he gives you takes you off guard. You cry out, and he does it again. Your eyes roll back, the sweet sensation and the jostling of his force. The pressure from the thrusts has your clit stimulated as your body twists.

Jin’s mouthing at the heel of your foot, and it’s so surprisingly sensitive, your toes curl.

But you lose control of what sensation comes where when Hoseok reaches down to twist one of your purt nipples. Your chest recoils but your back arches, undecided in where to focus. Everything feels good, so good, and you’re thinking about nothing but bliss, but arousal and a need for release.

It’s only moments before your groaning, jaw locked, feeling the heat rise from your core and flood over you. Jin’s thrusts don’t slow, an unpredictable pattern as he feels you clench around him, and the feeling of being fucked by someone who doesn’t know your body quite as well has the heat coiling hot and spurting in long waves.

It knocks the breath out of you. Only when you regain the feeling of your breath do you hear yourself whimpering against the girth of his cock against your sensitive walls.

“Shh,” Hoseok chides, a hand on Jin’s shoulder asking him to stop. “That was so good, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nod quickly, trying to catch your breath. Then, you look at Jin to reassure him. “So good.”

“My turn?” Hoseok asks, and despite the pulsing of your core, you already find yourself aching for me. You nod quickly again.

“God, you’re so good for us,” Hoseok leans over to kiss your forehead. “Think you can handle both of us?”

You nod again, lips loose but nothing coming out. You’d take them anyway.

“Flip her over.”

Your legs drop to the bed, and Jin’s large hands grip your waist. He kisses your shoulder as he leans in to lift you up and over. Your knees hit the sheets, but Jin takes the time to align them for you, lowering you down gently.

“You handle her so well,” Hoseok says, and you can hear a kind of gratitude in his voice.

“Like you said,” Jin responds, “she deserves it.”

“True, she took your cock so well,” Hoseok says. “Fat cock like yours, probably makes all the girls cry.”

“Not this one,” Jin’s voice from behind you sounds a bit bashful.

“Not yet.”

You groan at that, Hoseok’s hand tracing down your back to let you know where he is. But he gets off the bed.

“Come here.”

You turn, not sure who he’s talking to. But you feel the bed move behind you, and then Jin is standing in front of Hoseok. They take a moment, then Jin’s unbuttoning his shirt. As he opens each button, he places a kiss on the new skin exposed. He watches Hoseok who rests his hands on his bare waist. He unbuttons his slacks, letting them fall to the floor. Then, he’s tugging down Hoseok’s boxer briefs. Once free, his curved cock bobs next to Jin’s thick, heavy cock.

“If you’re going to fuck her again, might need a little help,” Hoseok says, and you can see his wink from here. Your heart swoops as your boyfriend drops to his knees. And your stomach drops when he finds your gaze, holds it, and grips Jin’s cock. He sticks out his tongue, opening his mouth, and takes Jin as far as he can. You see the squint in his eyes as he accommodates before they roll back, enjoying the taste of another man’s cocked soaked in your juices.

Your knees shake as you watch. Jin’s, too, from the looks of it. Hoseok pulls off after only a few sucks and spits onto the end of his cock, letting it drip from his lips and smears it down his cock. He stands, placing his finger under Jin’s chin to give him a chaste kiss. “There, that’s better.”

Jin doesn’t even answer, just dumbly nods as you would. Then both men are crawling back onto the bed. You feel their hands on your body, letting them know where you are, and you’re torn between leaning into Hoseok’s hand under your chin or back into Jin’s hips.

“Fuck her good just like last time,” Hoseok’s voice comes from above. You close your eyes as Jin’s cock traces between your folds, knowing that the new wet sensation is Hoseok’s saliva. And then Hoseok’s gripping your shoulders, lifting you onto your elbows. His legs dip wide, all those years of yoga paying off.

You whine as Jin presses in again, the sensitivity overwhelming but leaving you needy.

With a finger under your chin just like he’d done with Jin, Hoseok tilts your head to his gaze, which is hard to meet when his cock brushes your cheek. “Think you can take my cock while he fucks you?”

You don’t answer. You let your tongue hang as you search for Hoseok’s cock again, turning your head at awkward angles. He swears under his breath then guides you onto his cock. Jin slows to make the alignment easier, but the movement as you shuffle on your elbows has his cock pulsing inside you.

“Damn, look at you,” Hoseok murmurs. “Taking what you need. Sucking me raw and sucking him in.”

You moan, the heady taste of Hoseok’s cock filling your senses. Then you’re reminded of the cock between your thighs, firm hands on your hips, and everything mixes together again. The last touch is Hoseok’s hand under your throat, feeling his cock brush by.

Jin thrusts again, but slower, more steady, deeper. You choke on a moan and feel drool slip from your mouth and down Hoseok’s cock.

“Good, just breathe for me, princessa” Hoseok says in a low voice, rocking his hips slowly. You don’t need to do anything but breathe. They both move, holding you steady, and you let your jaw hang open, let your knees relax as Jin holds you upright.

They rock into you, cock rubbing the back of your throat and the other brushing your gspot. And you feel it coming again. You whine, whimper, and feel your elbows start to collapse as your next orgasm rocks through you, your clit pulsing against the lack of attention, your body moving forward away from Jin’s relentless thrusts only to choke on Hoseok’s cock. It’s so much, so good.

Then Hoseok’s swearing and coming. You feel the hot stickiness spill down your throat, probably taken by surprise at your attempts to swallow down air. It’s the sweetest kind of victory, to fill his load spill into your mouth involuntarily, to know you work him over that good. You lap it up, trying to swallow, to take him deeper, but it’s too much. Not when Jin jostles you forward, and your eager mouth chokes on the lack of air. You whimper, unable to catch a breath.

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok responds when you whimper and choke. He pulls out, but that’s not what you want. You feel half empty, in need of being overtaken, of being nothing but their doll.

“Please,” you finally speak on your own, voice raspy, and Jin groans at the need in your voice. You only now notice the soothing circles he rubs into your hips.

Hoseok strokes your cheeks, pulls your hair out of your face, and directs Jin once again, “Pull her up.”

Your brain feels dizzy as warm hands wrap around your waist and pull you up right. You gasp, pressed against Jin’s chest. His skin is damp with exertion, but you smell that sweet floral scent. And as Hoseok shuffles forward to be chest to chest as well, you take in his smell as well. It mingles around you, dizzying, and you drop your head to Jin’s shoulder with a sigh.

“Yeah, feeling good, aren’t you?” Hoseok purs, grabbing Jin’s hands and repositioning them over your breasts. You moan as he takes the hint, kneading hard as he starts to thrust again. You whimper, the sensation almost too much now.

Hoseok cradles your face and wipes the tears spilling down your cheeks from deepthroating. “Can you give me one more, princessa? Cum for me one more time?”

You sob around your yes, body wracked with relief and the exhaustion starting to set into your bones in a warm, fuzzy kind of way. Hoseok kisses you as Jin picks up the pace. And the faster Jin goes, the more intense Hoseok’s kisses become. You’re pliant to his mouth, letting his tongue dip deep, moaning openly as you feel the two men take apart every part of your body.

And then, Hoseok’s mouthing at your jaw, down your neck, his hands moving lower, until his slim fingers scissor around your clit, close enough to have your hips bucking but not enough to make it sting.

And you hear moaning. You realize Hoseok’s kissing Jin over your shoulder, the other man’s thrusts becoming distracted, erratic. His grip on your breasts gets tighter, and Hoseok holds your hip to keep you in place as he rolls small circles around your clit. He’s so focused despite occupied with both of you, and you just let your head fall back, hearing the two men moan over your own gasps and whimpers, hot and sticky between them, and you cum again. It’s short, hot, and burns in the best way possible as you dig your fingers into Hoseok’s biceps for support.

Jin swears behind you, and Hoseok tells him he can come. It’s almost instant, and you feel his hips still just as your body starts to ride into overstimulation. He lowers his hands as he shivers, rubbing over your rib cage, Hoseok’s hands back on your face, wiping away more tears.

You don’t remember when you closed your eyes, but when you open them, you can’t believe how wrecked he looks. There’s a sated hunger in his hooded eyes, but his lips are red, hair mussed, chest still heaving despite coming before both of you. It’s a lot to take in, but you find your eyes falling closed again.

“Okay, come on,” Hoseok coos, and you realize he’s talking to both of you as Jin gently pulls out of you, and you fall forward onto Hoseok. He guides you down onto the bed, and Jin falls opposite you. Hoseok rolls to the bedside table, opens a bottle of water, and passes it to Jin for a sip.

Hoseok holds his hand to take the bottle back, but to both your surprise, Jin gently turns your face in his direction, holding the bottle to your lips for a drink. It’s refreshing, after the tears and the deepthroating and the exertion. And despite the crispness of the water, your chest feels warm at the endearment of the stranger. And when he tips the bottle back and hands it to Hoseok, you see the same feeling in his expression.

Hoseok settles in, throwing a leg over the both of you. Out of the scene, his easy going smile spreads across his face. “That was fun.”

You giggle, rubbing a hand over both the men’s hips as they turn into you. “Of course it was. Thanks for that.”

“Oh,” Jin starts, sleepy eyes opening.

You both look over, and he blushes. “I just… I haven’t heard your voice much and it sounds nice.”

Your face burns, but Hoseok’s laughing so hard the bed shakes. “Oh, I think he likes you!”

“I mean,” Jin blushes again, starting to sit up. “I just fucked you, so to some extent.”

“Awh, he’s being shy now, too!” Hoseok continues to giggle, but you note the awkwardness in Jin’s body language. Hoseok’s usually a good judge of social settings, but the postcoital bliss has him a little too carefree.

“I like your voice, too,” you try, but the compliment feels awkward. Jin gives an awkward smile to match, then moves to the edge of the bed.

“I guess I should, uh, go now,” he says. And it’s odd. There was a kind of excitement to his nervousness before but this feels different.

And you feel different. You and Hoseok have done this before, but this guy was… great. The best. There was something nice, from the way you watched them chat it up to how well he read your needs.

“Wait,” Hoseok says before you can. Your head whips around in mild surprise to hear it from him. Hoseok gives you a look, a question, and you nod. Always on the same wavelength, still. “I was going to order some wings. She always orders a ton but never finishes. Want to help out?”

Jin turns from where he faces away, his eyes a little too wide, a little hopeful. And something in it makes your heart twist. Hoseok’s grip on your waist tightens just a bit, too. Interest.

“You don’t have to,” Jin mumbles.

“I want to,” you chime in now. “Plus, that was way too short for cuddling. Now I’m cold.”

Jin snorts at that. Tension eases from his shoulders, and he rolls back over. Hoseok pulls him close, fussing over the both of you as he throws one of the blankets on top of your naked bodies.

And it’s new, but it feels familiar. A stranger in your bed shouldn’t feel so comfortable, but there’s something about the way Jin hums when Hoseok ruffles his hair and how he knows just where to fit his arm over the curve of your waist. It makes you want this again already.

Maybe you could. Especially when you roll over to see Hoseok’s mischievous grin back on his face. Maybe this will be something more.

Characters only borrow name and likeness from the members. Do not copy, translate, repost, or reuse this work.

#2seok x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #working double time #armyadvocatesaapi

78 notes · View notes

eunoiaflow3r · 5 years ago

Text

Slow Dance

A/N: based on the song Slow Dance by AJ Mitchell and Ava Max.

Warnings: fluff haha, there will be mistakes. fem!reader.

Requests:

Hi! Could I request Spencer Reid fluff? Spencer and the reader have hidden feelings for each other and his team manages to get him to tell the reader? Thank you :) @hahaboop

I have a request for Spencer Reid! One where the reader is the youngest member of the BAU (maybe she could be like 22, just graduated from college) and everyone is really protective of her. So, Spencer has a crush on her but doesn’t know how to tell her because all the members in the BAU are too overprotective and the rest of the building flirts with her or something like this. @always394patronus

Word Count: 2.3k

~~~~

If you stay for this minute, girl I'll never let you down...

The team had just gotten back to the BAU after a long case a few states away, and everyone except you and Spencer was out of the door. You were stressing out because yet again you were being paired with either Morgan or Hotch on every single case you’ve been given the past few months. At first you had hardly noticed, but with every passing case and every, “young one,” comment, you have grown more and more furious.

Spencer understood completely. Having been a twelve year old highschool graduate, he’s gotten his fair share of the “being young,” comments and teases. He could only imagine it was probably considerably worse for you since you were a woman, and women are commonly misconstrued, as the, “weaker gender.”

You were everything but weak though. Over the past few months, after you had joined the team, he and pretty much everyone noticed that you are incredibly smart, head-strong, honest, and ambitious. Perhaps this is why the team felt the need to protect you.

Sure, there have been plenty of new members, and new people and faces and scents, but you were different. In this case, different wasn’t terrible, it was just - unexpected. You were the youngest there, and with you being another woman added to the team, everyone kind of looked at you a little differently. It wasn’t that they doubted your profiling skills, oh no, you were, “damn good,” at your job as Morgan likes to say, and it wasn’t the fact that they thought you couldn’t handle yourself because of your age, but they were trying to make it so that the cases wouldn’t get to you.

Because of your age, they felt that after a while maybe the cases would get to be too much for you, and they wanted to prevent you from a world of confusion and hurt.

That is what hurt you the most though. Why couldn’t you just be treated like everyone else here?

And Spencer listened to anything and everything you had to say. He had become the closest thing to a best friend you could have, but sometimes it just didn’t feel like you were meant to be just friends.

Sometimes he’d catch himself staring at you a bit too long, or wanting to come up with anything he could to talk to you, or maybe even go as far as staring at your lips when you were talking, but he digressed, and tried to suppress anything he might have felt for you.

And you did as well.

All the time you had caught yourself wanting to just pull him into a hug that lasted forever, or hold his hand, and maybe even kiss him, but he was your coworker. Not only that, but on top of all the field limitations, those same limits seemed to be in office as well.

We ain't off the limit, I could hold you after now. No more talking, I don't know what you wanna do with that?

A few bold interns from a couple of floors down had tried to ask you out on a date, and maybe even a few more, but as soon as they had or even had the thought to, Morgan, Hotch, and sometimes even Garcia would give you a disapproving look, glare the guy down, or maybe even go as far as shut the guy down verbally for you.

Afterwards you’d always apologize to the guy, and you always felt bad for having to do it. Well, not really. Of course it made you upset that they never seemed to want you to live your life and actually find love, but the only one you wanted to go on dates with anyway was Spencer.

You knew your jobs, and the fact that you worked together could be a problem, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you could actually be something. Or maybe you misinterpreted the looks he gave you, and he actually doesn’t like you that way at all.

That night, Spencer had gotten home and went straight to sleep. Usually he’d dream of his mom, the cases, or maybe even some of the plain rides, but tonight's dreams seemed to have been filled with you. You were on his couch, in one of his cardigans, reading a book, eating some kind of fruit. He came in, sat next to you and handed you a cup of coffee after placing a quick kiss to your lips.

In the dream after that he had woken up, and you were snuggled in beside him. He had his arm wrapped around him, and your legs were tangled with his. The sun had barely risen, and the comforter was twisted in a weird way between the two of you, but when he actually woke up the next morning, he couldn’t help but noticed it felt so normal, and he wished it had been real.

He ran his fingers through his tangled curls, and scolded himself for those dreams. How was he going to look at you the same in a couple of hours when he almost-knew what it felt like to kiss you, and he almost-knew what it felt like to be so close to you?

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” You cringed at the nickname Rossi used towards you, but you answered him anyway.

“Nothing, just tired.”

He shook his head and laughed to himself. You gave him a ‘what?’ look.

“You’re not tired Y/N. You’re distressed.” He nods towards where Reid is sitting. “You haven’t stopped staring at him, care to talk about it?”

“Not really.” You sighed, spinning your chair around so now you were no longer even facing Reid - that way you wouldn’t be caught staring again.

“I say go for it.” You give him that ‘what?’ look again waiting for him to elaborate. “It’s obvious you two like eachother. Take it from me, don’t wait before it’s too late.”

“But the team -” You argue.

“At the end of the day, the team doesn’t matter. Just you and Spencer.”

And with that, Rossi walked away leaving you to think about what he said, and if it was even really possible for you two to be something more than friends.

It feels good, why you even wanna hold it back? We just work and I know there's no coming back.

“Awe, would you look at them!” Garcia gushed, watching you laugh at something Spencer said across the bullpen.

“Look at who?” Morgan asked clearly oblivious to the two of you.

“Spencer and Y/N.” Garcia answered pointing slightly in your direction so that Morgan could see too.

Morgan looked over and saw that you were sitting on your desk, and Spencer was standing in front of you with a cup of coffee in his hands. You were giggling like crazy, and Spencer smiled too although he wasn’t quite sure what the joke was.

“Y/N! Tell me what’s so funny! All I said was cassava!”

This only caused you to laugh even harder. There was this trick in elementary where you would ask someone a series of easy math questions very quickly, and then on the last question you’d ask them to name a vegetable. The trick was that usually the participant would say the basic vegetable, “carrots,” but no, Spencer Reid answered, “cassava.”

Once you stopped laughing, you explained it to him, and he didn’t find it as funny as you did, but nevertheless he started laughing too because your laugh seemed to be infectious. _

“I didn’t know which you liked better, so I brought both.” Spencer said, smiling behind bags of chinese food and two boxes of pizza.

“Oh my God Spencer!” you gushed, grabbing some of the bags and one of the boxes.

He closes the door behind him and puts all the food on the table.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask giving him a quick hug.

“Well, I know you’ve been a little down lately, and I just thought I’d help in any way that I could.”

You almost cried. He was so sweet to you, and you had no idea how to react. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and show him how much you appreciate him with a passionate kiss, but you knew that you probably shouldn’t.

Spencer invited you over for a movie marathon, and you’d be there any minute. He had made sure his apartment was flawless, and everything was perfect. Sure, you’ve been to his place before, but lately, things have begun to feel...different.

There was this one time at work where you two had gotten so close that he had just almost kissed you, but he had chickened out, and he had regretted that decision ever since.

When you got there, you both ended up staying up until three in the morning watching your favorite movies.

“Do you wanna go catch some lunch?” Terry from downstairs asks you.

“She likes someone else, sorry my man.” Morgan answers for you resting his arm across your shoulders.

Once the guy was gone, you turned to him with a frown.

“Someone as in who?” You ask.

“Uh uh,” he steps away. “Don’t play dumb with me Miss Lady. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to the elevator.

Once you had entered the bullpen, you noticed Penelope and Spencer in a corner - except she looked to be giving him a pep-talk of some kind. _

“Spencer I’m telling you, you NEED to make a move.” Penelope practically whines. “I am tired of seeing you two pine after one another.”

Spencer shakes his head and sighs. “We don’t know if she even - and the team. The team practically throws the guys who even look at her out of the window.”

“You’re different, you know it’s different with you.”

Spencer wasn’t so sure. He’d hate it if he were to kindle something with you, and the team was unsupportive. _

A couple of days later, Spencer had walked by your desk and noticed a bouqet of roses in your wastebasket.

“Who were those from?” He asks half curiously, half jealousy (although he’s not willing to admit that.)

“Some guy named uh- Dylan, but I uhh, I’m interested in someone else.” You looked everywhere but Spencer’s eyes, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, you do?” he asks wearily, not quite sure where you were going with this. “Do I know him?”

“Oh yeah.” You smile. “You guys are practically like this.” You twisted your middle and pointer finger together to show the closeness.

He smiled down at you catching on. “Don’t tell me it’s Morgan, Y/N.”

“Nah. This guy likes to read. I don’t think Derek’s ever picked up a book in the last five years.”

It was late one night and you and Spencer were the only ones left in the office. You walked over to his desk where he was reading the newspaper, but when he noticed you his head immediately picked up. “Remember when I told you that you know the guy that I’m interested in?”

“Mhmm yeah, I think I remember.”

“He’s you. The guy is you.”

“Could have fooled -”

And you leaned in capturing his lips in yours. He tasted of coffee and bubblegum, which isn’t as bad as it might seem. He kissed you back and you forgot everything for a moment - forgot you were at the bullpen, forgot he was your coworker, and forgot the team's reaction actually might have meant something to you.

They meant nothing now when he’s pulling you down to straddle his lap and deepening the kiss. When you felt his tongue along your lips you opened your mouth a little wider so that he could kiss you just a little bit harder.

You both pulled away at the same time but stayed close, as he was running his hands along your sides.

“Me. You could have fooled me.” he finishes. You laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his lips which he returned before climbing out of his lap and steadying yourself on the ground.

You were going to walk away, until he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

“Hey,” he practically whispered. “Go to dinner with me tomorrow night.”

I wanna slow dance if you’re feeling me now If we don't hold hands you'll be killing me now

Spencer had arrived at your apartment with a bouquet of wildflowers.

He had knocked, and when you opened the door, he was absolutely shocked.

“Wow, you look stunning.” He lets out.

“As do you.”

You grab the flowers from him and place it in a vase before grabbing your jacket, his hand, and heading out of the door.

The night went smoothly, and the dinner was great, and it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Spence?” You asked, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. You were holding the hand he wasn’t using to drive.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever seen The Notebook?”

“Actually...no.”

“Okay.”

“Why?” he asks looking over at you. You couldn’t have been more beautiful in his eyes.

“You’ll see.”

When he pulled out in front of your apartment, and you were out of his car, you took his hand and led him to the middle of the street - the only source of light being the street lamp hovering above the two of you.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Slow dance with me.”

“I can’t dance.”

“That’s alright.” You stepped close to him and guided his hands so that they were resting on your backside, and you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck. From there, you led him to step with you to a nonexistent rhythm.

You two weren’t really worried about any cars, this wasn’t a busy street.

“Tell me about The Notebook.” he says, pulling your body closer to his.

“Well Noah actually laid down in the street, not danced and -”

I need a romance, one chance I just wanna know, will you slow dance?

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid headcanoon #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines

844 notes · View notes

flyingstar360 · 4 years ago

Text

Bittersweet Memories

So, Happy Thanksgiving and I’m really sorry for Alex angst/ooc. There’s a little bit more adult-ish content in it, and by that, I mean we have boys kissing, mentions of teenage drinking, a few colorful words I may have forgotten to edit out, and mentions of some pretty serious homophobia topics. Also, I’m straight, so I’ve never had to come out or anything, and this is my first time writing openly gay characters. Hopefully, I did okay, and I don’t offend anyone! Any way, it’s a long one, so sorry!

Bittersweet Memories

Alex twisted his drumsticks between his fingers. Julie and her family weren’t home. She told the boys she was going to go volunteer with her dad and brother, but honestly? Alex’s anxiety post Orpheum had been at an all time high. Between secret meetings with Willie, trying to avoid Caleb and save Willie’s soul, band practice and their growing fan base, and the fact that the holidays were coming up? Alex felt like one of the strings of Luke’s guitar, right before it snapped.

He knew Thanksgiving had always been Reggie’s favorite holiday. It was the one day his parents didn’t scream all day, because there was just enough distraction and alcohol to keep them from going after each other. He and his brother would play flag football and watch the parade with their cousins. The delight was practically oozing off him as he and Luke were curled in front of Julie’s laptop, rambling on about the musical acts performing. Ironically, it was a show about hell, or something?

“Dude if musicals had been like this? Yo, I would never have given you a hard time about them.” Luke said to Alex, looking up from his spot on the ground.

Luke’s relationship with Thanksgiving was a little more complicated than Reggie’s. It wasn’t his favorite, but he didn’t hate it. Plus, now that they were dead, Luke had never been closer to his family. Even though they had no idea Julie was actually helping him leave little clues around for them to know he was there with them.

“Are you gonna go see your parents today?” He asked Luke.

“Already done. Julie helped me leave a little message for my mom.” Luke grinned.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Please tell me it has nothing to do with cranberry jelly.”

Emily Patterson made the best homemade cranberry sauce Alex had ever eaten. The Thanksgiving he’d spent at the Patterson’s was one of the best meals Alex had ever eaten. But Luke, for some reason, didn’t like the cranberry sauce his mom made. It was one of those fancy ones, with real cranberries and orange in it. To Alex, it smelled and tasted exactly like he always dreamed the holidays would. Sweet, with a hint of spices. But no.Luke wanted processed cranberry jelly. Alex remembered seeing the two of them arguing about it the last Thanksgiving they’d been alive. Luke had run away a few weeks later, and they’d died in July.

“Julie got me a can of cranberry jelly to leave on the counter. Mom’ll know.”

Alex hated canned cranberry jelly. All he could think about was the way it had clung to his button down shirt the last Thanksgiving he spent with his parents. He remembered the sounds of the plates crashing, the way the glass pie plate had shattered as it hit the wall and smashed next to his face, and the way his father’s voice spit out the words as he- No, Alex didn’t want to think about it.

Alex hated Thanksgiving, actually.

It was two Thanksgivings ago- or two Thanksgivings before he died, instead. His dad’s coworker had come over with his family. Alex didn’t mind. Mr. Marsters’s son was a little older than him. And he was cool. Seth Marsters was a baseball player at the fancy private school in town. He was class president. He was handsome. He liked good music. And he was honestly really nice. Alex never minded spending time with him, and their parents were good enough friends that it happened pretty frequently. The two had ended up in Alex’s room while their dads talked work and their moms finished the dinner and drank wine. Sometimes they’d play Super Mario Kart on Alex’s Nintendo and the TV he had in his room. Other times, the boys just sat around and talked and listened to music.

“Okay.” Seth had said as he opened the tape deck Alex had in his room. “Don’t laugh, but I made you mix tape with some of the other songs I thought you’d like. I would have burnt you a CD, but Dad wouldn’t let me use the computer, because he was too busy with work.”

Alex grinned and flopped himself across his blue bedspread as he watched Seth fiddle with the tape deck. Alex didn’t have a lot of friends. His anxiety made it hard to make friends at school. So, the guys in band were his best friends- and so far, the only people who knew he was gay. Luke had actually been the first guy Alex ever kissed- after they’d snuck a bottle of something that had made Alex’s eyes water and throat burn out of Mr. Patterson’s liquor cabinet. Reggie would turn up at the backdoor in the middle of the night sometimes, with cuts or bruises Alex never questioned but would clean up nonetheless. And Bobby would show up at lunch with extra food packed for the guys, and his mom always made sure Alex had something without nuts in it. It was that kind of stuff that made Alex feel normal. And not like a freak. Even though he knew he was different from everyone else. But besides the guys, he didn’t feel comfortable with almost anyone else. Except Seth.

“Okay, but I can’t promise not to laugh until I hear what songs you picked.”

Seth grinned back and hit play as he plopped himself next to Alex, resting on his elbows, face to face with Alex. It took everything Alex had not to blush as Seth went on and on about why Nirvana was a better band than Poison. Nodding dumbly, he didn’t even register what was playing- until he heard a familiar voice whose CD was hidden behind his copy of The Hobbit on his bookshelf.

“I’m sorry, is this Whitney Houston?” Alex sat straight up. Seth was the one blushing now, as he fumbled to skip the song.

“Yeah, it’s dumb, I just-“

Alex reached out to stop him. “Dude, I love Whitney Houston. She’s got a killer voice.”

Seth turned a shade redder than before. Alex had never seen him flustered at all before. Seth was normally the one all put together, and Alex was the anxious mess. It was honestly pretty endearing, and Alex felt the butterflies in his stomach. “I heard this on the radio and I kind of thought of you instantly.” Seth said quietly. “It just.. well. It makes me think of you every time I hear it, I guess.”

Alex just kind of blinked for a moment, processing what that could mean, as Seth watched him carefully. But Before Alex could really say anything, Seth leaned in and pressed his lips against Alex’s.

Oh.

OH.

Alex closed his eyes as Seth wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s head and pulled him in closer. His lips were soft and Alex thought he could taste a hint of Chapstick, and root beer. It was a million times better than the clunky teeth and lips kiss he and Luke had shared. This was like a movie kiss, in Alex’s opinion. The butterflies in his stomach, the way his heart was pounding- suddenly he felt like he really got why the guys in the band were so obsessed with girls Being able to have moments like this, feel like this, without anyone judging you? Without anyone thinking you’re spreading a deadly disease? It felt almost as good as playing music.

“And I will always love you-“ Whitney’s long hold of the note drowned out the sound of Alex’s mother’s heels clicking down the hall, but not the screech she let out after pushing his door open and seeing the two boys’ moment.

Alex wouldn’t forget that sound. Or the sound of the front door slamming as his Dad sent Seth and his parents away without even eating.

“Dad, it’s not his fault.” Alex said as his father stormed back into the dining room where Alex stood next to his mother. As his dad started to yell again, Alex cut him off. “Dad! It’s not his fault. I-I kissed him back.”

His father froze, eyes wide, face purple. Veins were bulging on his neck. Alex hadn’t meant to say that.

“I’m gay, Dad.”

He sure as hell hadn’t planned on saying that. He took a deep breath and continued. “Look, I know it’s upsetting, but I’ve known for a while and I didn’t know how to tell you guys. I didn’t want to disappoint you, and-“

That was when the glass pie plate with his mom’s famous cherry pie hit the wall next to his face. Alex ducked to avoid the plate of cranberry jelly that followed it. His father only stopped hurtling dishes at Alex because his mom stepped in between them and told him to leave the house. He ran out, shirt covered in cranberry goop splatter and cherry pie filling. He must have looked like he’d murdered someone when he’d shown up at Bobby’s house. Bobby’s mom brought him clean clothes and let him spend the night. After that Thanksgiving, Alex noticed Luke’s parents looking at him strangely after church. Reggie’s parents didn’t let him come over anymore, not that he did much anyway. And Seth got accepted to a “boarding school” that Alex had heard whispers about. He never saw him again.

“Alex?” Julie stopped just inside her bedroom, by the door. Alex jumped up from where he was sitting by the window. Somehow, during his trip down memory lane, he’d wandered into her room, absent mindedly tapping on the bongo she had by her window.

“Ah- Sorry. Boundaries. I know.” He mumbled, putting the bongo back on her windowsill.

Julie shook her head and sat on the edge of her bed, opposite the chair Alex had found himself in.

“It’s okay. Carlos told me he heard drumming coming from in here and went to distract dad. When I didn’t see you in the studio, I just figured you went to spend Thanksgiving with Willie or checking in on your family or something.” She looked at him intensely and he shifted uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” She asked quietly and reached her hand out to rest on top of his. It slipped right through him, and he pulled away, embarrassed. Here she was, trying to be a good friend, and he was lying to her and being an anxious wreck again. He started to protest, tell her he was fine, when someone knocked on her door. Ray stuck his head in.

“Hey, niña.” He smiled at Julie. “Pizza should be ready in about ten minutes.” Julie nodded. “You did some good work today. Thanks for coming to help out.” She smiled back at her dad.

“You know it’s always been my favorite part of Thanksgiving.” She told him. Alex noticed Reggie and Luke peeking out from behind Ray. “I’ll be down in a minute.” The guys slipped through the door as Ray closed it, both standing awkwardly.

“We’re sorry, dude.” Luke started. “We kinda both forgot that Thanksgiving isn’t a great day for you.”

“I got really excited because it’s always been a good day for me. I didn’t mean to brush off your feelings.” Reggie shifted his weight from side to side. “I just really love the parade and I heard there were puppies after it now and puppies are way better than football and-“

Julie cut Reggie off. “You don’t like Thanksgiving?”

“You work on Thanksgiving?” Alex countered. He knew he was being a little short, but there was no way he could handle Julie looking at him the way other people did when they found out he was gay.

“We volunteer at Marsters House every year. We serve dinner and hang out.” She said. “And you’re avoiding the question.” Alex stiffened in his seat when Julie mentioned the word “Marsters”. Luke and Reggie went pale. Julie noticed all of it. “Please don’t tell me the Marsters’s stole music or something from you guys too.” She groaned. “It’s bad enough knowing Carrie’s dad isn’t who I thought he was, if Seth and Cory are liars too, I couldn’t handle it.”

Alex was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Could ghosts even throw up? He tried to take a few deep breaths. “Julie.” He whispered. “I need you to tell me where this place is.”

She jumped up. “No. No way. Last time you guys were upset and I told you where something was, you got sucked in by Caleb and I almost lost you to those stamps. No way!”

“We’re going and you can’t stop us!” Alex raised his voice at Julie. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Julie was grabbing her sweater. “I’m not letting you go alone. I’ll take you there. But you guys aren’t going alone!” Alex looked over at his bandmates.

“Okay.” He said.

“Dad?! I just realized I left my phone at Marsters’ House, I’m gonna go grab it!”

It sounded like the aftermath of Thanksgiving dinner from just outside the building. There was yelling at football games and possibly video games. There were lots of people inside- most of them around his age. But the man who opened the door was decidedly not his age. But it was absolutely Seth.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I think I may have left my phone in the kitchen?” Julie lied without a blip in her demeanor. Alex was both impressed and terrified. Looking over at Luke, Alex would be willing to guess Luke felt the same way. As they went inside, Alex knew he wouldn’t be going to the kitchen. Instead, he turned down the hall, and followed adult Seth into an office. On Seth’s desk was a photo of him with another handsome man- blond. Seth had a type.

“Alexa?” Seth said, as he settled himself down at his desk. “Play Alex’s Mixtape.” Suddenly, Whitney Houston came from the speakers. Alex couldn’t breathe. Someone grabbed his hand. Julie. She squeezed it tight.

“Thanks Seth! Happy Thanksgiving!” She yelled over her shoulder as she pulled Alex away. Reggie and Luke were waiting outside. He brushed past them for a few yards, pulling his hand free of Julie’s grasp, before having to stop. He crouched on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth as sobs ripped from his throat. He felt the rest of the band catch up, wrap their arms around him. He turned his head and sobbed into Luke’s flannel. Reggie rubbed circles on his back. After a few moments, as the sobs subsided, he realized Julie was murmuring something to him.

“Alex, it’s okay. You’re okay. We love you, and you’re okay.”

He inhaled and wiped his face and looked right at Julie.

“I’m gay.” She blinked a few times. Gave her head a little shake Looked at Reggie and Luke, who were holding their breath next to him.

“I- Was-was I not supposed to know that?” She asked.

All three boy’s jaws dropped.

“You knew?” Alex asked. “How long have you known?”

Julie shrugged. “Since like, day one? Anyway, you talk so much about Willie too, so I just assumed that-” She stopped suddenly. “Seth. You’re Seth’s Alex. Oh my god.” She stood up and took a few steps back, then started pacing. “There’s no way. None. I don’t understand.” She looked at the guys. “Seth has seen the video my dad made for Edge of Great. How did he just not notice?”

“I noticed.” A voice came from behind her. Julie whipped around. “Your dad called. Wanted to make sure we found your phone. I told him you had left already, but I figured I’d check to see how far you’d gotten. Didn’t expect you to have company.” Seth stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“Can you see them?” Julie asked.

Seth shook his head. “No. But I mean, you’re talking to air. And it sure sounds like you’re trying to talk Alex out of an anxiety attack. Lord knows I’d done that a few times.” He got quiet for a minute. Alex stood, and walked slowly until he was face to face with Seth. He had more wrinkles around his eyes than Alex remembered, but of course. He was twenty-five years older. “Is he here?”

“Tell him I tried to take the blame.” Alex turned towards to Julie. “Please.”

She nodded. “He says he tried to take the blame. He didn’t want his parents to blame it on you.”

“I mean, I did kiss him first. Anyway, they were going to send me for conversion therapy no matter what.” Julie winced. Alex looked back and forth between Julie and Seth.

“What’s that? They sent him to a school. That’s what they told me”

“No, Alex.” Julie said quietly. “It wasn’t a school.”

Seth sighed. “Of course, that’s what they told him.” He looked at Julie and the empty space around her. “Um, where…”

“Oh! Um, A little towards your left, just kind half turn, and he’s right in front of you.”

Seth shifted and looked at Alex. “It wasn’t a school. It was a group of people who thought that, through a bunch of therapy and medical procedures, they could make me not gay anymore. Clearly, it was not successful, as I am still a flaming homosexual.” Julie giggled at that, and Alex couldn’t help but smile as he saw Seth’s face break into the familiar grin he once knew. His heart ached a little as it faded away. “I was worried they’d sent you to one too. And when I heard you had passed away from a bad hot dog, I worried- well, I was scared that it was a cover-up. That you’d… Anyway.” He trailed off. “I have no idea how you’re here. Or why. But I’m happy. I love Colby. He reminds me of you sometimes. You’d have been great friends. We met at a Whitney Houston Concert in DC when I was in college. He spilled his beer on me during I’ll Always Love You. I said you were sending me a sign.”

Alex blinked back tears. “It was the best kiss of my life.”

Julie smiled. “He said it was the best kiss of his life.” Luke pouted and crossed his arms as Julie’s eyes got wide.

“It is a long story.” Alex laughed, as he wiped away some tears.

“Want a ride home?” Seth asked Julie. “Something tells me you’ve got a lot going on.” Julie nodded.

Later that night, there was a knock at the studio door. Alex did not expect to see Julie, in her pajamas and with a blanket and pillow outside the studio.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

Julie nodded. “We’re watching a movie.” She held up a copy of The Bodyguard on DVD. “I knew my mom had a copy somewhere.”

As they snuggled on the couch, Julie’s back against Luke’s chest, her legs draped over Alex’s lap, Reggie sitting on the ground in front of them, holding Julie’s hand and leaning against Alex’s legs, he realized something.

Maybe Thanksgiving wasn’t so bad after all.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #Alex #alex jatp #I am the cruise ship of willex #even though I gave him an OC in this #i love my dead gay son #I love my emotional support ghost band #fanfiction #Julie and the Phantoms Fanfiction #Thanksgiving

19 notes · View notes

everlarkficquestions · 5 years ago

Text

Sunday Stumped Day 29

It’s another Sunday Stumped Day!

Sometimes we straight out get stumped. So every few months we will pick a Sunday when we’ll post of a list of asks that we need your help on.

This time around we have focused on Asks that are looking for specific fics.

If you know the answer to any of these asks please shoot us a message/ ask/ with the Post number and the fic details and we’ll add it and give you a shout out with our thanks. Any links you can provide will also be super helpful.

Thanks!

Post 1 , Post 2 , Post 3, Post 4, Post 5, Post 6, Post 7, Post 8, Post 9, Post 10, Post 11, Post 12, Post 13, Post 14, Post 15, Post 16, Post 17, Post 18, Post 19, Post 20, Post 21, Post 22 , Post 23, Post 24, Post 25, Post 26, Post 27 and Post 28 can be found here - and there are still fics we need your help with.

495. theman189-blog said:

Also looking for a growing together fic where peeta and katniss are painting a room ar one point and they get in a paint fight, at the end when peeta has katniss over his shoulder she draws a heart in paint on his lower back

494. theman189-blog said:

Hi there, just read a fic where katniss and peeta were peacekeepers and fall in love called protect and serve, and I could have sworn there was another one where they're peacekeepers and fell in love but had a more concrete ending and I cant remember it... any thoughts?

493. breakmeaswitchson said:

Hi! So I posted asking about this on a sub in Reddit and got directed here, it's not specifically an Everlark one (I don't think) but if you could help I'd be so thankful! Basically, it took the characters from the 74th Hunger Games, but the twist was that they all had to work together in designated groups? And (I think) weren't allowed to turn on each other until nobody else was left. I'm pretty sure Rue and Clove were on a team together, and I think the setting involved abandoned buildings.

492. jayana90 said:

Hi! I'm looking for a specific fic from Peeta's POV. I read it about a year ago & now I can't find it. It begins at his house in 12 with his family, then traces nearly all of the Hunger Games trilogy. It ends with a chapter with Peeta & Katniss living in 12 years later with their kids and a bakery. I think they loved cheese bread? It was really long and so good, I hope to find it again. V smutty.

FOUND! The Sexual Frustrations of Peeta Mellark by PeetasAndHerondales, which has sadly been deleted. - thank you, mistressnightshade!

491. allflowerscatchthesunlight said:

Fic name needed: I recall Peeta was taken by the capitol and then there was trackers embedded into his skin or something and he was found by the squad while in the capitol to kill snow. They cut it out of him. Also katniss was pregnant, but miscarried.

Found! Secret Wishes, Secret Kisses by @katnissdoesnotfollowback -- thank you KDNFB!

490. jsth2obooks said:

Hi I read this fix a while ago and now I'm trying to find it. It's Modern day Katnisss and Peeta have to go to a high school reunion an they pretend to be either together/engaged. At the end they end up with a child. Thanks in advance

FOUND! Somewhere That’s Green by Jlala. Thank you, @fangirlingoverquotes

489. uglydora15 said:

I read this fancition about Katniss and Peeta post mockingjay and Katniss was pregnant I think for the second time and Peeta has a flashback and Katniss caught him kissing someone else in the bakery and he had to beg for her forgiveness

Possibly There Are Still Worse Games to Play- The Second Part of Our Journey by panskiss123. Thank you, @sunsetsrmydreams

488. bad-fad said:

Hi so I think there’s a fix where mr. Mellark like takes in katniss when she’s young (I don’t think prim existed in the story but I could be wrong) and she grows up with the Mellarks but I can’t remember?? If not maybe some recs along those lines

Possibly - “Kinship” by Misshoneywell - thank you @endlessnightlock

possibly Star by HGRomance - thank you @nightlock-89

Possibly the deleted Lion’s Tooth by Alexabee

487. craftydiva0828 said:

Looking for a story where after the war, Katniss rides the trains searching the districts for Peeta; people search for loved ones by posting their pictures at the train depot bulletin board.

FOUND! when the far-gone dead return - writingforhugs (Thanks, @ladymurphyevermore!)

486. bookworm06 said:

I was wondering if you guys know about a fic where Peeta woos katniss slowly, they dare secretly for a long time i think. And then Katniss comes out in this beautiful orange dress(peeta’s favorite color) to announce their engagement. She’s dressed up for a feast or party in the district or something! I loved this story but can’t even remember the name 🤦🏻‍♀️

FOUND! - I Knew This Would Have Happened Anyway by @abk1973 - thank you, @litharalen

485. cowrintimrousbeastie said:

Hello! This is actually the first time I'm posting a question, I usually enjoy doing the detective work. This time though, I've looked high and low and can't find it... it's a drabble posted on tumblr in several parts. Peeta is living with his girlfriend Delly but during one of his baking workshops discovers that this longtime best friend Katniss is in love with him (she has him as her phone screen saver). She works at the library? He confronts her and she says forget it as he is happy w/Delly..

FOUND! By @cowrintimrousbeastie herself! It is How Long by @ra3lynn3. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4 and Part 5.

484. beautiful-harmony1 said:

Hello! Thank for your great work. I am looking for a fic I read a while ago. Post-mockingjay. Katniss is really sick and Peeta comes homes a realises. He takes care of her. On her “death bed” she talks about this that would have happened between the two. I’m pretty sure some bursts in and say “we found a cure”. Thank you so much

483. thehopefuldandelion said:

So I’ve been craving to read this fic that hopefully I didn’t make up and I’ve been trying to remember it’s name. All I remember is that Katinss and Gale(I think) are dating but when Gale would go to sleep Katinss would text Peeta. I’m pretty sure they were coworkers and couldn’t date bc of this. I know that she broke up with Gale but that’s all that my brain can remember. I’m sorry if this is vague or you can’t find it. I just wanted to read this again. Thanks for all you do for the community❤️

FOUND! This is After Hours by SoThere -thank you, @mendontprotectyou!

482. redhoodhungergames said:

I’m looking for a fic where peeta goes to this hotel (or something) and finds Katniss who works there as a singer. I remember when talking we hear that Katniss is from Virginia

481. just-absolutely-super said:

There’s a pre-epilogue fic I read about Katniss and Peeta growing back together. I can’t remember all the details but I think in the fic Katniss finds out Peeta painted Prim and it upset her? Toward the end she’s outside his bedroom door and confesses to him that she loves him. Thank you!

Possibly - The List of Words by MyKonstantine - thank you, @jennagill

480. peetniss27 said:

OK i must be going crazy, but this fanfic is about panem being a bunch of islands and they all do a computer session and are matched with their spouses after being “reaped” and Katniss was dating peeta and ended up with gale. It was called the islands but idk the new name please help!!!!!

FOUND!

Are You Leaving Me? - iloverueforever (*Thank you, @superchocovian!)

479. uniquepizzacollectionblog said:

Hi, i"m looking for a fic where katniss and peeta and best friends and have slept with each other in the past and now the sexual tension is coming back, maybe you guys know of this story?

478. xgetawaycar13 said:

Hiiii so I’m looking for a fic in which Katniss and Peeta get married in catching fire by order of snow and they are also forced to have children but I remember that at some point someone told Katniss about how all the girls at school liked Peeta so she got jealous and have him a blowjob Thank youuu I already look through your master list about marriage in catching fire but I couldn’t find it:(

FOUND. This is Have Heart, My Dear by monroeslittle. Thanks @finestunicorn.

477. ochri said:

Hi i'm looking for this fic from fanfiction It's a post-MJ fic and there's this one chapter where katniss peels? her skin off her fingers and then Peeta takes her to hospital. That's all I really remember :/

476. nikki-pondtheauthor said:

hey im curious if there are fanfics in which peeta learns how to use a bow and shoot arrows (taught by katniss). bonus if he does this in hunger games. im sure ive a read a fanfic before, that was awesome in my opinion because it is a bit out of character for him but highlighting the fact that he is a survivor too and can handle weapons even if he is more a friendly persona

475. white-dandelion-seeds said:

Hey, can you find me this story- Peeta helped Katniss to escape when her family was being killed. But he got captured and was made a slave. Later he helps Katniss to take revenge of the death of her family

474. chippedcupsandbrokenhearts said:

Ok do you know the name of Fic where Katniss finally gets away from her abusive marriage with gale and goes back to her family. They didn’t know she was being abused. She falls in love with Peeta and I remember at one point gale found her and her family drives him out of town. I read this YEARS ago and now I just randomly had the urge to reread it but can’t remember the name. Thank you!!!

Possibly - A Safe Place by HavishamWard,but this fic has been deleted. Thank you, @endlessnightlock

473. jillpill55 said:

Hi, I love your page and have read probably a hundred fics because of it. I hoping you can help me find this fic I read a couple of months ago. Peeta was captured and when he came back he couldn't kiss Katniss because of a implant snow had put in peeta's leg. I would be a mutli-chapter and may or not be finished. Thanks

Possibly - Rekindling by ShiningCity. Thank you, @sunsetsrmydreams

472. svmn14 said:

There was a story about Peeta suffering from an undetected hijacking attack timed 10 years after the last Games where he was designed to hurt Katniss

FOUND! This is Broken: Scenes from the Sequel by MockingJayFlyingFree. Thanks @sunsetsrmydreams

471. hiyosakura said:

Hello! I was wondering if you could help find this everlark fic. I’m not sure if it’s completed or not but it also has hayffie in it a bit I think. So the story is that k and p fall in love before their games and they meet at their tree in school or something but then they get reaped and I can’t remember what happens after that but during the quarter quell Katniss is actually pregnant and Peeta and Katniss are able to communicate with their lips touching.

FOUND! That’s 74th Hunger games Challenge: We Always Were - Jamie Sommers(*Thank you, @superchocovian!)

470. ptx-holic said:

Hi, i’m looking for a fic where katniss is in a relationship with gale and then she met peeta and they are in a relationship but they caught katniss having two relationship and katniss move to somewhere and then she came back few years later and met peeta again. I’m sorry if this is confusing for you but i can’t find it. Thank you :)

Do any of these fics ring a bell? Please let us know!

#SSD #sunday stumped day #compilation #mod post

68 notes · View notes

high-tidethunder · 4 years ago

Text

like cymbals crashing, like molars gnashing

Nile is on her own for the first time in a long time and she’s—

Well, she’s adjusting.

And Detroit isn’t too horribly different from the city streets she’s used to. A little emptier, maybe, and, well, the roads are more pothole than concrete at this point, but there’s a familiarity in the buskers and graffiti and nighttime bustle and it almost makes up for the fact that… the public transit is a joke.

Almost.

She’s still not over the fact that she’s going to have to walk from her apartment to class every day. It’s a good job she grew up in Chicago and knows how to layer appropriately.

She’s not quite comfortable in the bigger lecture halls yet, always feels like there are too many variables out of her control for her to truly settle down and pay attention to the lesson, but she knows it could be worse. She’s privileged to have been able to leave the hell she’d signed 10 years of her life away to. She has the opportunity to let old wounds heal.

There’ll be scars, but fresh blood will not pour from them.

She can deal with scars.

~*~

A month into her first semester she makes her first real friend in this place. He’s a man about 10 years her senior in her metalworking class who invites her out to lunch at a felafel place near campus and, almost without her realizing, gets her to talk about the problems she hasn’t wanted to burden her mom with on their calls.

It’s a little hard to separate the gratitude from the guilt when they’re done talking. They’ve knitted themselves together with a yarn spun of worry that she’d unduly encumbered him with her problems and striated with an anxiety that there was some kind of con at play. She really hopes not.

They part ways when they get back to campus, him to go to work and her to another lecture, but not without exchanging phone numbers and a promise to meet up again. He leaves with a smile that’s almost sad, there’s definitely something in the eyes, and Nile abruptly wonders if her smiles are like that, now. If, maybe, he saw the storm that swelled and crashed around inside her, if he’d recognized it from his own tumult and decided to extend an offer of help without having to use so many words.

And so, the gratitude said to the guilt, tink, tink, tink.

~*~

She discovers the dreaded walk from her apartment to campus yields blessings, too, when she spots the flyer for a fight gym that’s hiring trainers stapled to a telephone pole towards the end of September. She pauses to take a picture of it before carrying back on to class and resolves to call them when she goes for lunch, making a mental note to ask Sebastien if he knows the place before she does. He might not outwardly appear the type, but Nile has been around enough fighters to recognize it in the way he holds himself; whether it’s bare-knuckle in a back alley or gloved up in a ring, he’s no stranger to a brawl.

And besides, he’d told her he had a little training when she’d mentioned that she was coming into college late (he’d scoffed at that) because she’d been a Marine.

Sebastien, as it turns out, is the trainer the gym is hiring to replace. Nile feels a rush of embarrassment when he tells her so, quickly followed by guilt when she sees that he’s distressed for having upset her. It only eases when he assures her he still teaches there, it’s just that an old injury keeps him from drilling groundwork and he’s forced to stick to beginner classes.

Their lunch outing turns into an impromptu job interview when he realizes that she’s available to cover his grappling classes and the gym won’t have to cancel them. At the end of it he tells her that he’ll talk to his coworkers and, if all goes well, bring her in to meet them that night.

~*~

All goes well.

Sebastien picks her up from her last lecture at 6:30 and drives her along a familiar route to the gym that she realizes is only a 5-minute walk from her apartment building. There’s a boulder outside with “The Motor City Old Guard” engraved in block letters on it, and a recurve bow made to look like a stylized D painted below the name.

Otherwise, it’s an incredibly nondescript building. There are a few signs on the whitewashed brick that claim parking spots outside as reserved for gym-goers and an old leather medicine ball props the door open, but there are no flyers or advertisements on the outside and the shades have been drawn over the windows. It doesn’t look much like a gym.

Maybe there is some sort of con at play.

The worry is dispelled as quickly as it pops into her mind when Sebastien guides her inside and the first thing she sees is two men circling each other in a boxing ring in the middle of the room. Nile notes that they’re clad only in fight shorts and hand wraps and wonders if this is an impromptu sparring session or if these people are just a little bit insane.

The taller of the two, a white man with shaggy brown hair that suggests he’s put off going to the barber a few weeks too many, makes the first move. He springs forward, feinting to his left and narrowly ducking the right hook that his opponent swings in retaliation. He drops low, grabs the other man around the waist, thrusts his shoulder into his abdomen, and sends them both to the mat. His opponent, a brown man whose curls are already escaping the bun they’re tied back in, hits the floor with a grunt. Barely a second after he goes down, his legs have already locked around the other man’s back, but the guard is down before the other man can even try to break it. He’s flat on his back just as quick, hips now straddled by the shorter man. There’s a pause, then, both seeming to be in some kind of haze as they stare at each other, chests heaving with effort.

It’s now that Nile notices the women who have been watching this. Or, well, more accurately it’s now that her brain registers them as something that needs her attention, as the taller of the two inexplicably snaps, “not on my mat!” and her companion snorts out a laugh.

When she looks back at the men, the taller of them has his legs clinched around the other’s neck, relaxing only when a hand comes up to tap his thigh.

The other man pops up with surprising ease considering he’d been in a chokehold only a few seconds prior, and offers a hand to help his opponent up. He turns, then, and sees Nile, face brightening.

“Ahlan! You must be Booker’s friend! Nile, right? You’re here for the job?”

She smiles, tentatively, and looks at Sebastien (Booker?) out of the corner of her eye. “Uh, yeah, that’s me. Are you-”

He shakes his head before she can finish the question and gestures vaguely at the women standing at the side of the ring. “Andy’s the one who’ll be conducting the rest of your interview.” He pauses and inhales sharply, squinting at Nile. “Good luck,” he finishes, nodding at her before turning and ducking out of the ring. His training partner, now standing still enough that Nile has time to notice the mirrored scars on his chest, gives her a brief nod and tight smile before following him.

“Not in my showers, either!” Maybe-Andy calls after them, pushing herself off the rope she’s leaning on and circling the ring so she’s standing in front of Nile. She feels something nudge her arm and looks over to see Sebastien holding track pants and hand wraps out to her, shaking the bundle at her when she doesn’t take them immediately. She does so, cutting her eyes back to the woman who stands in front of her and watching her carefully. “Put those on,” she instructs, “bathrooms are down where Joe and Nicky went, then, you’re gonna show me how much of what you told Book here was true.”

Ah. So this is Andy. And this is why Maybe-Joe-or-Maybe-Nicky had wished her good luck.

She probably should’ve just gotten a job at the university library.

But her mom didn’t raise her to back down from a fight, so she skirts the ring and turns down the hall where the two men had gone. The door at the end of the hall is marked “Employees Only” in screaming red letters, so she turns to the two on either side of the hall. Where there once were signs that likely demarcated gender, there were now only 4 bolts in the center of both doors, so she listens, and pushes through the door she doesn’t hear a shower behind.

She slips into one of the stalls and makes sure she hears the soft snick of the door close before taking off her boots and jeans and pulling on the pants Sebastien had given her. The fabric is stiffer than she’d expected, they must be straight from the shop she had seen tucked into one corner of the gym, but she can move freely so she’ll deal with the slight discomfort. She exits the stall, putting her folded jeans and boots into one of the cubbies on the opposite wall, then heads out to the main room again. She shucks her jacket, which Sebastien takes from her, and steps into the ring where Andy is waiting.

Right into a punch.

She ducks in the nick of time, taking the opportunity to push in closer to Andy and grab her by the shoulder, driving her knee into the other woman’s gut. There’s a hand clawing at her arm and a quick strike to the hollow of her neck and suddenly she’s halfway across the mat, staring down an indifferent Andy.

So that was how this was gonna be.

She advances again, pivoting to send a kick to Andy’s hip. Her gratification at seeing the other woman go down is stopped in its tracks when she feels a hand clamp around her calf and she crashes to her knee, one leg still held fast to Andy’s side. She twists, plants her hands on the mat behind her, and tries to push herself out of Andy’s grasp, leveraging her free foot against the other woman’s hip bone and coming away with surprising ease. Andy stands, then, exhilaration burning in her eyes, and backs away slightly.

Then there’s a kick headed straight for Nile’s face and she forces herself forward, arms looping around Andy’s thigh as she drives her shoulder into her gut and folds at the waist, slamming the other woman down. Almost immediately a leg wraps over her shoulders and the world tilts and she feels her back hitting the time-worn mat. Andy stands over her, delight evident on her face, and reaches a hand out to help her up.

By the time Nile stands, Andy’s face has dropped into something sharper, more analytical, and she looks Nile up and down. “So, Booker says you were a Marine.”

Nile nods, finding herself itching to stand at ease.

“Well,” she purses her lips, then takes a breath. “We forgive past transgressions,” she says, looking pointedly at Booker, though a twitch in her jaw betrays a smile. After a moment she looks back at Nile, light dancing in her eyes. “Welcome to the crew. I’ll go get the paperwork.”

Nile is left feeling a little too dazed to truly process that she just got her ass handed to her and then offered a job by the person who did it in the span of five minutes until a hand claps down on her shoulder and she whirls around to see Sebastien. There’s a proud look on his face, though his smile is still small, still a little sad. “Congratulations, Nile,” he says, and the warmth in his voice reminds Nile very suddenly of her father.

It must show on her face because Sebastien looks concerned, now, brow furrowing. “Are you ok? Did you get hurt?”

Nile shakes her head, swallowing around the tightness creeping up her throat. “I’m fine, she manages to choke out. “Thank you, um, for helping me with this, I really appreciate it,” she says, trying to steady her voice. She takes a deep breath, looking out behind Sebastien for a moment before focusing back on his face. “I should, uh, get changed.”

“Oh, yeah, totally, ok. Well, hey, since you don’t have classes tomorrow and I only work in the morning, how about I take you out to celebrate, huh? It might help to know a thing or two about the kind of people who come to train with us.”

Nile smiles at that and the pain twisted in her stomach starts to ease into something more comfortable. “You’re paying,” she says and sees Sebastien’s lip tick up.

“Taking my job and my money? You’re going to fit right in,” he laughs. “You go take care of the paperwork, I’ll wait outside to drive you home,” he says, giving her one last smile before turning and leaving the gym.

She notices, then, that the two men who had been sparring when she’d entered the gym have emerged from the showers. They’re standing just at the entrance to the hallway, the shorter of the two leaning against the wall, and the taller leaning against the shorter. They’re watching her closely, but Maybe-Joe-or-Possibly-Nicky smiles at her when he notices her looking, pushing off the wall and stepping forward to extend a hand. The handshake is brief but firm. “Hey, welcome,” he says, in a voice that rasps warmly. “That was a good fight, Andy married the last person who got that close to beating her.”

“Quynh did beat her, tesoro,” the other man says, though it’s somewhat hard to make out between his quiet tone and thick accent.

“You say potato,” the man says over his shoulder, turning his attention to Nile again. “I’m Joe, he’s Nicky. You’re taking the Tuesday and Thursday night classes?” He waits for Nile to nod before continuing. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then,” he says, smiling and clapping a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve gotta head out, but don’t be a stranger, yeah? If you’ve got any questions we’re more than happy to help out.”

She nods, smiling at Joe then behind him at Nicky, “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

She runs into the woman who had been by Andy’s side as she’s leaving the bathroom and Nile is entering and gets a soft smile. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Nile,” she says, her accent light and lilting. “And I’ll let you in on a secret, Andy had no doubts about hiring you the minute Booker mentioned you were looking for a job. You’re a good friend to him, he needed that.”

“So, wait, she-”

“She fought you because it is the vetting process. You fight like a caged animal, you throw everything you have into it, but you control the violence. You never did anything you didn’t have to. We have had some...unsavory trainers come in. Students, too, but that’s harder to account for. She had to make sure you understand the gravity of fighting and the responsibility of teaching it. You do. So, welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, uh-”

“Quynh,” she supplies, smiling.

“Thank you, Quynh.”

“Of course.” With that, she ducked down the hall, leaving Nile alone to think.

She does understand, maybe all too well, the consequences of violence for violence’s sake. She’s still kept awake by the faces, still haunted by the bodies in her dreams. Every day is a step forward. Sometimes accompanied by a few back, sometimes a step through an ocean in the midst of a hurricane, but slowly, slowly, she’s getting to dry land.

#the old guard #the old guard fic #nile freeman #my fic #my writing #ignore the time disparity between when i posted this on ao3 and when i'm posting it here #didn't know if i wanted to but i got nice comments so here we are #don't worry my roasting of detroit is loving #i'm from the area and there's a lot of wonderful culture #but seriously man once you hit like ferndale? it's a miracle anyone's tires are still round

14 notes · View notes

trashscenariihxh · 5 years ago

Note

Can I please have the trash quartet as yanderes? Thank you!

Sure! I actually already did some for Hisoka and Pariston on my old blog, but for the sake of convenience, I’ll just repost them here (No, I’m not stealing someone else’s HCs! I’m just reposting). If you’ve already read those HCs on my other blog and want more, please ask ^^ TW: narcissistic, abusive behavior ahead. If any of you are being treated this way by another person, get away ASAP!

Yandere HCs: Trash Quartet Edition

Hisoka

Okay so it’s actually very unlikely for the clown to become a true yandere because let’s face it, he’s probably never going to be able to obsess over and “love” a single person enough for things to develop to that point.

However, if Hisoka has decided that he really, really wants to ruin someone (ie: kill, break, maim, possess totally) then it’s possible he’ll get a bit obsessive. Now don’t get me wrong: he’s still going to go off and do his own thing. He’ll fuck, kiss, and kill whoever he wants. Sometimes he might even forget about you for a bit. But he always comes back to “play,” and god help anyone who gets in his way.

Hisoka won’t really care if this “toy” of his does their own thing for a while, but he would want your ruination to be reserved for him. Imagine his obsession with Gon and crank that up to 11.

Yandere!(ish) Hisoka manages to be even more covered in blood than usual.

Stalking. So much stalking.

Even though his end goal is to ruin you, Hisoka can act quite… pleasant around you sometimes. Lots of teasing, flirting… some creepy allusions to what he wants to do to you.

So here’s the thing: Hisoka might not be planning on ruining you right NOW, but some mental torture is still on the table. If he sees someone seriously flirting with you? Consider that person dead. Hisoka will straight up kill someone horribly in front of you, and then revel in your fear and revulsion.

He might even make a few halfhearted attempts to kill you right then and there just to watch you squirm.

You’d better believe his dick is hard the whole time. “Seeing you scared like this is so delicious.”

Pariston

That whole spiel about wanting to hurt the things he loves should give you enough of an idea of what Pariston is capable of.

Okay so Yandere!Pariston happens gradually, at least as far as you’re concerned. He starts out being so… nice. And generous. He’s always around to lend a helping hand. Always smiling. Always giving you compliments. When he asks you out, you feel like you’ve won the boyfriend lottery.

You’re so enraptured by his charm that you don’t notice how far apart you’ve gotten from your friends, or how little you call your family. Sure, you gave up your career, but that was only after Pariston assured you that he’d take care of you!

It starts slowly, so you don’t really notice how Pariston keeps really close tabs on where you go, who you talk to. He likes to do things like pick out your outfits and accessories, he chooses your perfume. Soon you’ve become a perfect specimen of everything that Pariston wants.

Pariston will manipulate and straight up gaslight you when you start to realize that what he’s doing isn’t okay… and you’d better believe that he’s doing all those hurtful things on purpose. But of course, Pariston will tell you that you’re being ridiculous- of course he wasn’t flirting with his coworker just now. You must be imagining the scent of someone else’s perfume on his clothes. How dare you think so lowly of him?

By the time you realize what’s going on, it’s too late. Pariston has isolated you from everyone. You have no friends, no money, no career. He makes sure you know it, too, and he tells you in his mellifluous voice while smiling widely.

The scary thing about Pariston is, you never know when he’s really happy or angry with you, or if he’s just trying to get a reaction out of you for the fun of it. He has you on your toes constantly.

Is he coming on to you, or threatening you? You can never be sure.

Want to leave him? Go ahead and try. See what happens.

Chrollo

Chrollo is kind of a weird type of yandere. He’s not really going to want you to be close by all the time. He’s a criminal, after all. You’d probably just slow him down. But as soon as he gets back, you’d better make yourself available to him. Friends? Other engagements? Forget them. Sure, the troupe will always come first in his mind. But he believes that as far you’re concerned, he should be your priority.

Chrollo essentially sees you as a toy that he can play with as he likes, but he doesn’t want anyone else to play with you either.

It takes a LONG time for his yandere side to come out though. On the surface, he seemed pretty normal at first. You might not even have known that he’s essentially a mass murderer. He was nice, sweet, and caring for the longest time! Once you realize what he is, it’s far too late. He’s figured out all your greatest fears, your hopes, dreams, what makes you tick. You’re entirely in his control.

If he asks you a question about what you’ve been up to while he’s been away, answer truthfully. He might be genuinely curious... but it could also be a test. Tread carefully.

He can be so sickly sweet and romantic when he wants to be. Is it genuine? Is it a lie? You’ll never know, but it does seem as though he turns on the charm when he wants something.

Are you his partner or a hostage? The line between the two is exceptionally thin and blurry.

Chrollo believes that you are destined to be together, so no matter how many times you reject him, or how many times you run away, he will bring you back. He’s not in a rush to do so either... after all, you’re meant to be together (in his eyes, anyway).

So basically, you might think you’ve seen the last of him and start getting comfortable with your new life. Maybe you have a job. Friends. A new lover perhaps. Things will be going really, really well... until out of nowhere Chrollo appears and takes all of that away from you.

You can tell him you hate him as much as you want, he won’t listen. You can tell him how happy you were without him. That won’t matter. In Chrollo’s mind, he knows you could never be happy without him.

Chrollo has a way of getting you to apologize for things you should never have to apologize for, and he has made you see his forgiveness as some kind of panacea for all your pain.

Once he’s made you feel completely psychologically (and perhaps physically) dependent on him, Chrollo will use his absence as a punishment/means of control. He will ghost you for weeks. Maybe even months. He knows this destroys you, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t absence make the heart grow fonder?

Illumi

Illumi is the most straightforward yandere here. He doesn’t really play many games with you; he’s made it perfectly clear that you are his and his alone. Why is that so difficult for you to understand? Do you need to be reminded?

Illumi is not above using his needles on you to bend you to his will, but he doesn’t want you to be a shell of a human. At least, not yet. That’s only as a last resort. He’d rather you be devoted to him of your own free will (and perhaps with a little bit of... extra convincing) but if you remain stubborn, then, well...

He doesn’t see a difference between you doing as he says of your own volition and you obeying him because you’re too terrified of the consequences. It’s all the same to him.

He wants babies. All the babies. Illumi is obsessed with carrying on the Zoldyck line, so if you have womb, you will be expected to use it. Of course Illumi will see this as a way of binding you to him even more.

Did someone upset you? Consider them dead. Illumi won’t understand why you’re upset by him killing them, though.

Illumi does, in fact, understand human emotions. He’s just not great at expressing them. So instead of normal, healthy, romantic love you get Illumi’s twisted approximation of it. He’s isolating you from all your friends and family because surely that’s what love is, right?

If you ever tell him no, or tell him that you don’t want to see him, or that you want to do something that he’s forbidden, he’ll just stare at you with those dead eyes of his and ask “why?” And then you’ll be at a loss for words, and eventually you’ll end up doing what he says.

Illumi sees you as his property, plain and simple. However, he doesn’t see how this is a bad thing. Really, he doesn’t. In his mind, you’re living in a mansion, you don’t have to do any work if you don’t want to, and you have his undivided attention and devotion. What more could you want?

As Jareth, the Goblin King said: “I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.”

#yandere #yandere tw #illumi zoldyck #pariston hill #hisoka #chrollo lucilfer #dubcon #tw abusive relationships #tw pregnancy

133 notes · View notes

beca-mitchell · 5 years ago

Text

dj, turn the radio up (1/1)

Entry for @bechloe-week Day 2: Coworkers.

Summary: PP1 AU. Beca never joins the Bellas. Chloe and Luke are good friends, which leads to Chloe occasionally working at the radio station. Shenanigans of the FWB kind ensue.

Rated M/E because of sexual encounters. Huge shout outs: @zentamaus, @chloes-yellow-cup, @the-orange-orange, @cotebdepablo, @shadowsinwinter, @snowbritt, and @myhatsbeonbackwards (and a few others) who read over my work and assured me it wasn’t completely crazy while also catching as many blips and errors as they could. 💕

Word count: 11,572

Read on AO3 or below.

It’s not that Chloe’s annoying. In fact, she’s quite the opposite. She’s probably the most caring person Beca has ever encountered in her life. She’s attentive and intelligent about things that Beca can barely bring herself to care about. Things like ensuring everybody’s tea is an appropriate temperature. Or that everybody is appropriately bundled for a chillier mid-winter evening.

And somehow, Chloe manages to do it all without coming off as a mother figure – or in Aubrey’s case, a dictator, from what Beca can tell. Chloe is friends with everybody. Beca thinks that she can’t go anywhere with Chloe on campus because people are always stopping her to say hello or worse – to flirt with her.

Beca’s not jealous, not at all.

It’s just kind of an inconvenience, especially when Beca suddenly has to push through no less than two broad-shouldered seniors who are just dying to hang out with Chloe.

“I’m going to class,” Beca tosses over her shoulder, not caring to see if Chloe responds.

-----

How they become friends is kind of an accident.

Friends is probably a strange way of putting it.

-----

Beca has been vying for the coveted evening supervisor position for the school radio station and she thinks she’s busted her ass enough to deserve it over the course of the semester.

So it’s kind of a surprise to her when Luke greets her one evening with a very happy Chloe Beale standing by his side.

Beca vaguely recognizes her as the girl who interrupted her shower and tried to make her sing an impromptu duet.

And further tried to make her join an acapella group.

Beca dodged a bullet there, but she must have really pissed off somebody in the past because Chloe is standing in front of her, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Chloe’s going to be taking over for me tonight.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Beca says angrily.

Chloe looks startled at Beca’s sudden burst of anger, but collects herself quickly enough. Luke looks unphased. Beca almost wishes Jesse were there to look appropriately scared.

“Chloe’s a good friend of mine,” Luke says lightly. “She–”

“I’m sure she is,” Beca mumbles. She’s mostly grumpy that Luke obviously still doesn’t trust her enough to let her oversee the radio station by herself. Granted, it has only been a few weeks. She doesn’t care that Chloe is ridiculously pretty or that her eyes are somehow the clearest possible shade of blue. It is just incredibly annoying that Luke refuses to let her take the reins, even just for a little bit–

“I know you,” Chloe says, interrupting Beca’s inner tirade. She clearly decided to weather the storm of Beca’s personality. “We sang in the shower together.” Chloe’s brow furrows then. “You didn’t show up for auditions.”

Luke splutters incoherently. Beca’s blush rises up to her cheeks and possibly her forehead. Chloe grins.

Bitch, Beca thinks, without any real bite.

-----

Maybe in another life, she would have been given the opportunity to get to know Chloe the old-fashioned way. Beca’s favorite way: where her walls are sky high and people struggle to climb over them.

Maybe in another life, Chloe would have been her friend first. A leader of sorts, maybe.

Maybe.

Beca’s just counting her lucky stars that she didn’t join that acapella group. That would have been as lame as she originally suspected.

Lame, mostly because what woman bursts into another woman’s shower only to ask about her singing?

The memory of Chloe’s voice still rings through her mind.

“How high does your belt go?” Chloe had asked, too focused and too serious for Beca to think of this situation as anything other than a literal recruitment attempt. Beca had stifled the disappointment, then subsequently the confusion that followed.

Mostly though, Beca had barely remembered to respond because she was too busy trying to focus on not letting her eyes wander inappropriately, though the time for inappropriateness had long passed. “My what ? Oh my God.”

So maybe in another life, she and Chloe would have come together in more ways than one.

-----

Okay, Chloe’s attractive. Like almost unfairly so. She’s all unrestrained smiles, blue eyes, and gentle waves of the prettiest shade of red Beca has seen in her life.

Beca has eyes and enough of a grip on her own sexual preferences to acknowledge that she’d probably flirt hard with Chloe (maybe awkwardly) if Chloe weren’t so damn happy all the time. Or so into acapella.

She’s not against sleeping with Chloe, she thinks. That alone is enough to startle her out of her reverie and she quickly stacks the remaining CDs before Chloe can catch her staring at her from behind the shelf. That would be–

Too late.

Beca narrows her eyes at Chloe who is smirking at her from behind the glass of the booth, oversized, worn-out headphones on her head.

She shouldn’t look that good, considering she’s hellbent on ruining Beca’s life.

She makes sure Chloe can see her eye roll.

-----

Chloe Beale is most annoying whenever she brushes past Beca to grab a CD off the stack or shelf, clearly intent on messing up Beca’s hard work.

It has nothing to do with the way Chloe’s breath ghosts hot and sure against her ear. Or the way Chloe’s breasts feel pressed against her arm or back, even for the briefest of moments.

It’s incredibly annoying. Frustrating, maybe.

(And to be fair, Beca plays dirty when she needs to. She knows what she’s doing when she’s bending over in full view of the booth. She knows what she’s doing when she takes off her plaid shirt and ties it around her waist, leaving her shoulders bare and her neckline more visible.

Her father would be devastated to know that student funds are going into this decrepit radio station so Beca can shamelessly rile up her supervisor.

Oh. Is that what she’s doing?)

-----

“Beca, come here.”

“Freshmen aren’t allowed in the booth,” Beca parrots back at Chloe, crossing her arms. Chloe leans against the doorway, an eyebrow raising in a somewhat challenging manner. Still, Chloe somehow manages to make it look pleasant.

As Beca nears, she wills her heart to stop beating so quickly and finds herself wondering if Chloe is doing the same. If Chloe is struggling with her own internal turmoil.

It’s subtle, but Beca catches the way Chloe’s gaze drifts to her chest.

Checkmate.

She only barely resists smugly pushing up her breasts higher by tightening her arms, but she figures Chloe actually does have something she needs to talk about and she’s not about to risk getting into Chloe’s good graces if it means Chloe will eventually talk to Luke for her.

Beca can be rational. Beca can be focused enough on her career.

Her ‘career’, she repeats in her mind, her father’s disdain in his voice filling the empty spaces where her own voice fails.

“Beca, ” Chloe says, voice sharp with something akin to warning.

Beca obeys, walking into the booth.

“I get the feeling that you’re…” Chloe twists in her chair, facing Beca. “Annoyed or upset about something.” She fixes Beca with a sincere, concerned expression, which is surprising enough that tension flows out of Beca in response. “And that something might be me, So I just wanted to...apologize,” she continues, in the same genuine tone. “I wanted to also apologize if I made you uncomfortable back when...you know. Shower.” She gestures vaguely and openly.

Beca swallows hard.

Chloe makes her anything but uncomfortable.

(Okay, maybe a little uncomfortable, but it’s Pleasant.)

Chloe stands from her perch, with enviable poise. “Friends?” she asks, extending a hand, though that’s hardly necessary with how little space there is between them.

Surrounded by stacks of CDs and cassettes, Chloe seems to glow.

A strange, sad thought flits through Beca’s mind: you don’t belong, she thinks. Chloe could never belong here - alongside the dust and the outdated music. Chloe is the kind of person who shines beyond reason. This much, Beca knows. She knows it to be true, as true as her instinct allows her to believe.

So, Beca opens her mouth and for once, honesty slips out. “We can’t be friends,” she says, noting the sudden spike in temperature. Was the booth always abnormally warm? Beca wonders.

Chloe raises an eyebrow, the motion slicing right through her thoughts. “Why not?” she inquires with a hint of confusion and a dash of sadness, like the thought of Beca not being her friend will plague her for the rest of her days.

Because I’m insanely attracted to you and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day.

She kisses her instead.

-----

“Fuck, fuck, shit–” Beca scrambles to find her footing because Chloe is suddenly lifting her onto a tiny desk in the corner of the booth. Beca’s hands spread out on the hard wooden surface, knocking pens and papers to the ground as Chloe’s tongue pushes into her mouth.

“Language,” Chloe murmurs, leaning back an inch or so. The way her eyes just about gleam in Beca’s direction is almost enough to send Beca over the edge.

“Shut up,” Beca retorts, but she doesn't mean it and Chloe knows. She pulls Chloe in for a harsh kiss that almost immediately softens the moment their lips touch.

Chloe is all about soft curves and gentle caresses, despite the very obvious strength she has over Beca. Beca is a mess of hard edges and roughly drawn lines. She barely has time to process it all, but she’ll start with the way her breast fits neatly into Chloe’s hand, her nipple hard and insistent against Chloe’s palm.

Or maybe she’ll start with how eager Chloe is to feel Beca’s hand beneath her dress and how easily Chloe’s thighs part for her.

There are too many beginnings and not enough rope for Beca to fully immerse herself in each one, so settles on how well they fit.

But, the fact is, they fit.

-----

That’s the first night.

Well, the first night they kiss and touch and do other things–

It’s probably about a week into Chloe supervising Beca, and all things considered, Beca thinks that it’s probably surprising that they don’t jump each other sooner than that.

Chloe gets a call soon after their heavy-handed make-out and they basically spend the rest of the night clearing their throats from opposite ends of the booth.

Beca tries not to think about how Chloe’s lip gloss tasted like mangoes. And how her tongue tasted like peach.

So she thinks instead of how damp Chloe’s underwear had been – like she too had been waiting for this for a long time.

-----

“What the hell?” Luke asks, seeing a mess of pens and papers on the floor that they had forgotten to clean up.

“Oh, you know how Chloe is,” Beca responds after a moment. She shrugs and turns around so he can’t see the blush spread across her cheeks.

“Unbelievable.”

“I know, right.”

-----

Beca’s not sure when she’ll see Chloe again when Luke returns from his mini-break.

She’s almost relieved, but realizes that she’ll miss her. How unfortunate.

She catches glimpses of red hair on campus sometimes, but she never quite makes out the face properly. She doesn’t know that much about Chloe in all honesty. Just based on snippets of various conversations at the radio station, she knows that Chloe is the youngest of four siblings, that Chloe is majoring in Philosophy but wishes she had studied Literature instead, that Chloe ties her hair back into a ponytail when she’s stressed, that Chloe hums when she thinks nobody’s listening, that Chloe’s smiles are all different somehow–

Shut up, Beca tells herself.

It’s not that she’s looking for Chloe Beale, Beca just hates unfinished business.

She doesn’t have to wait long however, because Chloe is grinning at her from across the room at a house party Luke invited her to and God, Beca’s drawn in immediately. She had hoped Chloe would be there, hoped against hope, but something tells her to bottle that sentiment up and keep it close to her chest.

“Hey you,” Chloe greets happily. Beca notes that she’s alone. “Didn’t expect you to be the fraternity party type.”

“Same could be said about you,” Beca shoots back. She takes in Chloe’s surprisingly appropriate attire that isn’t a cheerfully bright shirt or a sundress. It is instead an appealing combination, most pleasing to Beca: black jeans and a snug, well-fitting tank top. “Don’t you have some acapella performances to arrange?” she asks, pulling her eyes up from Chloe’s chest. “Or whatever it is you do,” she amends quickly when Chloe’s eyebrow rises. “I don’t care.”

Chloe clicks her tongue and pours two cups of beer from the keg nearby. She peers at Beca. “How old are you?” she asks, ignoring Beca’s mild snark.

Beca shakes her head. “Nineteen, but I don’t like drinking anyway.” She says this oddly – at least to her – like she feels the words don’t quite fit. She’s nervous, somehow. Does Chloe think she’s young ? Does Chloe think she’s too inexperienced? Questions drift in and out of Beca’s mind while she watches Chloe’s expression with rapt attention.

Chloe looks oddly pleased to hear that and not at all judgmental, though Beca can’t imagine Chloe judging her for anything. Or anybody for that matter. It’s refreshing. “Good to know,” Chloe states, shoving the cups of beer away to a passing boy. “I don’t need to drink either. Want to dance then, Bec?”

“Not really,” Beca says. Chloe bats her eyes. “Okay, fine.”

Chloe pulls her close and for a second Beca thinks she’s about to kiss her. Instead, Chloe is pulling her, pulling her, pulling her until they’re in a space that Beca assumes used to be a living room. There’s a broken, but still brightly lit disco ball above their heads. The music is loud and reverberates through the floors. People are faceless and numerous. Beca can’t imagine looking at anybody else, not at this moment when the light catches on Chloe’s face at random intervals.

Chloe is serious about dancing apparently. She pulls Beca close by the belt loops on her jeans, stepping into her orbit again.

Beca never really got the appeal of dancing on makeshift dancefloors. Of being in such close proximity to various drunken bodies.

It makes her shudder at the thought. Recoil in disgust.

Usually.

Now, however, Chloe’s breath is hot against her face - so similar to how Chloe had felt brushing up against her at the radio station.

“How’s it feel?” Chloe asks, leaning in so her lips graze Beca’s ear. “Dancing with your boss.” She hisses on the last word, like it’s a private little inside joke.

Beca shivers. Chloe’s hips are tantalizing and graceful and rhythmic all at once. Beca finds herself enraptured by the beat of the music and the sway of Chloe’s body against hers. She imagines, for a split second, Chloe teaching her how to dance. She imagines that Chloe would be a good teacher, attentive and responsible.

She strikes that thought immediately because she can’t imagine Chloe being her teacher.

“Could be better,” she finally manages to say, quiet enough that she’s surprised Chloe catches it over all the noise. "Since you're not my boss."

Chloe’s raised eyebrow - that damnable eyebrow - spurs Beca into action.

She presses one hand against the small of Chloe’s back, bringing her closer than before. The slow movement of Chloe’s hips shifts so it matches Beca’s. Chloe’s legs brush her own and almost immediately, Chloe’s thigh slips between her own, solid and firm unlike anything Beca has felt before. She suddenly craves that skin-on-skin contact. She wants to feel exactly what Chloe’s thigh feels between her own thighs. Exactly how soft Chloe’s skin must be.

She tries not to let it show that Chloe is affecting her - that Chloe’s body is eliciting all kinds of responses in her own body.

But she’s sure it’s obvious enough. It's in the way Chloe’s hand comes up to the back of her neck to pull Beca in for a kiss.

-----

Beca gasps out a shuddering breath against Chloe’s neck, unable to help herself from coming alongside Chloe’s orgasm. Her fingers twitch and flex inside Chloe, snug and warm. She hesitates in pulling them out, determined to make Chloe feel every last movement until she tells Beca she’s had enough.

“God,” Chloe murmurs, lazily sliding a hand into Beca’s hair. She tugs and Beca moans immediately, lifting her head obediently to meet Chloe’s lips in an equally lazy kiss. Chloe’s thigh presses up against the seam of Beca’s jeans and she’s once again reminded by how wet she is. How wet her jeans must be – damp at least – considering her underwear is completely ruined. “I knew it would be like this with you.”

Beca doesn’t know what to say to that, but finally has the sense of mind to remove her fingers from Chloe.

She has the strongest desire to taste Chloe, so with her eyes fixated on Chloe’s half-lidded gaze, she lifts herself up on her elbow, just so she can hover above Chloe. Then, she brings her fingers to her mouth and does just that. She swirls her tongue repeatedly around wet fingers, cognizant of how hard her heart pounds in her chest.

Chloe’s gaze flashes with renewed desire. She sits up and pulls Beca close and astride her lap completely. Beca barely has time to remove her fingers from her mouth to grip tight to Chloe’s shoulders or to tangle her fingers in Chloe’s hair. The messy waves feel thicker somehow, easier to hold on to. The strong grip Chloe has on her back, paired with the sure hand creeping up her thigh. Heat spreads beneath her jeans. Chloe is quick in how fast her hand navigates beyond the waistband of Beca’s now-uncomfortable jeans, but her wrist twists and flexes and suddenly she’s so close to where Beca aches for her.

Beca moans - not caring how desperate she sounds anymore - into the kiss and her hips jolt forward of their own volition.

A sharp rap on the door startles them out of their moment ( their moment, Beca thinks gleefully), just as Chloe’s fingers are mere inches away from Beca’s aching clit. Her hips rock forward again, even more impatient and more eager than before, trying to speed Chloe along.

“Impatient,” Chloe rasps, voice low and strained. She doesn’t sound like she thinks that’s a problem at all. Beca grasps her jaw and tilts her head up for searing kiss, aiming to distract her. It works for a few moments and Chloe’s hand is almost there–

“Hey, who’s in there! This is my room.”

Chloe curses under her breath – Beca, loudly – and just like that, her hand is gone. Beca almost whines at the loss.

Suddenly, Chloe is helping her re-button her jeans and readjusting her own clothes and they’re slamming the door open. They lift their eyes to meet a surprised-looking frat boy with boring wind-swept hair and an equally boring polo.

“Were you guys…” He grins, though without much malice or leering. He mostly just looks amused. “In my room?”

Chloe rolls her eyes, pulling Beca behind her as they beeline their way out of the house. “None of your business, Brandon,” she calls over her shoulder.

(Because of course Chloe is on a first name basis with everybody at school. Friends with frat boys and acapella girls alike. Everywhere all at once. Perhaps it was inevitable that Beca got swept up in her orbit, helpless like the rest of them.)

Whether he makes a noise of derision or not like Beca expects him to, she finds that she doesn’t really care and the fleeting thought of what they just did in a random bedroom dissipates.

They can’t get out of there quick enough. After a brief stop in the bathroom to rinse her hands, her face, and to let Chloe’s lips trail up and down her neck lazily, Beca thinks she feels a million pair of eyes on her in the house. Almost like they can tell she’d just spent the past little while getting Chloe Beale off in a nondescript frat boy bedroom. She’s not upset about the fact, not at all. Just amazed that this is the turn her life took when she decided to acquiesce to her father’s request that she attend school for at least a year.

Chloe’s fingers twitch in hers and suddenly Beca is no longer present. The memory of Chloe coming apart beneath her fingers. Chloe’s hair sprawled in many directions across plain navy blue sheets, in every direction like the way Beca’s heart suddenly bled with unexpected desire and passion.

“Wait,” she calls, as they round the side of the house, the sounds of the party finally dying. Her fingers flex in Chloe’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asks, pausing. She isn’t ready for an armful of Beca - of the way Beca all but throws herself at her, lips and hands exploring desperately and suddenly. She moans, long and low, into Beca’s mouth, sure hands coming up to grip Beca’s hips.

How long they kiss like that, in the shadows next to a house party, is a mystery to Beca. She focuses on how soft Chloe’s lips are - how soft they had been when she had been buried in Chloe’s pussy, two fingers deep.

Chloe’s whispered “more” echoes in her head. Her underwear dampens more at the memory.

She’s drunk on Chloe, she’s sure. She’ll never be curious about alcohol again, not when Chloe satisfies her so wholly and fully in a comparable intoxicating manner.

“Your place,” Beca breathes. “P-Please.” She hates the stutter in her voice.

Chloe lifts her head from Beca’s neck, eyes dark beneath mild eyeliner and full lashes. “Yeah?” she asks, like she needs Beca to be certain.

Beca is half tempted to shove Chloe’s hand between her legs to just feel how certain Beca is.

“Yeah,” she chokes out instead. Chloe’s chest heaves against her own. “Yeah, please, Chloe.” Beca feels desperate enough - so close to combusting again - that she pulls Chloe in for a hard, fast kiss. Their teeth nearly clash, but Chloe props herself up against the side of the house - one hand on hard brick, the other tangled in Beca’s hair.

-----

Chloe’s apartment is cozy. Beca almost feels calm.

Almost.

Almost, because Chloe, at some point, decided that it was her mission to give Beca reasons to have consistent heart attacks. She exhales hard against Beca’s skin, all warm breath and barely-there touches. “Careful, don’t wake Aubrey,” Chloe mumbles, lips pressed tight against the curve of Beca’s jaw. She then lets her keys clatter against the bowl and Beca jumps, pressing herself tighter and closer against Chloe’s body on instinct. Chloe snickers. “Kidding, she’s away for the weekend. You’d like her,” she comments, like she’s not about to fuck Beca well into the night.

At least, Beca hopes that’s what is about to happen or she’s going to need to take a shower immediately.

By some great stroke of fortune that Beca does not at all anticipate or eagerly hope for, Chloe reads her mind. She tugs Beca towards the bathroom. It is small and cozy like the rest of the apartment, warm highlights and comfortable bath mats. If Beca is going to venture a guess, she’s going to assume that Aubrey – assuming that was the other young woman Chloe was with that day at the activities fair ( Why are these memories so vivid? ) – did not have a say in the decor.

Beca doesn’t have time to dwell because Chloe drops her hold on her wrist and works on shedding her jeans, then her underwear. Beca blinks, trying to let her brain catch up with her. “Are we taking a bath?” she blurts, a little slow from sudden fatigue, though perhaps more accurately stated, slow from the sight of new skin suddenly visible to her.

Chloe pulls her tank top over her head before responding. “I’m going to take a shower because I need to get that house off me.” She wrinkles her nose. “But you can feel free to use the shower after me.” She steps into the shower. “Or…” Chloe’s tone implies that Beca has some catching up to do.

Beca doesn’t need to be told twice.

When she steps in under the warm spray, she blinks up at Chloe taking in the sight of water dripping off her forehead and nose.

Chloe’s hands come up, surprisingly soft and intimate, to stroke her cheeks and her jaw, like she’s committing some part of Beca to memory. “Okay?” she asks, finally speaking after a long moment of staring at Beca with undisguised desire.

It sends the most pleasant thrill up Beca’s spine. Mine, she thinks abruptly and without warning.

Beca nods, swallowing back the heat that rises and threatens to escape in the form of something horribly cheesy, but words erupt before she can help herself. “This is familiar,” Beca comments, unable to help one last bite of snark before Chloe completely overwhelms her senses. She prides herself on waiting at least two seconds before her eyes drift below Chloe’s collarbones. “Are we going to sing now?”

“Are you ever not annoying?” Chloe asks. She presses Beca right up against the wall of the shower and kisses her hard and suddenly Beca can’t remember anything else.

Chloe’s tongue is deft and sure, pushing into her mouth to explore.

-----

They’re doing everything out of order, Beca thinks.

She was never one for order anyway.

There is no order, not when Chloe’s hands drift up her thighs, her lips following the same path. Not when Beca can only crumble against her touch, like the ruins of a fortress long gone.

-----

Texting enters the rotation of things they do together.

Wish you were here, Chloe texts from out of town.

She knows Chloe is at some acapella competition. Beca shudders. Lol where? Beca texts back.

here, Chloe replies. And Beca can almost hear her voice - the smooth timbre of it. Especially paired by the very vivid photos Chloe sends her.

-----

Luke’s rule is simple enough: no sex on the desks. He slaps a desk cheerfully sometimes whenever Beca is sitting, minding her own business (often trying not to think about what Chloe looked like the previous night, errant strands of hair plastered against her sweaty forehead. Sweaty perhaps because of the utmost concentration on her face, lips pulled between white, even teeth. Sweaty, most likely because of how hard her hips grind into Beca, their centers meeting repeatedly and deliciously and over and over again until Beca comes apart–). She fixes him with a reproachful expression and ignores Jesse’s delighted laugh.

None of that matters though.

It turns out that Chloe is the very reason for that rule from a time before Beca.

She smirks at Beca when Beca asks her about it. It is unfortunately the first question out of Beca’s mouth when she sees Chloe push through the glass door, before she is confused by Chloe’s presence.

“Are you jealous?” Chloe asks nonchalantly, dropping her bag next to Beca’s. Chloe is somehow at the radio station even though Luke is there and Beca is there and nobody told Beca that Chloe would be coming.

“No,” Beca replies immediately, frowning for good measure. “Gross.”

Chloe laughs.

Beca realizes she doesn’t want to know, not at all. Her stomach rolls unpleasantly.

“Get to work,” Chloe tosses over her shoulder, climbing up into the booth to greet Luke.

-----

Chloe’s radio style is all fun anecdotes and cheesy lines. Chloe speaks to everyone at once, inclusive and vibrant. It’s not that Beca wants to like them at all because Chloe’s anecdotes completely go against everything she thinks this station should be –

(“Beca, it’s just like five kids out there listening to this, and they’re all probably high.”

“So?” Beca grumbles back. “They deserve quality content.”

“Oh?” Chloe chirps with interest. “They do, do they? So you don’t think the story about how I got my scar is quality content? You were laughing about it last night.”

She tries not to completely melt at the affection in Chloe’s eyes.)

– it’s just that Chloe is annoyingly adorable sometimes and Beca hates that she wants to keep listening to Chloe’s voice whenever she can. Almost in a greedy, selfish way. She wants to hear Chloe’s voice directed at her more often than not.

-----

Sometimes Chloe sits on Beca’s tiny school-sanctioned bed and recites Russian Literature aloud while Beca fiddles with her latest mixes. Beca pretends not to care, until she realizes that she had been listening to dead air through her headphones for the past fifteen minutes, if the timer on her computer is anything to go by, just to listen to the sound of Chloe’s voice.

She glances at Chloe out of the corner of her eye, comfortable in her oversized sweater and gray leggings. Without looking, she knows Chloe is donning a pair of Beca’s cabin socks and for some reason that makes Beca shift in her seat uncomfortably and clear her throat.

Chloe’s reading doesn’t falter, but Beca finds herself wishing that Chloe would focus on her for just a moment.

-----

Car sex is somehow both terrible and fulfilling.

Beca feels various limbs nearing dangerous cramping territory, but she can’t bring herself to care at the moment. She can’t. Not when Chloe’s tongue is unforgiving between her legs, pushing through wet folds and pulling almost-foreign sounds from Beca’s chest.

“Say my name,” Chloe rasps suddenly, breath hot and heavy against Beca’s bare center. Her eyes glitter up at Beca from between her thighs. The sight alone is too much and Beca nearly concusses herself with how hard her head rocks back against the car door.

“No,” Beca grits out, simply because she can.

Chloe’s fingers are suddenly on her clit and she’s tugging at Beca’s hip with her other hand in a surprisingly strong grip. “Beca,” she whispers, now hovering over her. Chloe’s hair is curlier than before. Before, as in earlier in the evening when she had smiled at Beca from across the table in a charming old diner. Undeniably messier. Her lips are parted and glistening. Her tongue comes out to trace her lower lip, to catch some moisture and shine.

Beca thinks she looks beautiful, but somehow her eyes bely any trace of happiness.

She looks sad. Anxious.

Beca’s throat tightens in a way that has nothing to do with the way Chloe’s fingers slip down to her entrance, gently probing. Chloe leans into her, her hips pushing against her hand so her fingers slide into Beca with ease.

Beca gasps, words dying on the tip of her tongue. So many words, so many phrases. Chloe swallows them all in a deep kiss.

Chloe takes the opportunity to kiss her – a sweet, open-mouthed kiss, unlike any other kiss they’ve shared thus far – and Beca feels everything.

Heat.

Passion.

Desire.

Possession.

They rocket through her in quick succession or sometimes stacked atop each other. They send heat through her body – a thick coil – like how the first taste of herself from Chloe’s mouth feels. They settle somewhere in her chest, where the ruined fortress rests, a white flag waves and Beca grasps at it – grasps at Chloe’s back, really – in desperation.

She comes hard, devastatingly so, with Chloe’s name on her lips like a blessing and a curse all at once.

Chloe pants into her neck, fingers never quite stilling. Instead, her fingers coax Beca higher again, over the edge of a smaller cliff. It’s all Beca can do, really: she follows obligingly, chasing that explosive moment once more, just once more, Beca thinks–

“More,” she whispers. She imagines the stars beyond the roof of Chloe’s car and when she shuts her eyes once more, gripping hard at the back of Chloe’s head, Chloe’s fingers twist just right and Beca thinks of galaxies to call their own.

“Beca,” Chloe murmurs, thick against her neck like she might be crying. The moment disappears, however, because Chloe is kissing her again, murmuring thanks against her lips. There are no tears on Chloe’s face and she suddenly looks the same like she did when she let Beca lead her into the backseat of her car after a half-hearted attempt at stargazing. Bright-eyed and almost falsely curious, like she wants to know what new things Beca can show her. False, because Chloe knows all her tricks by now.

(But all the things they don’t know yet about each other – that’s what keeps Beca up at night sometimes.)

“Chloe,” Beca begins, blinking back the haze so she can focus on Chloe’s distress. “Chloe, what –” She accepts her jeans and underwear from Chloe’s outstretched hand. “Hey, no–” she stops, placing a hand on Chloe’s arm. “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s nothing,” Chloe says quickly. “Really nothing.”

“You’ve been off all night,” Beca points out.

“What do you call what I just did?” Chloe cuts back, nearly uncharacteristic bite in her tone.

Beca rolls her eyes. Snark and sarcasm and closed-off responses: she knows them like the back of her hand, so she ignores Chloe’s brief moment of lashing out and pats herself on the back for not feeling the immediate urge to close off and stop. “You can talk to me, I promise.” She swallows. “We’re...friends.”

Chloe’s shoulders pull up in a tense gesture, then and she pauses in rebuttoning her shirt. “We are?” she asks quietly. Timidly.

Beca bites her tongue because her first instinct is to correct Chloe and herself: no, they’re just coworkers who occasionally fuck in the back of dark cars in quiet areas of the local park.

But she knows they’re not just coworkers, well beyond that. She knows too much about Chloe. Every intimate detail and every funny story. They compete uncomfortably for dominance in Beca’s mind and her heart.

“We are,” Beca says softly, because she knows this to be true. “Just friends,” Beca continues because the urge to say that is too strong. She is unsure as to how to navigate this unfamiliar territory because Chloe’s display of emotions are new and unknown. It feels safe to clarify this, to draw boundaries since they eviscerated their previous boundary of mere coworkers.

Still the ache in her chest doesn’t quite ebb, even as she fully catches her breath and the lust and desire dwindle to nothing. She sits in the front again, next to Chloe who drives quietly. If Beca had to hazard a guess, she thinks Chloe is being pensive in fear of her own embarrassment, which is another thing Beca has learned about Chloe. Chloe is not somebody who is easily embarrassed. Many things roll off her back and she never seems to shy away from uncomfortable conversations.

But this is something new.

Beca could say many things.

You’re scaring me. Please talk to me.

You scare me in general, actually.

I’m here, I promise.

I want to listen to you.

But they’re just that: things she could say and words she has never said to somebody in any intimate way. She bottles these words up and keeps them almost selfishly in an attempt to protect her own heart.

Car sex might have left Beca with an uncomfortable lingering strain in her shoulder, but the car ride home is a little worse.

-----

Somehow things change and then they don’t.

They don’t talk about that strange night in the darkness of Chloe’s car and it hovers over Beca’s head with a whole host of other problems, like getting her mixes on the school’s airwaves and passing her classes. Her first semester was a surprise to both herself and her father, so she feels a renewed determination to finish off strong enough so she can go to L.A. in peace.

She and Chloe still sleep together regularly enough. Chloe still occasionally shows up at the radio station like she owns the place and chats with both Jesse and Luke amicably. Beca is suspicious that Chloe is gossiping about her, particularly when she sees Jesse and Chloe conspiring together between the stacks, but she figures that it’s probably mainly Jesse trying to pry her for information about Beca. Whenever they see Beca approaching, however, they brush off their conversation and lift their bent heads. Jesse busies himself with a heavy stack of records that he pretends he can carry without straining his back.

“What are you two weirdos up to?” Beca asks, trying to keep the demand out of her voice. Chloe simply smiles and shakes her head, then, she later teases Beca about Jesse’s ever-lingering crush on her.

“Jealous?” Beca asks, irritated mostly by the impossible passage she’s reading. Theory and never-ending sentences float through her mind. Even with all of that, her question still remains with a tinge of hopefulness because it wouldn’t be terrible if Chloe were a little jealous of a woefully incomparable competitor. The thought is a little savage and a little abrupt, but Beca lets it pass with a hint of comfort.

“No,” Chloe responds easily.

Right, because Chloe has no reason to be jealous of Jesse of all people.

Beca returns to her laptop and Chloe returns to her book.

-----

Sometimes they go on dates, though neither of them is willing to call it a date. Beca kind of wants Chloe to do it first – to ask her on an actual date – but she wonders if Chloe expects it of her.

Sometimes when Chloe introduces her to her friends on campus, she uses the word “friend” and it haunts Beca at night. She doesn’t necessarily disagree with the label, but she itches to figure out what they could be. It’s the oddest kind of of hunger, one that she hasn’t necessarily had before.

It’s not that Beca has never hooked up with somebody before in her life, but when she looks at Chloe, it’s hard to see her as just another faceless entity.

So Beca watches men and women alike flirt with Chloe like no tomorrow from the sidelines and waits for Chloe to return to her side. Back into their bubble.

Her favorite moments are when Chloe stares at her from across the table in a diner; when Chloe stares at her from across a candlelit dinner at a surprisingly upscale restaurant (and sometimes she’ll let Beca pay her half or pay the whole bill good-naturedly); when Chloe wrestles her mini-golf club from her in an attempt to stop Beca’s weirdly good putting skills; when Chloe sometimes just gazes at her for no reason.

(Or too many reasons.)

So there are a few changes, sometimes. Beca is still figuring them all out. She’s still figuring herself out.

-----

Something that never changes – hasn’t changed – over time is how often Chloe tries to convince her to attend Bellas meetings or rehearsals. Or that time Chloe tried to get her to attend a Riff-Off, whatever the hell that was. Beca had immediately declined, citing illness.

“You have to come at least once,” Chloe begs now.

“But why ?” Beca whines. “I think it’s kind of lame, you know this.” She doesn’t mean it in a bad way. It just...it is kind of lame. Beca had been mildly interested at the activities fair but only because Chloe had been so earnest and open and passionate. Looking back, Beca had thought at the time that it was only because Chloe and Aubrey were both attractive and innocent-looking enough that stopping by their booth would have been just a blip in Beca’s day. Nothing more than a moment.

But she sees now what moments spiral into and how they consume and consume until Beca gives in to the unforgiving nature of the laws of attraction.

It had been so much more then. She knows this now.

“Yes I know, but I promise you won’t think it’s that lame.” Chloe heaves a breath, tapping her fingers dramatically against Beca’s arm. “ And you get to see me in a sports bra.”

Beca makes a choked noise of discontent. “That’s not interesting to me.”

“It is a little interesting,” Chloe assures her, like she needs to convince Beca that seeing her in less clothing is a hard and arduous task. “Come on. We’ll consider it like a little field trip. I swear to God, you’ve never been outside the four walls of that radio station on this campus.”

“That is not true,” Beca corrects immediately. She drops her book so she can shift Chloe’s legs off her lap. Chloe’s protests die in her mouth because Beca is all but crawling up her body, settling on straddling her hips. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“This, uh, apartment isn’t technically on campus,” Chloe murmurs, distracted by the sliver of skin that shows beneath Beca’s shirt when she raises her hands to pull her hair behind her shoulders.

“I’ve been to my dorm,” Beca continues, ignoring Chloe’s statement. She leans forward over Chloe, so she is hovering over her face. She grins down at Chloe when she feels Chloe’s hand sliding up the backs of her thighs lightly at first, then firmly when she reaches Beca’s ass.

She leans down to kiss Chloe, enjoying the always-appealing ripple of pleasure and heat stemming from her chest and spreading to the rest of her body. She rests her hands on the armrest behind Chloe’s head, slowly lowering the rest of her body to spread out across Chloe’s, careful to distribute her weight evenly.

Slowly, Chloe’s hands move along her back, mapping new and old paths. She holds Beca to her and like that, they kiss gently and languidly. Chloe lifts a hand from Beca’s back to hold the back of Beca’s head to slowly increase the pressure and intensity of their kisses. Beca will never tire of the ways Chloe continues to show her intimacy and physical affection. Even the gentle drag of Chloe’s fingers through her hair, paired with the slow brush of Chloe’s tongue against her lower lip, has devastating effects on Beca’s peace of mind.

Beca doesn’t expect this kiss to go anywhere really and it’s that thought that she fixates on. It thrills her and makes her fingers curl into the fabric of the couch. The fact that Chloe would enjoy these moments of pure intimacy without sexuality makes something almost completely foreign settle in Beca’s body. She files it away for the future.

“I have something to tell you,” Chloe murmurs, when Beca finally draws back to take in deep breaths of air. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. It isn’t a big deal, I promise.”

Beca doesn’t trust herself to speak without her voice cracking at the moment, so she nods. She hates the fear that rises up in her.

“I...I’m going to get my nodes taken out in a few weeks and I’m a little scared of what it’ll mean for me and singing.”

“Nodes,” Beca repeats. “Are those–?” she lifts a hand to Chloe’s throat and runs a finger across soft skin gently. She looks at Chloe questioningly.

“Yeah, and I…” Chloe sighs and gestures for Beca to sit up. “I want to be able to sing and I want to be able to compete, but they’re getting bad and they hurt a lot sometimes.”

“When did you hear from your doctor?”

“I guess a few weeks ago. Maybe a month and a bit. I didn’t know what to do about it.”

“Does it hurt now?” Beca asks a little anxiously. She stares at Chloe’s neck, like she expects to see some kind of bulge or noticeable deformity.

“No, not really. Only when I sing a lot.”

“Then why do it?” Beca asks urgently. “Why do it if it hurts?”

“Because I love to sing,” Chloe says, looking at Beca so suddenly and deeply that Beca cannot bring herself to look away.

She swallows. “I know you do.”

“And I want you to be able to hear me do it before...I can’t do it anymore.”

Beca opens her mouth to tell Chloe how dramatic that sounds – that of course Chloe will still be able to sing – but she takes in the genuine apprehension on Chloe’s face and the sincerity of her tone. She processes all of that and feels herself relating to Chloe on deeper levels than before. She knows too well what these feelings are: they are too late and last chance and regret – so much regret – all rolled up in anxiety and sometimes indescribable sadness.

She wants to share in it with somebody, but it is difficult to know the repercussions of opening herself up to that kind of vulnerability.

But, sitting here, near Chloe, next to Chloe, she feels like she could do it. She feels like she could try.

“Okay,” Beca finally says. “I’ll come.”

-----

Beca vaguely recognizes some of the girls who make up the Bellas. She thinks Fat Amy (though her name is listed as Patricia in Beca’s email list) was who she met at the Activities Fair. A few others, she recognizes from orientation and her dorm.

Then her eyes zero in on Chloe, standing in the middle of the room with her blonde friend – Aubrey? – by her side. Aubrey unfortunately spots her first.

“This is a closed rehearsal,” Aubrey says immediately.

“No it’s not,” Chloe argues. “There isn’t a rule about that. Besides, I invited her.”

“Hello,” Beca says, waving awkwardly. She lets Chloe pull her towards the group. “I...told Chloe I’d come by and watch you guys.”

“Beca’s a really good musician! You should hear the kinds of remixes and melodies she comes up with. She can help us, maybe. Like a consult.”

Aubrey looks increasingly pale even as the other women all murmur with interest at Chloe’s words.

“Okay, she can stay,” Aubrey says when it’s clear that Beca has the support of the room. “We can talk later. I just wish you discussed this with me, Chloe.”

Chloe’s face falls a little. The sight makes Beca clench her fist and Aubrey’s tone really grates on her nerves. “Hey,” she starts. Both Aubrey and Chloe quickly glance at her. Chloe’s gaze is sharp and she shakes her head discreetly, while Aubrey eyes her challengingly. “Nevermind.”

The rehearsal ends up being surprisingly fun and lighthearted, despite the initial tension. Beca wonders why they’re singing songs that are twice as old as them, but she holds her tongue. Instead, she watches Chloe correct a few dance steps for a few of the members (she knew Chloe would be a good teacher) and listens to the smooth sound of Chloe’s voice. It washes over her during her solo, but listening carefully, Beca can hear the strain. Knowing about Chloe’s nodes, it makes Beca wince.

But Chloe’s voice is beautiful.

-----

Arguments come naturally enough. Beca’s personality, while not necessarily volatile, leans towards the side of bottling emotions until they burst from her like an overly-shaken bottle of soda. And not even the good kind. Probably a discount brand Dr. Pepper.

Chloe, on the other hand, is the most expressive person Beca has ever met, sometimes without even speaking. Her eyes shine like two luminous windows into Chloe’s exact emotions at any given time. It is absolutely terrifying.

Another thing about Chloe is that she pries. She pries at Beca’s boarded-up windows and tries to peer in. Beca half-heartedly bats her away and dodges other attempts, but it gets to a point when Beca realizes that she pretty much considers Chloe her best friend. It happens somewhere in between Kimmy Jin happily saying hello to Chloe as she lets her into their shared dorm room and Chloe holding out a hand to read Beca’s recently finished essay.

She watches Chloe’s eyes flit across the page as she reads carefully, nodding along.

“My dad called me again today,” Beca blurts just as Chloe flips a page.

Chloe looks at her with interest. “Oh? What did he want?”

“I let it go to voicemail. He probably just wants to make sure I haven’t joined a cult or done something else to give him a bad name.”

“I’ve always wanted to take a class with Professor Mitchell,” Chloe says lightly.

Beca flicks Chloe’s hand. “Hey.”

“What? He’s a good professor!”

“So?” Beca feels petulant.

Chloe sighs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but honestly it sounds like your father is trying. And you have to admit that this ‘little college experiment’ as you would say hasn’t been a complete waste.”

Beca bristles. “Not you too.”

“What?” Chloe asks, a hint of exasperation slipping into her tone.

“Just...trying to get me to stay.”

“I’m not trying to get you to do anything, Beca,” Chloe says patiently. A little patronizingly. “You’re an adult.”

“But–”

“L.A. will still be there,” Chloe says quietly. “And you’re so talented. I mean it, Beca. You’re going to make it there. But honestly, I can tell you enjoy school. And you’ve enjoyed Barden.”

It’s difficult to admit how right Chloe is. She is right, though. Beca can’t bring herself to admit it because it means having to deal with the truth of it all.

The truth about how Beca feels herself changing and shifting into a new person. The growing pains of realizing what it means to be self-sufficient. Independent. Responsible.

In love.

“I don’t...I don’t enjoy Barden,” Beca finally says, lying through her teeth. “Stop saying that.” Stop saying things that make me think about how in love with you I am.

Chloe stares at her. “Look, I’m just saying–”

“Stop!”

Her outburst startles them both.

Embarrassed, Beca tugs the paper from Chloe’s grasp – gently enough as to not give Chloe a sudden papercut – and turns back to her computer. “I think you should go,” she says softly.

“Beca,” Chloe starts, then thinks better of it. She stands from Beca’s bed and leaves quietly.

The door clicks shut, echoing in the silence of Beca’s room.

-----

“Do you work here now?” Beca overhears Jesse asking somebody. “It’s cool to see another acapella friend.”

“An aca-friend,” Chloe’s voice replies, too cheerfully for Beca’s taste, especially considering she just created a portmanteau of acapella and friend. Beca almost shudders, but she finds herself slinking past the rows of records to step into the clearing between stacks. “And yes, just a part-time thing because Luke has been looking for some extra help managing you two while he figures out the rest of his life.”

“Beca has been wanting to get into that booth,” Jesse says helpfully. Beca feels affection rise in her. He was listening.

“I know,” Chloe replies. “I–” Her eyes flick up at that moment from where she’s thumbing through a folder. “Oh, look who it is.”

“Hi,” Jesse greets immediately. “You look like shit,” he says helpfully. Chloe cuts him a glance with an unreadable expression.

“You’re back,” Beca says to Chloe.

“Yeah, it was just a weeklong thing for school.”

“No,” Beca says haltingly, gesturing at Chloe. “You’re back here.”

She feels tired and frustrated. Her conversations with her father have been going nowhere. She and Chloe haven’t really talked over the past two weeks, which gives rise to feelings of anxiety and nervousness.

-----

“Hey,” Chloe greets cautiously. “Are you-?”

“I’m fine,” Beca says quickly. “Sorry, I’ll just.” She begins packing up her things. “I’ll just go. My shift ended a while ago.”

“You know, you don’t need to keep pushing me away,” Chloe says as gently as she can. “I won’t pry or anything, but I’m here for you. I care about you, Beca.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Beca argues weakly.

Chloe’s hand drifts up to her shoulder, where she rests it. It feels heavy to Beca. “I know you and I want to continue knowing you. Getting to know you.”

Beca shifts. “I don’t know.”

“Bec.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Chloe murmurs an apology and looks so contrite that Beca immediately feels bad. She can’t continue hurting Chloe like this, not when Chloe hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I can’t keep doing this with you,” Beca says before she can stop herself. Now, she finds she cannot stop. It spills out of her like venom. “I can’t keep this up. It’s – it’s too confusing and too stressful. Going out and holding your hand. Sleeping together.” Beca blinks back tears of insecurity. “You...we haven’t even really talked in like two weeks.” Not that she had been counting.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“I just need some space. And no, I can’t break up with a friend,” Beca corrects a little snidely. “You’re not my girlfriend.”

Chloe doesn’t gasp or cry or anything quite as dramatic. Instead, she just looks the saddest Beca has ever seen her.

That speaks more volumes than if Chloe had lost her temper. Beca's tired of people leaving (but she is even more tired of pushing people away).

-----

The silver lining comes soon enough: Luke raps sharply on the booth window and points at Beca when she turns. Come here, he mouths.

“Me?” Beca asks.

Luke merely stares at her with a tired expression. She flushes and immediately drops the album she had been holding and quickly makes her way into the booth.

He grins at her. “That was quick. I knew you had it in you.”

“Did you call me in here to make fun of me?”

“No, I called you in here to let you know that I have to go out of town for the weekend and you’re getting the Friday night shift.”

“I already work Friday nights,” Beca says, slow on the uptake.

“No, you work out there on Friday nights. This Friday night, I want you in here. Lining up songs. Your own, even.”

“You what ?” Beca blinks and shakes her head. “That – that’s amazing!” She exclaims, unable to hide the glee in her voice. “Seriously?” she asks quickly, just to be sure. “Like this is serious, right? You’re not fucking with me?”

“Yeah. You’ve been responsible and on-time for work. And I’ve seen you fiddling with your laptop from time to time. I’ve listened to your mixes. You’re ready.”

You’re ready.

Beca cannot express how not ready she feels, but she’s going to take the plunge. If only she felt ready in other aspects of her life.

It’s less of a silver lining and more of the barest hint of sunshine peeking through the ever-lingering storm clouds.

-----

The shifts get better and better. Beca tries to ignore the rolling in her stomach when she thinks about how sad and disappointed Chloe had looked.

It’s easy to ignore it when she can focus on being alone in the booth. Just her and music. Her previous radio shows were a success and her mixes were received well. For the first time, Beca feels the strangest wells of happiness and success fill her chest, though she tries not to think about how there are gaps now. Gaps being that she so desperately wants to share these thoughts with Chloe.

It ends up coming out to Luke of all people in a fit of emotional outpouring. Beca stares hard at her clenched fists and admits to Luke that while she did not Have Sex on the Desks, she and Chloe were definitely a thing and they had been for most of their time ‘working’ together in the radio station. Mostly, it’s just an attempt to glean how Chloe is doing from the one person that Beca knows well-enough as a mutual friend between them both.

Luke is surprisingly attentive and lets out a low whistle at the end of her story. “First, holy shit.”

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t peg you as Chloe’s type.”

“I’m not going to ask why you would even think about any of this, even abstractly.”

“This explains why Chloe hasn’t been around recently.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“You two had a good dynamic from what I saw. I mean, I now know that it was more than just good rapport, but Chloe deserves to be happy.” He squints at her. “Why are you two having issues?”

“I just. It’s too much,” Beca gestures vaguely. “I don’t let people in like that, I just don’t. I literally chose to work here because it has two people. Three, I guess. I like the quiet, I like my space, and I like not having to worry about whether people are going to get up and leave. And besides, we were just...friends anyway,” Beca finishes lamely. She hopes against hope that Luke didn’t catch the way her voice wavered.

Luke stares at her for a long moment.

Beca glances at him, nervous under his scrutiny. “Like, why didn’t she just ask me to be her girlfriend, then? Why dance around this? I’m not...good with this stuff. I don’t do relationships. She probably thinks I’m so fucking young and just not ready for her. But I am. I was. I think?” Beca frowns. “She just scared me a lot.”

Luke sighs. “Yeah, she can be like that. But she only ever cares too much for her own good. Thanks for telling me though.” He smiles. “You’re an interesting person, aren’t you?”

Before Beca can respond or process any of Luke’s cryptic words disguised as limited wisdom, Luke is leaving the keys on the table and leaving without another word.

-----

She thinks that’s the end of it.

She finally responds to a few texts from Chloe and does her best to not make them as lackluster as she initially wants them to. She berates herself a little for her insecurities and makes a note to herself to keep her chin up at work.

Speaking of work.

Luke looks down at Beca from his perch in the booth.

“No booth today?” Beca tries weakly.

“Beca,” he begins in a tone that she hates immediately.

“I just want to take my mind off things,” Beca interrupts. She doesn’t want to see sympathy or judgement in his face, though at this point, she’s not sure she can differentiate between the two. It’s all the same to her.

“Yeah, about that.”

And there it is. She regrets telling him anything. “Dude, no, I get it. Chloe’s your friend and I should have never-”

“You’re kind of thick, aren’t you?”

Beca is at a loss for words before she realizes exactly what Luke just said. “What?”

“Stupid. It means stupid.”

“I know what thick means,” she fires back.

“Did you know that Chloe hates the radio station?”

That’s not what she expects at all. “She what?”

“She really does. I mean, she used to work here with me on and off in our freshman and sophomore years, but then she pretty much threw herself into the Bellas and I didn’t see much of her after that. She hated the darkness, the smell, and our other coworker.”

“And now?” Beca asks, a little stupidly, she realizes too late. Luke is already rolling his eyes and brushing past her. She turns just in time to catch the keys he flings in her direction.

“Remember, no sex on the desks!”

He’s so fucking funny, Beca thinks.

-----

It’s not quite the greeting her father expects, but Beca thinks there are worse things to say than “I think I’m in love with a girl and it’s seriously messing me up.”

Her father takes it remarkably well. “Oh, do I know her?” he asks, pouring her a cup of tea.

Beca wonders if that’s his attempt at a joke, but he doesn’t seem to be amused or making light of the situation at all. It’s his attempt to let her know that he does want to know about her life and he wants her to open up.

It’s a pattern in Beca’s life, it seems. Like she’s constantly missing these opportunities to connect – or reconnect – with people every so often.

She knows she’s difficult and she knows she’s hard around the edges, but Chloe makes her want to be better. Her entire experience at Barden this past year has made her want to be better.

Not that her father needs to know, but as she watches him and observes the lines around his eyes and mouth, she sees so much pain and regret. It manifested in her own vulnerability and insecurity, especially around the time her parents split up. She had been so sure that it had been easy for her father to leave – to pack his bags and leave.

She sees now that it probably wasn’t easy. It didn’t excuse his actions – still doesn’t – that much Beca knows with one hundred percent certainty, but time really wears on people, especially those living with regrets. Chloe had always subtly tried to encourage her to talk to her father, or to at least agree to his attempts to meet up for coffee. Beca had brushed both of them off until eventually her father stopped asking and she had been pleased at the time. But she saw the same kind of familiar sadness in Chloe’s eyes whenever she contemplated Beca, like she knew Beca was lonely.

Like she knew Beca was sad.

Beca sighs, reaching out to stop her father from adding sugar.

“I’ve missed you, you know.”

He smiles, causing the crinkles around his eyes to turn up. “So tell me about this girl.”

-----

“Hey, you know good restaurants around here, right?” Beca asks, the moment Jesse picks up his phone. Her father’s advice had been surprisingly simple and sound: apologize and talk to Chloe. So that’s what she’s trying to do, but she’s going to do it with some nice take-out and a custom-created mix.

Something clatters in the background. “Beca, what ? Happy spring break to you too.”

“Around the school,” Beca continues a little impatiently. “Restaurants around the school.”

Jesse sighs. “Is this about Chloe?” he asks.

“Why would it be about Chloe?” is Beca’s defensive response. Jesse is silent. “Yes, this is about Chloe.”

“Are you going to take her out on a date ?” he asks, too happy for Beca’s liking. “Finally?” he continues. Beca can see his playful expression. She doesn’t hate it necessarily.

“I just want to do something nice for her,” she says.

Jesse laughs. “This is exactly the conversation I had with Chloe.”

“What? When?” This is news to Beca. She sits heavily, suddenly, already piecing things together despite Jesse’s loud guffaw right into her phone. “Shut up,” she insists. “When?”

“Oh man, it was right out of a movie. She always wanted to talk to me about the kinds of things she thought you would enjoy. And she used to ask me about my favorite places to hang on dates. I mean, I didn’t understand it at first, but I kind of saw you two making out when you both thought I had gone to get Luke a burger.”

Beca inhales indignantly. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“About your fraternizing with your coworker?” Jesse asks. Beca can hear the delight in his voice. “I mean, I always thought it’d be me, but the moment Chloe started working here, I knew I was finished.”

She can’t tell if he’s actually serious, but she’s suddenly laughing. Laughing like a purge of emotion because it makes complete sense. Chloe had been planning dates. So many dates and so many nights out. Never really just a casual, on-the-whim moment.

Chloe had always been laying down the foundation for them, always just waiting for Beca to catch up.

And now, to find Chloe.

-----

Aubrey looks at Beca like she thinks Beca is a particularly interesting piece of dust. She peers down at Beca and appears to delight in their (very slight) height difference.

“Chloe’s not here,” she says, her nose wrinkling. Beca privately thinks that she might be envisioning the last time she caught Beca and Chloe going at it on their living room couch. “You’re...Beca, right? Chloe talked about you a lot.” She narrows her eyes suspiciously, then, like perhaps Chloe hadn’t been talking about Beca a lot recently.

Beca tries to smile, but manages a grimace. “I...okay. I can wait until she gets back,” she offers.

“She’s not coming back.”

Beca’s eyes widen. “What?” she squeaks out, fear causing her tone to rise.

Aubrey’s eyes widen too. “No, no, I’m so sorry, I just meant that she won’t be back for a while.”

“Oh, I thought she was staying here for spring break,” Beca murmurs. “She said she was,” she says, pulling out her phone to see her last brief message exchange with Chloe a few days ago.

“She didn’t tell you?” Aubrey asks, her entire stance softening. She looks at the take-out in Beca’s hands and then looks at Beca’s face, as if determining her true intentions.

For once, Beca doesn’t feel afraid. She lets Aubrey assess her and stare straight at her. She hopes Aubrey can see her honesty and sincerity and, if she dares, affection and care for Chloe Beale.

Aubrey seems to like what she sees, at least enough to inform Beca that Chloe is in the hospital, recovering from her nodes operation.

For some reason (many reasons), that makes Beca cry.

-----

Beca makes a soft sound upon seeing Chloe sound asleep in the pristine hospital bed. As uncomfortable as the bed itself looks, Chloe looks peaceful - content even.

Somehow making the worst things a little brighter, Beca muses. She gently places the roses down on the window ledge before moving closer to Chloe. As she nears, she becomes more aware of all the various instruments about: the complicated machinery, the wires, tubing both unused and used, the metal – so much metal – lining various aspects of the room. All together, it’s not a pretty sight, but Chloe is safe. Chloe is alive. The surgery was a success. Beca can breathe again.

The sheets rustle and Beca's eyes dart back to Chloe who is staring back at her. Chloe blinks slowly, like the last dredges of sleep are slowly fading away.

“Hi,” Beca says weakly. “Hi. Oh God, you’re awake. Okay, uh–” Chloe points at the rolling table Beca had pushed aside and Beca belatedly notices the whiteboard and marker. “Oh, okay. Sorry, I’ll just…” She quickly snatches it up and presses them into Chloe’s hands. Chloe fixes her with an amused expression. “I’m just nervous,” Beca explains.

Chloe is writing furiously on her whiteboard.

“I’m going to start with an apology because I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.”

Chloe glances up briefly to roll her eyes, shaking her head. You’re not, she mouths.

But she still writes.

“Uh, okay. I’ll make this quick, so you can...um, drink water or something. I just want you to know that I’m so fucking sorry about everything. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did, starting right from the beginning. When you started working at the station and then everything that happened right after.

“Honesty, the way you make me feel is probably just a combination of the happiest I’ve ever been and terrified. More terrified than I’ve ever been in my life. I’ve never had any real kind of close relationships and I never thought I’d be able to feel close to anybody, not when I spent so much time trying to figure out how to leave.

“But something occurred to me,” Beca continues, trying to will her voice from cracking. “And I’m not, like, talking about while we were sleeping together or anything. Though, that was nice.” Chloe flashes her teeth at her in what Beca assumes is a silent laugh. “I realized that I don’t want to leave. Not for the next year at least. And I don’t know what that means for us or anything, but I want you to know that I like you more than a friend and I have for a while. I was just too afraid of my own damn feelings.”

Chloe coughs a little, some sound escaping her and causing her to wince. She smiles at Beca gratefully when she immediately hands her a glass of water from the side table, then picks her board back up again.

“What are you writing?” Beca asks nervously. “You’ve been writing a lot.”

Chloe looks a little teary-eyed, but she slowly flips the board over.

The inscription is surrounded by dozens of hearts of varying sizes, finally underscored by a postscript.

Beca Mitchell, will you be my girlfriend (again)? Choose one. YES / NO p.s. you’re so cute when you’re nervous. And of course I forgive you, you dummy.

There is so much more Beca wants to say – so many more apologies and explanations. And she’s sure Chloe has more she wants to say as well.

So she leans in instead and moves closer for a quick kiss. At the last minute, she thinks better of the idea because she’s unsure if Chloe’s allowed to engage in kissing so soon after her surgery. She kisses Chloe’s cheek instead, letting her lips linger for as long as she dares. Chloe shivers a little when Beca pulls back and Beca is surprised to note that her eyes are wet.

“What?” Beca asks, nervous again.

Chloe taps the board impatiently.

“Oh. Duh, yes.” She quickly grabs the marker and circles the yes. Chloe grins at her, pulling her in for a kiss to Beca’s cheek of her own.

The touch is tender and gentle, a far cry from their very first kiss.

Beca has never felt anything better.

fin.

#bechloe #bechloe week #mine #my fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #text #pp #movies #fanfiction #bechloe week 2019

168 notes · View notes

paradisobound · 5 years ago

Text

World’s Greatest First Love: Chapter 7

Summary: Dan Howell wanted a clean break from his father’s publishing company. It was why he applied for a different company in London: to stop the ridicule of his coworkers for riding on his ‘daddy’s coat tails’. But he wasn’t expecting to suddenly be going from a literature editor, to a graphic novel editor. And he certainly wasn’t expecting to come face first with his first love who broke his heart from when he was a teenager: who just happens to be his new editor-in-chief.

Based on the Anime and Manga “The World’s Greatest First Love: The Case of Ritsu Onodera” aka Sekai-Ichi Hatsukoi

Rating: Mature (For Now)

Word Count: 2.3k (this chapter)

Warnings: None

Beta Read by: @phanandpenguins

Updates Every Tuesday 12pm EST and Saturday at 1pm EST

READ ON AO3

Meeting Monika a few days before had put doubts inside Dan’s head. Every time he stepped into the office, the business card she gave him sits perched next to his mug of coffee and he can see it. Every time he goes to get a drink, he can see her name and the words literature department in small print on the bottom.

He should transfer.

But then the thought of transferring doesn’t seem all that appealing to him anymore and when he thinks about it in detail, his head feels like it is swimming. He’s grown so used to working with graphic novels over the last month that it’s hard for him to know whether or not he still wants to go back to editing literature.

It’s 9:30 in the morning and Dan is already having a crisis. He shuts the top of his laptop down and sits back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with palms. His eyes hurt and a headache is quickly taking residence in his temple. He feels like the coffee is no longer strong enough to help his brain fog.

It also doesn’t help that the past few days, all he can think about is Damien walking into Phil’s apartment with that kitten. Dan can still see it in the back of his head and he doesn’t know why it’s bothering him, but it is.

Clearly, Damien has a key to Phil’s apartment but what about the kitten? Did they live together and Dan just never noticed? Are they friends or are they…

The second thought makes Dan’s stomach twist and knot and he shakes his head because he doesn’t like that second thought. But why? He’s not doing anything with Phil, and he has no intentions of doing anything with Phil. So why does the thought of him being with Damien put such a hindrance on his body?

Is it because of Phil’s flirting? Phil’s insistence that they need to talk about the past. Maybe it’s the fact that deep down, when Dan turns his head and sees Phil sitting at his desk, he can vaguely feel the pouring of love into his heart. They’re the same feelings he felt ten years ago.

Dan groans inside his head and stands up from his chair, pushing it in and walking off to get a breather. He needs to maybe go outside for a moment and take in some fresh air. Maybe it’ll help clear his thoughts and rid his headache.

He starts walking down the hall to the elevators and before he reaches them, a hand comes up and grabs his shoulder and jerks him back. He quickly turns to see who just did that when he comes face to face with dark hair and dark eyes and he feels all color leave his face.

“Can I talk to you privately?”

Dan looks at Damien and frankly, he doesn’t know if he should go anywhere privately with Damien. The thought also scares him a bit. But Damien is technically, on a long list of hierarchy, one of his superiors so he knows he should listen if Damien asks him a question.

“Okay.”

Damien motions for him to follow him to an empty room just off the side of the break room and he shuts the door behind them.

“I need to talk to you about Phil.”

Dan cocks his head. What about Phil?

“Excuse me?”

“Listen, I’m not an idiot,” Damien snaps out, “I know who you are.”

Dan stands there, bracing his palms against the table behind him as he tries to steady himself, “I seriously don't know…”

“You have some fucking nerve to come here and work for Phil after what you did to him.”

Dan’s nostrils flared and his body geared up in the fight response he’s been doing for years every time someone mentions Phil, “I didn’t do anything to Phil. He’s the one who broke up with me.”

“I met Phil our first year at University,” Damien says, changing the subject, “and I befriended him because at the time, he needed a friend. He would tell me over and over again about the ‘boy that broke his heart’ or ‘the boy he can’t find’ or ‘the boy who got away’, and I listened to him talk about you for years. Talk about Dan, talk about how he was going to try and find you and reconnect. But you don’t know the hell he went through trying to mend his broken heart. He turned to drinking, sleeping around, to never being able to date. And you know why that is?”

Dan shook his head, slightly terrified.

“Because he could never get over you. You left an indent in his brain like a drug and he couldn’t ever figure out how to shake you. You caused him nothing but stress and pain over the last ten years and I’ll be damned if I let you come in and put him through that all again.”

“There is nothing going on between Phil and I,” Dan says, as stern as his shaking voice will allow him to be.

“So let's get something straight between you and me,” Damien said, ignoring what Dan had just said something. “Stay. Away. From. Phil.”

Dan opened his mouth to retort when the door to the room opened and they both turned to see Phil and a set of authors behind him, waiting to come in. Phil’s face reads one of confusion and Dan is sure his reads something entirely different.

But he doesn’t stay to allow either Damien or Phil to speak up. He pushes past them both and retreats to the bathroom where he proceeds to cry for an unspeakable amount of time. When he comes back out, Phil is sitting at his desk again, and when he looks at Dan, his face changes expression.

Dan knows it’s because he can see how red his eyes are and the tear stains that run down his cheeks. But he ignores the looks from the other editors and finishes going through the storyboard sent by his author.

***

Dan arrives back to his apartment later than he wanted to. But he stopped at Dominos and grabbed a cheap pizza so he could indulge his sadness in plastic tasting cheese and grease. He sets down the large pizza on his coffee table and is just about to fall into a heap on the floor when his doorbell rings.

He groans, quite loudly, as he rolls his eyes and walks back over to his door. He doesn’t even look through the peephole, he just opens the door and is about to ask, “what do you want?” when he sees Phil stood there.

“Oh hey! You’re home,” Phil says, “I have a question about…”

“Listen, Phil, now isn’t a good time.”

Phil furrows his brows but all Dan can think about is the ringing of Damien’s voice in his head over and over again. Stay away from Phil.

“Is something going on?” Phil asks. “You were upset earlier. That’s exactly what I was going to ask about. I was wondering if you’re doing okay? I know Monika talked to you after the meeting and I guess I wanted to touch base if you were going through something.”

In the hallway, Dan sees people walking behind Phil so on a whim, he opens the door further and lets Phil inside. Phil shuffles inside and Dan shuts the door, “To answer your question,” Dan says, “I’ve had better days. But I’ve got a large pizza I’m about to eat.”

“Are you really thinking about transferring departments?”

The question catches Dan off guard, “You mean going to literature?”

Phil nods.

They walk into his apartment further and take a seat on the floor next to Dan’s pizza. Dan opens the box and grabs a piece and Phil looks at him with puppy dog eyes and Dan caves and lets him grab a slice.

“I liked working in literature,” Dan answers finally. “It was something I really enjoyed at my fa--last publishing company.”

“Dan, we all know that you used to work at your father's publishing company. You don’t have to try and hide that.”

Dan rolls his eyes and continues anyway, “I really liked working in literature. It was something I felt like I was really good at. And although I only worked for my father for a year, it still felt like I gained mass amounts of experience. I even got to edit some big authors too.”

“You’re a good editor,” Phil says between bites of pizza. “You’re really good at what you do. I’m actually really glad that you came to work for me because you are exactly the editor that I needed.”

Dan feels a blush creep on his cheeks. He finishes his slice of pizza and goes to reach for another when Phil does too and it’s suddenly like deja vu all over again. Except this time, they’re not reaching for a book. Their hands touch and briefly, Dan can feel Phil’s fingers drum against his skin. He gasps and goes to pull his hand back but then Phil connects them and their palms are sitting on top of each other.

Dan rips his hand away and looks up at Phil with a stunned face, “You don’t get to do that.”

“I can’t hold your hand?”

“No!” Dan gasps out. “We--there is nothing going on between us so no, you can’t do that.”

“It’s just holding your hand.”

“If you want to hold hands with someone, go hold Damien’s!”

When the words leave Dan’s mouth, he doesn’t even realize the meaning that they hold. Phil stares at him with a clear expression of shock and as soon as Dan sees that, he knows he has fucked up.

“There is nothing going on with Damien and I,” Phil says. “Did he say something to you? Is that why you were in the meeting room with him this morning and why you were so upset? What did he tell you, Dan?”

Dan sat back and rested his back against his couch. He wanted to ignore the question and pretend he didn’t just bring up Damien and suddenly would have to talk about him. He wants to shrug it off but he knows he can’t do that either. Dan looks at Phil, who is waiting for his answer and he says, “Damien told me a bit about you after we broke up.”

“And what exactly did he tell you, Dan?”

“He told me how much of a mess you were,” Dan says, although it comes out as more of a mumble.

Phil lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes, “I want to make something clear to you, Dan.” He pauses. “There is nothing going on with Damien and I. When we were in university together, we had a brief fling but it was nothing more than that. We’re only friends.”

Then why does he have a key to your apartment? Why did he have a cat running out of your door? Why is he being this way?

“I don’t know what Damien told you,” Phil says, “but I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped loving you. Not once in the 10 years that we haven’t seen each other have I stopped thinking about you.”

Dan lets his head fall back as he fights off the tears threatening to fall. His chest heaves a few times to try and keep the tears at bay and he lets out a few quick breaths to try and help. It works for the most part.

“You laughed at me.”

Dan’s not sure when he speaks but the words come out and he can’t pull them back.

“Wha--what are you talking about?”

“The day we broke up, I went to your house and we had sex and when I asked you what we were and what your feelings were for me, you laughed,” Dan swallows back the tears. “That’s why I slapped you. That’s why I ran.”

Dan doesn’t want to turn his head and face Phil but he does and he sees a look of shock written over Phil’s face as his mouth falls open to process what Dan has said. It’s silence between them. Nothing more is said and in that moment, Dan wants nothing more than for Phil to leave so he have a proper cry because he really needs one right now and he’s not gonna cry in front of Phil.

When Phil finally goes to answer, Dan’s phone starts vibrating erratically on the floor next to them and he reaches down to pick it up. The number on his phone is that of his author and he immediately sits up to answer the call.

She has her next manuscript done and she’s thanking him for the edits. He feels better, hearing that from her directly over the phone and not from an email. He’d met with her once in person but it’s still better to talk over a phone when it comes to discussing her graphic novel.

She begins to speak about how grateful she is for him being her editor and he feels his heart beat a little bit faster at the compliment. He takes it with a smile and really, it’s the first time he’s smiled the entire day--at least that he can recall.

It was really exactly what he needed after such a shit day. That one moment of validation that made it feel like everything he was going through was worth it. The long work days, putting up with Phil and Damien. The constant work cycle that leaves him stressed more than he has ever been.

But in this moment, it’s all worth it. Every single part of it is worth it.

She hangs up and Dan puts his phone away and he looks down to see Phil helping himself to another slice of pizza, “What did she say?”

“She complimented me and told me she was lucky to have me as her editor.”

Phil’s lips curled into a smile, “What a nice compliment, but don’t let it get to your head.”

Dan just shakes his head and sits back down beside Phil, grabbing another piece himself.

“I should get going,” Phil says after he finishes. “But I think we should try and sit down and have another talk.”

“Gonna be honest, mate,” Dan says. “Don’t think I can.”

“But we have to eventually talk about this,” Phil presses. “We can’t ignore the elephant in the room.”

No, but Dan wishes he could.

“I know…”

Phil gets up and walks towards the door but stops before he gets to it and turns back around, “I mean it, Dan, when I say I never stopped loving you.”

He opens the door and Dan watches as it closes and for some reason, it feels like the end of the last chapter and the beginning of the next.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #angst #fluff #first love fic #princesslexi763fics

16 notes · View notes

swellwriting · 5 years ago

Text

LOVER 4/18

- THE MAN -

Bucky x Reader/ The Winter Soldier x Reader

A/N: You do not need to be familiar with the song/ Album to read this!!!

Word Count: 2.3k Part 3 Series Masterlist Part 5

Warning: Mentions of injury and blood on the wrists that may be triggering to some. (though not intentionally, they are self-inflicted...handcuffs suck.) Also Sexual references but nothing major. The usual violence.

Summary: “You were tired of being handcuffed to a bed not allowed to leave, you hated being denied drugs and then sedated for hours on end. You wanted to have control again.”

Nat told Tony to stop holding back on your meds, and of course, he listened. Not exactly in the way she intended it to be done though. They kept you heavily sedated, unconscious for an entire day after your first “session” with Wanda.

When you finally came to you felt so groggy, you knew something was wrong. You ate the cold food placed beside your bed and decided then and there that you were going to put an end to these games, whatever Tony was playing with you. And if this meant never seeing Winter or Bucky again, you didn’t care. You were tired of being handcuffed to a bed and not allowed to leave, you hated being denied drugs and then sedated for hours on end. You wanted to have control again.

Before you were too weak to break out of your chains, but the poison has completely run its course so you take your bandage off to see your wound almost completely healed, there is a dark bruising around it and red angry lines in your skin. It will leave a scar but it fits in fine with all the others so you don't really care.

You push your bed tray onto the floor and twist the chains around your hands gripping them roughly and yanking hard on them. The handcuffs don't come free but you rip the metal bars on the sides of the hospital bed clean off, great.

You push your blankets down and all the metal junk clanks together like you’re a damn human wind chime. You push your feet against one of the metal bars and pull your hand away, the cuff digs into the skin of your wrist cutting the sides open and you try to ignore the pain since you can feel the chain weakening and then it snaps, metal clangs to the floor and you look up to see if anyone heard it and is coming.

If the nurse did hear she definitely would be running the opposite direction anyway.

You repeat your actions, place your feet on the other bar, push and pull, your other wrist gets cut open but you don't stop, you are so close, snap! The handcuffs and the bit of chain that was connecting them to the bed hang from your wrists but you are free, you feel free. As if the chains were weighing you down you feel light, at ease and it’s great, but you didn’t think this through.

What now? You look around the room and then get up and walk down the hall.

“I just don’t trust her, she seems wrong. Not that you can ever really trust a woman,” Tony jokes as him Sam and Steve are standing in the hallway outside the medical ward.

“So if I was a man, you could trust me?” You ask as you lean against the wall, the chains and cuffs hang broken from your wrists covered in blood from the cuts they left, blood drips down your arm and onto the floor where you riped your IV out.

“Not particularly,” Tony says and looks you down head to toe admiring your handiwork. “I take it you’re feeling better, why don't you go back and lie down,” he says and it’s so condescending you can’t help the eye roll that comes by instinct.

“I'm tired of being told what to do, of being held a prisoner even though I have done nothing wrong.” You argue.

“You say that with a lot of confidence,” Sams asks, knowing your ledger is just as red as Bucky and Nats.

“I've never done anything wrong to you guys.”

“Spring!” Wanda says, walking into the hallway seemingly the only person concerned about your bloody hands and the trail on the floor behind you, “what did you do?”

You hold up your bloody hands and shrug, aware that there wasn’t really any explaining you could do. Bruce walks down the hallways and is quick to act.

“What the f-,” he stops and wraps his hands around your wrists gently, stopping the blood flow and then walks you backwards down the hallway back to your room, glaring at Tony the entire way. This was his fault in Bruce’s eyes, he told Tony that the handcuffs should have been removed days ago.

Bruce sits you down and Wanda removes the handcuffs with her powers and you thank her, but she isn’t happy with what you’ve done and you can tell on her face.

Bruce starts cleaning the wounds and stitching you up.

“I'm sure you don’t want to “talk” today,” Wanda asks, still unsure of what to call this thing you are doing, this treatment?

“No we can, I'm fine, was just tired of those cuffs, we can start now if you’d like.” You try to sound not so upset but you’re so tired of being treated the way you have been, of being told what to do, of being talked down to and treated differently. You remember the first time Hydra tried to treat you differently than Winter, and you remember the fit you threw to make sure it never happened again.

It’s what your mind goes to as you close your eyes, Wanda’s red glowing hands the last thing you see before the memories start like pressing a play button.

“Asset, you can’t go on this mission, It’s one for The Winter Soldier only, it’s too high stakes and you aren’t ready.” An unnamed officer explains to you as if you are too stupid to understand him. You are stood in one of the labs, having your blood drawn by a lab assistant to your left who seems nervous, looking over your face to see a reaction to being told no.

“Did Winter say that?” You ask.

“No, I did.” Strucker, the Head of your Hydra base among many others, said sternly and you went quiet. “You aren't as strong as him, you aren't as quick or skilled yet, we can’t afford to let this mission fail because we let some girl handle it.”

And something about the way he says that makes your blood boil with rage, like a kettle boiling over you are unable to contain your inner thoughts.

“So If I was a man I could go on the mission. If I was a big strong man I could handle this simple intel mission on my own. I'm so sick of being built up to be this big weapon for Hydra, your big threat only for you to ridicule me and limit me to missions that require seduction and tight dresses as if I couldn’t slit a man’s throat with pants on!”

The unnamed officer lets out a laugh and you give him a deadly glare before looking back to Strucker. He ignores you and you continue, you’ve said too much to take it back so you might as well vent.

“I'm so sick of running as fast as I can and trying to learn everything as fast as I can, perfecting my skills, proving I can be better than Winter in some things. Now I’m left to wonder If I could be Hydra’s number 1 soldier if only I was a man since that seems to be all that’s holding me back!” You yell which startles the lab assistant who is quickly finishing up taking your blood sample, removing the needle and then backing away to the safety of his desk.

“Perhaps you’d be number one if you weren’t sleeping with your coworkers,” the officer jokes, clearly referring to you and Winter even if they aren't certain of what’s going on.

“Yes because that would be a total one-sided thing, I should be punished for seducing him, yet he shouldn’t get reprimanded at all for fucking me as if it would be a one-person job that I’m doing all by myself!” You say with vigour, hatred laced in your voice for the officer. You don't know his name but he is quickly becoming the person you hate most, and that says a lot since you are in a room with Strucker.

“Well if it is a two-man job you just let me know.” The officer says and it would sound like a joke but the look in his eyes tells you it’s everything but, a threat he wishes he could hold up to. He leans in close as he unties the rubber band from your arm, touching your skin with grabby fingers, putting his face all too close to yours.

Perhaps it’s because you know they see you as just a woman who can’t control her emotions, they paint you up to be so bad, a hostile and reckless killing machine but they don't trust you. So in your mind, it’s okay that you’re mad, that you’re fed up and you’ve had enough.

You want to be taken seriously but everything that’s been wired into your brain says there is only one way to show that. So before he can even finish laughing to himself at his own joke, or before he can imagine fucking you in his head you put an end to his thoughts altogether. You close the distance between you in seconds and tackle him to the ground.

“Oh if I was a man, then id be The Man.” You say as you spit in his face. Strucker, the head of Hydra stands there and watches, not stopping you, wanting to see the weapon he created in action. You grab your knife from your thigh holster and slit his throat wide open deep. There’s so much blood that your hand is dripping wet before you pull it away. There is blood splattered on your face and in your hair, your knees are in the puddle that’s quickly growing and u smudge it across the floor and get up.

“Make sure your officers know their place, I am not below them. Number 2 on your list is still miles above them, I am no one’s toy or object. I do my job and I do it well, I deserve their respect!” You say with wild eyes, covered in blood, yet you don’t scare Strucker in the least.

“I’ll make sure they are aware, Asset Number 2,” he says your given name so boldly, to remind you that you may be no object of the officers, but you are his object, his asset and he is Hydra.

Just then Winter walks in completely confused by the scene in front of him, but he has to act like he doesn't care too much. He can’t let them know he is really in love with you. Sure they may be onto the fact that something is going on, especially after what the now dead and forever nameless officer said to you.

There is no harm in sexual relations between their top two soldiers. They aren't about to try to actively stop you, but they aren't going to openly allow it either. Soldiers, Assets they think you have no feelings, so there no harm in acting on basic human needs right? Who else did they think Winter would want to sleep with? Some lowly officer? A lab assistant? No, of course not, he chose the closest thing to his equal, or that’s how they see it anyway.

You walk past Winter without a word, you aren't mad at him. You want nothing more than to fall into his arms and cry and complain but you can’t do that here, can’t show weakness. So you walk down the hallway with your head held high. The officers and lab rats stare as you pass them, a bloody smeared smile on your face daring them to test you, showing them what happens when they cross a line with you.

Earning your respect, or maybe just fear.

“So what do you think, Soldier?” Strucker asks Winter, seemingly calm and uncaring to the whole event that just occurred.

“I'm not sure what you mean Sir?” Winter replies, standing up straight, monotone voice.

“I'm sure you can deduct what happened here, the officer on the floor pushed the other asset a little too far, made her mad and this is how she reacted. What do you think?”

“I think you made her into a weapon first, and then a soldier after. Which I don't think is a problem, just needs to be handled differently, and certainly, with a level of respect I had seen her not getting in the past.” Bucky answers clearly, trying to give a well-thought-out answer.

“I think you’re right,” Strucker says with a sickening smile as he picks up a phone and then calls some officers to the room to clean up the bloody mess.

Winter can’t help but smile inside, he should be angry that someone pushed you this far but he’s glad to know you’re standing up for yourself. He feels like he doesn't have to worry as much.

“That was nothing like what you showed me the other day,” Wanda says with wide eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s just where my mind brought me.”

“I've seen worse, don't worry about me.”

Bruce is patching up your wrists still, eyes wide as he doesn't look up at you.

“Sorry Bruce, I should have waited until you were further away I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. Now I know not to piss you off,” he jokes, looking up at you with a lopsided smile.

“We have to agree not to piss each other off I guess?” You joke back and he chuckles, finishing patching you up.

Tony had left the floor before the memory started, so it wasn’t accidentally projected into his mind but Steve and Sam were still down the hall, just close enough to have to witness that.

“You were harsh earlier,” Steve says, concerned.

“Harsh? I was right and we just saw that. She’s not innocent!” Same argues.

“Are any of us really?”

LOVER TAGLIST: @bluemadcnna @theboywhocriedlupin @siriuslyimmoony @littlebittcrazy @blackloveangel13 @chipilerendi @galacticstxrdust @theseuscmander @finnofamerica @draqcnheartstrinq @aspenholland @carolinesbookworld @bluerorjhan @jjacobs89 @livininwinteriamyoursummer @itsjust-evalyn @mayakblack @hail-ey-sader EVERYTHING TAGLIST: @jordan-ia

JOIN MY TAGLIST HERE

Part 5

49 notes · View notes

halberdierminister · 4 years ago

Text

July Monthly Goals Check-In

1. Write 250 Words Each Day Well, I started out very faithful to this. But sometime around the middle of the month, I got pretty choppy. I honestly don't know exactly how many days I skipped. I'm gonna try to write a fair amount today when I can and hope that it is enough to make up for it. Which is fine. It has been an otherwise very productive month in many other ways, so I cannot be too upset about it. I may start running a wordpress blog with a friend of mine, and if I do that may keep me more on track with these.. We shall see. We shall see.

2. Read 55 Books This Year I finished reading 55 books in May! Last month I read 10 more books. THIS month, however… I read 31 books. That brings me to a total of 97 books read for the year!!! A lot of them have been VERY short books. Lots of poetry collections, manga volumes, graphic novels, etc etc etc. But not exclusively!! I was hoping to get to 100 books by the time I wrote this but the last couple days, I have not been able to make the magic happen. But that's fine! That's TOTALLY FINE. This will be a very significant get, but I have months to get over that hump. By the time you hear from me on this goals check-in next month, I will undoubtedly be decently well over 100 books, and I can talk about why that personally feels so good then!

3. Get A Full Time Job I did not get a full time job this month. BUT. I applied to 38 full time jobs. Got a bunch of rejections. HOWEVER, I have scheduled EXACTLY ONE JOB INTERVIEW so far so that is good news! And that would be a VERY good job if I were to get it! Some of these jobs are actually pretty exciting things and I feel confident for the first time in a while that I might actually find a good job IN MY CAREER PLAN!!!! Also I almost lost my part time job but the library director was able to convince the village to let me stay on as a substitute, and it has paid off surprisingly well. I've been working two to three shifts a week on that, which is more than any of us expected. So I guess what I'm saying is I am making good progress again and I hope I can have something positive to report by the time I'm thirty. Eugh.

4. Move Out Speaking of being almost thirty. I really do not want to be here. If I get the job I interview for, I would be able to move in with my friends in Milwaukee just about as soon as possible. So that is good news. Every day it gets more tempting to just say "screw it" and live down there. But that won't help me find a job. And the job really is the important thing.

5. Drink Less Soda I mean yeah. Occasionally, I drink-a the soda. But not too much. I am good at drinking less soda than I did last year or the years before that. That's because I would have several sodas each day, to the point where it worried some of the people I know.

6. Get Something Published Just found out that I'm getting something else published today! So that is one new poem published this month! I also had my fic in the Lalonde Zine come out, but it turns out that the Lalonde Zine was more of a shared Google Drive folder than an actual zine. Maybe I should offer to compile the zine into one document? I should do that. That would be a good thing to do and it would give me a lot of experience with doing that, something I haven't really done in a while. So the practice would do me good! And then I would feel better saying that I got published there too. But yes so besides the Lalonde fic, I have had two poems published in zines, one poem published in an online literary journal, and one fic published in an online fanzine this year! If you include the articles I wrote for school newspapers, I have gotten at least one thing published every year for the past fifteen years. If you don't count the articles (or the Lalonde fic yet), I have had 30 pieces of fiction and poetry published since 2005! That's pretty neat! I want even more though!!!!!! I found a publisher's website that accepts unsolicited manuscripts. I'm going to try to put together an honest to god actual collection of my poetry, one bigger than either of the two digital chapbooks I have made. I have a friend who is a professional editor -- not of poetry, mind you, but I might be able to convince her to give it a shot -- and I would honestly hire her at full price to take a look at it. I actually will need to seek a lot of feedback from a lot of people, so if you want to read a document full of a bunch of my poetry, lemme know and I will show you what I've got when I've got something.

7. Finish Writing A Legitimate Businessman Finished in April! No new news. But just because I completed this goal doesn't mean that is the end of it! I do still have the sequel to work on, even though I haven't done any of that this month. And one of these days I am going to get around to sitting down with the printed copy and a pen and editing the shit out of it so that I can write draft #2! I think I'll probably throw draft #2 up on wattpad (why not?? I've been curious about that website and know absolutely nothing about it) and maybe I'll make a nice looking e-book out of it that I can distribute on noisetrade or itchio or something! I wonder if I could get it printed on demand or something. Obviously not for profit. But like, maybe I have friends I want to send a nice printed copy to.

8. Write More The Revelation of Takaya According to Jin Finished in Februrary! No new news. A friend of mine has offered to bind a copy of it when he has access to the materials, and I think that'd be dope as hell. I ought to work on compiling it into a nice document. I don't know if that's what he would need. He would probably want to do that work himself. Sometimes I think about the concept of making an illustration for it? I don't know. I can't draw. But I might not need to draw for the thing I have in mind. Really I should be consulting with him on that. Ah well. Either way, I hope that ends up happening. That would be so friggin cool.

MINOR GOALS

9. Finish Playthroughs Of 1. The Legend of Zelda Breath of the Wild: Finished in January! 2. Persona 1 Main Quest Good Ending: I didn't do anything on this whooooops. Getting into the second half of the year without once having touched it. I ought to get back to this. 3. Pokemon Sword: Finished in March! 4. Pokemon Let's Go Eevee: Finished in February and March! 5. Persona Q2: I have finished the fourth dungeon and gotten to The Twist!!! It's weak. This really is the kids' version of a Persona game. Minus like… the fact that it's still rated M for partial nudity. There was exactly one moment of horror and even that was like… just a bit scarier than The Nightmare Before Christmas. But I did some of the side quests and those are actually decently fun. So I have the final dungeon left. I just wanna sort of power through this. I'll worry about completion when I do new game plus, whenever that might be.

10. Record More Ukulele Videos I did not do this. I want a new microphone. These are not inherently related things, as I do have a microphone already. I have everything I need to do this. I just haven't done this. And I would like a new microphone. Also, an amp for the uke would be nice. I should text my old coworker, see if he still has one to sell.

11. Record Let's Plays Neither did I do this. How could I? My parents think video gaming is the Devil's Lettuce. And they are always home. They would notice if they heard me talking to my computer. And that is assuming that I had something I could play on my computer that anyone would want to watch. I need a better computer. A gaming computer. An editing computer. I'm lucky that these are the same thing.

12. Duolingo? I was SUPER gung ho in the end of June and the beginning of July, but before too long I petered out. I've used a couple streak freezes and have really been doing mostly the bare minimum to not drop out of the emerald league. But I've got a streak of about 208 days, and that is nothing to sneeze at! Do I feel like I'm learning? I dunno. But I am at least interacting with Spanish just about every day so that… that's got to be helpful, right? right?

This was over one thousand five hundred words. Wait! Sixteen hundred exactly.

#goals #new years goals #monthly goals #monthly goals check in #check in #goals check in

2 notes · View notes

yourfaveisyanderematic · 5 years ago

Text

Boiling the Frog

When you leave things up to me, you get Horrible, but I suspect you already knew that :3c

You hated nail polish. The whole process of manicures, in fact, seemed like a frustrating hassle, far too much effort for a result that would only chip in a few days anyway, something that was…girly, in a way you instinctively shied away from. Your friends would admire your hands and complain that leaving them bare was a waste of good genetics, but you were perfectly content to simply regard their nails with vague admiration and leave things at that. When would you ever need to learn, anyway?

“Fuck.” you swore under your breath as your hand trembled, moving the brush in the wrong direction and ruining the coat yet again. Reaching for the rubbing alcohol and undoing everything for the umpteenth time was the last thing you wanted to do—you’d already been at this for over an hour—but entertaining the idea only reminded you of the last time you’d given into the impulse. You saw his face in your mind’s eye, clear as day, the handsome cheekbones and elegantly styled light hair framing cold grey eyes that betrayed no hint of emotion but communicated profound disappointment all the same.

“Even young girls can do this properly, it’s one of the first things they teach each other. How is this so difficult for you?”

The mere memory of hearing him say the words made your heart wobble. You scrubbed at the fresh paint with new fervor, erasing the thought of having to actually hear them again with each stroke. You’d do it right. You could do this right. It was easy.

You’d never paid attention to the routine before, but in only a short time you knew it intimately. You knew how to push your cuticles back (an intimidating process that drew blood the first time you tried it) and to lay a clear base. You knew how long to wait between coats and how to brush them for the best consistency and coverage, and you knew to coat the undersides of your nails with the topcoat to keep them from chipping for longer.

Only a month or two ago, if someone told you you’d learn to do all this for some guy, you would have laughed in their face. You tried not to think about that, just pushed past the fatigue of making such tightly controlled motions for so long and tried again, watching the rainbow flecks of the micro glitter swirl against deep blue in the wake of the brush. It was a good thing you were on the very last nail. There wasn’t much time before you had to go to work, and Kira hated to be kept waiting.

You waved your hand in the air in an effort to get the last coat to dry faster, capping the bottles with your free hand and putting them away. These, too, had a particular order to be in, and you weren’t sloppy enough to forget again. Everything had its place.

Time to go. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror, adjusted your slacks and dress shirt, and made for the door, stepping into the hallway.

“Kira? I’m ready to go,” you called for your boyfriend (it still felt a little weird to think of him as that) and made your way down the stairs. Yoshikage Kira waited for you near the front door, standing between you and your shoes, making a show of adjusting his tie even though his appearance had never been short of what you’d call ‘effortlessly immaculate’. It was enough to make you straighten your shirt again, a little more nervously this time, even though you’d already confirmed you looked professional enough moments ago.

Kira gave you a very obvious once-over as you came to a stop in front of him, finally reaching forward to redo the button at the very top of your shirt. The sensation of his hands, close enough to your neck that you could feel their warmth, was enough to make your breath hitch, but he graciously ignored it.

“That’s all anyone else should be seeing of you. You look very professional.” He raised his hand, a wordless invitation (or an order, something in your head whispered) and you complied, resting your hand in his. He tilted his hand, letting the light catch your fingers from all angles, regarding your work in complete silence. You couldn’t help but hold your breath.

“Very nice.” Your heart fluttered at the words, so simple yet rarely heard from him. “I can see you’ve been improving with practice, I told you this wasn’t hard. Although…” a frown creased his thin features, “I’m not sure about the color. Don’t you think the glitter’s a little childish?”

You felt your heart sink. “But…you said it was fine, when I picked it out.” This was stupid. It was your nails, it should have been fine if you liked it. Ever since your relationship began, however, it became increasingly obvious that Kira was far more sophisticated than you were. You found yourself acting in response, changing how you dressed and even what you cooked, a childish compulsion to please him, to live up to the standards he set for you.

“For work? When you wanted to buy this I assumed it was for a night out or the weekend, so I didn’t raise any objections.” He eyed the clock overhead. “You don’t have any time to change it. Come on; traffic will be terrible.” He stepped aside, letting your hand fall out of his grasp as you stepped into your shoes. Without another word, Kira opened the door and walked you to his car, letting his arm rest around your shoulders in a way that was almost possessive.

But I don’t want to change the color, you thought but didn’t say.

—

“…and that’s how I got Sato to start putting his laundry away!” Suzuki, one of your coworkers, finished her latest spiel about her adventures in childcare, sitting back for your reaction with an expectant grin. You gently nudged her to move her leg, letting you finish filling out the form, and gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement. Lunch hour was only ten minutes away but really couldn’t come fast enough.

“Everyone kept telling me ‘oh, once he’s got the habit it’ll be so hard to change’, but once you know the trick it’s actually really easy,” she wound a brunette curl around her finger with a knowing smile. Suzuki was a nice enough coworker, older than you and modern enough to work despite being a mother, but she had a frustrating ability to carry on a conversation almost entirely one-sidedly, and learning to tune her out was almost a prerequisite for your job.

“It’s just boiling the frog. All you need is patience.”

The strangeness of the phrase made you pause, and you watched her grin broaden as you stared up in incomprehension. “‘Boiling the…frog’?”

She clapped her hands, loudly enough to draw looks from others in the office. “Funny saying, right? I picked it up on a trip to America. Basically, instead of trying to do everything all at once, you change things gradually, one at a time, and wait. They get so used to things that they’re doing everything you want, and they don’t even notice the change! Next I’m going to do it with vegetables. You’ll definitely want to do things like that when you’ve got kids of your own!” she gave a knowing wink, despite the fact that you’d never once expressed the slightest interest in children. She opened her mouth to continue some other story about parental wisdom she wanted to pass to you, and you went back to work, hearing her voice muffle into a background drone that was almost musical.

A shadow loomed over you, breaking into your thoughts. The next thing you registered was that Suzuki’s presence had mysteriously vanished from your desk, freeing up a good third of the space.

Kira loomed over you, beautiful even in the fluorescent lights that flattered nobody. His hand came over your own, stilling your pen.

“What are you doing? Lunch has started. Hurry, we’ve only got an hour and I want to have Saint Gentlemen’s.” Normally you would have objected—not even Suzuki would interrupt you in the middle of work, and there were only a couple lines left on the form—but Saint Gentlemen’s was popular, and missing out on lunch would put Kira in a bad mood. You put the pen down and stood up. It felt bold to grab Kira’s arm as the two of you walked out, but he didn’t pull away this time; when you looked up at his face, you realized it must have been because he was distracted, glancing over his shoulder with an unreadable expression.

“What’s wrong?” You waited until the two of you were alone in the elevator to ask. You hated to look like you were gossiping. He took a deep breath.

“It’s nothing, really…I just dislike two-faced people, who smile to your face but laugh at you behind your back. I’m so glad you’re nothing like that.”

You watched the lights on the display slowly count down, itching to press but unsure if you should. “Like…did something happen?”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye and then reached out, once again holding you close.

“I don’t want to upset you. We’re about to have lunch, I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

Memory flashed. It was Suzuki he’d been staring at.

“Was it Suzuki? Did she say something about you?” The elevator doors opened, and Kira stepped out with you, holding you tight against the crowd flowing out the doors into the warm sunshine.

“Actually, it was about you. She’d been laughing with some friends on her break, while you were still working. ‘They’re so gullible,’” Kira repeated in a high-pitched imitation of your coworker, “‘Did you see their face when I joked that their work was worth the promotion? I trust the part-time hires more!’” His face betrayed no emotion, but you felt your stomach twist as you began to rethink every compliment or comment she ever told you in a new light. Was that really how she felt? Why didn’t she say anything? She—

Kira took your chin in his hand, turning your face to meet his. Something like amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re so easy to rile up. Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want to ruin your mood? Forget about it. You aren’t even friends with her.”

I thought I was, you thought but didn’t say.

—

“You’re lovely to look at, and so intelligent. You’re just so…unpolished. Only with my help can you really shine.”

Those were the words Kira said to you that first night you began dating. You would have laughed, but you could tell by the conviction in his eyes that he was completely serious, so you played along, even if you didn’t have any idea what he was talking about.

As time went on, however, you began to realize just how right he was.

You were careless. Time and time again you’d found yourself locked out of the house or missing your wallet, for Kira to look—with you in hysterics—only to produce the missing item from a pocket you must have forgotten to check. You’d misplace laundry, and Kira would have to buy you new clothes.

You were naive. Suzuki was the first of your silent bullies you learned about, but she wouldn’t be the last; it seemed like everyone at the office was undermining you somehow, and if Kira hadn’t been acting as your silent guardian you’re sure you’d be the office fool still. It had been enough to make you quit your job from the stress, though Kira had been more than gracious enough to keep you at his home to recover in peace.

You were hysterical. Too often you got yourself worked up, imagining that Kira said something hurtful, that he was trying to control you, that he told you this or that or locked you in your room. It was in the moments of clarity that followed, moments that swept you up in shame and embarrassment, that made you realize that you’d imagined it all. The stress of being the hunted at your job, of everyone being against you, was threatening to turn you against the one man truly and unconditionally on your side.

Kira had been so patient. He helped you through it all, tolerating both when you hurled insults at him through the door he you locked to the moments of weakness when you sobbed like a baby into his chest.

“Structure,” was all he would say in those times. “Structure is what will put your mind in order and make you stronger. You’re very close, you just need me to help you a little more.”

He was right. It was only when you knew you were following his lead that you really felt safe, that you could wear that coat or follow that recipe without being sure that you were somehow making a mistake. The agonizing hours that he was gone (“I still have to work to support you, dear,” he said with a smile as you opened the door for him to leave) were almost suffocating. Those rare, rare nights when he was out for longer than normal were the worst, when you genuinely felt that you were going to die.

Even so, it was with numb incomprehension that you watched him crush pills from an orange prescription bottle and tip them into the pot he stirred. He caught your eye and smiled reassuringly, turning the label away from your view.

“To help you sleep tonight,” he offered as explanation, “I have to work late, but I don’t want you to be up all night worrying for me. You’re fine with it, right?”

The idea of being awake and by yourself was awful. The idea of being drugged—unconscious and vulnerable to whoever happened by—was borderline unbearable. No, you felt the word push behind your lips, but you couldn’t make yourself say it. You nodded slowly.

Kira tilted his head, a satisfied smile that made your heart flutter with pleasure. If it made him happy with you, if it made you less unmanageable, maybe it couldn’t be that bad. He gestured to the dinner table, where a small bottle of nail polish waited. You could see your reflection in its pearly pink sheen as you approached.

“A new shade was released at the department store today. I’d love to see it on you; we have enough time before dinner’s ready.”

You looked at the label, some high-end brand you would never buy on your own. Killer Queen.

“It suits you, doesn’t it?”

#yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere kira #Kira's a real bastard in this one gotta say #by me

121 notes · View notes

queenofthearchitect · 5 years ago

Text

You did what?

This was requested by: @biforrollynch

Request: Hiiiiii idk if youd be comfortable with this request but could i have a seth/Oc fic where the girl has relapsed and harmed herself after a couple years being clean and she doesnt wanna tell seth but he notices and she thinks seth is gonna leave her for it and she hates herself until seth makes her see shes everything? ofc he doesnt leave her and he helps her through it and tells her how important she is to him and how much he loves her??

Warnings: cussing, self harm, angst, fluff

Trigger warning: despression, and self harming. Self harming and something everyone deals with some point in their life and if you are dealing with it please talk I love you guys.

Tag list. @theworldofotps @writtingrose @new-zealand-chic @sassyspacedust @wolfiegal98 @haharollins @the-beastslayers-queen

Please enjoy 🦖

Seth was gone on again, I felt alone even though he was a phone call away it just wasn’t the same. I was downstairs elbowdeep in dishwater when my phone dinged, I walked over to it and it was from WWE and I clicked it and my stomach dropped Seth and his coworker Becky Lynch were smiling together and a little to close if you ask me. I put my phone down and tried to calm myself, I continued washing dishes when I got pulled from my thoughts. I grabbed my phone again and I saw it was from Twitter this time I opened it, I saw the same picture from the WWE of Seth and Becky.

I read some of the comments, Seth had always told me not to because of it the jealous fans but I always did and this time I knew he was right. I took about 10 minutes to read some of the comments when I had enough I threw my phone and I went upstairs, i wiped the tears from my eyes. I grabbed my razor blade and I slid the blade across my hip, I felt the anxiety leave my body but it was filled with another emotion that was regret. I knew cutting myself was not only hurting me but it was hurting Seth and I’s relationship.

After I cute myself the first time, I kept thinking what would happen if Seth saw and what if he left me? I can’t loose him. I walked to the mirror pulled the top of my shorts down and I slid the blade slowly across my skin at first but then I moved quickly while I put five more lines down my hip. A few hours Seth had came home, and my stomach dropped I stared at my now new cuts and I quickly cleaned the blood and I put on some shorts, when he came into the bedroom, he smiled at me and kissed my head. “Hey beautiful did you miss me? I’ve missed you.” I nodded and I kissed his lips.

He pulled away from the kiss and raised an eyebrow. “Okay Olivia what’s going on?” I looked up and him and forced a fake smile “nothing babe I’m fine.” He pursed his lips together and looked into my eyes. “Olivia have you been crying?” I got out of his grasp and I moved away from him. “I said I’m fine Seth okay.” I sighed and I walked out the bed room. I was fighting back tears, for the first time in a long time I felt ugly and it was my fault.

I was cooking downstairs for Seth, I reached for a bowl on the top self little did I know Seth was walking into the kitchen at the time. “Olivia what is that?” I grabbed the bowl and got off my tippy toes, I turned and looked at him. “What’s, what baby?” *i looked at him and smiled while he his hands rested right above my ass. “These Olivia.” He raises my shirt some and pulled my shorts down a little bit. “That Olivia, why did you do that?” My smile dropped a little bit more and more while he waited for my response.

“It’s not important Seth it’s not a big deal, I don’t want to make something out of nothing.” I slipped out of his arms and continued to make dinner. “It’s not important my ass, also it may not be a big deal to you but it is to me.” I sighed and I continued to toss the salad I was currently making. “Seth look I love you and I would love to talk to you but I don’t think you would understand.” He let out a scoff and crossed his muscular arms. “Olivia I can you just have to let me in, you’ve shut everyone out and won’t let anyone in.”

I looked at me and I let out a laugh. “Yeah and when I shut everyone out you were the first to leave.” Before I could even take a breath he started talking. “Olivia that’s not fair and you know it, I told you why I left.” I rolled my eyes while I kept tossing the salad. “Yeah and I’m sure you went straight to her when you did.” I turned around and crossed my arms while leaning against the countertop looking at him. “Her? Who’s her Olivia cause I didn’t ever cheat on you.” I pushed some hair behind my ear and I was trying to keep calm but I couldn’t any longer.

“Becky, becky is the her, I seen the picture of you and her together WWE made a post and it soon got to me by some fans and a few of our coworkers, you guys looked happy together.” He put his arms down and walked over and wrapped his arms around me. “S-So what your saying is you did this over me?” I looked up at him and then laid against his chest. “No Seth I didn’t do it over you, I did it because the comments that were made and what our coworkers implied.”

I scoffed and I shoftedbme weight on my other side. “Seth you don’t get it, I don’t like her all up on you.” “Olivia your jealous really? I haven’t given you a reason to doubt me at all who cares what others say.” I looked at him and shook my head and I walked towards the door with Seth hot on my heels. I went to our bed room and I grabbed my car keys and put on some shoes, Seth kept calling my name and kept asking where I was going but I didn’t answer him. I wasn’t going to let him see me cry.

I drove and sat in the Waffle House parking lot and my phone kept going off, I had ten miss calls from Seth and at least fifteen text messages from him. I was going to givebin to him like I always did if he didn’t anything from my point of view then there was no more use of arguing, I was tired of it all I don’t know what to do anymore. I was pulled from my thoughts when my phone started going off and I looked at it and I saw the caller ID and answered it. “hello?” I waited before my best friend Renee finally spoke. “Hey girly Seth called dean and he told me to call you so thats why I’m calling not that I don’t love you.”

I smiled at her words and I start playing with my hair while I explained to her what happened, I got myself up all worked up again. I started crying but Renee told me not to, she gave me great advice to just cool off then just go back home cause apparently Seth was worrying himself sick. I rolled my eyes and hung up my phone. I turned my car back on I start to drive home, I saw a Starbucks and I pulled into it he could wait a little bit longer. Starbucks always seemed to help calm me down I don’t know if it was the smell of coffee or just drinking it.

After I got my White chocolate mocha with whip cream from Starbucks I got in my car and I head back home, when I arrived home I felt anxious. I got out of my car with my Starbucks in hand, I decided to just ignore him until I drank my drink cause I’m emotionally drained. I didn’t want to argue anymore but I’m not about to get talked to like I was a child. I twisted the doorknob and I walked inside, I put my keys on the key ring and stopped in my tracks when I seen dinner was done with a little note I picked it up and quickly read it.

Olivia.

When ever you want to talk I’m upstairs in the bed room, I’ve already eaten so don’t worry about me you eat and I’ll clean up okay by the way the chicken was great and so was the salad. I love you!

~ your boyfriend Seth

I just say the note down and I continued to sip on my mocha, I made a plate and started eating. After I was finished I started putting the food away and I started doing dishes, Seth came downstairs and looked at me “hey babe I know your probably still upset but I just worry about you and I love you and if anything ever happened to you.” I sipped on my coffee and continued doing dishes. “Olivia I don’t think I did anything to deserved the silent treatment.” I looked at him and put the dishes on the dishstrainer. “Seth I know you care but your not my dad okay, I love the fact that you care but you don’t see anything from my view.”

He sighed and held me closer letting his body warmth wrap around me, taking his scent in making me calm down some. “Babe I know what you mean I just wanted to let you know I’m only in love with you and no one will ever pull us apart.” I looked up at him, I pulled him down and our lips connected. When we pulled away both of us breathing heavily. “Seth I know I just so scared you are going to leave eme for some one else, that’s why I hid the cuts from you and I didn’t intend on you to find them cause I’m always scared your going to leave me.”

He smiled softly at me and left a small little peck on my lips, he pull me to the couch with him. “Olivia I would never leave you, I’m always going to love you through anything, I’m not going to let one little slip up chase me away and not love you because I do Olivia and I plan on making you my wife one day.” I smiled at him and snuggled into him. “Promise?” He smiled softly and started rubbing my shoulder. “I promise Olivia I won’t ever let anything come between us but you got to start talking to me about things instead of cutting okay babe.” I nodded my head and I kissed his neck and down his shoulder and shown his arm.

“How did I get so lucky to have you Seth Rollins?” He smiled and kissed my head. “Well if it makes you feel any better baby I haven’t always been this way, it’s taken a lot of growth and me growing up to get to where I am and now that I have you I don’t plan on doing anything to screw that up.” I smiled and sat in his lap and smashed our lips together. “I love you Seth Rollins.” He smiled at me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I love you Olivia so much, now come on let’s go cuddle.” I nodded and he stood up with my legs wrapped around his waist and while he carried me to our bed room where spent all night making up for our fighting.

A/N: I finally got this done and I loved writing it, I hope you all enjoy it and I love you guys so much for all the support and love y’all give me, life gets in the way but you guys and writing are my get away so I’m so greatful also sorry if this was long I wanted to make this one fic instead of 2. ❤️❤️

#wwe #wwe imagine #amandawrites #wwe x reader #seth rollins #seth rollins x reader #wwe superstars #seth freakin rollins #seth rollins fan fic #seth rollins imagine #seth rollins x oc #seth rollins fluff

44 notes · View notes

gingerstorm101 · 5 years ago

Text

Irreparable Damage: Chapter 3

Summary: Tony finally gets to see Ziva again, but he's not so happy about it. Angst, oh the angst. Eventually Tiva

Notes: This is NOT anti-Ziva/anti-tiva. So stay away

Rating: T

Words: 4500

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Nothing but the sound of the ticking of a clock and the brushing of hair on metal filled the room. Not even the possible sound of snoring or heavy breathing from the man on the couch. No. Just the brushing as Ziva cleans her gun. Which she no longer needs, but the action still soothes her nonetheless.

Tonight she couldn’t sleep. No amount of tossing and turning, or the counting of sheep, or even the commands of telling herself to get at least six hours of sleep. No. Five hours of sleep. Or even just a two hour nap.

Nothing worked.

So here she was, in Gibbs’ dining room, not getting a wink of sleep.

“Go to sleep, Ziver.”

She damn well nearly jump out of her skin at his voice. “I cannot Gibbs.” She says, looking over at the man to find his eyes still closed. She narrows her eyes at him, questioning if he was still asleep or just laying there. She turns back to her gun, getting a couple scrapes with her brush when she hears a rusle coming from the living room. Her heart starts to race the split second before she turns around to see the man pulling himself up.

She watches as he walks over to the table Ziva is sitting at, tapping on her bare feet to remove them from the chair they were resting on. They sit there silently, watching each other, waiting for the other to say something.

“You need to sleep, you’re going to see him in five hours.” His voice was low, rough from the lack of use.

Ziva places the gun down, her heart still racing from the thoughts of seeing her former partner, her former lover, again. His words still haunts her from the last time she spoke to him.

You’ll have to move the earth before I can trust you again.

But, she hopes now that he has her letters addressed to him, he could see everything she has gone through. Everything she has always wanted to say to him, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. All her feelings from the moment she said goodbye to him on that tarmac, to her latest one from two weeks ago.

“I have tried, but to no avail.” She murmurs, twisting her fingers with one another, and her eyes avoiding his. He stays quiet, watching her as her eyes land on the clock. 3:34 am. “I cannot seem to shut off my brain tonight. My thoughts, they are too strong.”

He leans forward, brushes his index finger against her twining digits. “That’s your anxiety.” She blinks hard, holding her eyes shut as a tear slips out between them. She doesn’t bother to wipe it away. “Have you taken one of your pills?”

She nods, sniffling. “Two. They do not seem to work anymore.”

Gibbs covers her hand with his large one. “I will see Ducky that we get you a proper prescription, one that is designed for you.” She tries to open her mouth to say something, but he gives her a look. The look. “You’ll be better once you’re on medication that is designed for you, not for someone else.” He explains further. She closes her eyes and nods slowly.

The room goes quiet again except for the ticking of that damn clock on the wall. Ziva, however, hardly heard it. Inside her head was all the things she wants to say to Tony, explain to him that she had no choice. That she fought to be with them every day. To protect them.

But each one of those came with a hated response that bit back at her. Telling her that she was worthless. Weak. And one that almost made her cry, was when the imagined Tony told her that she should have been killed in the fire.

Gibbs must have seen her tense; his hand raises up to cup her cheek and wiping away the tears that have already fallen. “Go shower, get dressed. I’ll take you out for breakfast, Elaine makes one good cup of coffee.”

Ziva smiles at her father figure, the only true father that she has left. Or ever had really. With a whispered “thank you” she walks upstairs to get ready for her very stressful day.

***

McGee sits in his chair that morning, ready to start his day now that he dropped his kids off at preschool. He turns on his computer, and takes a sip of his second coffee of the day. So far, no one was in the bullpen, maybe Gibbs was talking to the director? Or getting a coffee for himself?

But ever since the boss man had Ziva staying with him, he’s noticed a change in him. He’s been more rough than he has been recently. Maybe he’s not getting enough sleep? Or the two of them had yelling matches like they did when she first came back.

Whatever it is, wherever he is, McGee was sure to stay on his good side today.

Just then, he heard the ding of the elevator. Fully expecting Ellie and Nick to walk out together, he peeks over his coffee.

It was Gibbs and Ziva. The latter of the two looked far too disheveled to be here.

He watches as Gibbs gives her a look, and walks to his desk. She looks over at McGee, glancing over at his boss and stops. “Hello McGee.” She says softly, offering a small smile. He returns it, greeting her. “Has he come in yet?”

He looks down at his phone, checking the time. 7:45. “Not yet. Are you kay?” She’s quiet and he waits to see if she’ll respond.

After a moment she does. “I am fine.” He doesn’t believe her for a second. Underneath her wild hair and baggy shirt, he can see the panic in her bloodshot eyes. He watches as her eyes flick around the room, and he wonders when the last time she had a propers night sleep. But then, he never spent years away from his children and wife. He would never know what Ziva is going through.

He doesn’t comment on the lie she had told him. “What time are you meeting with Ducky?” He asks, taking another sip.

“8:30.” Her answer was short, but she does look him in the eye. “I… I better get going. No doubt Ducky wants to chat before we start.” He nods, keeping his eye on her. “Goodbye, McGee.” And with that, she heads to the conference room.

He starts his work for the day, mostly reading the morning news before he starts the cold case files. He only glances up when his coworkers walk into the bullpen a few minutes later. But nothing brings him out of his concentration when he hears a young voice.

“Uncle Tim!”

His head shoots up. “Tali!” He pushes his chair back as the girl sprints forward and enveloping him in a hug. “You’ve gotten so big!”

The little girl giggles. “That’s cause we only video chat.” He looks up to see his old senior field agent, noticing the uneasy feeling in his eyes. No doubt worried about the meeting he was having with Ducky.

“So what are you doing today?” He asks, holding both of her hands in his.

Tali bounces on her heels. “Uncle Jimmy is taking me to the garden. He says he wants to show me the best spots to play and dance!”

McGee brightens at her words, knowing that she isn’t in the middle of her parents conflict. “That sounds awesome! Have your uncle send me pictures.” He smiles and leans in closer. “And maybe I’ll sneak away to watch you.” Tali squeals and wrap her arms around his neck. He looks up to the girls father, taking in the fact that he was no longer watching his daughter, but the hallway leading to the conference room. “Okay Tali, let’s get you downstairs.”

Tony snaps out of his thoughts when his daughter grabs his hand and pulls him away. From his seat, McGee watches his friend leave.

***

The room is tense. And that is putting it lightly.

Neither one of them would look at the other, training their eyes on the elderly man in front of them. Tony clenches his jaw as he watches Ducky pull out his notebook. He squints his eyes to try and read the paper, but it wasn’t coming easy for him.

Finally he spoke. “What are we waiting for?” He asks impatiently.

“For Dr. Sloane, my dear boy.” He couldn’t stop the glare that headed towards the elderly man. He wasn’t upset with the doctor, in fact, he listened thoroughly the other day when Tony sat down with him and the box of letters he had taken home with him. He trusted Ducky with his life and his most desired secrets. Ducky was the closest he had to an uncle for the longest time. But who was this Dr. Sloane? Was it this Jack person McGee and Palmer has told them about?

“And you don’t have to wait for long!” Came a female voice from behind them.

He notices that Ziva had jumped slightly and whipping her head around to a blond walking into the room wearing a bright pink suit. Tony gives the woman a questioning, tracking her as she pulls up a chair beside the retired ME. “Ah! Dr. Sloane!” Ducky greets from his seat. “My dear, how are you?”

“Oh I’m just wonderful, Doctor. And you?”

“Oh as well as you’d expect. In fact-”

“Ducky.” Ziva says in a quiet voice, her hands sitting in her lap. “We have an appointment.” Tony couldn’t help but agree with his ex-partner.

“Ah, right.” Ducky clears his throat and folds his hands in front of him. “I have spoken to both of you over the last week, hearing both sides of your story. Now, I have asked Dr. Sloane to sit here with us because it seems that there are some words you two need to say to each other in the calmest of states.”

Dr. Sloane, Jack, the woman McGee had told him about, sits back in her chair with her notepad and pen ready.

“Anthony,” He says. “Why don’t you start. Tell all what you felt when this all started.”

Tony gulps, thinking back to all those years ago. But he knew he meant when he first met his daughter. He takes a second long glance at her before he stares at the two before him. “What do you expect? The woman I loved was just blown up and then in 24 hours a child I never knew I had was dropped in my lap.” He sends a quick glare over to said woman.

“You were overwhelmed?” Jack asks.

“To put it lightly.”

On the other side of the table, Ziva wasn’t looking at him, or anyone in the room really. She was staring out of the window.

“I had noticed the clues that were left in my daughter’s bag, so I took my daughter back to Israel to find some answers. When I found nothing, I took my last bit of hope to Paris, where we’ve lived since,” He says calmly, but grounds out, “but she didn’t give me anything. She never showed. Not once leaving behind a message to me. Everything she sent was never to me.”

Suddenly she barges in. “How could I tell you? I was on the run!”

“No, you were running! From me, from my daughter, from everyone! You sent letters to this random address every week, but nothing came to my house!” He turns to her and shouts, slamming his on the table. Where has he heard this before? He feels like he’s had this conversation before.

“I was being hunted! If they knew I was sending you letters they would have killed you too! Both of you! Or worse.” She screams back, leaning forward. “I would have expected you to understand that more than anyone else!”

They glared at each other, Tony was ready to give a reply when Jack interrupted them. “Now now, that’s enough from you. Ziva, why don’t you tell us why you never told Tony about your daughter.”

Ziva leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her stomach. “If he had read those letters, he would know why.” She mumbled like a child, not unlike his daughter when the five year old was upset with something.

Tony had read those letters. He memorized them for Pete’s sake! Each one of them broke his heart even more than the last, her telling him how much she regrets leaving him on the tarmac just an hour after he boarded and then two months later when she realized she was carrying his child. Every week she wrote how she missed him, but she had already joined back with Mossad.

Tony, put his hands together, leaning towards her, says. “I’d like to hear it from you.”

Their audience nods, both taking notes.

The woman sighs, shifting as she crosses her legs. “I had already ruined your life, hurt you in so many ways, I didn’t want to burden you with a child when her parents fought.”

“Bullshit!”

“Anthony! Language!”

Without skipping a beat at the interruption, he continues. “Ziva, we spent almost every waking hour together. How often did we actually fight?” He gave her a second to blink at him. “If anything we bickered and argued. That is not fighting.” His voice hushed, attempting to get the point across. “If we did fight, it was because of the men you were sleeping with.”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Oh, now we’re bringing my choice of men into this?”

Heck yes he is. “Well it seems every time you date someone, a murder is involved.” He can see her thinking it over, knowing that he was right. First Roy, who died. Then Michael, who he shot dead. Adam, ugh Adam, even though it was a hookup, it took place after Eli’s funeral. Then Ray, who murdered. And even though they didn’t officially date, there was that Hoffman guy from when she went undercover, she killed him herself after he murdered four women. Maybe it was a good thing they never officially dated, he would have ended up dead. But then again, when Tali was brought into his life, he and the team killed Kort.

When she glares at him, he knew he hit a nerve.”Oh and like you got a clean track record?”

“At least mine didn’t end in bloodshed!”

“Children! Please!” Ducky barges in.

“Shh, it’s getting good!”

What? Tony thought, flicking his eyes over to the blond woman in the room. I thought this woman was suppose to be professional?

“See! This is exactly what I mean Tony!” Ziva argues. “Every word we’ve spoken to one another in the last week has been a spit flare!”

“Fire,” He sighs, pinching his nose. “It’s spit fire, Ziva.” He felt his heart twing a bit, remembering how much he loved correcting her.

She grounds her teeth him him. “Whatever.”

“May we please go back to having a calm conversation?” Ducky asks. Tony turns in his chair to face the older man, Ziva mirroring his position. “Thank you.” He waits nearly a moment before starting again, giving a glance to Jack before he starts. “Ziva, if your life wasn’t in danger, would you have told Tony?”

Tony’s ears prick at the question. Yes, this is something he wants to know, wanted to know since the moment he met his daughter. “Yes.” She answers. “If my life was not in danger, I would have sent Tony an email, but I would not put my daughter at risk. Emails were not secured, and he would have never check one.”

“Yes I would’ve.” He whispers, not daring to look at her.

“Pardon?” Jack asks from her seat, taking a second from her writing.

Tony takes a second long glance at his partner. “I checked my secured email every week for a year. Till the team told me to move on, that you weren’t coming home.” His voice was soft, hating how vulnerable he sounds. But when he looks up at her, he sees the pain in her eyes. “When Tali finally came into my life, and when I went for answers, Orli wouldn’t tell me anything. She told me repeatedly that you were dead, in front of Tali.”

“I told her to tell you that.” Her voice was almost calm, maybe a slight break in her voice, but the rest of her was calm.

“Why?” He wants to cry, oh so much.

Their eyes meet, and he feels his heart skip a beat, a feeling he hadn't had in over six years. “Because, before anything else in the world, Tali’s life needed to be nonexistent to the terrorist groups, as they have been for the last 6 years.” She pauses, raising her hand to play with her necklace, a new one that Tony hasn’t noticed before now. “I needed Gibbs to come find me, but he didn’t.”

He almost regrets stretching his hand to reach for her. “I tried to get him to look for you, to find you like we did before. But he… He already accepted it... Wouldn’t help me… Or you.”

“I know. I… I kind of yelled at him because of that.” She ducks her head as she says it. The corner of his lips raised the slightest, but he could still feel it. All the things he wanted to say to his boss, she had said. She starts to raise her hand to meet his, but she lowers it slowly and resting it into her lap.

“I still wish you had told me.” Calmly, he was going to try to be calm about this. He got his anger out, he yelled at her, he can do this calmly. “If I had known… If I knew you were pregnant, I would have been there in a heartbeat.” He meets her eyes again, and he can swear he could see a tear in forming in her eyes.

His heart stops when she raises her hand and rests it on his. “The person I was, was a completely different person I was when you were there. I was depressed… Scared, maybe. It took me too long to figure out I was expecting Tali, and that frightened me even more. The few friends I had in Israel supported me emotionally.” Her eyes shift him his green ones to their connecting hands, the warmth from her, the physical connection, proves to him that she is really here. She is alive. “But more than anything, I was too scared to tell you. I feared… Rejection.”

Tony didn’t notice Jack’s jaw dropping as she writes down their interaction. As an outsider, someone who doesn’t know their story, viewing a relationship with fourteen years in the making. “I could never reject you for coming to me with a pregnancy. Other women? Maybe. But I would man up, take responsibility. But for you? Always.”

The tears flow freely down her cheeks.

“I am sorry, Tony.”

“So am I.” He places his other hand on top of hers, running his finger over a new scar, wondering if this was part of the story Gibbs had told him a week ago. The one about South America.

“Are… Can… Can we be friends again?” She asks, no, pleads.

He smiles at her. “I don’t think we ever stopped.”

***

With a single earbud in, McGee listens closely to the conversation that he can already hardly hear with the volume on his computer all the way up. They were whispering again, but he has no argument after the shock to his eardrum from all the yelling.

With the ding from the elevator, he quickly shuts it off, fearing the bossman would see him spying on his friends. But when he looks up, it’s just Tali and Jimmy walking into the squadroom. “Uncle Tim! Did you get them? Huh? Huh?” She asks, running up to his desk.

He smiles brightly. “I sure did! You were wonderful! I’m going to show your aunt and cousin them when I get home.” Tali cheers and hugs him. He raises his head to Jimmy.

“I just got a call from another team, I have to go start my day.” He says. “Can you watch her for a bit?” McGee understands that the ME didn’t want to say anything about his job, not wanting to give the little girl nightmares.

“Oh sure, of course!” He says. “I’m sure Gibbs wouldn’t mind us having a visitor for a little while.”

“Oh thank you, McGee!” Tali gives her other uncle a hug before he leaves, not questioning him on why he had to leave so urgently.

McGee pulls Tali into his lap, giving her a kiss on the head, and starts playing videos on his computer.

By the time lunch had ended in the office, Tali was sitting in Ellie’s chair eating an apple and chocolate milk and the rest of the team was nowhere to be found. Gibbs had only walked passed the bullpen with a coffee in his hand, but never stopped to say ‘hi’ to the little DiNozzo.

McGee wants to check the live feed for the conference room, but he knew that Tali was a curious little girl, she’d sneak up behind him and watch the screen as well if she knew it was keeping her uncle’s concentration. So he read the news until Ellie and Nick came waltzing into the pen.

The first words out of Nick’s mouth when he entered the bullpen was enough to bring a smile to his lips. “Um, who’s child is this?” No one answers him as he stands in the middle of the room. He stares down at the child who stares back, giving him that smirk that McGee recognizes from when he watched the girl’s parents interact. Only, he didn’t know from which parent this smirk could have come from. But telling nonetheless. “You are…?” He asks the little girl directly.

She smiles sweetly at him, before fauxing an accent. “Je m'appelle Tali DiNozzo.”

“DiNozzo? Why does that name sound familiar?” Nick asks thoughtfully. McGee is about to answer him when Ellie buts in.

“Tony DiNozzo, the Senior Field Agent before McGee. Ziva’s partner.” Tali gives them a questioning look. Nick’s eyes widen, his lips making a silent ‘oh’ as his eyes dart between the two girls.

“Get back to work you two.” Gibbs says walking into the bullpen with a coffee in his hand, not looking at the small girl. McGee knew that Gibbs had trouble bonding with Tali, and it was nothing to do the Rule 12 that he had made so long ago. No. He knew it was because every time Gibbs looked into the brown-eyed curly-haired little girl, he saw Ziva, and it made him miss his daughter even more.

McGee thought that now that Ziva made herself present, showing that she was indeed alive, that Gibbs would try to connect with the girl like he didn’t before.

But only time would tell.

Suddenly the buzzing from his cell brought him to reality. It was Tony. “We’re coming down.” The text said. His heart starts to race. ‘We?’ As in both of them? “Um, T-Tali, your father is coming down.” Her eyes light up, not leaving her spot from Ellie’s desk. The two other agents look over at him, and he gives them a look. Taking the hint, the two step away from the desk and head to Nick’s.

A minute passes when Tony walks into the room slowly. “Aba!” Tali yells, throwing herself at him. “Are you done the meeting yet? Are we going to go to the theatre now? Can I buy a new book for the flight home?”

Tony picks the girl up in a single swoop, balancing her on his stomach with his arms. “Slow down bambina.” He laughs, and McGee no doubt thinks that having a daughter has made his friend younger after all those years of trying to date women all the same age. It was good for him. “First, I want you to meet someone. Someone who used to be in your life, but I don’t think you’d remember.” He can tell that the man’s heart is racing, introducing the little girl to her mother.

The entire room watches as Tony turns his body to the shy woman standing a few feet behind him. Tali furrows her brow, looking the woman over. Positioning her body to be let down, Tony complies, then walking over to the woman. Ziva crouches down to match her height with hers, and McGee can see her holding back the tears.

Face to face, Tali looks her over, confused and trying to remember. The office holds their breath as the little girl reaches forward and places her fingers on the necklace around Ziva’s neck. “I remember this…” She asks innocently. “I gave this to my Ima, I held onto it when she sang me a song every night.” Ziva nods, the tears forming. “Ima?”

“Yes moteq, yes.”

#that show i shall not name #tiva #tiva fanfiction #angst #oh the angst #eventually tiva #angst with a happy ending

16 notes · View notes